#The Living Sea Of Waking Dreams | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starsofang · 6 months ago

Text

CALL OF THE SEA / PART SIX

pirate poly!141 x reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, not much for this chapter, but as always, be cautious! masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Morning came, and when you woke, the Captain wasn’t by your side. Rather, the pair of shoes Soap had gifted you, left behind in the brig during the overwhelming visit from Price, laid neatly on his side of the bed. A note was placed on top, the telltale sign of Price’s handwriting written, one you recognized from the brief glimpse of his secretive map.

“Soap urged me to return these to you. Join us for breakfast when you wake.”

Tossing your legs over the side of the cot, you meticulously strapped the shoes to your feet one by one, tying them with careful hands. You couldn’t remember the last time you wore shoes, and the feeling was foreign.

Wiggling your toes for good measure, you found you had plenty of room. Taking a few steps around the room guaranteed they stayed. Soap had somehow observed your previously dirtied and battered feet and somehow sized them to his best knowledge.

They were perfect. You felt brand new.

New clothes and now new shoes. Bathed and scrubbed clean without a speck of dirt tainting your skin.

Perhaps you could give them a chance. At least, until you were able to get back on land again and say a silent farewell to all four of them. That was what you still wanted after all, right? Freedom, regardless of how kind they were trying to be.

Stepping out of Price’s quarters was that first taste of freedom you’d had in a while. Not a man to guard you like a dog, teeth bared if you tried to bite back. This time, it was peaceful.

The sea was calm with the waves lightly lapping against the sides of the boat. The scent of saltwater filled your nose and put all worries at ease. The sun was shining brightly above you, beating down with a lovely warmth that tickled your skin.

For a brief moment, it felt like you were home again. It was nothing like it, while mirroring it all at the same time. A bittersweet feeling it was, to feel a touch of serenity in a place so far from the place you knew.

You dared to think that this was somewhere you could rebuild a home with. In a way, this could be the freedom you’d been seeking. Far from entrapment on an island with no way out, with the feeling of sea legs on a boat that could take you to places you never knew existed.

You shut the thought down quickly. At the end of the day, the ones halting that dream were four rugged men who wouldn’t dare let you live out the fantasy long enough to cherish it. They were your captors. Not your friends.

It was fairly easy to figure out where their dining hall was. The boat was large, but the sounds of burly laughter and banter billowing through the breeze was unmistakable and it led you right to where you needed to be.

Your initial walk in wasn’t acknowledged. Not because they were ignoring you, but because they were far too occupied to realize. And by they, you really meant Soap and Gaz.

The two were bickering puppies. Mouths full of food, like ill-mannered children, spewing complete nonsense.

The first to notice you was Ghost. His gaze was chilling, eyes locked on you. While being uninterested and almost bored, there was also that glint of annoyance that came from your mere presence.

That alone was your subtle reminder that these men weren’t your friends. Your reality was not so lucky, and a few spouts of kindness given from the other three weren’t enough to warrant any comfort on your end. You were still in an unfair situation, one that you simply had to grow used to for the time being.

Ghost was a force, though. Just from his stare, you could feel the foreboding threat that lingered deep within. The mask he wore certainly didn’t help. In fact, it made him almost inhuman, like he was a vessel for something far more dangerous.

Eyes were the window to the soul, yet all you saw was an empty void.

Ghost’s shift in attitude seemed to transfer to the others. Next thing you knew, all eyes were on you, peering at you like a pack of wolves when an enemy entered their turf.

You felt severely underdressed. You weren’t much of a sight in your old rags, but now, clad in Price’s sheer clothes that ended near the knee with Soap’s new shoes clinging to your feet, you felt a sense of embarrassment.

The men were dressed appropriately, white shirts with billowy sleeves down to their wrists, heavy coats with a dizzying amount of buttons undone that fell to their knees, as well as classic breeches and thick boots. The colors were bland, yet the jewels they displayed were beyond comprehension.

You hadn’t taken much notice before of the extravagant gems.

Soap adorned that of sapphire, dangling from his neck and worn along his fingers. The blue glinted in the dim sunlight that peeked through the windows of the dining hall, shining brightly.

Gaz wore ruby, the deep red jewels clashing with his clothes and skin near perfectly. It accented the warm tone of his eyes that stared back at you, swirling with uncertainty yet a hint of curiosity.

Price preferred pearls, and it made complete sense. He was Captain, and pearls were the heart of the ocean. The waters were his home, and he held a piece of it wherever he went.

Ghost’s jewelry was the one who mirrored him completely. Black onyx, glistening on nearly every finger, paired with silver bands that held the precious jewels. The only difference was the single skull ring that stuck to his ring finger, staring back at you tauntingly.

You felt like a parasite in comparison. Jewels were something you could only dream of.

