#Roars of a Thousand Thunders

[humming-tranquility]

Here is the first image of ROATT also known as Roars of a thousand thunders! He is a bit, just a tad damaged and electrified

[frogstappen]

𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐧𝐥

best friend!max verstappen x reader / 3k

you watch max's home race from the red bull garage.

⚠️: description of major crash, some mentions of injury. sickly sweet friendship with a hint of something more. jealous!max, soft!max, cheeky!max.

“Headset?”

“Yep.”

“I got some snacks for you. Where are the –?”

The bag rustles as you lift it. “Pretzels. Got them.”

“And you know where the bathroom is? Out that door, down the corridor ���”

“Max,” you push his arm down, “You know who we sound like right now?”

His eyebrows lift. “Who?”

You giggle. “You and GP. Radio, check. Headset, check. Bathroom, check.”

Max sighs, propping a hand on his hip. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just – listen to me, please, okay?”

“I’m going to be fine,” you assure him. “I’ve watched you from the garage a thousand times before.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t been down here in a while. I’m just making sure.”

The track is already deafening. The roar of tens of thousands of bloodthirsty Formula One fans isn’t quite as earthshaking as that of twenty racecars – but Jesus, there’s not much in it.

The attendance in Zandvoort this weekend has reached well over three hundred thousand. Earlier, you stood out front to watch the drivers’ parade with some of the team.

Max lifted his head as the bus turned the last corner and trundled down the main straight. The crowd thundered all around. He caught your eye and, with a smirk, lifted a waggling hand – and you felt your bones vibrating with the cheering.

An orange sea parted by a strip of black asphalt; they twirl flags between thick clouds of tangerine smoke. They paint their faces and wave their banners, topple their drinks with the thrill that just a half-second glimpse at their Dutch Lion ignites.

Formula One fans go hard. Max Verstappen fans go harder.

An assistant taps Max’s shoulder. She flicks up the mic on her headset as he turns. “Three minutes to anthem.”

He nods, and she totters off.

“Promise me,” he takes hold of your elbows, “that you’ll stay right here. I’ll find you after, okay? One of the guys will bring you to the podium.”

“Confident,” you snort, though his expression tightens.

Your phone buzzes on the desk. You flip it over and the screen lights a name adorned with a heart emoji. Beneath, a picture of the classic overhead of the grid, stretched across a flatscreen TV.

Bet your view is better than mine! Miss you. X

Max grumbles, grabbing his balaclava. “I should go.”

“Hey, wait.” You tug on the sleeve of his suit, dangling from his waist.

He sways back into your side, the weight of him familiar and gentle. “Mhm?”

“Have a good one, okay? Be safe.”

“Safe?” He smirks, toying with the cord of your headset. “That’s no fun.”

“I’m serious, Max. Don’t be a dick.”

Okay, he mouths, patting your head. “Speaking of dicks,” he taps your phone, “Better reply.”

His head tilts back in laughter when you shove him off, and he swaggers out of the garage. An assistant hoists a parasol in the air and scurries down the pit lane at his side.

He’s so calm, you think, that he may as well be out for a Sunday drive. It comes naturally enough to him.

He’s on pole today. The car has been good, Max’s form even better. The sky is clear (save for the fans’ fluorescent flares), and there’s no chance of rain – though, sometimes, you find yourself praying for it.

He’s Dutch, okay? The rain is always on his side.

It’s been a decent weekend, for once. No hiccups, no setbacks. He’s soared his way around the track, producing lap after perfect lap. The way he always does, when he knows you’re somewhere nearby.

His lucky charm, since his first go around a karting track. So Max says, anyway.

He’ll say it with humor; that wit of his that you’ve learned like a second language. Still – sometimes, after his hardest races, his toughest battles, he wraps his arms around you tight enough to convince you that he might just be telling the truth.

Just for a moment.

You’ve been best friends for as long as you can remember. Never one without the other; always whispering into each other’s ears or otherwise communicating through flashes of eye contact, kicks under the table.

Wherever he goes, you go. You bicker like a married couple, and trust each other much the same. From the school playground to the Circuit de Monaco – and everywhere in between.

The orchestra swings to life, sending the sound of Wilhelmus skyward. Onscreen in the garage, the camera focuses in on Max: calm, composed, staring off down to the first corner like it’s his next meal.

Nothing has ever happened between you. Not really. No secret rendezvous nor dear diary crushes. Once, and only once, a chaste kiss during a high school game of spin the bottle.

It was about as awkward as it should’ve been. This quick, electric shock of a kiss. Over all too soon and not soon enough. He tasted like the lager he’d been drinking. He steadied himself with a hand on your thigh.

You sat back on your heels, wiped your lips with the sleeve of your sweater, and aped Max’s look of disgust. You snickered with your girlfriends as the circle moved on – but anytime you snuck a glance at him, he was already looking straight back.

He never brought it up again, though – and so neither did you. As far as either of you were concerned, it never happened. You’re just friends.

Best, best friends.

This new guy you’ve been seeing – you met him in a bar in London. He said he liked your dress, said he liked your smile, then offered to buy you a drink. It’s been no more than six weeks, but Max had already quietly decided his thoughts over summer break.

He’s a nice guy, he said, deliberately bumping his rubber ring into yours.

You pushed away from him, floating across the pool. Nice? That’s all you got?

What do you want me to say? I’m not the one dating him.

I just don’t believe that nice is all you have to say. You’re not that good at pretending. I know you too well, Verstappen.

Okay, fine. Too much styling of the hair.

Too much…What?

Yeah. And he wears weird shoes.

Well, he likes F1. Said he’s a fan of yours.

Ha, Max clicked his fingers, That’s the biggest red flag of them all.

Your phone buzzes again. You turn it facedown without looking, and pull your headset on.

The circuit shudders as the anthem comes to an end. The drivers split up, pulling off ice vests and zipping up their suits. The mechanics prop chairs in front of the screen, thumping their helmets over their heads.

Almost ten years in, the anxiety still hangs heavy in your stomach. The rumble of the engines, the babble from the loudspeakers. The rapid-fire orders shot over your head in the garage.

It comes naturally to Max, sure – that doesn’t mean it’s easy for you.

You watch him as he lowers into his car. Eyes narrow and focused, blurring everything but that first bend from his vision. All good humor shaken off, replaced by a vicious hunger to hit the end of the straight first, to be a speck on the horizon before the first lap is through.

Your thumb picks at the 33 sticker on the side of your headset. You burst open the bag of pretzels.

Max checks the radio and GP replies: “Loud and clear.”

“Beautiful day,” the driver says, weaving through the formation lap. “Simply lovely.”

You smile, suckling on the salty snack. As nervous as you may feel, at least he’s having fun.

He brings the car to a soft stop on his line and waits as the others follow suit. The lights flick on one by one, a painful pause between each. One sharp breath, held at the bottom of your throat, – and the red dissolves.

The Red Bull fires down the track.

Your lungs fill with a gulp of fuel-fumed air. Veins flood with warmth – the ice-cold grip around each nerve thawed as soon as Max begins to lead the flock.

He fights off contenders for first all the way to turn four – snuffing the flame of a Ferrari here, squeezing the papaya of a McLaren there. He catapults ahead just past Hunserug, and the garage springs to cheerful life.

In your headset, the pit wall is serious, fixed on the race. They murmur over wavelengths, static fizzling between words. Voices flat and emotionless; statistics on top of statistics, strategies on top of strategies.

You crush more pretzels between your molars, watching, unblinking. You twist the cord around your index finger, draining the tip of blood, then loosen again as Max puts more than a second between his car and the next.

He’s doing good. He always does good, as far as you’re concerned.

He’s doing what he always says he was made to do. He was raised this way, weathered into shape by each storm he powered his way through. Not born, not destined – Max doesn’t believe in any of that shit.

God doesn’t drive F1 cars, he’ll say. I do.

A couple tense laps pass. The Red Bull is still up front, though he’s tussling with the Ferrari now hot on his tail. Each chance his pursuer takes, each split-second jab at his lead, Max has already squashed before it materializes.

He rips around turn fourteen, following the track through its widest bend down to fifteen, and hits the main straight to thunderous applause. The cars scream past the pits, a roar sliced in two as they barrel straight for Tarzan.

The gap is barely two tenths. The mechanics clutch their helmets. Max taunts the corner on the outside of the track, eyeing his target.

“Defend,” one of the mechanics growls. “Hold him, Max.”

The Ferrari tucks behind, its front wing edging closer and closer.

You blink.

The red car swings out, shuddering with the force of the maneuver. He steadies himself and floors it, each closing centimeter perilous.

Blink again.

They’re side by side. Almost wheel to wheel. There’s no way Max can’t see that scarlet smirk from the corner of his eye. The apex is right there, though, it’s right fucking there.

Another blink, and –

He’s gone.

He’s gone. He’s –

Hurtling off the track. At almost two hundred miles per hour. The gravel spits at him as he spins; smoke and dust billow from beneath. He slams straight into the barrier, and, finally, the moment ends.

Your chest shrinks; a weak wheeze passes your lips. “Oh, my God.”

The mechanics leap to their feet. They bark amongst themselves like a pack of angry dogs, though you can’t make out a word.

Your hearing is shot. Every sound bleeds into the next; one long, high-pitched scream. You move without thinking, without feeling; slip off the stool and tug your headset. It hits the desk with a distant clatter, though you’re already wandering away.

The sound of the crowd rattles against your skull. Numb, muted. An awful groaning sound as the cloud lifts, revealing the chewed-up car.

It’s bad. It’s the worst one in a long time. He must’ve hit that barrier at near-enough full speed. The dread fills your lungs like torrents of heavy, black water. Sickly salt, suffocating sea. Oh, God.

You scan the garage for any of his mechanics. Matt. Ole. Chris. Fucking – any of them. Who did he say would bring you to him when this was over? He said he’d meet you at the podium. He said he’d find you –

A rough hand grabs your elbow.

Max’s face flickers across your vision. Blue steel gaze, freckle above his lip. The dust pulls him away from your grasp. He hits the barrier again and again and again.

“Max –”

The voice is calm – too fucking calm, you think, when it tells you, “He’s talking. They’ve got him talking.”

“Talking,” you echo, begging it to solidify in your brain. “Can you put me on to him?”

The engineer pulls you over to the exit. He plucks at his mic, murmurs some response down the line to the team. He takes your wrist and leads you out, muttering, “C’mon.”

“Hey,” you tug on his arm, “Please let me speak to him.”

“You will,” he replies, snaking through the tight corridor. “Once he’s out, they’ll check him over. He’ll be taken in for evaluation, hitting the wall at that speed. Force must be bloody nuts.”

The thought sends another bitter stream of panic through your blood. “Can he move? Is he –? Can he get out of the car?”

He gives one quick nod. “Medics are there. They’re helping him out.”

Sunlight floods overhead, dazzling as you follow him out front and towards a sleek car. An attendant opens the door for you, and you slide into the backseat.

The engineer gives your shoulder a friendly shake. “He’ll be fine,” he says. “He’s done worse.”

The door falls closed and the car moves off, purring through the paddock towards the medical center.

You slump into your seat and press your fingers into your eyes; a headache already blooming between your temples.

He’s moving. He’s moving and he’s responding. They’re helping him up out of the car. He’s probably already being checked over.

He’s probably already asking for you.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, fingers dragging down your cheeks.

The center is a polite little hut inside the circuit. By the time you pull up, the race has already resumed. The remaining cars whizz by as you jog over, slipping inside behind a couple guys from Max’s team.

He’s had his fair share of scraps on the track. You don’t make it to the top without a sincere sense of dare, and an even sincerer lack of fear. Some call it idiocy. You’re often one of them.

Sitting on the other side of the clinic door, though – knee jerking, nails picking at the skin on your fingers – you’d be thrilled to never see these four walls ever again. Idiot or not, you care about him.

More than anyone else in your life? Jesus. Probably.

The door clicks open, and your blood jumps.

A pale woman in a pale coat steps out. She peers over her glasses, eyes you from the sneakers on your feet to the worry on your face – and says your name.

You push yourself up, squeezing past her into the room.

Max is perched on the edge of the bed, still in his fireproofs. Hair disheveled, face flushed and exhausted. Translucent with shock or concussion or worse, he lifts his head and flashes a lopsided smile.

It’s weak, barely there – but it’s him.

You care about him more than anyone else in your life. Definitely.

He opens his arms, fingers beckoning you in. “C’mere.”

“Oh, my God,” you sweep over, already in tears by the time you meet his body, “Oh, my God – you fucking idiot.”

His shoulders shudder with a bottled laugh. He wraps his arms around your waist, turning his head against your chest. “How was I supposed to know he was going to turn into me, huh? I had the line, I was –”

“Max,” you pull back, staring into his bleary eyes, “I don’t care. Just – don’t do that ever again.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he whispers, corners of his mouth twitching.

You sigh, collapsing onto the bed at his side. You lean against him and he winces a little, before pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

“You really scared me,” you admit, turning in to his chest.

Max slings an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight. “I’m fine, no? I mean, everything’s blurry and I can’t really hear much, but – it could have been worse.”

He props the pillows against the wall and pushes himself back gingerly, reaching past you for a paper cup of water at his bedside.

You move slowly, carefully, waiting for him to get comfortable before settling back, too – leaving a safe gap between his battered body and yours. Your cheek rests on the curve of his shoulder; fingers trace the logos on his sleeves.

Max breathes in the scent of your hair. He turns his hand and watches as your fingers trail down his wrist, circling his palm. He sucks in a deep breath, sighing to the ceiling.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” you whisper, and he hums.

“Nerves,” he mutters.

“From the race?” You lift your head. “You don’t get nervous.”

He takes another breath and turns to you. He’s blushing, and doing a shitty job at hiding it. “No,” he says. “Not from the race.”

You gulp. “Are you sore?”

“Yeah. My back, my ribs.”

“Do you want me to get up?”

“No. Stay.”

He wears the same expression he did all those years ago, sat too many people apart from one another in that drunken circle. The same expression you only allowed yourself fleeting glances at: bashful, a little awkward – all the more endearing for it.

Maybe he actually doesn’t remember that night. Maybe he was just too tipsy – alcohol gone straight to his teenage head. And maybe he won’t even remember this, what with the concussion and all.

It’d make things a hell of a lot easier, that’s for sure. You could go back to your old ways: arguing over the best flavor of chips, screaming while playing video games. No second-guessing, no jumping to conclusions. Hell, maybe you hope he doesn’t remember any of it at all.

Somewhere, though, deep down – you know that’s not true.

“How’s, uh…whatshisface?” Max asks, nudging you with his elbow. He takes a feeble sip of his water and offers you the cup.

“Oh,” you shrug, “No idea. I left my phone in the garage.”

He scoffs, staring at your lips as you take a drink. He takes the cup from your hands once you’re done. “I don’t mean to give him shit, you know. If you like him, I like him.”

“Well, there’s liking someone,” you pout, “and then there’s willingly watching them crash full-speed in a racecar.”

Max smiles, lifting his cup.

“Whoever that is, sounds pretty cool to me.”

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

[sp4ceboo]

Upon the Sands of the Arena: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: basically reader fights feyd in the arena, my apologies if there are any inaccuracies, i'm dUmB

tw: 18+, smut YAAA, fighting, swearing, i use fire metaphors too much, blood, violence and death (it's in a a gladiatorial arena ffs), creampie, one ass spank, fingering + oral (f receiveing) hella lot of sexual tension, Fighting as Foreplay, feyd sorta has a blood kink but he's just freaky like that, sort of fluffy at the end, hint of voyeurism if you squint really hard, lmk if there's anything else

wc: 4.1k

part 2

The Bene Gesserit are distracted.

If the Kwisatz Haderach was not so near, they would have disposed of you properly. Instead, they sucked you back into their dark web of deceit and occulted plans only to spit you out just as fast, leaving your fate to the blood soaked sands of Giedi Prime’s arenas. You believe that if it were not for the actions of Lady Jessica Atreides and her defiance of the order, they’d pay you more attention.

Not that you’re complaining.

You were trained to flourish in the dark, lurking in the shadows of the deepest of nights, awaiting a time to strike. However, you are not like your mentors, you do not believe in the hoping, the weaving of bloodlines for the production of a distant messiah, nor do you dirty your hands to obey an imperious Reverend Mother.

Truly, you admire Lady Jessica for doing the same as you did - defying the order and thereby splintering from it; all the same, you do not desire what she wants. For she wants power for her son and her unborn daughter, and you want nothing but to be left alone.

In a universe full of yearning for a greater purpose, you want the opposite. Often, you find yourself wishing you were something of nature: not mundane, by any means, but uncontrollable, like the desert winds that sift through the sands of Arrakis simply because. To be like them, without a master, without the endless search for purpose, is freedom.

Instead, you have been branded with the title Bene Gesserit - ex Bene Gesserit now - and you wield too much power for the order to ignore you, even alone. Hence why they incorporated your capture into their plans, engineering it so that you face the Baron’s brutal, bloodthirsty nephew in the arena.

They’re going to have to try harder than that to kill you.

You think they forget that you once were as good as the rest of them. They forget that you still possess the ability to alter the molecules in your blood to resist the drugs they pump into the arena prisoners, and they forget that you trained beside the best in combat.

The arena is where you thrive.

The roar of the crowd is deafening. It excites you, the swell of noise that is thousands of harsh Harkonnen tongues heckling for blood; the stamp of their feet as they cry their na-Baron’s name vibrates through the arena, through the grains of sand beneath your feet, deep and heady like burgundy wine.

Your fingers tighten around the blade given to you, barely sharpened and made of unsanded wood, but solid all the same. It’s all you’ll need against the na-Baron. He is but a cruel man set on fire with exterminable blue flames, and you are Bene Gesserit: defiant of the order or not, it is who and what you are, and it is pure power coursing through your veins - power that answers to you and you only.

The roar of the na-Baron soars over the crowd’s cheering, animalistic and full of fury that makes you wonder what incenses him so much. Something in his past, maybe, something that he only acknowledges in the inner machinations of his cunning mind.

The grate in front of you opens, and you allow yourself a smile as you step out into Giedi Prime’s tortorous ebony sun. High above, you spot the slit of a balcony where the Baron himself reclines, watching his nephew with a benevolent smile and a pipe in his hand, flanked by subservient concubines with bowed heads. All around, the crowd shouts, thunderous, urging their na-Baron to spill blood on the sand, to paint the arena red. It swirls around you like a washed out dream, black and white but simultaneously vivid, the stink of rotting bodies and sun bleached white sand pungent in your nostrils, the occasional pop from the fireworks overhead heavy in your ears.

Rolling your shoulders, you pace a few steps in before sitting down in the sand, cross legged, the backs of your hands against your knees with your blade flat against one of your palms. Pitiless, you watch as the na-Baron slices the throat of the first prisoner that staggers his way, throwing him an enigmatic smile when he glances towards you.

His eyes are cold; calculating. They’re dark, striking against his pale skin as they suck in the light, and hungry too, as if he strives for something he does not quite know, always reaching, always burning for more.

Intriguing.

He circles in on the next prisoner, who meets his end by the same savage knife work as the first, his guts spilled out onto the greedy sand. Insatiable, chest heaving with excitement more than fatigue, the na-Baron turns to you, his final prey - his black teeth are bared in a magnificent, maniacal grin, his footsteps silent as he approaches.

Facing him now, you understand why the Bene Gesserit believed that by crossing the Atreides’ meant-to-be daughter with the Harkonnen’s na-Baron, they would make the Kwisatz Haderach. There’s no doubt in this man’s genetics, in the solid lines of his strength sheathed bones and the sheer virility and ferocity that permeates the air around him - it’s almost elegant, the way he prowls towards you, his stride lilting and laced with power. They picked him well.

Too bad you’ll have to kill him.

If he proves to be obtuse, you’ll have no choice but to slay him in order to save yourself. If he is, however, as cunning as they say, you’ll give him a chance to live - it’d be a shame to end him, actually: something draws you to the rawness of his nature, to the frigidity of the ire in his eyes.

The na-Baron circles closer, his skin like moonlight. He watches you like a hawk, as if he’s the one who’s hunting, ready for his next meal; his eyes flash in the sun, studying you, watching for your tells even as you identify his. Smiling, you drop into a crouch, knife outstretched like a twisted mockery of a peace offering, waiting for him to take the bait and strike.

He cocks his head. ‘It’s rare that I face a woman in the arena.’

‘I’m sure it will still be of pleasure to you, Feyd-Rautha.’

‘I believe it will increase it tenfold, little witch.’