“Hungry, dove?” Gaz broke you out of your trance, raising his eyebrows at you. His tone was soft, holding no previous resentment. The man was a mystery, picking and choosing when to butt heads with you or express his displeasure. Yet not, it seemed that had all begun to melt.

“Quite,” you murmured in response, shifting uncomfortably from where you stood. You made no effort to sit next to them, deeming yourself unfit and unwelcome.

Gaz stood in an instant, leaving the table and fluttering to the kitchen. Your eyes followed, watching the swinging doors sway behind him as he disappeared.

“Sit,” Price gruffed, nodding his head to an empty seat across. You stared for a moment, unsure, before hesitantly taking the seat next to Soap.

Soap had said nothing yet, but his eyes never left you — or more specifically, your feet. The shoes, the one he’d specifically sought out for you that fit perfectly on your feet. They were a nice gift, despite the events that transpired after.

“They fit,” Soap stated, finally looking up at you when you sat. You gave him a brief nod, eyes peering down at the table. “Do ye like ‘em?”

You shifted your toes in the shoes, wiggling them around in the bit of space left. They felt comfortable and they’d protected your feet from the splintered wood of the ship when you made your way to the dining hall.

“I do,” you confessed quietly.

You felt strange. You felt almost shy, as if nervous to disappoint Soap.

His face broke out in a boyish smile, seemingly pleased with both himself and your answer. “I’m glad,” he sighed in relief, returning to his meal.

Price and Ghost remained quiet, though Ghost continued to stare. It was harder than before. Now, it felt more like a glare. You could practically feel the intensity of it toying with you.

You risked a glance at him, which only worsened the hit. In an instant, his eyes narrowed, a growing fire burning fiercely. It caused you to feel unsettled, and you wondered what you had done to make him agitated.

Sure, he wasn’t nice before. He was an angry brute from the very beginning. But it had never been this… personal.

The table shook when Soap knocked Ghost’s shin under the table. Ghost’s head whipped over to switch his glare to Soap, who only gave him a warning look in return. Price, seeming bored and rather used to the banter, simply sipped at the drink in his cup.

“Don’t mind him,” Soap dismissed sheepishly. “He’s just…”

“Jealous?” Gaz mused from behind you, and when you turned to look, he was holding a plate of hot food. He placed it in front of you before taking a seat on the other side of you.

Ghost let out what sounded like a scoff, muffled under his mask. He stood from the table, the force of him shaking it once more, before he set off to the upper deck without a spared glance.

Jealous? That was a strange way of describing what you witnessed. What Ghost held seemed far from jealousy, and resonated more with hatred.

“Jealous is a nice word,” Soap hummed, stabbing his food with his fork and popping it into his mouth.

“Why would he be jealous?” you asked hesitantly. “Are you…?”

“Aye, that’s complicated territory yer gettin’ into, dove.” Soap gave you a grin, full of food. You grimaced, resorting to your own food.

The three men fell into simple conversation while you remained the outsider. It was how it had been up until this point, something you were growing used to. After all, you were still a prisoner, even if you had a shed of freedom now, and you were still supposed to resent them.

“Awfully quiet today, dove,” Price said. His tone held no mockery. “You had quite a lot to say last night.”

Images of last night flashed through your mind, the ones where the two of you came to an agreement of getting along. No bad blood, as he said.

Quite a bit had happened last night. So quickly, too. One moment you were in the cell, awaiting a punishment for a failed attempt at fleeing their crew, then the next you were bathed and asleep in Price’s bed. Now, as the morning came, you were offered a meal rather than more unkindness.

You wondered if it was all a test. You had even snooped through the map laid out on Price’s desk, memorizing the poem scribbled on scratch paper. It seemed all meticulously planned, and you prayed it wouldn’t be your downfall.

“I have nothing to offer to the conversation, Captain,” you replied meekly. “I am quite bland.”

“I don’t think that’s quite right,” Price mused. “You were rather witty last night with your jest.”

“A jest?” Soap piped in, curious. “Ye got her to joke with ye, Captain?”

“Aye.” Price nodded. He crossed his arms, leaning back on his chair. “She’s a part of the crew now, after all. Isn’t that right, Soap?”

There was unspoken conversation between the two men. Gaz seemed just as lost as you, before something dawned on him. You remained clueless, separated from a secret agreement.

“Aye,” Soap agreed with a nod. He seemed prideful of something, but that you weren’t sure of.

Had they spoken of things without you? Perhaps it was the reason Price let you off so easily. Where you were expecting to be lashed out upon, angry words of your stupidity spewed your way, you had gotten a softer side of Price. An understanding one.

You sat dumbly, confusion evident on your face. Your mind swirled with every possibility of what they could mean, but nothing useful popped up.

You felt like a fool. You were a pawn in a game, and this you knew from the beginning. It had everything to do with your capture and the hidden reason as to why.

The one who heals the ill and poor

shall be the cure to all demise.

The answer was right in front of you, yet it felt impossible to grasp.

“You will stay with Soap and Gaz tonight,” Price said. You were zoning out quite a lot today. “I have business I must attend to in my quarters.”

You blinked at the Captain, turning your head to Gaz. You couldn’t fathom Soap having an issue with the arrangement, but Gaz was a unique case. You weren’t friendly, nor were you enemies.

Ever since throwing your food on him nearing the first nights, there was an awkwardness, but it certainly wasn’t bitter. It simply felt like two people who had gotten off on the wrong foot.

Gaz stared back at you before turning away. You weren’t sure how he felt about you staying in his quarters. He didn’t make it obvious.

You just hoped it wasn’t as awkward as it was right now.

Gaz and Soap came to collect you when the night began to fall. Price had let you bathe once more before sending you off, where the two men stood waiting for you outside.

“Hello, dove,” Soap greeted warmly. He seemed bashful that you were staying with him.

He was a strange one, for sure. He was also the most welcoming from the jump.

You didn’t let it fool you, though. You’d seen a side of him when you ran from him during your time on shore, and you knew he had a personality that made him the feared pirate he was, just as the rest of them.

Gaz offered you a nod in greeting, and you gave one back.

The two guided you across the deck and to the other side of the ship. It was quiet between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or strange. What was strange was sharing a bed with two grown men.

“Come in,” Gaz said quietly, opening the door to their quarters and allowing you in first. It was gentlemen-like, which was unforeseeable coming from his background, but you took it with grace.

The quarters were much more cluttered than Price’s, and you safely assumed it was from Soap. Gaz didn’t seem the messy type, though you could be terribly wrong.

“Sit,” Soap ordered, grabbing you by the shoulders and plopping you down on the edge of the bed. You watched as he shuffled into a small closet, your ears picking up on ruffling fabric.

Gaz stood silently, deep in thought. You didn’t bother to ask.

“Here ye go, dove,” Soap offered, returning with new clothes.

Would this be a pattern?

“Will I be using all of your clothes?” you asked, taking the folded shirt and placing it in your lap.

“We will get you new ones soon,” Gaz replied. “Once you don’t wish to flee again.”

Soap snickered, finding it amusing while you mulled in your own humiliation. At least they were being humorous rather than crude.

“Understood,” you grumbled with a small huff, standing with the shirt in hand. The room stood still while the three of you stared, shifting between each other. “I’d like to change now.”

Soap’s mouth gaped, before he sputtered out an apology. Gaz scruffed him by the collar, dragging him out of the room, leaving you alone.

Your thoughts wandered as you changed into your fresh shirt. While you would’ve worn Price’s shirt some more, used to the old rags you collected grime in in the beginning of your capture, being offered new clothing for a second time was nice. It was kind.

You didn’t like to admit it, but despite weeping bloodshed and performing heinous acts upon the innocent lives of those on islands, such as your own people, they really were just… boys.

Boys with a sense of wonder, a sense of joy that was smothered by their titles.

They were still guiding through the world in their short lives, learning how to live as people. Just as any other. It was their first time living, too, even if their actions could be cruel at best.

When you stepped out of the room to let them know you were finished, you only found Gaz,

leaned up against the wall. He spared you a quick glance upon seeing you, offering you another nod like before.

“That certainly fits better than Captain’s,” he murmured, acknowledging the shirt that didn’t quite reach your knees anymore.

“Yes, it will do,” you replied quietly. Your hands fumbled in front of you, that familiar awkwardness filling the air.

With Soap, it was easy. With Price, it was witty. Ghost was an entirely other story.

But Gaz? Why did it have to feel so strange? Like a lingering cloud of tension?

“I am grateful to the Captain for allowing me a chance of redemption after I… fled,” you continued.

The sparkling of stars shone brightly above the two of you, and you made your focus on admiring them rather than on Gaz.

“I don’t know how he did it, but Soap convinced him of your worth in all of this.” Gaz joined you in staring up at the night sky, his fingers picking at the loose string of his shirt where it remained untied by the collar. “We fucked up your life, after all. That’s on us.”

“Soap?” you asked, baffled. “What does he have to do with it? The Captain came to me willingly.”

Gaz turned to look at you, his head cocked in confusion. You mirrored him, eyebrows pulled taut.

“He spoke highly of you after you attempted to flee,” he explained carefully. “Price was angry with you. Soap was your voice of reasoning. Even got me on your side, too. I had my reservations at first for obvious reasons.”

Ah, so he was still bitter about the porridge you’d thrown at him.

You allowed his words to digest, letting them sink into your bones and simmer. All this time, you thought they thought of you in disgust. You were an inconvenience.