You don’t have time to figure out how he knows you’re Bene Gesserit, because he slashes at you, once down towards your ribs and once back up at your throat. His knife flashes in the sun, reflecting the bloodlust in his eyes as it arcs towards you; light on your feet, you parry both of his blows, dipping in to land your own. He’s strong, which is of less concern to you than his speed. Feyd-Rautha fights as if he’s dancing: not in the aspect that there’s flourish in his bladework - quite the opposite, he keeps his strikes efficient and tight - but in the smooth, hypnotic way that the movements of his body blend seamlessly together.

The crowd screams as he forces you into defence. It’s temporary, though, because he gets reckless, both driven and blinded by his hunger for blood - enough so that you can dart your foot out, hooking it around his ankles and overbalancing him. Sprays of sand are kicked up as he tries to steady himself, and you force him down with the tip of your blade to his pale throat.

A single, sleek drop of scarlet slides down his skin. Unhurriedly, he brings a hand up to catch it before it leaks onto his black armour, lifting it so he can see the blood your knife has shed. His gaze flicks up to you, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

‘Huh,’ he remarks, pleasantly surprised.

And then he lashes out, bringing you down into the sand beside him. With the hilt of his knife, he knocks your own out of your hand, and it’s catapulted into the air, spinning end over end and catching the light before it somersaults into the ground a few feet away. The grit plumes up at your face as you scuffle with him, and you hiss, frustrated that the sand does not lend you any more traction.

Rolling you over so fast your head spins, Feyd-Rautha drives his knife down towards your exposed neck. It makes a bolt of panic shoot through you, followed by the deep seated, survival impelled instinct to use the Voice on him, but like hell you’re doing that; honour prevents you, as well as the desire to finish this fight properly. You have no choice but to grab his forearm, slowing his blade’s descent, and a mirthful, rasping noise leaves his chest - a laugh that sets his eyes alight.

And then, the pressure dissolves, falling away. He stands, smirking down at you, the sun like a damning halo around his head. Silence falls over the arena, the anticipation thick in the air as he raises his hand, gesturing somewhere over your shoulder.

‘Go on, little witch, get your knife.’

You sneer, seeing the greed in his eyes, the misguided belief that he’s got you where he wants you. He wants to play, and it delights you.

Taking a few steps in the direction of the knife, you feign acquiescence. You can feel his eyes on your back, can sense the triumph oozing off him, and you let the adrenaline coursing through your veins guide your limbs, twisting you around so you can lunge at him, one hand wrapping around his bare forearm and bending it backwards as you spin him sharply until his back meets your chest. Viciously, you yank his arm further back, and the pain of that combined with your elbow tight around his throat, constricting his airways, is enough to loosen his grip.

A gasp ripples through the crowd as Feyd-Rautha drops his knife. It lodges in the ground beside your foot, and you flick it up with the toe of your boot, your hand darting out to snatch it from the air. The man in your arms bucks and writhes, but you keep your hold on him as you bring the knife to his neck for the second time.

‘Uh oh,’ you sing-song into his ear. ‘What’s happened here?’

He stills in your arms a little. ‘Why don’t you do it?’

‘I fear I’ve grown attached to you during our little fight,’ you hum. ‘It would be a shame to end a specimen like yourself.’

‘You are Bene Gesserit, I’m sure that you have arrangements - ’

‘I may be one, but I do not follow the order,’ you snarl. ‘I spare you because I wish to. Now, Harkonnen, knock the knife from my hand.’

You feel his muscles tense, the hesitation coursing through his body as he determines whether your bid is a trick or not, and then he does as you say, catching it smoothly and spinning to bring it to your throat. Calmly, you stare into his narrowed eyes, the cold caress of the blade harsh against your exposed skin.

‘What’s stopping me from killing you now, little witch?’

You laugh. ‘I trust I’ve piqued your interest sufficiently, na-Baron.’

‘Just Feyd is fine.’

You open your mouth to mock him, but he slices the blade away from your neck, very purposefully nicking you. Blood beads at the seam of the cut, hot and vengeful; he grips the back of your neck, exposing your throat to him, and prickles of pain shoot through you as the wound stretches. Frozen, you wait to see what he’ll do next, heart fluttering in your chest in a way that you know is not fear.

Insouciantly, he licks a long stripe up your skin, his scorching tongue following the trail of crimson his blade left behind. All consuming heat wells up in your stomach when he grins at you, displaying the hint of red coating his obsidian teeth, his eyes igniting the air between you as they dip down to survey your body, your heaving chest.

And then he releases you. You find your knees have gone weak, and you stumble as the guards close around you, grabbing you roughly under the armpits and dragging you out of the arena, your knees making twin tracks in the sand.

Managing a glance behind you, you catch sight of Feyd, his fist held triumphantly in the air as the crowd roars for their na-Baron.

Unsurprisingly, they throw you into a cell. Its walls are made of smooth, dark metal which seem to swallow up any sound that you make - it doesn’t surprise you that Vladimir Harkonnen has a Bene Gesserit proof cell - and the only thing furnishing it is a black blanket on the ground. A servant comes in and treats the shallow cut on your neck, but he refuses to meet your eyes and scurries off as fast as he can, almost forgetting to lock the door behind him.

You estimate two hours, maybe three, before Feyd appears in the doorway. His silhouette appears in the small glass window set in the door and pauses; you wonder if he’s considering leaving you there for a little longer, but then the lock disengages with a whoosh and the door slides open.

The air is immediately charged as he strides down the steps, eyes locked on you. With the smooth hiss of hydraulics, the door closes behind him, and he prowls forward, not quite smiling yet - you sense that he’s here to continue what you didn’t finish in the arena, and your back straightens a little as his gaze rakes over your body. He’s taken off his armour, leaving him in the thin black underclothes beneath, and he too has had someone treat the wound in his neck.

‘Your resistance to the drugs is remarkable, little witch. My blade was laced too.’

You raise an eyebrow. ‘I find that matter quite disappointing, actually, that you must face your opponents in the arena when they are half sedated in order to best them.’

He smiles, stepping closer to you until you share air. ‘It’s not just the winning I seek.’

‘Oh, what is it then?’ You ask. ‘Pain?’

Quick as a snake, you strike, letting the thrill of the fight shoot through you yet again as he matches you blow for blow. He looks at you as if he wants to eat you, to taste you - not just your lips or your tongue, but the defiant burn of your lifeblood too, and it makes you want to sink your teeth into him.

Slipping past his guard to catch the front of his shirt, you bunch the material in your hand and tear, baring his well muscled chest to you. The sight of it makes your lips quirk upwards, further so at the sound he makes: a half growl and a half groan as he lunges for you, wonderfully infuriated by the way you dance just out of his grasp, slipping through his fingers like water. His eyes are kindled with ardour - for both your blood and your flesh - and when they meet yours, shivers snap down your spine and tug at your stomach.

Feinting to the left, you jab at his neck. Like a scorpion waiting to strike, he grabs your wrist, tugging you towards him; you glance down at his feet, easily predicting that he’s going to sweep your legs out from under you if you let him bring you any closer. Yanking your hand back, you attempt to shake his grip on you, but he refuses to let go.

You slap him across the face.

Hard.

His fingers loosen on you as his head snaps to the side, the noise your palm makes against his chiselled cheek sharp and ringing in the cell. A soft, animalistic sound leaves the back of his throat, and when he lifts his chin, his jaw clenched to perfection, the pure lust in his eyes makes you stumble back a step.

Rushing at you, he takes advantage of the heady swoop of desire that messes with your head, slowly backing you against the wall with each punch and kick he throws. Heat roils in his gaze, so intense that when he slams you against the wall, you don’t know whether he’s going to kill you or kiss you - the not-knowing thrills you, sets your bones and soul on fire. One of his hands comes up, his fingertips caressing your throat before he pounces, mercilessly cutting off your air supply.

Leaning into your space, he brings his lips up to your ear. ‘If I’d had my way, little witch, I’d have fucked you right there on the sand, with all of them watching.’

Your head spins, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the lack of oxygen in your lungs or the feeling of his strong thigh pressing between your legs, relentless as he grinds it against your clit. You allow yourself a second to enjoy it before you retaliate, adrenaline seething in your blood.

Burying your nails into his arm, you twist it to the side, unbalancing him and taking him to the floor - his fingers grip your shirt, bringing you down with him. You land on his torso, straddling his hips, and as you do, he snaps his wrists down and rips your shirt from top to bottom down your back. The cool air of the cell sends ripples of goosebumps up your skin, and Feyd’s wide, calloused palms follow their path, surprisingly warm, deceptively gentle.

Bucking his lower body, he flips you over, pinning your hands over head, his long fingers circling your wrists as his hips press heavily into yours. Your eyes flick down to his mouth as he dips his head, his breath ghosting against your cheek; the curve of his lips is soft and almost graceful compared to the rough way he grinds against you, eager for more, yet eager to torture himself with the wait.

Tipping your jaw up, you let your lower lip brush his before you turn your head to the side, denying him. Amusingly, he follows your touch, insistent that you kiss him, but you ease out of his grip and trap him between your arms when he gives chase - a growl sounds low in his chest, one of his hands gripping your thigh, futilely yanking at your trousers as you grapple, rolling over and over on the cell’s floor.

His hand slams down beside your head, stopping your course, his forearm flat against your throat - not quite choking you, but not letting your air supply run free. Feyd’s touch sears your skin in the best way, and you wish to be consumed by the flames.

‘Must I tie you up, little witch?’

His voice is low and rasping, sending shivers up your spine. You don’t answer, instead claiming his lips, welcoming the insistent press of his tongue as you thrust your hips against his, seeking that exquisite friction. Running your hands up his strong back, you hook your elbow around the nape of his neck, locking him to you as he explores the taste of you.

Abruptly, he pulls away, and you open your mouth, protest on your lips until he tugs down your trousers and underwear, tossing them somewhere to the side, his own garments following. You get one good look at him, at his powerful, muscle lined thighs framing your hips and the curve of his leaking cock against his stomach before he swipes his fingers between your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

When he lowers his face to your heat, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, a breathless moan slips from you, loaded with anticipation. You can’t stop the louder echo that leaves you when he dips his fingers into cunt, curling them to hit your sweet spot, and your nails claw at his shoulder blades, leaving red trails behind them.

‘That’s it, little witch,’ he croons. ‘Sing for me.’

And sing you do, as he wrings the pleasure from you with his tongue and fingers until your legs tremble and close around his head. He pins your thighs to the floor, holding you open for him as he tastes you, insatiable, pushing you unrelentingly over the edge, again and again until hot tears slide down your cheeks and your voice breaks from crying his name.

Finally, he buries his length inside you. Your eyes roll back at the stretch of it, your pussy fluttering around him; you muffle the moan that rips itself from your chest by biting down on his shoulder. He chuckles as you mewl his name, your back arching as he pulls out, only sheathe himself up to the hilt when he thrusts back in - he’s as drunk on your sounds as you are on his cock: he needs more. More of you, of your delicious sounds and your intoxicating scent and that sweet, sweet cunt of yours.

Feyd fucks like he fights: ruthless, full of passion and lust, remorseless.

Just as you’re about to come around his cock, he pulls out, leaving you scrabbling against the floor, hips futile as they follow his, his name like a plea on your lips. He drinks in your desperation, flipping you over and cracking his palm down hard on your ass before slamming himself back into your weeping pussy, the ragged cry that escapes you like the nectar of the gods on his tongue as he swallows it with a kiss. Gathering your hair in his fist, he pulls your head back, pounding tirelessly into you as he pins you to his solid chest, mouthing at the skin behind your ear.

As Feyd spills his warm seed inside you, you wonder if the Bene Gesserit were actually distracted, or if that was what they wanted you to think as they crossed bloodlines, even despite your defiance of their order.

You flop onto the blanket as Feyd eases himself out of your spasming cunt. Your head is fuzzy, warm, and a dumb smile pulls at your lips.

Feyd chuckles. ‘I have not broken you, have I, little witch?’

You send him a look half as fierce as it should be. ‘Barely. You have merely sated me - for now.’

He laughs again, lying next to you on the blankets. His body is angled towards you, but he doesn’t reach out - that he lay down beside you is surprising to you in the first place, but you seize the opportunity and curl up in the curve of his body, enjoying the warmth of his skin. Slowly, his fingers card through your hair, and you close your eyes, letting yourself enjoy the moment of softness from the bloodthirsty na-Baron of House Harkonnen.

Reaching out, you grab the blanket and fold it over the two of you - he rolls over so that he lies with his head resting on your chest. His lips brush the skin between your breasts, and you're struck by the glimpse of vulnerability that Feyd allows you to witness; this is not by accident, this is a gift from him, a way of silently telling you that he has come as close to trusting you as he could ever come to trusting someone.

Silent, you bask there in the afterglow, eyes half closed. At some point, you seek Feyd’s lips, and he obliges you, lazily exploring your mouth in a way he did not get a chance to do before, sighing contentedly as you trace the lines your nails carved along the grooves of his broad back. Eventually, you pull away, staring into his eyes where the embers of the fire that had blazed in them still glow with the heat of it. You need to go.

Gently, your breath mingling with his, you kiss his cheek, your lips gliding against his skin before you get up, briefly laughing at the wobbly nature of your legs before gathering your clothes and dressing as best as you can, considering he ripped your shirt all the way down the back.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s propped himself up on his elbows; the blanket has slipped down to reveal most of his moon coloured stomach, and he regards you with mirth mixed with something like respect.

You pause in the doorway. You can tell he’s letting you leave.

A smile plays on his lips.

‘We’ll meet again, little witch.’

It’s not a question, nor a whimsy. It’s a promise.

[dostoevskya]

月島蛍 — WHO ARE WE TO FIGHT THE ALCHEMY?

꩜ [ haikyuu !! ] tsukishima kei x fem!reader

wc: 800+

–> first kiss; secret/private, but established relationship; soft bf!tsukki agenda grr

now playing… so high school by taylor swift.

“don’t i get a kiss for good luck?” he had teased before the game, referring to how she had firmly (but discreetly) pressed her lips to his cheek before his previous match the day before. “it’s kind of a tradition, isn’t it?”

her cheeks had burst into flames. “we’ll see, moonboy,” she replied. “just who do you think you are — percy jackson?”

the corners of kei’s lips spread into a small smile and his eyes gazed softly down at her. “only if you’re my annabeth chase. see you, shortcake.” he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, then promptly jogged off to line up with his team.

out of the corner of her eye, (name) could see a smug kiyoko subtly side-eyeing her.

—

the stadium was erupting in roars. after a long, painful five sets with shiratorizawa, coupled with kei’s injury in the middle of the game, karasuno had finally grasped victory.

the boys were piled on the floor in a tight, sweaty embrace. almost all of them were in tears. the seniors clawed on each others’ jerseys, crying out in relief and disbelief. kiyoko had her hands clasped over her mouth, a steady stream of tears flowing from her eyes. coach ukai and mr takeda (who was sobbing harder than sugawara, daichi, and asahi combined) cheered for joy. hinata was shining with sheer happiness, and even a hint of a smile could be seen on kageyama’s face. yamaguchi had been squashed underneath a pile consisting of tanaka, ennoshita, kinoshita, and narita.

all the way up in the stands, (name) found herself being bounced up and down in saeko’s death-gripped embrace, along with half-conscious yachi. ukai’s friends and kei’s brother, akiteru, had nearly thrown themselves over the railing, cheering and sobbing for all their worth. all of karasuno shrieked themselves hoarse in celebration.

tsukki, who had been tackled by nishinoya, wrestled himself away from the latter’s limbs. kei staggered to his feet and run a hand through his hair. he scanned the crowd to find his favourite person and grinned when his golden eyes fell on hers.

there’s my girl.

kei raised his hand toward the karasuno cheer box and pointed a long, skinny finger at (name), smirking boyishly. he turned his hand over and bent his finger twice, beckoning her to him.

she burst into an excited flurry of laughter, tearing herself away from saeko’s iron grip and bolted down the stairs. kei’s favourite jacket fluttered behind her as she made her way to center court.

there he was, in all his six-foot-two glory, looking back at her with so much adoration it hurt.

he came running over to her, and they met just after she passed the white line. (name) leapt into his hold and wrapped her arms around his neck, half-crying, half-laughing all the while. his big hands had a strong, steady grip on the bottom of her thighs and he smiled such a beautiful, genuine smile as he spun her around.

“oh, my god,” kiyoko whispered from the bench, hiding her giggles behind the clipboard. the rest of the team was too busy celebrating, but hinata noticed the two lovers and let out a strangled noise of surprise. up in the stands, akiteru and saeko whistled and hooted.

“there she is,” kei whispered breathlessly. “there’s my trophy.”

and with that, despite knowing there were over a thousand people in that arena, even though multiple TV cameras were trained on them, and though his team and entire school was watching, the rest of the world melted away for tsukishima kei and he kissed the girl, his girl, whom he would trade the stars and moon for.

karasuno’s cheers grew thunderously louder.

(name) smiled against his lips. “wasn’t i supposed to be the one who kisses you first?”

“yes, but this is our first kiss. both yours and mine,” he muttered in between kisses. “i’m the gentleman here.”

“if you say so,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes.

this time, she initiated the kiss, and tsukki let her tilt his head to the side to deepen it.

“you gonna greet me after every match like this, princess?” he asked when they pulled apart for breath, his eyes lidded.

“i don’t see why not.” she smirked.

their perfect moment was interrupted by a shriek.

“TSUKISHIMA!! DID YOU JUST KISS (NAME)!?” an astounded hinata hollered from across the court. he might as well have broadcasted it to the entire world, although, technically, japan had already seen their sweet moment on TV. little did tsukishima know, his mom was jumping up and down at home for joy.

“HE DID WHAT?” tanaka and nishinoya squawked indignantly. yamaguchi cackled. kageyama stared. sugawara whooped. soon enough, the whole team was ogling at them. even tendou from shiratorizawa seemingly forgot about their loss as he peeked through the net to see what the whole ordeal was about.

“ooh, spicy.”

…yeaaah. there was a lot of explaining to do.

꩜ a/n: woo! my first ever fanfic 😵‍💫 had this in my notes app since july but finally got the guts to post it lol. hope you guys enjoyed!

꩜ taglist: @snowthatareblack (my wifey and fellow tsukki girlie <3)

(lmk if you want to be added!!)

———

© dostoevskya 2024. all rights reserved.

please do not copy, edit, or repost any of my works. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[valiwrites]

THE REVEAL

pairing: hector fort x reader

type: fluff

warnings: none

MASTERLIST

<><><><><><>

Héctor Fort had always been in the spotlight. The young star of FC Barcelona, rising through the ranks, had a devoted fan base that followed his every move. The media loved him too—his natural talent, his charm, and his good looks made him the perfect poster boy for the club. But behind the fame, the pressure, and the adoring crowds, there was something he had kept hidden.

Her.

They had been together for a little over a year now, and despite the intensity of their love, they had agreed to keep their relationship a secret. Héctor knew his fans idolized him, and any hint of a relationship would send them into a frenzy. His girlfriend understood that too. The constant scrutiny, the rumors—it wasn’t something they wanted to deal with.

But hiding it wasn’t easy. Every time they were out together, they had to be cautious—sunglasses, hats, different exits from restaurants. Héctor hated not being able to openly show her off. She was his world, his anchor when the noise of football and fame became too loud. Still, they both agreed it was for the best. At least for now.

It was El Clásico day, the biggest match of the season: FC Barcelona vs. Real Madrid. The Camp Nou was packed to capacity, and the energy was electric. Héctor felt it too—nerves, adrenaline, excitement. He had trained for this moment, and now, standing on the pitch, he felt the weight of the occasion pressing down on him. His girlfriend was somewhere in the VIP section, watching from afar, just like she always did. The only person who truly knew him beyond the player everyone saw on the field.

The game was intense, as always, with both teams fighting for dominance. Every touch of the ball was met with thunderous roars from the crowd, and the pressure was immense. But Héctor was focused. His mind was sharp, and his movements precise.

Then, in the 78th minute, the moment came.

Barcelona had been pressing high, and the ball came to Héctor just outside the box. He took a quick touch, looked up, and in one fluid motion, curled the ball past the goalkeeper and into the top corner of the net.

The stadium erupted.

Héctor stood there for a moment, letting the noise wash over him, the adrenaline surging through his veins. Normally, he would celebrate with his teammates, but tonight, something was different. He had been keeping this part of his life hidden for too long, and in this moment of triumph, something inside him snapped.

Without a second thought, Héctor sprinted toward the VIP section. His teammates called after him, confused, but he didn’t stop. His heart pounded in his chest, but this time it wasn’t from the goal. It was from what he was about to do.

And then he saw her. Sitting there, wide-eyed, her hand covering her mouth in disbelief.

The moment their eyes met, nothing else mattered. Not the game, not the cameras, not the thousands of fans watching. It was just her.