Except… you weren’t. They had their formed opinions on you, but you were clearly worth more than they let on. It was why you were spared, why you weren’t rotting away to flesh and bone in their brig.

All along, you thought they simply hated you, that they were unkind, mean pirates.

But just as you thought moments ago — they were boys deep inside. Human. Navigating through life without a compass or map.

“With time, things will begin to connect,” Gaz continued, voice softer. “We are not as cruel as you may think. There are far bigger fish out there, and they are much, much worse.”

You prayed that you would never have to face it, for as long as you remained on this ship.

1K notes · View notes

gaza-giving-tree · 25 days ago

Text

Imagine waking up every day to a nightmare that doesn't end. Your livelihood, your home, your children's safety—everything you once had—is reduced to rubble.

@ahmadomar0

Story written by @visionsofaselfmademan

For Ahmed Al-Habil, a fisherman from Gaza, this is not just a thought experiment—it’s his reality. Ahmed once lived a simple, dignified life by the sea, supporting his family of six. The sea was his solace and his source of sustenance. But in an instant, his dreams and stability were destroyed. His fishing boat, his job, and his home were obliterated in the chaos of war. Left with nothing but faith and hope, Ahmed is now grappling with an unimaginable struggle.

Since October 7th, Ahmed, his wife, four young children, and his elderly parents have endured relentless displacement—fleeing from Nuseirat to Khan Younis, to Rafah, and now to a tent in Deir al-Balah. With each move, they have faced hunger, malnutrition, and the suffocating fear of violence. His children—Omar (10), Khadija (9), Ali (6), and Zain (3)—are deprived of the innocence of childhood, their laughter replaced by cries of hunger and cold. Ahmed's 72-year-old father battles chronic diseases, and his 70-year-old mother suffers from diabetes and debilitating spinal problems, compounding the family’s hardship.

Yet, amid this devastation, Ahmed’s resilience shines. He is pleading for help to rebuild a life of dignity and peace—a life where his children can play without fear, his parents can receive the care they need, and his family can once again dream of a brighter future.

Your donation today could be the light Ahmed and his family desperately need in this darkness. Every contribution, no matter how small, can help them secure food, medicine, and the resources to move toward stability. Let’s come together to give Ahmed’s family a chance to live with dignity and hope. You can be the hand that helps them rise from the rubble.

You can donate to Ahmed's GoFundMe campaign [HERE]

This campaign has been vetted by association. @aya2mohammed (#166 on [the verified fundraiser list] vetted by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi) has stated that Ahmed (@ahmed-omar0, @ahmedomer9) is his brother. See screenshot below and also this post [here] for proof.

#free gaza #gaza strip #free palestine #gaza genocide #gaza #palestine #gofundme #signal boost #humanity #the human family

1K notes · View notes

ventismacchiato · 1 month ago

Text

14 stuck with you — gold rush !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

FLASHBACK — PREDEBUT

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

From the age of seven, Scara's life had been meticulously mapped out for him, each step carefully dictated by his mother. He never really understood what it meant to have a dream, because the only dream that mattered was hers. Whatever path she carved for him, he walked without question, even though it never felt like his own. His mother had been a star, an idol adored by millions, and from the moment he was old enough to stand, she began pushing him towards the same spotlight.

He’d seen clips of her on stage — laughing, singing, shining — but when he looked at her, that wasn’t the woman who raised him. The mother who showered him with cold praise, forced him through grueling training sessions, and demanded perfection from him was a stranger in comparison. It was as if she lived in two worlds: the adored idol everyone saw, and the distant, sometimes cruel figure he called mom.

As he grew older and the demands of training intensified, the resentment began to settle in his chest like a heavy weight. The idea of becoming an idol, once something that had been drilled into him since childhood, now felt like a prison. He watched his mother perform with a mixture of awe and bitterness. She had everything, and yet, no matter how hard he tried it didn’t bring her any closer to him.

He watched her performances, mesmerized not by the dazzling lights or the applause, but by the sea of faces, all of them adoring her. He didn’t long for the idol life itself — the rehearsals, the endless pressure, the fake smiles — but for the one thing it seemed to offer: the love. The kind of love that came without question, without effort. What would it be like, he wondered, to be loved by so many? Could that love ever fill the emptiness inside him? The aching space where the warmth of a mother should have been?

Would anything(one) ever fill that void? //

It was another late night, just like the countless others that had blurred together in the past year. The fluorescent lights above flickered and hummed, set on an automatic timer. As Scara moved through the hallways, they snapped off behind him, leaving the space in silence, save for the echoes of his footsteps. It was late — far too late for anyone else to be here. Who else would be foolish enough to be training at this hour?

He rounded the corner and paused when he saw a dim light spilling from the practice room. It was you — slumped against the wall, looking like you might’ve passed out mid-session. He wasn’t surprised. You were the only other trainee who seemed to have the same tireless obsession with training as he did. The only one who shared his endless need to push further, even when your body begged you to stop. He’d be more shocked to not find you there.

He pushed the door open quietly, shutting off the speaker blaring the same practice song on repeat. The room was quiet now, but the exhaustion in the air felt thick.

He glanced at you again, lying there with your head tilted awkwardly against the wall, your eyes closed as if you were trying to escape the world. It was a sight he’d seen too many times in the mirror.

Part of him considered just starting his practice — pretending you weren’t there and taking over the space like he always did. But then he hesitated, letting out a small sigh. As much as he didn’t like to admit it, he wasn’t heartless. Your face held less color than usual. He walked over, nudging your leg with his foot, watching you stir but not wake up.

He tapped your cheek lightly, his fingers cold against your skin. "Hey," he said, his voice almost too soft for someone like him. "Wake up."

You startled, eyes snapping open, and you sat up so quickly that the world around you seemed to tilt. You blinked, disoriented, like you were trying to make sense of the room spinning around you.

"Fuck," Scara muttered, stepping back a little as you swayed on your feet. He noticed the faintly pale color of your face and how your hands shook when you reached up to rub your eyes. “You look like shit.”

You tried to wave him off, but your dizziness made it clear you weren’t. Scara sighed, his gaze briefly flickering to the corner where his leftover sushi and energy drink sat. Without a word, he grabbed both and handed them to you, the sushi still cool and slightly squished from being in his bag too long. Better than nothing.

"Here," he said, his voice a little sharper than he intended. "Eat something. You’re stupid to train without eating." He paused before adding, his tone almost annoyed but with a hint of something else — something like concern, "I can’t use the room if you’re still here." Otherwise you’ll burn out. He wanted to add. But he kept his mouth shut.

You took the food from him, still dazed, but something in his words seemed to register. Scara stood there, his arms crossed as he watched you take a bite of the sushi, then sip the energy drink, both of you in the awkward silence that came from two people who’d never quite figured out how to talk to each other outside of training. Your groups were going to begin joint training next week, he assumed you’d both be less awkward like Kazuha had mentioned.

"You’re not the only one who wants to make it, you know?" he muttered. "But you won’t make it if you’re dead on your feet."

You swallowed, still feeling the remnants of dizziness, and stared at the floor for a moment, the words gnawing at you. Then, before you could stop it, you let out a laugh — bitter and low.

"I don't know... Sometimes I'm sitting here like, do I even deserve any of this?" you muttered, almost to yourself as you poked at the sushi.

Scara looked at you like you’d just said something absurd, his expression unchanged. "That’s so fucking irrelevant.”

You blinked, thrown off by his bluntness. "Wow, you sure suck at comforting," you shot back, an edge to your tone despite the exhaustion.

He didn’t flinch. "Do you want it?" he asked, almost nonchalant, but there was a strange weight behind the words.

You looked up at him, confused. "...What?"

"If you want it, that’s all that matters," he said, his gaze steady and unwavering, like he was daring you to argue.

You met his gaze, nodding stiffly. "Yeah... I guess I do want it."

He gives a single, sharp nod in return. "Then stop wasting time. Just keep going."

He turned to make his way back to the speakers, but for some reason, his feet felt heavier than they should. What the hell was that?

It was a stupid thing to say. "If you want it, that’s all that matters." He didn’t even believe that. His passion had been dead for a long time, buried beneath the pressure and expectations. He didn’t want it anymore, not like this. But it didn’t matter, because that wasn’t his problem. Not anymore.

Still, as he reached for the speaker, he glanced back at you, and something caught him off guard. The way your eyes had sharpened after his words, like you’d found something in them. A spark. A flicker of want, something raw, something real. Because of something he had said.

It made him pause, just for a second.

He didn’t get it. Why did that look bother him so much?

Hypocrite, he thought. I’m telling you to keep going, but I’m barely hanging on myself.

And yet, seeing that spark in your eyes — that tiny flicker of hope — was enough to make him feel... something. Maybe it was the smallest hint of his old drive, or maybe he was just sick of standing in the shadows of his own doubts. Either way, it made him want to keep going, too. To not give up, even if he couldn’t figure out why anymore.

He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he adjusted the speakers. "Whatever."

He could’ve been lying, telling you whatever he thought you needed to hear. But for the first time in a while, he wasn’t sure if it was just for you, or if it was for himself, too.

From the very beginning, you were a walking conundrum to Scaramouche. Determined, relentless, with a fire that matched his own. Every time he set his expectations high, you reached up and snatched them away, tearing them apart and forcing him to rebuild his entire worldview. He became used to it. Addicted to it. To the erratic look in your eye when you finally beat him.