Héctor climbed the barrier separating the pitch from the stands and ran up to where she was sitting. The crowd was in chaos, unsure of what was happening. He could hear the gasps and murmurs growing louder as people started to realize what was going on.

When he reached her, he didn’t hesitate. He pulled her up from her seat and kissed her deeply, right there, in front of everyone. The stadium fell into a stunned silence for a split second, before it erupted again—this time not just in celebration of the goal, but in shock and excitement over what they had just witnessed.

Cameras flashed wildly, and the commentators were losing their minds. The fans were screaming, a mixture of surprise, joy, and disbelief flooding the air. The secret was out, and there was no going back.

When they finally pulled apart, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide, Héctor smiled softly. “I couldn’t hide it anymore,” he said, his voice just loud enough for her to hear over the noise.

She looked at him, still stunned, but there was a warmth in her eyes. “You’re crazy,” she whispered, laughing softly.

“Only for you,” he replied, kissing her again, ignoring the world around them.

As Héctor jogged back to the pitch, his heart still racing, he could feel the eyes of everyone on him. The fans were chanting his name louder than ever before. The entire stadium had witnessed the moment, and the news was already spreading like wildfire. Social media was no doubt blowing up with pictures and videos of the kiss.

But for the first time, Héctor didn’t care.

He had scored in the biggest match of the season, but that goal wasn’t what made the night unforgettable. It was the moment he finally let the world see the person he loved more than anything else. And standing there on the pitch, with his teammates surrounding him and the crowd still chanting, he realized something:

It was worth it.

[vsimp]

"glimpse of us"

pairing: zhongli x reader

genre: angst, no comfort

w/c: 850

summary: "glimpse of us" by joji, but you are not her

You have been through everything with him. Through the archon war, through the cataclysm, through the ongoing erosion, and through the “death” of Morax. You wanted to think that you were the closest person to him. You knew all of his likes and dislikes. You knew what all of his hobbies were. You knew how much he cared about his people, the people of Liyue. You understood him more than anyone.

“My dearest and oldest friend…” Zhongli’s deep voice rumbled through the plains of Liyue, like a gentle breeze that could soothe even the most unfortunate of souls. “My y/n… You have truly proved yourself to be my most loyal companion. I was once an archon, and now I am merely a man, yet you love me anyways, and it has taken me this long to realize that. Will you accompany this old soul for the rest of his modest life?”

When he had proposed to you, you felt like the happiest person in the world. The man who you had been in love with over the last thousands of years had finally realized your feelings, and you were ecstatic. But despite his whispers of love to you, despite all of the passionate feelings that he vocalized, there was always a lingering thought in the back of your mind. 

Indeed, you knew everything about Morax. Even his heartaches and troubles. Even his old love who he lost many, many millennials ago.

The death of Guizhong broke your heart as well. She was loved by many, that included the Geo Archon himself. You didn’t think your unrequited love would ever be returned, and yet, you still somehow felt guilty now that you’ve taken the place of your old friend, the one who used to stand by his side.

He had never once looked at you the way that he looked at her. He had never once smiled at you the way he did her. And even at night when he dreams, he dreams of her.

But you smiled on, hoping and wishing that Zhongli would be happy by your side. Minutes passed like hours, as you kissed his lips, and hours passed like seconds as you laughed by his side. But you knew that you were just her replacement. You knew that whenever he looked into your eyes, he was not looking at you, but instead at a glimpse of her. 

“I love you, Guizhong,” Zhongli had let out one day. Whatever you had in your hand had fallen to the ground at the time, leaving a loud thud amidst the silence. “No… No, I meant y/n. I love you, y/n.” Zhongli was flustered, which was unlike him, and also quick to correct his mistake, but it was too late. You had already found out about his true feelings.

He chased you outside as you ran straight into the rain, calling your name and asking you calmly to come back inside. You didn’t know how to feel. You didn’t know how to react. You just knew that you could no longer face him. The thunder roared loud in the sky as your heart ached.

Your fears were confirmed that night. You had never seen Zhongli look so desperate and scared before. It was like he knew what his true feelings were, but he just didn’t want to lose you. The damage, however, had already been done.

He held you in his arms tightly, catching you before you got too far, your back against his chest. 

“Y/n,” he pleaded, “please… come back inside. It’s raining and you’ll get sick.”

“It’s been thousands of years, Morax.” Zhongli’s grip tightened as he heard your firm voice, as if he was afraid he’d lose you like how he had lost everybody else in his life. “I’ve always been yours… but when will you ever be mine?”

“I apologize. I truly am sorry. It was a slip of the tongue.” But he couldn’t deny the truth. You had hoped he would say that you were the only one in his heart right now. That you are the only one he thought about. He remained uncharacteristically silent but still clinging onto you.

It was time you put yourself first for once. Everything you had done had been for him, the man you love. But his silence spoke louder than his actions in this case, and it cracked open your heart even further. 

“I think… we need a break. I’m sorry.”

There was a long pause before Zhongli let you go.

“Very well,” he said hesitantly and cautiously. “I cannot force you to stay. But remember this, I truly love you. And when you would like to speak again, I will be here waiting for you.”

“Unfortunately, I’m tired of doing the chasing,” you said simply. 

“The chasing…? Oh, my dear…” You couldn’t look at his expression, but you could tell he finally understood your feelings. Still, he hesitated to say what he truly wanted to say, a long pause between his words. “It appears I cannot convince you to stay…”

“Yes. Goodbye.”

Zhongli watched as you walked away. The light of his life had faded, and now, he truly was all alone.

[cardierreh15]

Zeus Lament

Hold on to your fucking seats y’all! Things get messy! Both for good and for bad!

***I do not give anyone consent to repost, translate or copy my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Angst , Dub-Con Sex , Mind-Control/Mental Manipulation , Infidelity , Mentions of Cheating , Domestic Violence situation , Blood (Golden Celestial) , Nipple Stimulation , Cursing , Spitting , Breeding Kink , Oral (Female Receiving) , Death . PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!!

Pairings: Zeus/Walter Marshall x Angela's (Black!Plus Size Female)

Description: A terrible storm is approaching the city, wonder what could possibly be the cause?

Word Count: 5.8K

Song: Only RY X , Call out my name by The Weeknd.

The man sat across from his wife as she ate her fill and sipped on her wine. Everything but her beauty, disgusted him. But lately, even that was faltering. She was evil, jealous and spiteful. The infamous; Goddess of Marriage herself, Hera. 

‘You are quiet today husband.’ She said blandly as she took another sip of her wine to wash down the food in her throat. 

A reluctant smirk curled on his lips before he glanced away and shook his head. A small, hysterical chuckle left his lips before he rested his elbows on the golden table and rested his face in his palms. 

‘You speak to me as if you don’t know what you’ve done, wife.’ The word had poison behind it. It was no secret that Zeus had a loathe over his wife that no man or immortal had ever seen. Some would say with great reason! She’d proved herself to be murderous and invidious on many occasions. 

But, Zeus wasn’t in the right either. 

Sleeping around with mortals in different disguises to hide his true form; impregnating and soiling the oats that have been left untamed thousands of years ago. 

Perhaps, he’d driven her over the edge that she couldn’t retract from. 

Hera peeled her eyes away from her plate of food and glared up at her indignant husband. She tilted her head to the side gently, ‘What is it now, Zeus? You’re angry about that little “accident” that you’ve created? Many of what you’ve called them yourself.’ 

Zeus slammed his palm on the golden plated table, standing up to his feet with a baleful scowl written across his dramatic features. ‘THEY WERE MY CHILDREN!’

‘Your children are here!’ Hera spat hatefully. She had no remorse, no regret. ‘On Olympus where they belong. Not with those disgusting mongrels you call humans. Such a pathetic excuse for creations. Just like-’

‘I’d watch my next words, woman.’ His face, carved into perfection like stone and marble. Zeus stood up straight and swallowed hard. 

She stared back up at him, not breaking the glare. ‘Why do you do it? Why do you constantly put me  through this Zeus? Do you think I want to act the way I do? Do you think I thrive off of being bitter and hateful?! I am only this way because you made me this way!’ 

‘No, you only do this because you don’t give a damn about nobody but yourself!’ 

Hera grimaced and slowly stood to her feet, scooting her throne back behind her. ‘Selfish?! While I SIT HERE AND YOU GO OUT AND FROLIC ABOUT BETWEEN THE THIGHS OF THOSE VILE CREATURES!’ Golden tears filled her bright blue orbs. ‘I sit here and I wait for you, ZEUS!’

‘FOR WHAT!?’ he snapped back. Thunder began to roar beyond the walls. ‘DONT YOU UNDERSTAND?! I don’t want you! I haven’t wanted you in centuries! I only married you in the first place because it was a power move. You were a mistake–’

‘Mistake?! Zeus-’ 

‘You will address me as your King.’ He placed his hands on the table and peered across, ‘I won’t stop, Hera. I will not stop until I have found happiness and created a demi-God army of my own.’

‘Zeus-’

‘YOU WILL NOT STOP ME HERA!’ He exclaimed with great disdain in his voice. He began to round the table slowly, his golden heeled sandals clicking and echoing within the walls. 

Hera snatched up the golden blade she’d used to cut into her roasted goose. 

As soon as she found a good grip around the handle, he’d snatched her up by her throat looking down into her eyes. 

‘Ugh!’ She exclaimed at the sudden roughness. Golden tears had fallen down the sides of her face. 

‘If you interfere with my affairs again, My Queen.’ The word burned the back of his throat. Oh he’d do anything to strip her from that title. Hell, he really did hate her enough to kill her himself. She’d taken so much away from him. 

‘I will kill you… do you understand?’ 

Hera turned her gaze away from him, but he tightened up his grasp. 

Her lips trembled as she looked up into his stormy eyes. ‘You wouldn’t dare…’ she choked out. 

‘Then you don’t know me the way you think you do.’ He added monitorily. His warnings always went undone. Leaving ample room for Hera to continue to disobey him. 

He shoved her away from him before the both of them heard the small call of their youngest daughter, Hebe. 

‘Mama?’

She looked over at the massive golden doors that were cracked open. There she spotted the little face of the tiny goddess. Hera cleared her throat and put on her best smile, ‘Hebe. Darling-’ She approached her with open arms. 

The young one pushed the door open a little further before running towards her mother who was now on her knees. 

‘You’re supposed to be resting my sweet.’ 

‘I couldn’t sleep, mama.’ 

Zeus watched the mother speak to their daughter before he quickly spun off and walked towards the second set of double doors. 

***

The dark clouds loomed up above. Lightning bolts scattered across the sky like veins. The wind blew hard enough to almost tear her apartment building off of the support beams! 

Storms were quite the norm where Angela was from. The lightning capital of the world, Tampa, Florida. She’d lived through countless hurricanes and tropical storms. 

The news measured it out to be a tropical storm, the first one of the season. But something about this particular storm was different than the rest. 

Thunder shook the floor beneath her feet, causing her to stop in her tracks and wait for it to calm down. Angela had never been so anxious during a storm. Hell, this was her favorite kind of weather! But she had a gut feeling something bad was going to happen. 

The woman ripped open the big bag of ice and poured it into the cooler. Then, she began to stock perishable snacks and foods inside of it. 

Once she was done, she did a head count of her 5 gallon dispenser jugs, found her waterproof flashlight with batteries and made sure she had candles.

Angie placed her hands on her hips and gave herself a firm nod, ‘Alright! What could possibly go wrong?’ Another vociferous thunder clap erupted outside, causing lightning to flicker inside of her apartment. Then, the lights flickered off. 

The power died, causing an eerie silence to fill the air. ‘Dammit, running my mouth. I just fucked the whole building.’ She rolled her eyes and picked up her phone. The battery was on 11%. ‘What?!’ She exclaimed as she looked at the charger adaptor that had never been plugged up into the wall. 

‘You’ve got to be shitting me.’ 

She turned on the light on her phone and loaded up the flashlight with batteries and put her phone on Low Power Mode. Clicking the power on the flashlight. She walked down the hall to the electric breaker and pulled it open. 

Shining the light on the labeled switches, she shifted them to the side one and then back to their original places. But nothing. She assumed whatever generator the apartments management used had gone to shit. 

‘Cheap fucks’ she hissed before the flashlight began to flicker. ‘Uh uh! No, no!’ She began to bang on it, hoping it would keep its power but when it died, she let out a heavy huff. ‘Dammit.’

Angela walked back into the kitchen and began to light candles. 

Once the apartment was decorated with artificial light, she walked into her bedroom and took off her dress. 

She walked over to her dresser, lightning taking its own place in her room this time. Again, thunder followed. Not able to stand the blinding brightness, she walked over to the patio doors to close them. But what she saw in her backyard frightened her. 

Air lodged in her throat so she was unable to breathe out or in, she stared at the tall, dark figure that stood in the grass. Heavy, slanted rain blurred out its features but by the size of its shoulders, it had to be a man. 

Whatever the hell it was… it was massive. 

‘Close. The blinds. Angela. Close the blinds.’ She choked before quickly pulling the stick to the side and twisting them closed. 

Stumbling backwards, she let out a shuddered breath. She was afraid to walk to the kitchen and grab her phone; having the slightest belief that somehow the uncanny being would find its way inside without any aid. 

So, she just sat on the bed and stared. 

‘Wooo. It’s OK. Ain’t nobody gonna come out here in this rain…’ she uttered to herself and pulled her comforter back and tucked her chilly legs beneath. 

Every once in a while she would toss and turn. But she always brought her attention back to the blinds. Her anxiety wouldn’t let her rest for a while, until she just closed her eyes and counted. 

*** 

Zeus stood in the shadows of her bedroom. Lightning flickering across his face as he watched the mortal woman sleep soundly. Her soft snores could barely be heard over the rain that beat down against the glass slide door. 

Stepping from the safety of the darkness, Zeus crept over to her bed. His fingertips grazed atop the silky, bronze colored sheets. Once he made it to her, his bright blue eyes searched her face. 

She was a beauty to behold. Full lips, skin brown as cherry wood. Lashes so thick they almost looked like paint brushes. Then, it was her hair. Sprawled out beneath her it was coily and thick. He leaned down carefully, nuzzling his nose within the warmth of her hair. He inhaled deeply, slowly. Taking in her scent. She smelled of Rosemary and Lavender. Two scents he could get lost in forever. 

Pulling away, he grazed his pointy nose over her wide one before gently pressing his lips against hers. Letting his lips settle there, his mustache and beard tickled her chin and nose. Causing her to stir out of her sleep. 

Angela’s dark brown eyes flashed open to see the intruder with a beard and thick dark curly hair hovering over her. Her first reaction was to scream but instead Zeus had tricks of his own. 

‘Shhh, don’t scream.’ 

Her eyes reflected once in gold as she inhaled so hard she thought her head would explode. 

Zeus’ eyes continued to roam her face before traveling down to her neck and then the valley of her breasts. 

‘Wh-who are you? What are you doing in my apartment?’ Angela’s voice was rugged and shaky. But she was careful not to be too loud. 

‘Something you would never be able to comprehend mortal woman.’ His voice was much gentler than how he spoke to Hera just a few days before. 

His eyes broke from her gaze as he carefully ran his palm over her silky flesh; starting from her belly to her thighs but also pulling the blanket off in the process. Revealed onto him was her half naked body, dressed in a white sports bra and matching thong. 

Angela flinched at his cool touch, quickly shifting her hips away from him. ‘Don’t touch—‘ 

‘Don’t fight me.’ He hissed as thunder shook the apartment once again. 

Just like before, she followed his command willingly. She just laid there with tears in her eyes as his large hands began to caress her chubby thighs. ‘Wh-what are you g-gonna do to me?’ Angela stammered. 

‘Anything I please…’ he licked his lips as he looked up at her once again. She was silently sobbing. Tears falling into place of the last on the sides of her head. His thick brows pulled into one before he leaned back over her once again, ‘Oh my sweet one… don’t cry.’ 

Her sobs instantly stopped. 

‘Don’t you know how lucky you are? How special you are?’ Zeus brought his hand up and smooth out her cheek with his knuckles. Then, his index grazed her bottom lip. ‘You don’t have to be scared of me… I won’t hurt you.’

‘I—I have a boyfriend.. we’ve been dating for 3 years and—‘ she lied. ‘And-and he’ll be here soon!’ 

‘Oh? In this weather?’ Zeus said softly as he gently pinched her chin. ‘How romantic or jus plain stupid.’ He purred softly. ‘Tell me sweetheart, have you ever fuck a God?’ 

Angela’s eyes grew slightly, his words rocking her core, ‘N-‘

‘I didn’t think so… you see Angel. You need someone who’s gonna take care of you. In more ways than just… one.’ His index dropped to the valley of her breasts. 

A God?! What the hell was a God doing in her apartment? And why her out of all people? 

‘A God? There’s no way—‘ 

Zeus stared down into her eyes, his eyes flickering a bright gold for a second before fading back to their stormy blue. 

‘Oh my—‘ 

‘Zeus…’ 

Angela stared up at him; her eyes were a cauldron of fear, disbelief, and slight adoration. She had never seen something— something so graceful. So beautiful. ‘B-but why me?’ 

‘Well isn’t it obvious my little love? I have been watching you for weeks. That little inkling you felt of being watched.. It was me. I have been in your corner. You have enough beauty to my own daughter to shame.’ 

Aphrodite would not like that at all. She was much like her mother. Scorned to hell.

‘You’ve been stalking me?!’ 

‘Stalking, watching? Call it whatever you’d like. Fact of the matter is … you’re mine.’ 

His words nestled within her soul, causing whatever frightened feeling she had left to dissipate. In an instant, she felt protected. Perhaps it was his magic, controlling her mind and messing with her chemical imbalances. Whatever it was… it made her feel good. 

Zeus leaned down once again, lips almost touching hers. ‘Let me have you.’ 

Closing her eyes, ‘Yes.’ She uttered before parting her lips to welcome him in a kiss. 

Without another moment wasted, Zeus took her lips into his. He slithered his thick tongue into her mouth as his hand slithered down between her thighs. He grasped the thin fabric into his fist and tugged it; instantly tearing it to shreds. 

Angela’s fingers instantly found their way in his soft thick, dark locks which seem never ending. She barely noticed the absence of her panties until he was pushing her thighs part. The warmth from ecstasy was keeping her warm until he pressed his cold fingertips against her sensitive nub. 

‘Ooh.’ She gasped softly, her hips buckling for a second. ‘Cold.’

‘Forgive me little love.’ He began to rub at her core before slipping his middle and ring inside of her sticky entrance. 

Angela shuddered out in a moan, goosebumps prickling all over her skin, nipples hardening against her thin bra. 

She ripped her eyes away from his haunting gaze and looked down to watch him knead her from the inside out. She gripped the sheets beneath her. Her chest caving in as she tried to breathe through the pleasure. She wanted so badly to do something with her legs, kick and flail them about but she was still under his command. Don’t fight me. 

‘Ugh!’ She exclaimed as Zeus curled his fingers up and toyed with her G-spot. 

A wicked grin curled on his face as he watched her writhe and buck her hips into his embrace. He pressed his forehead against hers. 

Angela opened her mouth to speak but her words instantly became gibberish and a bed of incoherent moans. 

‘If you want it my sweet, all you have to do is ask.’ 

She felt her lower belly twist and knot, causing her thighs to clench as she felt her climax creeping up. It felt so close yet, so far. Wait, was he controlling that?! 

‘Can I — can I cum, please?’ She placed her hand on his shoulder, her nails gently digging into it through the cloth of his shirt. 

Zeus chuckled menacingly, ‘As you wish.’ 

His words were like some kind of invisible trigger, she was the chemical reaction that shifted the bullet in place and fired off the gunpowder. 

Angela inhaled hard before a satisfied scream erupted from her lungs. Her head fell back against her plush pillow, body trembling as she tried to comprehend that kind of intensity. 

He finally pulled his fingers from the warm home of her. ‘I can provide you with so much more. Would you like that?’ His sticky fingers grazed her neck. 

‘Yes. I-I need you.’ 

That stomach twisting smile curled up once again against his beard. He was to die for. 

Zeus stood up, bringing her small hand in his grasp and bringing her up to her feet. Her legs wobbly from the previous assault on her womb and cunt. 

‘Then you have me, my little love.’ 

He towered over her like a mountain. Him sitting on her bed made him seem so much smaller that way. Zeus leaned down, pressing his lips against hers once more as his clothes disappeared. 

She wrapped her arms around his wide frame as he pulled her chubby body against toned muscles. Angela pulled away from the kiss. Her big brown eyes trailed from his face to his shoulders, and abdomen. ‘Wow…’ her hands slipped from his shoulders and down his abdomen. ‘You’re really… real.’

‘As real as you are my love.’ 