You made him feel like he was always running, always chasing something…or someone. The routine he had perfected for himself was suddenly irrelevant, because with you, there was no rhythm. No predictability. His relationship with you was the only dance he did with two left feet. He didn’t know how to dance with you. How to be with you. At one point he gave up on learning the choreography. It was never the same thing twice with you.

But for some reason, he wants to keep dancing with you.

Before you, Scara never really wanted anything. He had always been the best, that’s what happens when you’re trained to the bone, until you’re nothing but skin and worn muscles. And he liked being the best. It was the only thing that made him feel like he mattered, even if it was just for a moment. He liked the way other trainees turned their heads when he walked into a room. He liked being chosen first every week. It was the only validation that made him feel worthy and worth something to his mother, who had never given him much of that.

But then there was you.

You worked just as hard as he did — harder, in some ways. You were better than him, but he’d never admit that out loud. Not to you. The first time you scored higher than him, it sparked something inside of him. Something like… challenge. Was this what his mother had felt when she wanted to be an idol? Was that why she pushed him so hard? Maybe.

But when he looked at you, all he wanted to do was beat you. And so he did. He tried, and he tried, but you both kept outdoing each other. It was maddening, but in a strange way, it felt refreshing. Finally, something wasn’t handed to him. He had to work for it, just like everyone else.

Was it his hatred for you that drove him? His hatred for his mother, for everything she’d demanded of him? He didn’t quite know. He didn’t care to figure it out. All he knew was that it felt good. It felt real.

But it wasn’t supposed to get this bad. The glares you sent him when you crossed paths in the hallways, the bitter words exchanged that cut deeper than they should have. The tears you shed because he’d said something too harsh, and the way it gnawed at him afterward. But neither of you could back down. Not anymore. You both were too far gone.

And then there were the moments where the competition wasn’t so loud. Where you both pushed your bodies past their breaking point, too tired to go on, and collapsed in the same practice room, side by side. Waking up just to drag yourselves through another grueling session, pushing harder, trying to outdo one another.

It wasn’t easy being with you. Scara never really knew how to be nice, how to soften his edges, but with you, it was harder. Every time he looked at you, he felt like he needed to try better. To be more than the ruthless competitor, more than the cold, distant rival. What a stupid fleeting thought he’d once had, the idea of you two being friends.

But then, just as quickly, that competitive fire would flare up again, and he’d remember what he really wanted. He’d remember that look in your eyes when you beat him.

And suddenly, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hold onto the fire or let it consume him entirely.

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

i hope this made sense 😭 not a lot of plot but i hope it gave some background and insight to scara and how the rivalry started

all the writing was in scaras pov! but as usual the smau portions will always go back and forth between the two

was gonna make this a flashback and present day chapter but i thot it wud be too confusing so im splitting it into two (short chapter sorry!)

i thought it would be weird to include an interview in the flashback chapter but they will be back in the next chapter!

pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🙂‍↕️

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — guys i’m on winter break i can’t wait to do NOTHING for a month 😭🙏

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @flowerypesky @creammpuff @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc @vi0let-writes @izayumi-chan @aloflapse

#scaramouche x reader smau #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #scaramouche x male reader #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #genshin smau #stuck with you smau

569 notes · View notes

obscure-imagines · 1 year ago

Text

wet dreams - Zoro

🍃staring. Zoro Roronoa x afab!Reader

⚔️ preview. The swordsman feels like a teenager again. His body has never reacted like this to anyone, not even close. It's been years since he had wet dreams, and now they're coming in, hot, heavy, and nearly nightly.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, wet dreams, hand job, blow job, dirty talk, praise, exhibitionism (sex outside in the Crowsnest), cum play/swallowing, fingering, mutual masturbation, multiple reader orgasms, big dick zoro, fingering, overstim, mutual orgasm, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel.

🔫 rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I wc. 3.7k

⚔️ aus. One Piece Live Action, pwp, acquaintances to lovers, etc…

🍀 mlist + an. I showed Sanji and Mihawk some love so I figured I might as well adore my big three and make it a full set with Zoro.

Zoro is exhausted. His body feels heavy as he lumbers around the ship, his footfalls a little too loud on the wooden deck. His eyes are practically shutting on their own, but he resists the need to nap.

He's been having problems lately... when he sleeps.

While he's able to keep himself mostly in check around you during his waking hours, his mind - and body - have been betraying him in dreamland.

He's woken up five nights this week with the soft sounds of your moans etched into his memory and his pants ruined with the sticky truth about his feelings for you.

Naps had once been a time of rest, but Zoro has been anything but restful since Luffy convinced you to join the crew two weeks ago.