She wasn’t expecting a God, no— the infamous King Of Gods to be so… kind. History made him out to be a spineless shithead. But this being before him was everything but that. 

Or was that what he was making her think? 

‘Lay back. Get comfortable.’ 

Following his command, Angela sat back down on her bed and laid back against her pillows. 

Zeus stood at the end of the bed before crawling in and spreading her thighs. He lowered his head between her legs as he rested on his front side. Then, he planted soft kisses on her inner thighs, navigating his lips to her flower. 

He placed the flattening of his tongue on her slit before lapping up slowly until he found her clit and brought it between his lips. 

‘Mmmm, yess.’ She moaned out as she reached down and found her fingers intertwined in his locks once again. 

He sucked teasingly on her clit before letting it go with a pop, then flicking his tongue over it. He used her pussy as if it were her mouth instead. Licking, and kissing with passion and a purpose. 

‘Ooooh Zeus just like that. Mmmm.’ Angela moaned as she rolled and rocked her hips into his face.

Her words only fueled his desire and want for her. He grabbed her thighs and pushed them back so he could satisfy her in a more efficient way. More exposed, Zeus was about to dip his tongue within her walls and lick her from the inside out. Every once in a while though, his tongue would slip and tickle at her puckered asshole.

Angela leaned up on her elbows, her breathing shallow as she watched this celestial being indulge on her body in the most sinful of ways. He was just wicked in that way. Honestly, if it weren’t for the immense pleasure he was inflicting upon her– she would’ve thought this was a dream. ‘Uhhh fuck!’ 

Zeus relished in her taste. She tasted the most delectable of forbidden treats. He wanted to keep his face buried between her thighs for as long as the Earth rotated but the way his hips grind against the bed to soothe his aching member… Zeus was more than ready to claim her. 

Letting out a gentle grunt at the pleasure that burned at his lower gut, Zeus’ lips ghosted her inner thigh before placing a gentle kiss there. 

She had just begun to recover from her profound orgasms. Her thighs trembled, almost mimicking the sound of thunder outside. ‘Oh! Fuu—‘ 

Zeus brought himself up on his knees. His naked body resembled the ancient marble that were carved in Greece thousands of years ago. Except that one particular thing. 

Humans once believed that men that wielded such large members lacked intelligence and were compared to violent, brainless, sex-crazed creatures.

Actually, Zeus’ cock had been tampered to be quite the insignificant thing but now… it was no wonder he made stupid decisions.

With distinguishable veins traveling over his Adonis belt, that was a sign of healthy blood flow. He was hung like nothing she’d ever seen. The whole package really. 

‘Jesus- oh… I mean…’ Angela whimpered softly as she finally pulled her eyes away from his cock. ‘Wow… you are… not what I expected.’ 

Zeus smirked and began to crawl over her, closing that gap between them. ‘You’ve must’ve seen the statues. Are you afraid?’ His smile had grown slightly bigger. 

She let out a soft breath. Well, she had a lot of reasons to be afraid right now. One of them being that a celestial God that had been known for his treachery was laying between her legs! 

‘Mmm. No.’ She lied again. 

‘Then we shall make haste.’ He said before helping her get her sports bra from over her head. Her breasts were so round, large and supple. His tongue traced over his lips as he tried to calm the beast that was so desperately fighting to get free. 

Then, his eyes flicked up back to hers, ‘Are you ready my sweet?’ 

Swallowing hard, Angela nodded as her hands gently rested against his cool muscular back. 

Zeus had given her a sly smile before adjusting his hips. His thick bell shaped tip against her honey coated pussy. And before he made the final blow, he pressed his lips against hers. Their tongues slipped in one another’s mouth once again for a short moment before he pulled away slightly. 

‘Bite down on me if it hurts…’ 

Angela nodded one more time before bringing him back into another kiss. 

As they kissed, Zeus thrusted his hips forward only slipping just the tip in. A wince left his chest as he felt the piercing pain of her biting down into his bottom lip. It was too late to pull back now. So he began to sink his hips into her further. This earned him a loud wail from her but the piercing continued. 

Gritting his teeth to bear the pain, Zeus let out a groan as he went as deep as he possibly could. 

Angie had released his hold on his lips and looked up at him with terror in her eyes. Half from the brutal stretch and half from his lips and beard coated in shiny gold blood. 

‘Ugh! — Oh My— Zeus, is that? My God— you’re bleeding!’ 

Zeus pressed his fingers against his lips and examined it, ‘Yes. It appears that I am.’

‘Well, are you alright?!’ She exclaimed in worry. 

He couldn’t help the gentle feeling that came over him. The feeling of knowing someone cared for him. He knew that his wife did… but not in the way he felt from Angela. Hera only wanted her throne and position of power. She’d otherwise be nothing without him. But, Angela… no other human woman had shown such compassion and kindness. Even if… some of this was against her will. 

‘I’m fine my little mortal… see?’ 

Zeus brushed his thumb over his wounds and they healed in an instant. Only the blood remained and would serve as a reminder that he could also be hurt too. 

Letting out a breath in relief she grabbed his face and pressed the back of her hand against his bearded jaw. 

He brought back his hips slowly and steadily before thrusting forward once again. He held back a moan that always slipped between his lips. 

But Angela let out a whimper as her nails dug into his flesh a little. 

Zeus soon began to pick up the rhythm of his hips, creating a bit more friction. Now he wasn’t holding back his moans. She felt way too good to front over. 

Angela felt so uncomfortably full at first but then a surge of pleasure began to pump through her body like drugs. She’s had great sex before but nothing could compare to this! Her standards have completely changed and if it wasn’t him… then she didn’t want it. 

‘Ooooo! Zeus, fuck that’s so fucking good baby. Haaa! Don’t stop!’

‘Uhhhh. I’m not my love, we can go for as—URGH! As long as you like.’ 

Their moans echoed throughout her room and was enough to combat the lightning that was striking nearby and the thunder that shook the building. They were in a world of their own at this point. 

Zeus brought up Angela’s thigh and rested her leg over his shoulder. He began to pump deeper, harder and faster. ‘Ooh fuck… you feel so fucking amazing.’ He moaned out before leaning down and wrapping his lips around her hardened nipple. 

‘Zeus, just like that—‘ her fingers slipped through his hair as his tongue tickled and teased over the sensitive flesh. She could feel her womb twisting and turning just the same as it did earlier. ‘Mmm, I’m so close. Fuuuuuuck!’ She called out.

He’d begun to pump his hips faster, groaning and grunting against her breast. 

Her thighs began to tremble as an ineffable climax rocked through her, ‘AUGHHH! FUCK!’ She cried out. 

Leaving one last lick to her nipple, Zeus slowed down his thrusts and brought her lips back in for another kiss as he moaned against them. ‘Fuck you’re so warm. I can stay buried inside you forever.’ He growled before placing wet kisses under her chin and her neck. 

A sheepish grin was casted on Angela’s lips as she just tried to process that vehement orgasm that she’d just passed. Her lips quivered and her chest heaved as she gently clawed down the valley of his spine. ‘Mmmm, My God… I want you here forever.’ 

Zeus began to pick up the pace of his hips once more as his lips began to make their way back up to hers once again. He couldn’t get enough of how she tasted. He couldn’t remember the last time he and The Queen kissed. Probably centuries ago when Hebe was born. Other than the birth of his sweet child, The Goddess of Youth, there was no other reason to remember that day. 

After sending Angela in a whirlwind of mind-bending orgasms, he pulled away to stand on his knees. ‘Lay on your front side.’ On command, she rolled over and got comfortable. He leaned down to press kisses on her shoulder before his cleft nose drug across her misty, prickly skin. She smelled so good and she felt so warm. 

He carefully spread her thighs with his knees as he sat back up. Stroking his throbbing cock, he used his hand to navigate her entrance this time. Time wasn’t wasted this go around, so he thrusted his hips forward into her. 

The both of them let out a synchronized groan; Zeus threw his head back; quickly coming to his senses that he would not last long in this position. He had the perfect bird’s eye view of her ass and his cock sliding in and out. He was no better than a mortal man now. 

‘Mmmm.’ Angela groaned, feeling so much pressure and pleasure against her wet walls. She began to grip the sheets in her fist, knowing that it was going to be a bumpy ride.

Zeus caressed his hands up from her thick thighs to her chubby waist. There, he gripped tightly before he started to accelerate. ‘Ugh, shit- yeah. Haaaah.’ He groaned as he thrusted hard and fast. 

Her pretty dark brown eyes rolled to the back of her head as she could already feel her body betraying her once more. ‘Fuck yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes! ZEUS!’ Angela whined out. She slipped her hand beneath herself and began to toy with her clit as he destroyed her from behind. 

The glorious sounds of her angelic songs and his skin crashing and pounding against hers fueled his desire once more. His eyes had shifted from their humanly blue to the color of the blistering sun. His moans were deeper and inhuman. He sounded more of a beast now than he did of a man. Beads of sweat prickled across his forehead, shoulders and his torso. 

His grip on Angela’s hip grew tighter as he reached over and gripped her ponytail, pinning her into her pillow. 

‘Ooh right there baby! Fuck baby you’re gonna make me cum again. Oooh shit!’ 

And just like the flip of a switch, she’d turn into putty in his grasp. But this only encouraged him to keep going. Not like the last time when he decided to give her a break. No, he wanted to rip those orgasms away from her and have her crawling come morning. 

‘OOH DEAR FUCKING– ZEUS!’ Angela wept; tears had soon fallen down the side of her face. 

‘Uh huh! Call out for your God baby.’ 

Orgasm after orgasm, Zeus’ thrusts had become staggered and arrhythmic. He was losing the battle. So, he rested his body atop hers and slowly began to thrust his hips into her. ‘Angela…fuck. I’m gonna give you– ugh! Such a beautiful baby.’ 

She didn’t think, and perhaps she thought he wasn’t serious but when she pressed her ass into him as he nestled deep inside her.

She was sadly mistaken. 

‘UH! FUCK– GAAAHHH!’ 

Zeus had finally unraveled, releasing thick and rich ropes of semen inside of her. He throbbed, gently stretching her out as he bred her. His body shook as the thunder roared with a vengeance outside. ‘Uh…’ He couldn’t speak. 

Angela rolled her hips beneath him, milking him from everything he had. She looked back at him just in time to see his golden hues disappear in the darkness of his ghostly blues. His thick curls were slightly damp from the work out and his parted lips had turned up into a relieved smile. Angela returned the smile and stretched her neck up to kiss him. 

***

The Next Morning… 

Her eyes fluttered open, her tired eyes fixated on the ceiling for a moment. She groaned softly as she slowly turned over to see an empty side of the bed. It was messy, and a telltale sign that he was once here.

She placed her hand on the vacant sheets and ran her hand over them. Still warm… it was then when she’d noticed that her patio blinds were open. The sun had beamed in on that empty space and kept it heated. 

Funny, she had her blinds closed and her window was open across the room. 

Suddenly, she heard a booming voice… deep with a pretty and very familiar accent. 

‘Zeus.’ She uttered excitedly as she scooted herself out of her King sized bed and wrapped the sheets around her. Almost losing her footing, she rushed out her room and down the hall where the voice became distinguishable. He was here! Wow, he was still here! 

Cutting the corner, there he stood in her kitchen with a phone pressed against his ear. He flashed her a bright smile and a wink. 

Returning the gracious smile, her eyes roamed down to his belt where a flashy police badge rested on his hip. Confusion instantly struck her and her smile had faltered. She managed to walk up behind him and sneak his wallet out of his back pocket. When she opened it up, she felt as if air had been snatched out of her lungs. 

Walter Marshall. DOB: 05/05/1983. Issued Date: 07/23/2020 Expiration Date: 05/05/2026 

‘What are you doing with that?’

Almost jumping out of her skin, ‘Huh?’ She looked down at his wallet and looked back up at him. He folded his arms across his massive chest. He’d had this slightly amused smirk curled up on those lips. ‘I-... I don’t know -just…’ She just handed it back to him and swallowed her spit. 

‘Mmmm, maybe you need more rest. You worked double last night, I’m surprised you’re awake!’ He reached over and placed a kiss on her temple. 

‘Double?’

‘Yeah? At the hospital? The storm came in and almost destroyed the city.’ Now confusion was written on his face. 

And they were confused together. 

‘...The hospital. Alright… And you were?’

‘I was at the precinct. They had us shelter in place… hey, what’s going on are you feeling alright, Ang?’ 

Angela cleared her throat and let out a sigh. She was just about to tell him about this crazy dream she’d had until she saw a little frame of them on the bartop. She was dressed in a gorgeous white dress and he wore this chic black and white tuxedo. His beard was gone and his hair was cut to perfection. 

She quickly brought up her left hand, gazing at the big sparkly teardrop diamond that sat delicately on her finger. My, it was by far the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. 

Suddenly, a flood of memories brought her back to her current reality. Perhaps the impact of working so hard and that storm had her a little delusional. 

‘I’m alright, Walter. I just had this… crazy dream.’ 

‘Hmph, must’ve been! Here, let’s talk about it over breakfast-’

‘NO!’

Walter paused for a second as his thick brows pulled into one.

‘It’s just… Has someone ever told you that you kind of favor Zeus?’

His cheekbones turned pink and glanced to the side, ‘You mean Zeus like the God?’

She nodded. 

‘No, mama. Is that what your dream was about, baby? I was a Greek God?’

When he said it, she just felt so damn stupid. She was embarrassed for even bringing it up. ‘Just forget it.. I don’t want to talk about it.’ 

Walter reached over and grabbed her hand, ‘Aw baby girl, don’t be embarrassed. C’mon we’ve all had silly dreams before… tell me what happened.’ He pulled her close and placed a kiss on her cheek. 

‘Well… we… erm.’ 

He tilted his head to the side as his large hands traced up and down her body. 

Angela cleared her throat as she looked up at him, ‘We were–..’

‘Would you like to show me what we did in the dream? You know I've always learned better by touch and physical interaction.’ 

She stared up at him as a slow grin curled up on her lips. ‘As tempting as that sounds baby, um… i think you’re burning the bacon.’ 

And on cue, the smoke alarm blared in the kitchen. Dark gray smoke floated up to the ceiling. 

‘Shit!’ Walter exclaimed as he gently pushed her away and rushed to the stove. He choked as the stench burned at his throat and lungs. He reached over and turned off the knob and let out a gentle sigh.

‘Woman you’re a distraction…’ He turned half way with a gentle smile on his lips, ‘Get some clothes on. We’re going to breakfast. My treat.’

Inhaling deeply through her nose, she gave him a smile in approval, ‘If there are grits involved then I’m in.’ 

‘Good, I know a spot.’ He said with a smirk, watching her glide back in their bedroom. 

His smirk instantly faded, the glow of gold reflected in his gaze. 

He picked up the pan that was now coated in black soot and threw the scraps in the trash. Then, he dropped the pan in the sink. 

Walter squirted some dish soap over the scrubber and began to do away with the burnt food. Suddenly, a  soft yellow light glowed in his peripheral. He paused his movement, ‘As what do I owe the pleasure,’ he lifted his head, ‘Hera.’ 

The Goddess stood tall, her eerie gaze reflected in her eyes. Her blonde hair had specks of gold in her locks. She wore a royal white satin toga with gold trimmings. Nose and lips swollen and pink from all of the sobbing. He’d been gone for days. Living a fantasy that he’d created. 

‘The children ask of you, Zeus.’ 

‘The children are old enough to take care of themselves. And I thought I told you to address me as, Your King.’ He gently brought a dirty knife from out of the sink and placed it in his belt. 

Hera inhaled deeply, and watched him round the counter to join her in the dining room. ‘It’s Hebe. She misses you… I… miss you. Why can’t you come home? Why can’t you be with your real family? You don’t belong here.’ 

‘And you know where I belong?’

‘Why must you be so cantankerous?! You have a family. And it is your duty as a father, as a King, as a God—‘ 

‘My family is… here. I have everything I could possibly want here. Those insubordinate, spoiled and treacherous adults you call children—‘ 

‘You don’t talk about them that way!’ She exclaimed with tears filling her eyes once more. 

‘I will talk of them however I want. Now, I know when I left Olympus I told you not to stand in my way… and yet you come here… you disturb me.’ He walked closer to her as she took a few steps back. ‘What should I tell our children once they discover that you’re dead hmm.’ 

‘Zeus..’ she trembled as a tear fell down her face, ‘Please… it doesn’t have to be like this.’ 

‘Oh but my vindictive wife… it does. See— you have pushed me away for centuries.. you don’t truly love me. Not really, only when I lie with other women— that’s the only time you actually give a damn. In the meantime, you’ve taken everything’ Zeus hissed through his teeth — ‘from me. Now I have everything I want… and you won’t ever come in between that ever again.’ 

‘My King. Please, I will leave — I will — ugh!’ Hera gasped as she felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her ribs. She hiccuped before looking down to see Zeus’ hand on the handle of a kitchen butcher knife, with the blade delved between her rib cage. ‘Hyuck!’ 

‘Ive started with you, My Queen… my new wife will take your place on the throne and I will rid my bloodline of those foul, demented children you claim belong to me. They will join you soon.’ Zeus snatched the blade from the wound and watched her fall to her knees. 

Hera collapsed on her back; wheezing as her golden blood leaked from her nose and gargled out the side of her mouth. ‘Mmm—mmm.’ She held onto her wound tightly. 

Zeus squatted down, pushing her golden locks out of her face, ‘Don’t fight love. Death is such a beautiful thing. Peaceful if I might add.’ A deranged smile curled on his lips as he watched her take her last breath with a final tear falling down her face. 

Her bright golden eyes had faded to a lifeless gray, her hair turned gray as heavy rain clouds and her once lively skin was deathly pale. 

He pressed his lips together and inhaled deeply, ‘GoodBye Hera.’ 

‘Hey honey I was think—‘ 

Angela had walked down the hallway, plugging her earrings into her ears when she saw the gruesome sight. Her heart had sunk to the pit of her stomach and her mouth had fallen open in shock. 

Zeus snapped his head over his shoulder to look back at her. His eyes still shined their brilliant gold and he still held that bloodied knife in his grip. He defensively stood to his feet. 

‘Wh-wh-wh-‘ she began to hyperventilate. She grabbed the chest of her shirt in her fist as if she could grab her heart itself. Angela stumbled back as tears filled her eyes with fear. 

‘Ooooh my sweet petal.’ He smirked as he tossed the blade to the floor, then his eyes returned to their gentle blue, ‘You weren’t supposed to see that.’

‘That?!’ She gasped, ‘Oh my god— the dream… it was true! It was real! You’re toying with me!’ 

Zeus inhaled deeply, slowly blinking once, ‘As real as you are… you’ve no need to be afraid of me. I told you I’d protect you and I intend on keeping my promise, wifey.’ He brought his hand up, flashing the golden wedding band on his finger. 

‘Who is that woman on my floor?’ Angie shuddered out, placing her hand on her stomach to mellow out her queasiness. 

‘Oh… her? If you must know… Hera. She was my wife. Former Queen.’ 

Angela gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, ‘Wh—what did you do?! Why did you do that to her?!’ 

‘She sought to kill you, woman. Why must you question me!? I SAVED YOUR LIFE!’ 

‘And how do you know?!’

‘BECAUSE I KNOW HER!’ Zeus exploded, ‘Every chance she got to make me miserable and take away those who are near and dear to me, she did and without contrition! In a few days time she would’ve inflicted some rare form of cancer upon you or had one of her loyal servants come and slit your throat or worse…’

‘W-worse?’ Angela murmured. 

Zeus’ tearful gaze had fallen upon her belly before looking down. ‘You are with child, Angela. My child.’ 

Angela gasped at the news, tears filling her eyes and quickly spilling over. ‘No, no. That can’t be!’ 

‘It is Angela and I eliminated her so our child could have the best possible chance to grow and succeed in the future… so I can have the proper heir… from a woman that I truly love and truly adore— Angela, don’t you get it?’ 

He took a step forward and she took a step back. 

‘This. Is. destiny. A start of a new era, a new beginning… I never intended to be with Hera. I never loved her… she doesn’t make me feel the way you do.’ 

A sob ripped through Angela’s chest, ‘And how am I to make you feel? I’m just a mere stranger you came and took advantage of!’ 

‘No! No. You’re much more than that my little love… you make me feel… human. Gentle… fair.’ He approached her carefully with his hands out. ‘My entire ruling as King of Gods, I’ve been used… abused in all aspects of the word… I’ve never been treated normally… but being here with you, Angela. You make me feel heard. When you look at me I don’t see anger or hate.’ 

Angela looked up at him as she wiped her nose with her wrist and sniffed. 

‘I see a bright future,’ he added as he took her hands into his, ‘Where you sit by my side as my Queen… and we rule Olympus and the Overworld… just the way it’s intended to be. Just—‘

She stared up at him, not able to form words because she was so consumed by fear and confusion.  ‘I could make you a Goddess. Make all your dreams come true my little love… just say… yes.’

tags: @critfailroll @itsrubberbisquit @peternoonewantsthat @ellethespaceunicorn @deandoesthingstome @luxeydior @wa-ni @milknhonies @swiss-mrs @angreav @singeramg @ylva-syverson @amesensibles @ramp-it-up @lainiespicewrites @toooldforobsessions @kingliam2019

[alyrasturnz]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSYadsLfN/

the "can u see him doing this with ur daughter? theres ur answer" trend reminds me of matt so much like yes he would wear a tutu and play barbies with his daughter

THERES YOUR ANSWER

❐ summary » five occasions arose where matt's actions illuminated the path, demonstrating with unwavering clarity that this endeavor could indeed flourish.

❐ pairings » dad!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » none

❐ a/n && w/c » this is made for the ones that have daddy issues • 4.48k

“can you imagine him checking under the bed for monsters?”

the wind outside was a relentless force, howling like a pack of wolves, while thunder boomed through the sky with the fury of a thousand drums. it was a night where the storm seemed to have a life of its own, and your daughter aniella, nestled in her bed, suddenly awoke, her body snapping upright.

fear gripped her as she watched the shadows cast by the flickering lightning dance ominously on her bedroom walls. the thunder's deafening roar only intensified her fright, making her small frame tremble with each resounding crash from the storm outside.

aniella whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes as she called out for matt. "daddy!" she cried, her voice quivering with fear as she desperately tried to burrow under her covers, seeking refuge from the storm's terrifying symphony.

her small frame shook with each sob, her heart pounding as she clung to the only sense of safety she could find in that moment.

after a little while, her voice pierced the storm once more, "daddy!" she cried out, louder this time, her tone saturated with a deeper, more palpable fear.

she sobbed uncontrollably into her unicorn sheets, her cries a desperate plea for comfort amidst the chaos raging outside.

matt swiftly opened the door, his hair in wild disarray and his eyes still clouded with the remnants of sleep, yet unmistakably etched with concern. his gaze swept across the dimly lit room, taking in the flickering shadows cast by the storm outside, before finally settling on the small, trembling form of aniella.

she was partially hidden beneath her unicorn-themed covers, her sobs a soft, heart-wrenching sound that cut through the chaos of the night. matt's heart ached as he took in the sight of his frightened daughter, his protective instincts immediately kicking into overdrive.

his heart swelled at the sight of his daughter, a profound mixture of love and concern washing over him. his eyes softened, a tender smile tugging at his lips despite the urgency of the moment.

"aniella, sweetie?" matt whispered, his voice gentle and soothing as he closed the door behind him with a quiet click. he walked up to her bed with measured steps, each one laden with the intent to comfort and protect.

he carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, his movements deliberate and gentle, as though afraid to disturb her fragile state.

with a tender touch, he slowly pulled the covers away, revealing his daughter's tear-stained cheeks. the sight made his heart soften even further, a wave of empathy and protectiveness washing over him as he took in her vulnerable expression.

"what's wrong, elle?" he cooed softly, his voice a soothing balm against the storm's fury. he brought his hand up to her small, tear-stained cheeks, his thumb gently tracing soothing circles against her delicate skin, hoping to ease her distress with his tender touch.

"i'm scared," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible above the patter of rain against the window. tears continued to stream down her face, carving glistening paths down her cheeks as she sought solace in her father's presence.

"of what, sweetie?" he asked softly, his voice imbued with a gentle curiosity and concern, as he endeavored to uncover the source of her distress.

aniella slowly sat up, inching closer to matt with a hesitant grace, her small frame trembling slightly. she brought her lips to his ear, her breath warm and trembling.

"the monsters under my bed," she whispered softly, her voice a fragile thread of fear. matt's gaze softened, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips as he absorbed her words, his heart swelling with a renewed determination to protect her.

"there are no monsters, aniella," he whispered, his voice a gentle murmur in the dimly lit room. as aniella crawled back under her sheets, matt couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and comforting.

"do you want me to check for you?" he asked, his tone tender and reassuring. aniella peeked out from beneath her covers, her eyes wide and hopeful, and nodded slowly.

matt rose to his feet and then gracefully lowered himself onto his knees, peering into the shadowy abyss beneath her bed. "no monsters," he proclaimed softly, his voice carrying an air of certainty.

as his hand reached out, it brushed against something soft and familiar. with a gentle chuckle, he pulled out a unicorn stuffed toy, holding it up for aniella to see. "but i found this," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he handed the plush unicorn to her.

aniella gasped, her eyes sparkling with delight as she eagerly took the unicorn and hugged it tightly to her chest. "i was looking for this!" she exclaimed, a radiant smile spreading across her face, her previous fears momentarily forgotten.

matt rose gracefully, ensuring aniella was snugly tucked in beneath her blankets, making sure every corner was perfectly in place to keep her warm and secure. with a gentle, affectionate motion, he leaned down, his presence exuding a calm and comforting aura, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

his touch was imbued with warmth and reassurance, a silent promise that he would always be there to protect and care for her. as he straightened up, he watched her eyes flutter closed, a serene smile playing on her lips, knowing she felt safe and loved.

matt offered a gentle smile as he began to walk away, but aniella, with a sudden and earnest urgency, reached out and halted his departure.

"please, daddy, stay," she implored, her eyes brimming with a heartfelt plea. matt's face, already softened with affection, seemed to melt even further, if such tenderness was possible.

matt's heart clenched with a profound ache, "of course, baby," he whispered tenderly, his voice barely more than a breath. with deliberate care, he climbed onto her bed, his movements slow and gentle, ensuring not to disturb her comfort.

he wrapped his arm around her small frame, pulling her close as she nestled against his chest, her tiny fingers clutching his shirt.

the rhythmic beating of his heart provided a soothing lullaby, and he could feel her breathing synchronize with his own.

as he held her, the world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the warmth of their shared embrace and the unspoken promise of his unwavering presence.

»--•--«

“can you imagine him dressing up in a tutu for your daughter?”

"aniella! lunch is ready!" you call out, your voice resonating through the house with a blend of warmth and authority. you carefully place her plate and utensils on the table, each movement deliberate and precise, as if setting the stage for a cherished ritual. 

the aroma of the meal wafts through the air, mingling with the anticipation of shared moments and conversations yet to unfold.

you had anticipated the familiar sound of aniella's hurried footsteps as she came running out of her room, eager for lunch. instead, an unexpected stillness filled the air, broken only by the soft strains of classical music emanating from her room, creating a poignant contrast to the lively scene you had envisioned.

"what in the world?" you murmur, your voice tinged with confusion and concern, as you slowly make your way towards her room, each step echoing in the quiet hallway.

you open the door to a whimsical sight: matt and aniella, both adorned in vibrant tutus, with aniella twirling gracefully around the room and matt balancing precariously on his tippy toes, his face a picture of concentrated effort and playful delight.

your jaw drops, a wide smile spreading across your face, as a soft chuckle escapes your lips. you lean against the door frame, taking in the endearing scene with a mix of amusement and affection.

you watch the scene unfold with a sense of wonder, as matt gracefully crouches down, allowing aniella to gently place a delicate crown upon his head. with a flourish, he spins around once more, the room filled with the enchanting blend of their laughter and the soft strains of classical music.

"oh my god," you exclaim, your voice a mix of astonishment and delight, as matt halts his movement, turning around to flash you a radiant smile that lights up the room.

"mommy, come join us!" aniella giggles, her face alight with a cheerful smile. she darts across the room, grabbing an extra tutu with eager hands, and runs back to you, presenting it with a sense of excited anticipation.

you beam, accepting the tutu from aniella with a warm smile. your gaze shifts upwards to meet matt's eyes, a silent exchange of joy and amusement passing between you.

"what is this?" you mouth to him, your eyebrows raised in playful curiosity. he responds with a casual shrug, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"come on, mama!" she exclaims with boundless enthusiasm, her small hand grasping your wrist firmly. with a burst of energy, she pulls you along, running back towards matt with infectious excitement.

"like this," she says, her voice brimming with innocent delight. she rises onto her tiptoes, her tiny feet barely making a sound as she twirls gracefully. her dress flutters around her like a delicate flower in the wind. 

you laugh softly, the sound a gentle melody, as you watch her with a heart full of love and admiration. her joyous demonstration fills the room with a sense of pure, unfiltered happiness.

"like this?" you ask, mirroring her words with a playful smile. you rise onto your tiptoes, mimicking her delicate movements as you spin around gracefully. she nods eagerly, her eyes sparkling with approval and delight, as if you have perfectly captured the essence of her dance.

"yeah!" aniella exclaims with boundless enthusiasm, her voice ringing with excitement. she turns swiftly to look at matt, her eyes alight with joy and anticipation, eager to share the moment with him.

matt chuckles, a warm, deep sound that fills the room. he rises onto his tiptoes, mimicking the delicate twirl of a princess, his movements surprisingly graceful. aniella giggles with delight, her laughter a sweet melody, while you can't help but let out a laugh, the joy of the moment infectious.

»--•--«

"can you imagine him taking your daughter out to dinner if she gets stood up by her date?"

after a grueling day of filming, matt maneuvered his car into the driveway, the weight of exhaustion evident in his every movement. with a heavy sigh, he leaned back against the seat momentarily, allowing the weariness to wash over him. as he turned his gaze towards the house, his eyes fell upon his daughter, who was seated on the porch steps, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the evening light.

he furrowed his eyebrows in a mix of confusion and concern, the realization dawning upon him that she was supposed to be out on a date.

aniella stood with her head bowed, her eyes fixated on the ground beneath her. her face, shrouded in a veil of sorrow, betrayed a deep sense of introspection and sadness. the weight of her thoughts seemed to pull her gaze downward, her posture a silent testament to the heavy burden she carried within.

his heart swelled with a myriad of emotions at the poignant sight before him. after a moment's hesitation, he opened the car door and stepped out, each step towards the porch laden with a mix of anticipation and concern.

aniella's gaze remained steadfastly fixed on her feet, as if they held the answers to the turmoil within her. despite her unwavering focus, matt quietly lowered himself onto the step beside her, his presence a silent offering of comfort and solidarity.

a profound silence enveloped them, the air thick with unspoken words, as a torrent of thoughts cascaded through matt's mind, each one vying for his attention.

should he offer her solace, gently reminding her that the world is vast and teeming with opportunities, like an ocean brimming with countless fish? or should he let his indignation surface, bluntly labeling her date as an inconsiderate dick?

matt, wrestling with the cacophony of conflicting thoughts, finally decided to cast them aside. trusting his instincts, he allowed his gut feeling to guide his next move.

"how about we turn this night around, hm?" he inquired, turning to her with a gentle nudge. "let's go out, just the two of us. what do you think?" he proposed with a warm smile, his words causing her eyes to light up as she turned to meet his gaze.

“really?” she asked, a delicate smile beginning to form on her lips.

“of course,” matt replied, standing up with a fluid motion. he extended his hand towards her, his fingers curling slightly in invitation. "let's make the most out of tonight,” he added, his eyes sparkling with determination.

they stroll to a quaint, cozy diner tucked away on a quiet street nearby. as they enter, the warm, inviting aroma of comfort food envelops them. matt, with a twinkle in his eye, orders her favorite milkshake, rich and creamy, along with a heaping plate of golden fries.

they slide into a booth, the worn leather seats adding to the nostalgic charm of the place.

their conversation begins to flow like a gentle stream, washing away the remnants of earlier sadness. they chat and laugh, the sound of their mirth mingling with the soft hum of the diner. 

matt begins to share stories from his own teenage years, each tale more vivid and animated than the last. he recounts mischievous pranks, awkward moments, and small triumphs, all with a self-deprecating humor that makes her giggle.

with each story, she feels a growing sense of connection and understanding. the way matt's eyes light up with each memory, the way he gestures animatedly, and the warmth in his voice all make her feel seen and valued. the earlier sadness melts away completely, replaced by a comforting sense of camaraderie and shared experience.

after a while, matt leans back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. he sighs softly before saying, "you know, this moment takes me back to the very first time i laid eyes on your mom."

aniella's eyes sparkled with curiosity, her voice tinged with eagerness as she asked, “really? how did you meet her?”

matt smiles, his eyes distant as he recalls the memory. “it was a night much like this one. i was supposed to meet a friend, but he canceled last minute. i decided to go to the diner anyway, and that's when i saw her. she was sitting alone, reading a book and sipping on a milkshake."

he pauses, taking a sip of his own drink. “i was nervous, but i felt this strange pull to go talk to her. so, i walked over and asked if i could join her. she looked up, surprised, but then she smiled and said yes. we ended up talking for hours, about everything and nothing, just like we are now."

your daughter listens with rapt attention, the sorrow in her eyes giving way to a burgeoning curiosity and warmth. “what happens next?” she inquires, her voice a soft whisper, eager to hear more.

“we started seeing each other more often," matt continues. “every time we met, it felt like we were discovering new parts of each other. and before we knew it, we were inseparable. she became my best friend, my confidant, and eventually, my wife."

by the time they head back home, your daughter feels much better, her heart buoyed by the comforting knowledge that, no matter the twists and turns of life, her dad will always be there for her, just as he was steadfast for her mom. 

as they approach the familiar steps of their home, she wraps her arms around him in a tight embrace, her gratitude overflowing for the serendipitous evening they shared. the warmth of his presence and the shared stories have woven a new thread of closeness between them, leaving her feeling cherished and secure.

»--•--«

"can you imagine him comforting your daughter when she has her heart broken for the first time?"

as the evening sky adorned itself in a tapestry of twilight hues, casting an ethereal glow over the weathered porch, she sat in quiet desolation, tears cascading down her cheeks like a silent symphony of sorrow. her heart lay in fragments, the agony of her first heartbreak a visceral, unyielding force that gnawed at her very soul. 

the world around her seemed to have been drained of its vibrancy, each color fading into a dull monotony, leaving her surrounded by a bleak, lifeless landscape. the oppressive weight of her grief threatened to consume her entirely, pressing down on her chest with a suffocating intensity.

in that moment, every breath felt like a struggle, each heartbeat a reminder of the love lost and the dreams shattered. she clung to the memories of what once was, yet they only served to deepen the chasm of her despair. 

the night grew darker, and the stars above seemed indifferent to her plight, twinkling coldly in the vast expanse of the sky. she was alone in her sorrow, and the silence of the night offered no solace, only a haunting echo of her pain.

matt found her there, his presence a gentle balm to her sorrow. without uttering a word, he positioned himself beside her, enveloping her shoulders with a comforting arm. she leaned into him, seeking solace in his embrace. for a timeless moment, they sat in profound silence, the only sound being the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by the evening breeze.

"you know," he began softly, his eyes distant as if recalling a distant memory. he shifted slightly, his fingers tracing absent patterns on the wooden bench between them. "when i was your age, i thought my world had ended too. i remember feeling like the pain would never go away."

she sniffled, her sobs gradually diminishing as she listened intently. his voice, steady and soothing, wove through the tumult of her emotions like a lifeline cast into a tempestuous sea.

"there was a time," he continued, his voice a soft murmur against the night, "when i felt just as lost. it was my first heartbreak, and i thought i'd never be whole again. but with every dawn, the pain lessened, and i discovered a strength within me that i never knew existed."

he paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle into the silence that enveloped them. she looked up at him, her eyes a tempest of emotions, swirling with a mixture of lingering pain and a fragile glimmer of hope. the moments stretched, each second an eternity as the depth of their shared experience began to unfold in the quiet between them.

"pain," he intoned, his voice a gentle murmur amidst the quiet, "is like a storm. it can be fierce and overwhelming, but it always passes. and when it does, it leaves behind a clearer sky. you will find that you are stronger than you think."

his words, cloaked in the wisdom of experience, began to weave a rich tapestry of solace around her. he recounted tales of resilience and hope, of moments when he had confronted seemingly insurmountable challenges and emerged not only unscathed but stronger and more resolute. each story was a thread, intricately woven, creating a fabric of comfort and strength that enveloped her.

"you are never alone," he whispered, his voice imbued with unwavering assurance. “i will always be here for you, no matter what."

in that fleeting moment, as twilight surrendered to the embrace of night, she sensed the fragments of her shattered heart beginning to mend. the pain lingered, yet it was no longer insurmountable. with a profound certainty, she knew that regardless of the trials ahead, her father would remain an unwavering pillar of support.

they sat together on the porch, the stars beginning to twinkle in the vast expanse of the night sky. the world, which had seemed so dark and hopeless just moments before, now felt imbued with a faint but growing light. she understood that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges, yet with her father by her side, she felt a newfound readiness to confront whatever lay ahead.

"thank you, dad," she whispered, her voice resonating with profound gratitude and deep emotion.

he smiled, a warm and reassuring smile that conveyed a depth of unspoken understanding. "anytime, sweetheart. anytime."

and so, beneath the vast canvas of the night sky, a bond that had always been strong grew even more unbreakable. in the quietude of that evening, amidst the whispers of the wind and the soft luminescence of the stars, a father's unwavering love and a daughter's resilient spirit intertwined, weaving a tale of hope and healing that would be cherished for generations to come.

»--•--«

"would you want a man to treat your daughter the same way he treats you?"

as the evening sun descended beneath the horizon, it bathed the quaint restaurant in a resplendent, golden glow, transforming the familiar surroundings into a canvas of nostalgic warmth. you and matt found yourselves seated at a table steeped in memories, the very spot where your parents had first encountered matt all those years ago. 

the air was thick with the aroma of freshly baked bread and the soft murmur of conversations, creating an ambiance both comforting and intimate. tonight, however, the air was charged with a different anticipation, as you were here to meet aniella's boyfriend, ethan. 

the significance of the moment was not lost on you; this was a new chapter, a bridge between past and future. the delicate interplay of light and shadow seemed to mirror the mix of emotions swirling within you—excitement, curiosity, and a touch of nostalgia.

ethan arrived, his presence strikingly reminiscent of matt's from your teenage years. his nervous energy was palpable, manifesting in the way he fidgeted with his hands, an unconscious echo of matt's youthful mannerisms. 

even his choice of words, carefully selected yet tinged with a hint of anxiety, mirrored matt's from that fateful night when he first met your parents. the resemblance was uncanny, and you couldn't help but smile as memories of those formative years flooded back. 

the way ethan shifted in his seat, the earnestness in his eyes, and the slight tremor in his voice all combined to create a vivid tableau of the past, intertwining it seamlessly with the present moment. it was as if time had folded in on itself, bringing forth a sense of nostalgia and continuity that warmed your heart.

the conversation commenced with light-hearted banter, a gentle prelude to the deeper inquiries that lay ahead. soon, you and matt navigated the waters of casual discourse, steering towards more profound and introspective questions.

"ethan," you began, your voice a steady anchor amidst the ebb and flow of conversation, “what are your plans for the future? where do you see yourself in five years?” the question hung in the air, a bridge between the present moment and the unfathomable expanse of time yet to come.

ethan adjusted his glasses, a gesture that seemed to illuminate his eyes with a fervent enthusiasm. "well," he began, his voice tinged with excitement, "well, i'm currently working on my master's in astrophysics, and after that, i plan to pursue a phd. i'm really passionate about research, especially in the field of exoplanets. i want to contribute to our understanding of the universe and maybe even discover new worlds. and, of course, i want aniella to be a part of that journey. she's my biggest supporter."

you smiled softly, your heart warmed by ethan's dreams and aspirations. it was a quality you had always cherished in matt as well. his passion for the things he loved and his unwavering commitment to his goals had always been a beacon of inspiration for you.

matt nodded approvingly, his gaze softening. "and how do you handle disagreements with aniella?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

ethan smiled, though a trace of nervousness still clung to his expression. "we engage in open dialogue," he began, his voice steady yet sincere. "we talk things out. i believe in open communication and making sure we both feel heard. it's not always easy, but i think it's important to work through things together. we also love debating different scientific theories, which helps us understand each other better."

your heart swelled with a profound warmth, for matt mirrored this very approach in his own unique way. his dedication to open communication and mutual understanding was a reflection of the qualities you so deeply admired in him.

as the evening unfolded, you observed with growing admiration how ethan's responses exuded a maturity and thoughtfulness that provided you with a profound sense of reassurance. he spoke of his upbringing, his values, and his dreams with a clarity and conviction that vividly reminded you of matt's early days. 

the uncanny parallels between ethan and matt were striking, weaving a tapestry of familiarity and shared values that warmed your heart deeply. it was as if you were witnessing a reflection of matt's younger self in ethan, and this realization filled you with a sense of comfort and hope for the future.

by the end of the night, it became abundantly clear that ethan had left an indelible mark on your hearts. as you departed the restaurant, hand in hand with matt, your hearts brimmed with a profound sense of fulfillment. 

you couldn't help but reflect on how your own love story had blossomed within the walls of that very place, and now, witnessing aniella's journey unfolding so beautifully with ethan by her side, filled you with a sense of poetic continuity. it was as if the threads of your past and present were intricately woven together, creating a tapestry of love and hope for the future.

thus, to address your query, the answer is unequivocally yes. you observed matt in his actions and endeavors, and through these, he consistently demonstrated and substantiated his capabilities to you.

yes, you can envision matt meticulously inspecting every nook and cranny beneath your daughter's bed, ensuring that no imaginary creatures lurk in the shadows.

yes, you can picture matt twirling gracefully with your daughter, both adorned in tutus and tiaras, their laughter filling the room as they dance in joyous harmony.

yes, you can envision matt tenderly taking your daughter out for dinner, providing solace and companionship after the disheartening experience of being stood up.

yes, you can envision matt offering a comforting embrace to your daughter, his presence a soothing balm as she navigates the tumultuous emotions of her first heartbreak.

yes, you can envisage your daughter finding solace and companionship in a man akin to matt, whose character and virtues mirror those of her steadfast guardian.