Zoro hates feeling like he's not in control. He hates the way you seem so real in his mind's eye, only for him to wake up and watch you acting completely indifferently toward him- as if he didn't just watch you go down on his cock in explicit detail- as if he didn't just try to fuck you so hard you couldn't even walk-

Being around you is something like torture. His tongue gets tied, his heart races, and he's unable to hold a conversation with you about anything unrelated to piracy... and even then, he stumbles over his words and gets frustrated with himself.

You're just too beautiful.

The swordsman feels like a teenager again. His body has never reacted like this to anyone, not even close. It's been years since he had wet dreams, and now they're coming in, hot, heavy, and nearly nightly.

He does his best to be the last to go to bed, out of fear that someone will walk in while he's sleeping and hear his problem, hell, he wouldn't be shocked if they could even see it.

It's not even midday and Zoro feels like death. It doesn't help that it's hot out. The wind feels practically nonexistent. Everything is stale, sweaty, and full of tension. Even Sanji, who usually dresses in formalwear, has stripped himself of his button-up, opting for an undershirt instead.

Then there's you. Your shorts don't leave much to the imagination, and Zoro has to tear his gaze off of you every time you get within his line of sight. His cock is practically throbbing in his pants anytime you're nearby- anytime your soft scent lingers in the air when you walk past.

"You look like shit."

Zoro sighs at Sanji's words, refusing to look at the chef who's come to lean on the rail next to him, staring out at the sea.

"I mean it. And I'm not trying to be a dick, but seriously moss head, you look like you need some rest," Sanji presses on. "When was the last time you had one of your famous Roronoa naps?"

"I wasn't aware they were famous," Zoro sighs, this conversation is making him even more tired.

"We all know you get a little scratchy without your beauty sleep," Sanji smirks. "Go on, get some rest. It's a shit day, and it will be even more shit if you're in a bad mood. I'll wake you up for dinner."

Usually, Zoro wouldn't do anything Sanji suggests, he wouldn't even entertain it- but the idea of a nap is having a visceral effect on him. He's reminded of the exhaustion that's overtaken him, and the harsh sun is only making things worse.

Zoro lets out a deep breath. "I guess I could use a little shut-eye."

You let out a loud whimper as Zoro drags his tongue across your neck, holding you close on the deck of the ship. Above, the stars are twinkling, but to the swordsman, all that matters is you. He can hardly see anything else, his mind completely blank except for the feeling of your hand stroking his cock.

"I need more," you tell him, applying just the right amount of pressure.

He's tried dissuading you from sucking his cock, but you're absolutely insatiable for him. Stroking isn't enough, and the promise of filling you up all nice and snug doesn't satisfy you either- no, you want him in your mouth, and you're very verbal about it.

Who is Zoro to deny you?

With a sigh, he agrees, and you sink to your knees immediately.

God, you look beautiful like this.

Your thumb strokes the head of his cock, rubbing through precum as you bring your mouth closer.

You're always a bit of a tease, licking at him gently, pumping his shaft. Zoro can't help but release a small groan, eyes fixed on you, waiting.

When you finally take him into your mouth, Zoro moans, his head lolling back as he enjoys the feeling.

"That's it, angel," he tells you, reaching down to grab at your head, helping you find a rhythm. "Just like that."

You take him so deep, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat much too easily. The feeling of you choking around him has Zoro's abdomen clenching, and a familiar sensation is growing in his balls-

It's as if you can read his mind, your hand snaking up to massage his most sensitive area while you continue practically gagging yourself on his cock.

The sound is absolutely obscene, and Zoro's never heard anything so pretty.

"If you keep sucking like that, I'm going to cum," he warns you, wanting to hold out to finish in your perfect, needy little cunt-

The way you suck on him even harder makes Zoro think you want him to cum. You want him to release down your throat, want to swallow him up like the good girl you are.

Again, who is Zoro to deny you?

"Fuck, angel," he groans, orgasm rising even faster. "You're always so good for me."

You whimper loudly around his cock, stroking your tongue along the vein that runs the underside of his length while squeezing his balls, and that's all it takes for him to cum.

He lets out a grunt as he shoots his load down your awaiting throat, his brows knitted together in concentration and something close to overstimulation. He whispers your name, over and over like a mantra while you suck him dry, eager for every single drop he can give- you're his greedy little angel, and he loves you with every fiber of his being.

You pull off of him when he's done, staring up at him with eyes that reflect the stars above. Then, you stick out your tongue, proving to him that you'd swallowed all he had to give.

Zoro can't help but reach for you, lifting you back onto your feet so he can grab your face and press his lips against yours eagerly.

He treasures the moments you're in his arms, and there's something so satisfying about the salty taste on your tongue-

"Dinner!"

Zoro sits up so fast he nearly falls out of his hammock. His heart is thundering in his chest, and when his eyes quickly dart to the door, he sees that Sanji hadn't bothered to enter, only called out a word of warning.