[chibinasuu]

Steady as She Goes | Jinbe & Reader

Part of the Thousand Sunny Slice-of-Life Series

Find the other parts with the rest of the Straw Hats here

Summary: You and Jinbe share a quiet moment at the helm in the calm after the storm Word count: 965  Tags: one-shot, pure fluff, domestic bliss onboard the sunny, platonic straw hat pirates x reader, no use of y/n, GN but written with F!Reader in mind

“Zoro! Sanji! Reef the mainsail!” Nami shouted above the howling winds, “Jinbe, head forty-five degrees starboard! We’ll be out of this soon!”

The crew moved in a practiced manner, almost on autopilot. This was not the first, and definitely not the worst storm they’ve ever experienced in the Grand Line. 

Salty sprays of seawater mixed with the pouring rain soon had you drenched as your fingers deftly worked to secure the rigging, tugging on the ropes to make sure they were fastened correctly. 

“Huge waves incoming! Brace yourselves!” Someone shouted, the cacophony of wind, thunder, and rain so loud that you could barely register the command. 

You tried to readjust your grip on the ropes, hoping to get a stronger hold, but before you could do that, the Sunny crashed onto an oncoming wave, bringing a flood of salt water onto the deck. The strong impact lifted your body a few inches off the ground, and you felt your heart drop as the rope was brutally torn away from your grasp. 

The slippery floor didn’t help as you tried to regain your footing, and another lurch of the ship sent you sliding across the deck. You closed your eyes, bracing for impact, but it never came. Instead, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist and pull you to your feet. 

You open your eyes to find Jinbe — one arm supporting you, whilst his other hand wrangled the helm in an effort to keep it steady. 

“Is the rigging secured?!” Jinbe roared.

You could only nod, your body still shaking from the shock. 

Jinbe gave your back a firm pat then barked loudly, “Then get inside! Now!”

You half-crawled, half-stumbled your way into the dining room, where you found Chopper and Robin.

Dozens of hands were sprouting from various surfaces, working to secure loose items in the room.

Chopper fussed over you when you staggered through the door, “You’re bleeding! Let me grab the first aid kit!”

In the heat of things, you didn’t realize the friction from the coarse ropes had caused ribbons of blood to flow from your palms. You sat quietly as Chopper bandaged your hands, trying to be as gentle and careful as possible amid the violent rocking of the ship. 

After a while, the movement of the ship gradually slowed to a gentle sway as the Thousand Sunny escaped from the storm safely, thanks to Nami’s expert directions and Jinbe’s masterful steering.

The Straw Hats were all slumped on the chairs of the dining table, huddled with towels, clearly exhausted from their brush with the harsh weather. Well, everyone except Jinbe, who insisted on remaining at the helm to readjust the ship’s course and monitor its bearing amid the shifting winds. Sanji poured steaming cups of tea for the crew to warm up their bodies, and you offered to take one to your helmsman. 

You found Jinbe at the helm, hands fixed on the wheel and eyes on the horizon.

“Hi, Jinbe.” You said, alerting him of your presence. 

Jinbe smiled gently at you, “How are your hands?”

“Oh, they’re fine. Chopper patched them up nicely.” You offered him the tea, “Thanks for saving me earlier. I would’ve hurt more than my hands if it wasn’t for you.”

He took the cup, taking a sip before saying, “I apologize for raising my voice at you.”

You shook your head, “I know you were just looking out for me. It was me who made a mistake.”

He chuckled, “Mistakes happen, kid. And sometimes it wasn’t even your fault – just bad luck.”

Jinbe gulped down his tea, put down his empty cup, and repositioned his hands back on the wheel. You both stood in silence, eyes on the open sea. You turned toward Jinbe and observed his unmoving stance, firm and steady. After a while of him staying still as a rock, you wondered aloud, “Does it ever get boring? Manning the helm when the weather is calm like this?”

Jinbe guffawed at your frank question, “Once you’ve been sailing as long as I do, kid, boring is good. You’ll learn to appreciate the quiet moments.” He gestured for you to come closer, “Wanna take her for a spin?”

You excitedly nodded, never really having a chance to take the helm before. 

Jinbe guided your hands and placed them in the proper position on the wheel. He pointed at the middle needle of the log pose, “That’s the one we’re following right now.” 

“Now, just keep her steady.” He instructed you, “Feel the winds. It will try to pull us off course, and when that happens, you will need to guide Sunny to stay on the right track.”

You turned the wheel experimentally but didn’t feel the ship shift its direction. You were about to turn it further when Jinbe’s hand stopped you, “Patience. Sunny is a big ship, it takes a little time for her to listen to your commands.”

True to his word, a few seconds later, the Sunny slowly altered its heading according to your will, turning slightly away from where the Log Pose’s needle was pointing. You glowed in delight at your successful attempt, before turning the wheel in the opposite direction to return the ship to its original course. 

Jinbe laughed, “You’ll make a fine helmsman!”

You relinquished the helm back to Jinbe and stood beside him, basking in the orange glow of the setting sun and reveling in the calm after the storm. 

No words were spoken between the two of you after that, but the silence was a comfortable one.

Under Jinbe’s guidance, the Thousand Sunny sailed over the waves, inching forward toward your next destination. You couldn’t quiet your heartbeat as it pounded in anticipation of what adventure your crew would find next.

Find the other parts with the rest of the Straw Hats here

[its-avalon-08]

Hi hiii!! Can I request lando watching y/n perform think of me from the phantom of the opera??

my angel, my haven

(this is super different from what i usually write so im sorry if its shit)

lando's pov :

the crimson velvet curtains billowed outwards, revealing a stage bathed in the soft glow of a gaslight replica. y/n stood center stage, the spotlight catching the way her sequined gown shimmered like a thousand scattered diamonds. her back was straight, her posture radiating an ethereal confidence that sent a jolt through me. i couldn't tear my eyes away.

think of me, think of me fondly

this wasn't the first time i'd seen y/n perform. we'd been together since our karting days, but tonight, something felt different. maybe it was the grandeur of the opera house, the hushed reverence of the audience, or maybe it was just the way the stage lights painted her face in a thousand dramatic strokes. whatever it was, it took my breath away.

we never said our love was evergreen

as the opening notes of "think of me" swelled from the orchestra pit, a familiar warmth bloomed in my chest. it wasn't just the beauty of the music, though that was undeniable. it was the way y/n inhabited the song, her voice soaring through the theatre with a power and control that never ceased to amaze me. it was a voice that could shatter glass and soothe a broken heart, all in the same breath.

think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned

as she sang, a thousand memories flickered through my mind. goofy backstage moments, stolen kisses in the pit lane, late-night talks where her dreams intertwined with mine. here she was, living out one of those dreams, and i was lucky enough to witness it. a thrill of possessiveness, quickly doused by a wave of pure pride, washed over me. how could this incredibly talented, captivating woman be mine?

recall those days, look back on all those times

her voice climbed higher, weaving a tapestry of emotions with each note. christine's longing, the phantom's obsession, it all poured out of her, raw and unfiltered. her voice sounded like a dream. the audience was enthralled, hanging onto her every word. and me? i was lost in a world of my own creation, a world where the opulent stage was replaced by a dimly lit garage, the smell of grease oil replaced by the sweet scent of her hair. in that world, it wasn't christine pining for a masked figure, it was y/n, my y/n, captivating me with her talent and her love.

but please promise me that sometimes, you will think of me

the final note faded, leaving a stunned silence in its wake. then, as if a dam had broken, the applause erupted. it was a thunderous roar that shook the very foundation of the building. a wide smile bloomed on y/n's face, as radiant as the spotlight itself. as she caught my eye and smiled i felt all the stars align. in that moment, i knew. no matter what challenges life threw our way, no matter how bright her star might shine, she would always find her way back to me. and i, the luckiest man alive, would be waiting.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

thanks for reading and sending in your request! do send in more! 🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

[kirby0strombolli]

R U Mine?

matt sturniolo x reader

Summary: After a heated argument, Matt is determined to win back what's his.

Warnings: cursing, kissing, smut.

A/n: Based on R U mine? by Arctic Monkeys!

matt's pov

In my mind, when she's not right there beside me.

I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be

I don't want to be here.

As I trudged through my shift at the coffee place, every moment felt like an eternity, and I was already having a pretty shit day so far.

I'd currently spilled hot tea on myself, was late to work, and pissed on by a dog.

And hungover from last night.

So, to say the least, today was a shit day.

And I was on edge. She wasn't replying to my texts. She was all that I could think about. I couldn't focus on anything today.

Glancing at the previous messages I'd sent her last night, which she'd read, I sigh, my mind in a thousand places.

y/n <3 me R U mine? 04:25 ✓✓

Carrying a heavy tray of coffee, I glance at the clock, willing time to move faster, to see the girl I'd loved for so long, but it seemed to mock me, ticking away at a snail's pace.

The dull hum of the espresso machine behind me grated on my nerves, and the chatter of customers grated on my ears.

Everything was fucking annoying me.

Before I even have the chance to turn back to my tray, I feel an elbow in my face. Caught off guard, I drop the tray, and the shattering sounds meet my ears first.

I squeeze my eyes shut, gritting my teeth together.

I don't yell. I don't even act. I don't turn to meet whoever it was who had just pushed me off the edge.

'I'm going crazy.' I tell myself, 'being away from her'.

I'm pulled back to reality when I hear disapproving chatter, and my eyes snap open, to be met with annoyed faces.

Clenching my jaw, I almost rip my apron off my body, slamming it on the nearest table before grabbing my stuff and storming out the coffee shop, the door slamming shut behind me.

As I stepped outside, not daring to look back, as if it were planned, thunder rumbled overhead, unleashing a torrent of rain.

Thunder rumbled ominously overhead, mirroring my turbulent mood.

Great. Just- great.

With a sarcastic quip muttered under my breath, I quickly made my way to my motorbike, rain pelting down on me mercilessly.

But as I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, I stop in my tracks.

Without looking, I knew who it was. Her.

With my head bowed against the rain, I pull my phone out, checking the notification.

I was correct.

As I read the message, my heart jumped to my throat.

y/n <3 me R U mine? 04:25 ✓✓ y/n <3 We need to talk. mine in 10. me make it 5. ✓✓

I sigh in relief, and, not wasting a moment, before revving the motorbike engine, throwing my helmet atop my head, and steadying myself with a deep breath.

I could feel my clothes clinging to my skin, soaked through, but I hardly noticed.

I was numb.

All I could think about was the message I'd just received from the girl I couldn't even live without.

I couldn't help myself.

Even under the influence of alcohol last night, she was the only thing I could think about.

About her being mine.

And I can't help myself

All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?"

As Matt revved his motorcycle through the pouring rain, each drop felt like a palpable reminder of his urgency.

The rain pelted against his helmet, the sound mingling with the roar of the engine as he raced towards her house.

With each passing moment, his anticipation grew, the image of her lips haunting his thoughts.

The rhythm of the rain matched the pounding of his heart as he neared her apartment.

Each streetlight illuminated the path ahead, guiding him towards his destination.

In his mind, there was only one thing that mattered – for her to be his.

And as he approached her house, his pulse quickened with the promise of what awaited him beyond her door.

Without bothering to park the motorbike, I jump off, tearing my helmet off before making my way to her door.

I stop outside her door, staring at the white paint that coated it's frame.

The as if my thoughts spoke out loud, the door opened, revealing y/n.

Her eyes seemed to shine in the dull light of her apartment room, and the way she bit her lip left me feeling dizzy.

And the way her tiny shorts accentuated her curves...

As my eyes roam over her figure, I can feel hers on mine, too.

"What are you staring at, loser?" she teased, a playful smile gracing her lips.

My heart skips a beat, caught off guard by her words, and I look down nervously.

But as I feel her hands on my face, my anxiety disappears, replaced with desire as I look up, lips pursed about to reply.

She's a silver lining, climbin' on my desire

Before I could say anything else, she pulled me into a kiss, her hands buried in my soaked hair.

Pleasure surged through me as our lips met, the taste of rain and desire mingling in the air.

My hands roam eagerly over her body, pulling her closer to me as my hands rest on her waist.

As we pull apart, she winks with a sly smile and grabs my hand, electricity shooting through me.

Without a word, she backed into the room, drawing me with her like a magnet. I followed willingly, the intensity of her gaze pulling me closer.

Then, as soon as we were inside, our lips met once again, mine moving against her soft ones with urgency.

In the midst of our embrace, I kick the door closed behind us, the sound barely registering as we lost ourselves in each other.

I feel her smile against the kiss and we stumble backward together, willing to find the bed.

As we stumbled backward, we ended up on her unmade bed, our bodies entwined as we lay on our backs, staring up at the ceiling.

Our breaths slowed and I turned to her, scooting closer, my lips hovering above her collarbone.

I pressed my lips slowly, trailing down her neck, biting softly as I felt her tremble against me, yearning for more.

As I make my way back up to her lips, she gently pulls away, and smashes her lips against mine again.

This time the kiss was needy, full of light moans as I prod my tongue at her lower lip before slipping into her mouth, fighting for dominance.

I detach my lips from hers, panting for breath, watching her swiftly unbutton her shirt, pulling it over her head.

''Well, that was quick.'' I smirk and she hits my arm playfully.

I admire her semi-exposed breasts, peaking over the top of her bra, I feel myself get even harder than I was when she opened the door.

I groan as she palms me through my black sweats, my erection clear.

"Fuck." I bite the inside of my cheek as I look down at her, her hair dishevelled, her cheeks flushed, the red marks on her neck stating she was mine.

She still looked beautiful.

But I needed to know one thing.

"Before I do this, I need to know one thing." I lick my lips, awaiting a response.

"I'm ready, Matt." She looks up at me through my eyelashes, her hands reaching for my belt.

I shake my head, the question floating in my head.

She cocks her head, confused.

I brush away a strand of her hair, my nerves kicking in.

"Well, are you mine?" I bite my cheek hard, prepared for the worst.

She looks up in realisation, and with a smirk she replies;

''Fuck yeah.''

"Say it." I demand, pounding into her from behind, the room full of breathy moans and the squelching of my length inside her perfect cunt.

She says something inaudible into the pillow, letting out short whimpers after I grip her hair and lift her head from the pillow.

"Want to hear your pretty noises, yeah? Now say it." I grip her hips harshly and pound impossibly deeper into her, hitting that sweet spot several times as she yells my name.

"Fuck, matt...I'm yours." She whined, bucking her hips up to mine, her knuckles turning white from grasping the sheets.

"Good girl." I grunt, "Gonna come..." I'm barely finished as I feel her release around me, her cunt squeezing around my cock as I release my load into her.

I ride out our highs, with my head thrown back in ecstasy, hips snapping against hers, never wanting to stop as I hear her cries from under me, fuelling me to go on.

Eventually, my pace slows, and I slowly pull out, patting her ass, as I sit up, pulling my boxers back on.

I lean back against the frame of the bed, my arm resting on her hip.

When she doesn't move, I gently climb over her, and lay next to her, looking up at the ceiling.

"You good?" I ask, peering over at her, concerned.

"That was the best sex i've ever had." She slowly turns around to face me, her voice hoarse.

"mhm?" I smile, running my tongue over my teeth with a slow, deliberate motion, the gesture seemingly innocent yet undeniably seductive.

My eyes locked with hers, holding her captive in the intensity of my gaze, as if silently conveying my unspoken desires.

God she looked so good right now.

She nods, a small smile plastered on her face.

I grin, momentarily placing a kiss on her cheek before jumping up to the bathroom.

"All you and that pretty little cunt." I smirk, grabbing a towel and wetting it.

Before making my way back to her, I turn the water on, and grab some towels.

When I return back to her, she's barely sitting up, her lips red, hickeys along her neck, hair a mess.

She still looked like an angel.

"Hey, beautiful." I kneel on the floor, gently prizing open her legs, settling the towel above her cum-covered pussy.

"Who said I wanted to stop?" I look up at her; She has a smirk on her face as she moves the towel aside, caressing my face.

"I want your face in between my thighs so bad," She whispers, and I feel my just soft dick get hard again in the matter of seconds.

I swallow hard, gripping her thighs,"Yeah, ma?" She nods, biting her lip and I lower my face down, not breaking eye contact, working my way up to her cunt, peppering kisses down her thighs, biting harshly as she lets out gasps and soft moans, enough to make me come in my pants, there and then.

When I finally reached my destination, I paused, taking a moment to admire the sight before me. Her thighs were spread wide, her pussy glistening.

With a slow, deliberate motion, I spread her folds apart, not being able to resist the urge to bury my face between her thighs, to explore every inch of her with my tongue.

I traced slow circles around her clit, relishing in the way she squirmed beneath me, her hands clutching at the sheets as she begged for more.

I don't need to look up to tell she's enjoying this as she begins to grasp my hair, pulling on the strands lightly, making me groan, the vibrations from my voice making her even more wet.

I lick a stripe up her wet cunt, my eyes rolling to the back of my head at how good she tasted.

"taste so good, ma."

I can hear her hitched breaths and quiet whimpers, each sound of hers edging me to go faster. I begin to swirl my tongue over wet pussy, my nose brushing over her clit.

"don't stop, matt" she whines, bucking her hips up onto my face.

I plunge my tongue into her cunt, dripping with her slick arousal, and thrust it aggressively into her, my head buried deep between her legs.

Her broken moans and sobs go straight to my throbbing erection, not helping me as I swirl my tongue in and out of her, the lewd sounds enough to push me over the edge.

Her hands find their way to my hair again, and this time she pulls my brown locks hard, the pain subsiding into pleasure, and as I hum against her clit, she presses the back of my head impossibly closer to her throbbing pussy.

"Fuck, Matt- I'm close..." She gasps, in between pauses.

I mumble something inaudible in between her thighs, flicking my tongue over her clit at an ungodly pace.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna-" she whimpered, her voice strained with the intensity of her impending release.

But before she finished her sentence, I felt her squirt on my face, and her body arched against my face as I continued to plunge my tongue impossibly deeper into her, helping her riding out the waves of her orgasm.

Slowly, my pace stops, and I reach up to kiss her, savoring the taste of her arousal on my lips. As we pull away, I lick my lips, holding eye contact.

"So, how are you?" I ask, my eyes scanning her body.

"Good," She giggles against my chest, her cheeks flustered. I straddle her, pressing a kiss to her nose as she squirms underneath me.

I look down at my pants then back up at her.

"You really do know how to make me come."

[mingi-s-dimples]

Can I request a yeosang x reader smut where she's hurt during the concert and waits outside and Yeosang spots her and takes her to the Hotel he's staying in but she's bleeding and he wants to see the would( it's on her side where her bra is) so he bluntly asks her to take off her top and bra etc?

Please make it to where they have intercourse and she's a shy one. So when she squirts she gets really really embarrassed

perfect opportunity - yeosang

REQUEST BY: anon

pairing: bf!yeosang x gf fem!reader

rating: 18+

genre: slight idol au, romance, some fluff, smut (not filth)

summary: you get hurt at the concert, but that only ends up being a nice and wanted opportunity for the two of you.

WC: 2k

warnings: bf!yeosang, gf fem!reader, first time intercourse, cumming, squirting, some nice fluff here and there, mentions of blood (reader got hurt at the concert), lil bit of overstim (reason of reader squirting), pet names, smut (def not filth), aftercare ☹️🤍, completely consensual!, unprotected (WRAP UP IRL!), unedited, probably forgot something.

Author's Note: this was really nice to write actually. Anon. I hope you'll enjoy it! I loved to build up the crumb of plot for this one, I absolutely loved the circumstance they were in. I hope I'll see you around more, anon! (Also anon 💭, I didn't forget about you!!!!!! It's in my drafts 😇)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction & does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

The energy in the venue was electrifying, with thousands of fans cheering, their voices blending into one thunderous roar. The lights danced across the stage, illuminating Yeosang as he performed with the effortless grace that always took my breath away. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, captivated by the way he commanded the stage. His presence was magnetic, and the crowd responded to every move he made.

As the beat of the music intensified, the crowd surged with excitement. People around me started jumping, their enthusiasm contagious. But in the chaos, I suddenly felt a sharp push from behind. My body jolted forward, and I stumbled, my chest colliding with the barrier beside me. Pain radiated through my side, sharp and sudden, catching me off guard. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and the noise of the concert started to feel distant, almost muffled.

Knowing I needed to get some air, I carefully made my way out of the crowd, each step feeling heavier than the last. The moment I stepped outside, the cool night air hit me, wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. It was a chilly night, the kind of August evening where the heat of the day fades into a crisp, refreshing breeze. Despite the circumstances, I couldn’t help but appreciate the night’s coolness; I had always loved these chilled nights in August, where the air was cool enough to wake you up but not cold enough to make you shiver.

Leaning against the wall outside the venue, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The pain in my chest was still there, a dull ache now, but the dizziness was beginning to fade. The distant hum of the concert was still audible, and I smiled faintly, thinking of Yeosang on stage, hoping he hadn’t noticed my absence.

*about an hour later*

As I was sitting on the bench, at the back of the stadium where the boys would come from, far away from the main entrance and the public, I saw someone rushing over to me. It was Yeosang.

"Baby, what happened, hm?" he said catching his breath. "I suddenly couldn't see you in your spot and I panicked. Are you okay?" he said, looking worried.

"Yes, yes. Nothing to worry about. We were jumping and I was pushed and hit the barricade rail, hurt my side a bit but I promise I'm okay! I just got out to get some air and that's all" you said, trying to reassure him.

"Hey, let me see" Yeosang mumbled, trying to get you to move your hand. You did as he wanted and he saw a bloddy spot on your side, still a bit wet, meaning the injury was still open.

"BABE JESUS WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S OKAY?!" Yeosang shouted, hugging you thightly. "Let's go to the hotel, let me see the wound there, alright?"

"Mhm, okay. Let's go, baby."

*several minutes later*

"Here baby, let me see" Yeosang said approaching you after closing the door.

"Where is the injury, hm? Tell me babe" he said willing to help you.

"On my right side, here" you claimed, tapping on your torso, right besides your bra.

"Oh, there? Take your shirt off"

"Hm?"

"Take it off, let me see"

"Uh, okay sure"

You were confused at how adamantly he was asking you to undress yourself, but he was your boyfriend anyways. Matter of fact, the two of you haven't been in a relationship for too long. You only officialised it about 2 months ago, both of you being really shy about it and all. Like, you knew he liked you and he also knew you liked him, but it was so hard for him to confess to you at first. You gave him a nod, softly blushing at the situation you were in. He took of your shirt, leaving you in your bra in front of him. He gulped at the view, himself shy and hesitant, but you gave him a soft kiss and he felt more confident. After all, it was the first time he has seen you like... this. You were feeling a bit aroused, not knowing what would happen next if you gave him the idea of having sex with him for the first time. But you waited.

He froze for a moment, watching you contently. He hovered his eyes over your collarbones, then over your shoulders. His gaze darkened upon seeing your cleavage, chest rising with slow and steady breaths. He slowly approached your body with his hands, almost scared to touch you, thinking he might make you uncomfortable. He unbuckled your bra, letting it fall by itself from your chest. His hands stopped at your waist, squeezing it tightly.

"Ah, fuck" he mumbled, looking down at his pants, a tent forming. His flushed face, he was trying to look you in your eyes but he couldn't.

"I'm so s-sorry, babe. I don't know what's gotten into me" he said rapidly, flustered.

"No, no, don't worry! Actually I-uh.. was enjoying it as much as y-you were" the words came out of your mouth, his eyes searching yours.

Yeosang tried to continue without thinking about the situation in.. that way. "Give me a bandaid, I already disinfected it. Let me stick it".

"Oh, yes sure. Here"

He lifted your arm, the wound exactly on the side of your chest, under the place where your bra would be supposed to sit. He slowly but firmly tapped the bandaid, making sure it was stuck completely. Then, his hands went to your thighs, rubbing them slowly up and down, trying to say something.

"Uh, -h, baby."

"Y-yes? you mumbled.

"C-can I?" he said, closing the gap between the two of you, his hands traveling politely, gently on your body.

"Y-yes, Yeo" you said and went in for a kiss, which he deepened in a second. A slow, lustful kiss, more of a longed one. You knew he might have wanted to do this for a while, but both of you were so shy, neither of you could make a step. But this was an opportunity he didn't let go of and gave in.

"Are you sure? T-tell me if you want me to stop" he whispered, putting you slowly on the bed, a pillow under your waist and him on top of you, inspecting every part of your fair body. His hands were travelling, from your collarbones, to your waist and to your thighs, then again up to your chest, softly fondling with your breasts. You could feel his hands slightly trembling, himself being so shy about it, that you could've laughed. But the next move threw you off a bit, as his right hand went to your pants, slowly unbuttoning them. You could feel how arousal was pooling in your panties, feeling the urge to close your legs for some friction, but as soon as you were left only in your panties in front of your boyfriend, your chest rose with a relieved sigh.

"B-babe you're so.. pretty and.. beautiful" your boyfriend stuttered, trying to unbuckle his pants, but fumbled two times. He was staring at you, no wonder he failed. He was eating you up on the spot with his stare. When he finally undressed himself and was only left in his briefs, you gulped at the sight. He was big, you didn't know what to expect before this exact moment, but you were... pleasantly surprised.

He then approached you, his crotch softly brushing over your thigh as he got to your panties, pulling them down. He then froze for a moment, debating what to do. He approached you with a soft but deep kiss, then he left kisses all the way from your neck and collarbones, to you belly and your thighs. He looked at you contently for a moment.

"C-can I?" he said, refering to what he wanted to do all night since you've met and saw you like that.

"Y-yes, please Yeosang"

He didn't hesitate. His right hand went between your thighs, softly rubbing your wet folds. He was still looking at you from time to time, to make sure you're doing good. You gave him a nod of approval and he pushed two of his fingers inside, receiving a soft moan from your slowly rosing chest. He was working his way in, shy at first but slowly getting more confident, he was prepping you up for himself, taking his time.

"A-are you ready?" he mumbled, shy and almost quiet enough to not hear him. He went in for a kiss, guiding his length to you cunt, pushing himself in, slowly but surely. He let you get used to his size, then with slow thrusts he closed the gap between the two of you. Your legs were over his, leaving room for him to bottom down with every thrust. He was still deep in the kiss, feeling your soft moans revebrating through his body, sending shivers down his spine. It hurt, you woulnd't lie but.. it felt so good at the same time. You were making love with your lovely boyfriend, feeling his love and sweetness radiating from his body. His pace got a little faster, one of his hands on your waist and one on your back, he lifted you up to sit on him. He was hugging you thightly, all touchy on your back, feeling up every inch of your soft skin.

"Ngh-h Yeo, I t-think I'm close" you tried to mumble, your breath hitching with every thrust. His length hit your sweet spot every time, sending shivers through your whole body. Your chest rose with every breath and whine you let out, feeling how the heat in your belly was getting tighter and tighter. When he bottomed down again, you felt yourself trembling under his grasp, creaming on his dick, feeling it twitching inside you. He slowed down his thrusts for a moment, giving you time to catch your breath. He then suddenly sped them up a bit, your face rose with confusion.

"I k-know you've finished, babe" Yeosang whispered.

"But I' didn't so-" he stopped for a moment "I also want to finish" he mumbled, his voice rumbling and sending shivers down your spine.

You could feel your high building up again, his dick hitting all your right spots and his pelvic bone also hitting your clit whenever he completely bottomed out. But in the end it wasn't your... high that you were catching. Yeosang thrusted into you a couple more times, holding onto you for closure and finally came, still fucking you through his orgasm, but slowly. Suddenly, you could feel how overstimulated and overwhelmed you were and when he bottomed out for the last time, you squirted all over him.

"Oh- my fucking god"

"I'm so s-sorry Yeosang" you mumbled embarrassed, trying to get off of him.

"What are you sorry for? You... squirted, that's all" he reassured you, but you weren't quite.. content with what happened.

"H-how could this happen... oh my god" you burried your forehead in the nape of his collarbones, you didn't want your eyes to meet his.

"Babe, relax. It's normal. I should be sorry for overstimulating you after you came, that wasn't very nice of me, but you felt so good... I had to finish" he said, giving you soft forehead kisses.

The two of you stayed like that for a minute, feelings overwhelming you with how loved you were by him, by your boyfriend. He then got up and washed you up, then tucked you in bed. He did the same and while you were waiting for him, the only thought that was racing through your mind was how long he must have waited for you to have courage, but you were so happy to finally give in.

He then came in the bed and tucked himself in, turned on a random movie on the tv and stroked your hair and forehead to sleep.

NETWORKS:

@illusionnet

@blossomnet

TAGLIST (join my permanent taglist here !):

@mingleshine @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @musiclovingfairy

[achromatophoric]

Wenclairtober 2024, Day 25 - Nightmare

The Nightshades face off with a towering six-eyed monstrosity as Nevermore evacuates. The abomination surges forward upon a mess of clawed limbs, intent on reaching the school.

Bianca: Remember the book! We need to aim for its head! Take out all SIX eyes, got it?

Yoko: How?! That thing’s almost as tall as the clock tower!

Bianca: *grimaces* Xavier! Shoot the bastard!

Xavier: You think I haven’t been trying?!

Monstrosity: *STACCATO ROAR*

The creature attacks like a box of spilled knives; dozens of claws with no real direction, but no less lethal for the lack of it.

Yoko: Shit shit shit! *dances back*

Xavier: *screams and runs*

Bianca: *dodging* Get back here you— Damnit!

Monstrosity: *looms menacingly*

Bianca: *backing away* Where the hell are Enid and Addams?

Enid: *runs up* We’re here!

Bianca: FINALLY! Now where’s that secret weapon Addams was talking abo—

Bianca: 😦

Yoko: 😂

Enid: 😅

Wednesday: 😑

Yoko: Hot pink—kitty ears—can’t— *choked sputtering*

Bianca: Bitch, why the fuck is Addams wearing a kid’s bicycle helmet?

Enid: It was like the only one left at the store.

Wednesday: *grumbles*

Yoko: 🤣

Bianca: Okay, but what does it have to do with stopping THAT thing!?

Bianca points at the horrific monstrosity that is, at the moment, idly batting a shrieking Xavier back and forth between two sets of claws.

Enid: Oh, because safety first! Duh!

Bianca: 🤨

Enid: Okay, babe, just like we practiced?

Wednesday: Of course. *raises arms* Now uppy.

Bianca and Yoko watch in bewilderment as Enid picks up her petite girlfriend, who now grips a pair of wicked knives. With a practiced ease, Wednesday crouches into a tight ball that Enid carefully balances over her head.

Bianca: The fuck?

Yoko: Oh. Ohmygod! I know what’s they’re doing!

Enid: *takes aim* Kay. Ready, set—

Wednesday: *crosses knives*

Enid: FASTBALL SPECIAL!! *launches Wednesday*

Wednesday: *soars through air*

Bianca/Yoko: 😲😲

Wednesday: *lands*

Monstrosity: ROAR?

Wednesday: 🗡️😈🔪

Monstrosity: 👁️👁️👁️👄👁️👁️👁️

Wednesday: *HAPPY PLACE*

Monstrosity: ❌❌❌👄❌❌❌

The creature topples with a thunderous crash, right on top of a (no longer) shrieking Xavier. When the dust clears, Wednesday can be seen still happily stabbing away.

Enid: Good job, babe!

Bianca: Well, that was certainly uh— easier than expected.

Yoko: Hah! That thing was a total loser!

Bianca: *snorts* Yeah, what a loser!

Enid: *sings* 🎶 Loser, loser, loser, loser— 🎶

Wednesday: *stabbing* 🎶 —ser, loser, lo— 🎶

Xavier’s squished corpse: 🎶 —ser, loser— 🎶

Everyone: 🎶 LOSER! LOSER! LOSER! 🎶

🎶 LOSER LOSER LOSER LOSER 🎶

Monstrosity: *GUTTURAL CRY*

The monstrosity lurches up in bed, tears streaming from all six milky eyes. It sobs as it covers its face with a spill of trembling claws.

Monstrosity’s husband: Nghragbghl?

Gentle tentacles wrap about the monstrosity, accompanied by the soft cooing of the thousand tortured human faces writhing upon its husband’s pestilent flesh.

Monstrosity: Ghlabh. Ghlabh ndergl phle loser! Fblshhh. *sobs*

The monstrosity’s husband listens patiently as he comforts his blind beloved. Tendrils intermingle with claws and, soon enough, the sobbing ebbs to deep, cavernous breaths.

Monstrosity’s husband: *lovingly* Yghr, yghr. Glgfh ndihogl, mrh Nghragbghl.

Nightmare abated, the monstrosity now slumbers fitfully. Its distorted shape fits with horrific perfection against its loving mate, like an eldritch little spoon to its husband’s hideous ladle. Safe and sound, it dreams of other things.

Not of the school it once hungered for.

Not of those pesky teenagers.

And most definitely not of Wednesday Addams.

[panakinthedisco]

PART 1 | HEAVEN ━━ Marcus Acacius

summary: acacius' mother forged a blood pact with the goddess of love, vowing to safeguard and elevate her son, while dedicating her life as a delphi in return. through all general acacius' triumphs, you as the daughter of venus deftly orchestrated his victory as promised but then gradually nurturing a forbidden attachment.

author's note: don't get me started how i almost died with the trailer and the photos of papi pedroooooo so i had to do this (also i can use my greek mythology knowledge for some good use) so yup reader is an immortal goddess and possibly daughter of venus, idfc anymore because i'm making my own lore! they're going to be arwen and aragorn-esque ending coz i eat those kind of tropes lmfao

warnings: eventual smut to later chapters. mentions of misogyny, violence and also implications of sexual abuse.

word count: 4.4k

In the heart of a desolate village, a young woman stood at the fringes of society, shunned and abandoned for bearing the child of a powerful general. Clutching her infant son tightly to her chest, she wandered aimlessly, her heart heavy with despair and fear. The whispers of the villagers echoed in her mind, a cacophony of judgment and scorn. Tears streamed down her face as she made her way to the grand temple of Venus, the goddess of love, her last beacon of hope.

The temple, with its towering marble columns and intricate carvings, loomed before her like a sanctuary in the midst of her turmoil. The air grew thick with an impending storm as she fell to her knees at the entrance, her cries piercing the silence of the sacred place. "Great Venus, goddess of love and mercy," she sobbed, her voice trembling, "I beg of you, protect my son and guide us, for we have nowhere else to go. I fear for his life, for he is innocent."

As her desperate pleas echoed within the hallowed halls, the wind suddenly picked up, swirling around her with a fierce intensity. The sky darkened, and the deafening roar of thunder cracked through the air. In the midst of this tempest, a radiant light descended upon the temple. From the ethereal glow emerged a figure of unparalleled beauty, clothed in pure white robes that flowed like water.

Venus, the goddess of love, knelt before the fallen woman. Her presence was divine, her skin like alabaster, flawless and luminous. Her eyes, a captivating shade of deep blue, held the wisdom of the ages and the compassion of a thousand hearts. Golden hair cascaded down her back in waves, shimmering as if woven from sunlight. A gentle smile graced her lips, exuding warmth and serenity.

"Rise, my child," Venus spoke, her voice a melodious symphony that filled the air with hope. "Do not despair, for I have heard your cries and felt your anguish. I can offer you and your son protection, but it comes with a price. You must dedicate your life to me, serve as my devotee, and in return, I shall ensure your son’s safety and guide you both to a brighter future."

The young woman, overwhelmed by the goddess's presence and her words, gazed into the loving eyes of Venus. With unwavering determination and gratitude, she nodded. "I will do as you ask, great goddess. My life is yours to command, if it means my son will be safe."

Venus gently lifted the woman to her feet, her touch tender and reassuring. "Then it shall be so. From this moment forth, you are under my protection. Fear not, for love shall guide your path, and together, we shall overcome all obstacles." 

With that, the storm subsided, leaving behind a serene sky. The young woman, now filled with renewed hope and purpose, cradled her son as they both embraced the divine path laid before them by the goddess of love.

Years had gone by, the once forsaken young woman found solace and purpose as a devoted Delphi. She served with unwavering faith, her every breath a testament to the sacred bond she had formed with the goddess of love. Her son, Acacius, grew under the protective aegis of the temple, receiving the finest education and training from the wise sorceresses who resided there. His days were filled with rigorous training and study, molding him into a formidable warrior.

One golden afternoon, the courtyard of the temple buzzed with activity. Acacius, now a young man of remarkable prowess, moved with grace and strength as he sparred with his fellow trainees. His body, chiseled and powerful, gleamed with sweat under the sun. Every muscle in his arms and chest rippled with the precision and control honed through years of discipline. His jawline was sharp, his dark hair tousled, and his piercing eyes focused, exuding an aura of confidence and determination.

From a distance, Venus, resplendent in her divine beauty, emerged from the temple accompanied by you, her daughter. Venus’ robes flowed like liquid moonlight, and her presence illuminated the courtyard. While you, whose divine essence shimmered with an ethereal glow, stood by your mother’s side, your eyes subtly observing Acacius as he trained vigorously.

"Look at him, my daughter," Venus spoke, her voice a soothing melody. "Acacius’ mother devoted her life to serving as a Delphi, and it is now your duty to watch over him. He has grown into a man of great potential."

You were hesitant and prideful, replied, "Mother, surely I am capable of far more important tasks than merely watching over a mortal."

Venus laughed, "Ah, my dear, I see great things in Acacius. I made an unbreakable oath to his mother to protect him and guide him to victory. This task is of utmost importance, and you, my daughter, are perfectly suited for it."

Reluctantly, you agreed, though you felt the weight of the responsibility. As Venus gracefully returned to the temple, your gaze lingered on Acacius. You had watched him grow from a vulnerable child into the powerful warrior he had become. His masculine form, sculpted by relentless training, was a testament to his dedication and strength. His broad shoulders, strong arms, and defined torso were a sight to behold, each movement exuding a raw, magnetic energy.

As the daughter of Venus, you had spent millennia observing the ways of mortals. From the heights of the celestial realm to the depths of human existence, you had witnessed the endless cycles of birth, love, ambition, and vanity that defined their ephemeral lives. Mortal men, in particular, seemed ensnared by their own reflections, driven by a relentless pursuit of power, beauty, and validation. Their obsessions with vanity, you mused, were like chains binding them to an endless quest for an ever-elusive perfection.

In the sanctity of your divine solitude, you pondered these thoughts, your mind weaving through the countless interactions you had with mortals over the ages. Vanity, you concluded, was a double-edged sword. It spurred men to greatness but also led them to their downfall. How often have you seen warriors, poets, and kings, their hearts consumed by the desire for eternal youth, adoration, and glory? They built monuments to themselves, adorned their bodies in opulent garb, and sought the fleeting approval of their peers, all the while neglecting the deeper virtues of humility, wisdom, and compassion.

Living among mortals, you had grown accustomed to their ways, understanding the fragile nature of their existence. Yet, with each passing century, you have grown more disillusioned by their unchanging flaws. Despite the wisdom imparted by time and the guidance of the gods, mortals remained predictably obsessed with their own image.

When your mother, Venus, entrusted you with the responsibility of watching over Acacius, you could not help but feel a familiar pang of skepticism. Was he not just another man, destined to be ensnared by the same vanities as those before him? Despite his formidable strength and the disciplined mind he had cultivated, you feared that beneath his heroic exterior lay the same vulnerabilities that had claimed countless others.

As you observed Acacius from the shadows, your thoughts grew heavier. You remembered how, as a boy, he had shown signs of the same traits that plagued mortal men: the pride in his burgeoning strength, the flicker of arrogance in his victories, and the longing in his eyes for recognition and admiration. He seemed no different from the countless men who had walked the earth, striving for greatness yet ultimately ensnared by their own hubris.

Your divine heart, though swayed by eons of witnessing human folly, felt a curious twinge as she watched him. There was something about Acacius, a glimmer of potential, that both made you intrigued and worried. Could he break the cycle? Or would he, too, succumb to the inevitable downfall of vanity?

As you silently vowed to fulfill her mother’s promise, you found yourself grappling with an unexpected sense of protectiveness. Despite your reservations, there was an undeniable bond formed by watching him grow, a reluctant admiration for his resilience and strength. You feared for him, not because you doubted his abilities, but because she understood the weight of his mortality.

With a sigh, you resigned yourself to the task. "Acacius may be like other men," you thought, "but perhaps there lies within him a spark of something more." You would watch over him, guide him, and protect him from the shadows, ever vigilant and ever hopeful that he might transcend the very vanities that ensnared his kind. As the daughter of Venus, you knew that love and duty were bound by unbreakable threads, and you would honor them both, even if it meant confronting your own doubts and fears.

As you observed him and embedded in your own thoughts, Acacius suddenly paused and turned his head, his sharp eyes meeting yours across the courtyard. Startled, you quickly retreated into the shadows, your divine essence blending with the darkened corners of the temple. 

Hidden from view, your heart pounded. You realized the gravity of your new role, feeling a mixture of trepidation and an unspoken bond with the man she would protect and guide. As Acacius resumed his training, unaware of the divine eyes watching over him, you knew this won’t be an easy responsibility. 

As the daughter of Venus, you have watched over Acacius from the shadows, your divine presence hidden but your influence ever-present. From the moment he drew his sword, you felt the weight of your mother's promise pressing upon your shoulders, a vow to guide and protect him, to steer him towards greatness. Acacius was more than a mortal; he was the culmination of a divine pact, and your duty to him was as sacred as the bond forged between his mother and Venus.

In his youth, you whispered wisdom into the ears of his mentors, guiding their hands as they trained him in the arts of war and leadership. You ensured that the best teachers found their way to him, that he learned not only the strategies of battle but also the virtues of honor, compassion, and justice. Through subtle interventions, you shaped his character, molding him into a man worthy of the destiny laid before him.

As he grew, so did the challenges he faced. You were there in the thick of his battles, unseen but ever vigilant. During his early skirmishes, you would nudge his instincts, sharpening his reflexes and lending him the strength he needed to overcome his foes. When he faltered, you were the whisper of encouragement that steeled his resolve, the invisible hand that steadied his sword.

In the grand halls of strategy and politics, you guided his thoughts, helping him navigate the treacherous waters of Roman ambition. You planted seeds of wisdom in his mind, urging him to form alliances that would strengthen his position, to make decisions that would earn him the respect of his peers and the loyalty of his men. You were the unseen force that smoothed the path before him, ensuring that every step he took led him closer to his destiny.

When he was appointed as a general under Maximus Decimus Meridius, you knew that your efforts were bearing fruit. Acacius had become a formidable leader, his name spoken with reverence and fear across the empire. Yet, his journey was far from over. Under the rule of Emperor Geta and his co-Augusti, Caracalla, Acacius faced new trials. The invasion of Caledonia was a test of his mettle, a crucible that would forge his legacy.

As the Romans prepared for their campaign, you took on the guise of a tradesman’s daughter in Caledonia, positioning yourself to be near him, to watch over him more closely. The battles were fierce, and the land was unforgiving. You ensured that crucial information reached him at the right moments, that his strategies were sound and his decisions unerring. You softened the hearts of those who might have betrayed him, turned the tides of fortune in his favor.

Through the years, you have been his silent guardian, his invisible ally. You have seen him rise from a young warrior to a revered general, each victory a testament to the bond you honored. Even now, as you  stand among the captured townspeople, disguised and hidden, your purpose remains unchanged. You are here to protect him, to guide him, and to ensure that he fulfills the destiny that was promised.

In the moments when doubt clouded his heart, you were the light that pierced the darkness. When he faced insurmountable odds, you were the strength that carried him through. You have watched over him with a mixture of pride and affection, your heart swelling with each triumph and breaking with each loss. Acacius is more than just a mortal; he is a living embodiment of the divine promise you are bound to uphold.

Amidst the chaos of the Roman invasion of Caledonia, the air was thick with smoke and the cries of the conquered. The formidable General Acacius, now a seasoned leader under Emperor Geta and his co-Augusti, Caracalla, surveyed the battlefield with a steely gaze. His once youthful visage was now marked by the scars of countless battles, his presence commanding and unwavering.

In the midst of the turmoil, you risked disguising as a daughter of a tradesman, moved with quiet resolve. Clad in the coarse, earth-toned garb of a peasant, she blended seamlessly with the captured townspeople. Yet, even in your humble attire, your divine essence could not be wholly concealed. Your skin, a flawless alabaster, stood out against the grime and soot of the war-torn village. Your eyes, a striking shade of hazel, gleamed with an unearthly light, and your movements, though tempered to appear modest, held an innate grace that betrayed your true nature.

The Roman soldiers, drunk on victory, rounded up the women of Caledonia, separating them from their families with ruthless efficiency. Among the throng, the disguised goddess maintained a facade of fear and helplessness, your heart pounding as she witnessed the suffering of the innocent. The brutality of the soldiers, their coarse laughter, and lecherous gazes made you shudder inwardly, but you knew you must maintain your cover.

General Acacius, his mind burdened with the responsibilities of command, scanned the scene with a practiced eye. His soldiers were securing the captives, ensuring the spoils of war were collected. His gaze fell upon the group of captured women, and for a moment, he saw them as mere pawns in the grand scheme of conquest. But then, his eyes landed on you.

Despite your plain clothing, something about you stood out. Your skin, untouched by the harshness of the elements, was too smooth, too luminous for a common peasant. Your hair, though partially hidden beneath a simple headscarf, shone with a subtle, otherworldly luster. You moved with a quiet dignity, your posture erect even in the face of despair. Acacius's sharp eyes missed nothing, maybe a nobility pretending to be a peasant so they can escape from the invasion. He finds it as a clever tactic. 

As one of his soldiers, emboldened by the chaos, approached her with lecherous intent, Acacius felt a surge of anger. The soldier, a brutish figure, reached out to grasp your arm, his intentions clear. Before he could lay a hand on you, Acacius's voice rang out, authoritative and cold.

"Stand down," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. The soldier froze, his hand hovering in the air. "Do not touch her."

The soldier, taken aback, stammered a protest, "But, General, she's just a—"

"Bring her to me," Acacius cut him off, his gaze fixed on the disguised goddess. "Now."

The soldier, reluctant but obedient, withdrew his hand and roughly pushed you forward. You stumbled slightly but quickly regained your balance, your eyes meeting Acacius with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. As you were brought before him, he could see the subtle details that marked you as different: the refinement in your features, the intelligence in your eyes, the air of quiet strength exuded within you.

"Who are you?" Acacius asked, his voice softer but still commanding. "You do not belong here, do you?"

You hesitated, you mind racing to craft a plausible response. "I am the daughter of a tradesman," you said, your voice steady despite the fear you felt. "Captured like the others. Please, I mean no harm."

Acacius studied you for a long moment, his instincts telling him there was more to your story. "Take her to my tent," Acacius declared, his voice carrying an edge of finality. "She will be my personal cupbearer."

The soldiers, recognizing the unwavering tone of their general, nodded in agreement. They stepped back, leaving you untouched. Acacius's gaze softened slightly as he looked at you, a mixture of curiosity and protectiveness in his eyes.

"Find her something clean to wear," he instructed, his tone gentle yet firm.

Two soldiers led you through the encampment, their grip on your arms firm but not harsh. They guided you to the lavish tent of General Acacius, a striking contrast to the roughness of the battlefield outside. The tent was grand, its exterior adorned with rich fabrics and ornate decorations. Inside, it was a sanctuary of luxury and comfort amidst the chaos of war.

The interior of the tent was spacious, with plush carpets covering the ground and opulent cushions scattered around. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of Roman victories and mythological grandeur. A large, intricately carved wooden table stood at the center, laden with an array of sumptuous food and fine wine. The scent of incense filled the air, mingling with the aroma of roasted meats and freshly baked bread.

As you stood in the middle of the tent, feeling the weight of her disguise, General Acacius entered. His armor gleamed in the soft light of the tent, and his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. He moved with the confidence of a seasoned warrior, yet there was a gentleness in his approach.

"Sit with me," he said, gesturing to the cushions by the table.

You hesitated but complied, lowering yourself onto the soft cushions. Acacius sat across from you, his gaze never leaving yours like a lion observing his prey. He offered you a plate of food, the array of delicacies a testament to the wealth and power he commanded.

"Please, eat," he urged, but you shook your head, declining politely.

"I’m not hungry, my Lord," you explained, your voice steady.

Acacius leaned back, studying you intently. "What kind of business does your father have?"

You took a breath, weaving the story you had prepared. "My father is a tradesman, specializing in silk. We travel far and wide, even to the distant lands of China, to procure the finest silk. He sells it to the emperor and to those of noble birth."

Acacius nodded, intrigued. "A tradesman of silk, you say? But then, you do not seem like a mere peasant."

You lowered your eyes, the weight of your divine secret heavy upon you. "We have faced many hardships, but my father has always ensured that we present ourselves with dignity."

Acacius leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "Tell me," he said, his voice low and measured, "does your family live in Caledonia?"

Your heart is pounding. "Yes," you replied, your voice steady. "We come from an impoverished background. My father sought to make a better life for us through his trade."

Acacius studied you closely, his eyes dark and intense. As he reached for a cluster of grapes, he popped one into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. The act, so casual and yet so intimate, made your pulse quicken. His scrutiny was unrelenting, and you felt as though he could see through the layers of your disguise.

"You should know," he began, his tone carrying a note of warning, "that the nobility of Caledonia will be captured. There is no escape for them."

You remained silent, her expression carefully neutral. You knew he was testing you, probing for any signs of deceit. His words, though intended to intimidate, also carried a hint of concern.

"My soldiers are ruthless," he continued, his voice growing colder. "They would take advantage of you if given the chance."

You nodded silently, acknowledging the gravity of his warning. Your heart ached at the thought of the suffering around you, but you knew she had to maintain your composure.

As Acacius spoke, the flap of the tent was pushed aside, and a soldier entered, carrying a bundle of fresh clothes. They were simple but clean, likely taken from a Caledonian household. The soldier handed the bundle to Acacius, who thanked him with a curt nod.

"Here," Acacius said, extending the clothes to you. "Put these on."

You rose from your seat and took the bundle obediently, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment. The contact sent a shiver through you, a reminder of the thin line she walked between mortal and divinity. 

"You may change behind the screen," he said, gesturing to a beautifully carved wooden partition that provided a modicum of privacy within the tent.

You nodded and moved behind the screen, the fabric rustling softly as you slipped out of your peasant clothes. The new garments were a marked improvement, though still modest. As you dressed, you could feel Acacius's presence just beyond the screen, his protective aura enveloping you like a shield.

When you emerged, you found him watching you intently, his eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, something you could not quite name. The new clothes fit you well, accentuating your grace and poise even in their simplicity.

"Better," he murmured, his voice softening. "You look more like the person you claim to be."

You offered a faint smile, lowering her gaze. "Thank you."

Days passed, and you, now working as a cupbearer in General Acacius's camp, endeavored to maintain your humble facade. Despite your best efforts to appear as an ordinary servant, your innate grace and poise occasionally betrayed your true nature. Acacius, ever observant, began to notice the subtle refinement in your movements, the way you carried yourself with a dignity that spoke of nobility.

Your body language, though deliberately subdued, hinted at a life of privilege and education. You moved with an elegance that seemed out of place in the rough-and-tumble environment of a military camp. The way you poured water into cups, the delicate curve of your fingers as you handled the pitchers, all bespoke a background far removed from the impoverished tale you had spun.

One afternoon, a group of generals gathered in Acacius's lavish tent for a luncheon. As you silently poured water into their cups, you could feel the weight of their gazes upon you. The generals, their voices booming with laughter and boasts, paid little heed to the solemnity of their surroundings. One of them, a burly man with a coarse beard, eyed you with a lecherous grin.

"Acacius," he called out, his voice thick with drink, "is your cupbearer good in bed?"

The tent erupted in raucous laughter, the crude jest echoing off the walls. Acacius, seated at the head of the table, narrowed his eyes. His gaze hardened, and he fixed the offending general with a stern look.

"Such things are not to be discussed," he said, his tone carrying a quiet authority that silenced the laughter.

The general, still chuckling, raised his hands in mock surrender. "Ah, Acacius, always so reserved. You'd do well to indulge a bit more."

The disguised goddess watched the exchange with keen interest, your heart pounding. You knew Acacius's character well, having observed him for years. You despised these gatherings, these displays of vanity and ego. He found no pleasure in the idle boasts of his peers, preferring the company of his own thoughts and strategies.

As you continued your duties, pouring water and refilling cups, you could sense Acacius's discomfort. He was a man of action, a warrior with a clear sense of purpose. These luncheons, with their empty chatter and frivolous banter, were a stark contrast to the disciplined life he led. You admired his restraint, his ability to maintain his composure in the face of such provocation.

The generals continued their revelry, their conversations shifting from one boast to another. They spoke of past victories, of conquests and spoils, their voices a cacophony of pride and self-importance. Acacius, though present in body, seemed distant, his mind likely focused on the next battle, the next challenge.

As you moved around the table, you caught his eye for a brief moment. In that instant, you saw a flicker of something deeper, a connection that transcended. You knew that he valued substance over show, strategy over vanity. His reluctance to engage in their crude jests and hollow boasts only endeared him to you more.

The luncheon dragged on, the generals growing more boisterous with each passing moment. Acacius, ever the disciplined leader, maintained his stoic demeanor, responding to their jibes with measured patience. You could see the tension in his posture, the tightness in his jaw, and felt a pang of empathy.

As the daughter of Venus, you had always found mortal men to be easily swayed by vanity and ambition. They are like clay, molded by the hands of society and their peers, their true selves often buried beneath layers of ego and pride. But Acacius is different. Despite the pressures and temptations that come with his rank, he remains steadfast and true to his values. You're secretly proud of him, of the strength he shows in resisting the crudeness and arrogance that so often define his comrades.

That evening, after the generals had left and the camp had settled into a quiet lull, you found Acacius outside his tent, gazing up at the night sky. The stars twinkled above, their light casting a gentle glow on his strong, chiseled features. There was a tranquility in the air, a moment of peace amidst the chaos of war.

You approached him silently, your heart swelling with admiration for the man he had become. "Thank you for everything, My Lord," you said softly, breaking the silence.

He turned to look at you, his eyes reflecting the starlight. "You don’t need to thank me," he replied, his voice steady.

You nodded, understanding the brusqueness of his words. "Even so, I am forever grateful."

As you turned to return to the tent, you could feel his gaze lingering on you. There was a mystery in his eyes, a curiosity that you knew he could not easily dispel. You wondered what he saw when he looked at you—this woman who appeared from nowhere, cloaked in the guise of a humble servant yet betraying hints of refinement and grace.

CONTINUE READING: PART 2 | PART 3 ━━ AVAILABLE ON AO3

☆ MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION | SOCIALS | SIGN OFF BANNER MADE BY. @ALDERAANDORS ☆

[partikron]

Kaiju Cults in the Monsterverse

Godzilla's first roar would have heralded the birth and death of a thousand human religions, and one of the things the Monsterverse gets right is that we humans with our tiny monkey brains would absolutely worship these things.

Within a year of Godzilla's emergence to battle the Mutos, news outlets would be reporting on small cults dedicated to He Who Rises, the Wavebringer, the Lord of the Deep, the Beast from the Sea (for the biblically inclined), and the Thunderer.

The fact that this remains unexplored is deeply depressing.

[ninibeingdelulu]

“I should’ve bought you flowers…”

plot- you run into Leon, your ex boyfriend CLICK ME

A bitterly crisp autumn breeze whistled down the empty cobblestone streets of the sleepy rural marketplace, rustling scarlet and amber leaves scuttling across Leon's boots.

He dug both leather-clad hands deeper into his jacket pockets while hunching further into the insulated collar turned up against the biting chill as he strode purposefully onwards.

Mid-afternoon foot traffic always remained relatively scant throughout town - most of the local shops and farmstands having already packed up for the day once their fresh harvests sold through.

All except for the lone family grocer tucked away on the far corner where Leon typically grabbed essentials for the upcoming week.

Just the way he preferred it - in and out quickly with minimal interactions beyond terse polite nods at the shopkeep ringing up his basket.

Today, however...

The distinct figure standing alone beside the open-air produce section instantly seized Leon's attention like an icy fist clenching vice-tight around his ribcage.

That unmistakable silhouette he'd know from a thousand lonely city blocks away no matter how many endless nights of haunted insomnia blurred his vision.

Even from behind, every perfectly etched line of those slender shoulders and the elegant slope of that elegant neck remained scorched into his memory as if branded by a white-hot iron fresh from the forge.

Despite the crystalline sunlight glinting off your silken hair spilling in luxurious waves, Leon's pulse roared thunderously in his ears until all else fell abruptly silent.

As if the earth itself ground to a screeching halt on its axis to better amplify the way his heart stuttered at the mere sight of you for the first time in over a year.

Leon's first instinct was to pivot on his heel and retreat - retracing his steps back the way he came before you'd sensed his presence.

But something deep and inexplicable within kept rooting him to that frostbitten cobblestone, feet feeling as though they'd taken sudden root.

He watched through the hazy blur as you stepped minutely closer to the vendor's stall, slender fingers curling pensively around the handle of your tote as your head swiveled ever so slowly.

Until those wide soulful eyes he knew better than any remembered prayer swiveled to lock with his for one breathless moment suspended in amber streaks of morning light.

Your lips parted on a shocked inhale while recognition washed across those beloved features with the force of a tidal wave.

Leon remained frozen to the spot - a poor reconstruction of the suave federal agent and hardened hunter of biohazard evils crumbling away to expose the hollowed out shell he'd become in your absence.

All those tightly regimented walls built up over the past year came crashing down to lay the tattered remnants of his heart exposed as an open wound once more.

One side of his lips tugged upwards in a weak facsimile of a smile that never reached the enduring anguish flickering behind those shadowed steel-blue irises.

With supreme effort, Leon forced air into his lungs enough to grit out two words scorching like acid across his tongue:

"Hey...stranger."

It was all the unraveling threads of his frayed composure could muster without shattering completely.

He swallowed thickly while pivoting on his heel, boots scuffing against the cobblestone as he made to continue onwards.

Away from here...away from you. Before any deeper glimpses of vulnerability managed to slip through and reveal his soul's innermost hemorrhaging.

Leon only managed to make it a few paces before your tremulous voice calling out finally fractured what remained of his crumbling resolve.

"Leon...wait."

He halted obediently while squeezing his eyes shut against the ghostly caress of your honeyed syllables washing over him for the first time in far too long.

Drawing a harsh, shuddering inhale, Leon gradually turned back just enough to chance a sidelong glance over his shoulder without meeting your pleading gaze head-on.

It was all the restraint he could cling to not to fully whirl around and stare...to greedily drink you in after being denied that forbidden oasis for what felt like an eternity.

"I..." Your speech briefly faltered- words clearly failing to manifest the roiling ocean of emotions swirling across your expression before you visibly steadied yourself.

"What you said one year ago, about not being...enough...That's not true at all. You were always more than enough for me."

A bitter, mirthless chuckle rasped past Leon's lips - barely even audible over the keening winds.

"Yeah...and it took you one entire year to say it ? Why didn’t you said it back then, before disappearing ?"

Both of you recoiled in unison at the harsh self-loathing barb like physical blows.

Your dismayed features twisted immediately into anguished denial only to falter helplessly as he shook his head firmly, making an abortive motion as if to physically halt the reassurance already forming on your lips.

"Look, I'm...sorry. That wasn't fair of me."

Leon dragged his palm down the exhausted lines of his face while fixing that stormy azure gaze straight ahead.

Away from the irresistible temptation of your wounded eyes he knew would unravel the few stray threads of his composure still wound tight.

"I counted every minutes, every seconds…damn, y/n."

His adam's apple bobbed in a pronounced swallow against the tightening pressure rapidly constricting his throat.

"I missed you, but over the months I realized it was a mistake...Now, wherever the road led you from here after we parted ways, well..."

Leon swept one final glance over his shoulder then to convey everything his faltering speech couldn't accurately translate.

"I really do hope wherever it takes you next makes you happier than I ever could."

With one final rueful quirk of his lips, the former RPD survivor pivoted on his heel once again and simply walked away without looking back.

Only once those ramrod shoulders had disappeared entirely around the winding village path did Leon allow himself to sag boneless against the nearest building's stucco exterior.

He scrubbed both palms across his face to muffle the wrecked keen ripping itself from his very marrow as endless rivulets of searing pain left twin trails streaking each chiseled cheekbone...