Swallowing thickly, Zoro looks down at his pants. He can feel his cum, hot and sticky against his skin, his half-chubbed length angrily confined by pants.

Zoro's not sure who's more upset about being woken up from his dream, himself, or his cock.

Luffy has already gone through half the food by the time Zoro saunters into the dining area. The swordsman's eyes are downcast while he takes a seat next to the captain, and you're kind of glad for that- you want to watch him, but you doubt you'd be able to make eye contact with him right now.

Your skin tingles with the forbidden knowledge that you now have. Your mind keeps replaying the scene you'd walked in on not half an hour ago; Zoro, asleep, his brows knitted together, your name on his lips.

You hadn't stayed long upon finding him in that state, your skin too hot with the realization of what you'd just witnessed, and now, that fevered sensation returns.

You've always had a bit of a crush on Zoro, but you'd never in your wildest dreams imagined that it could be returned. Out of everyone on the ship, Zoro interacts with you the least. He practically avoids you, and you've just spent two weeks thinking he doesn't even like you-

No, this changes everything.

The man with green hair lifts his gaze, and your eyes meet momentarily, only for you to look away, skin flaring again. Your heart is practically beating out of your ribcage, and you can feel your panties sticking uncomfortably to your core.

You'll have to do something about this. You're not sure what- but... you definitely can't go much longer with this kind of unresolved tension. One dinner with a dripping pussy is enough.

You decide you'll have to confront Zoro, and something tells you that you'll thank God for doing so.

Once everyone is asleep, you slowly tiptoe out of the sleeping quarters. Zoro has been staying up late, keeping watch in the Crowsnest, and you feel like that's a perfect place to talk with him. There's no way he can escape... unless he jumps into the ocean and risks his life- but you don't think it will come to that... or at least, you hope it doesn't.

Carefully climbing the ladder, you think of all the things you can say to him. You're not sure where to even begin, and as you make it to the top, poking your head through the manhole to stare at Zoro's broad shoulders, all the words you'd planned slip your mind.

He hasn't noticed you yet, and it takes closing the ladder cover for him to finally hear you, whipping around with his hand reaching for one of his blades.

Zoro freezes. You both do.

Then his hand drops to his side. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought..." you bite at your lip, "I thought you might want some company."

He gives you a quick once over, then turns to look out at the sea again. "I'm good."

"Why do you act like you hate me so much?" you sigh, ignoring his dismissal and moving to join him.

"I don't act like I hate you."

"You hardly talk to me."

"I'm not a big talker."

You let out another exasperated sigh. There's some truth in what he's just said. "Then I'll talk."

"Go ahead."

Staring out at the sea, you're once again at a loss for what to say. After a few moments of silence, you decide to just... put it all on the table. "I walked in while you were napping earlier."

Zoro goes rigid next to you.

"What were you dreaming about?"

He's quiet, then he turns to look at you. "Sword fighting."

"I didn't think you'd actually lie to me," you frown.

"Who says I'm lying?"

"I just- I don't think sword fighting would lead to you moaning my name over and over."

Zoro looks out at the sea again. "You must think I'm some kind of pervert."

"Trust me, I don't," you assure him. "I'm kind of curious about what we were doing in your dream."

He sneaks a glance at you, and there's a hint of a smile that curls onto his pretty lips. "Yeah?"

You nod. "Maybe... maybe I've been having 'sword fighting' dreams too. We could... compare notes, or something."

Zoro lets out a laugh, shaking his head. The chuckle dies down into a groan. "Fuck." He grips the railing tighter, taking a deep breath. "You really wanna know what we were doing in my dream?"

"Yes, please."

The swordsman turns to face you, crossing his arms over his chest. "You were down on your knees, sucking the fucking soul out of my cock."

If your panties hadn't been ruined at dinner, they're definitely ruined now. "I was?"

"Uh huh. You were begging for it. Begging for every last drop."

Your mouth practically waters at the idea. "And did you give it to me?"

"Of course I did," he says softly, scanning your face. "How could I not?"

"Should we..." Your skin heats at the words about to come out of your mouth, "Can we make that dream real?"

Zoro sucks in a shaky breath. "I think I have a better idea."

"A better idea than me sucking your cock?" You're shocked.

"You're always so good to me in my dreams, maybe I want to be good to you."

Your pussy throbs at the insinuation of what he's saying. Most men would jump at the chance to have your mouth around them, but it looks like tonight, the swordsman wants to be the one pleasuring you-

He's just like the Zoro from your wet dreams, and you have a suspicion that when it gets down to it, he'll be even better.

You can't help yourself any longer, you practically launch your body at him, throwing your arms around his strong shoulders while his hands catch you. Your lips meet as if it's the most natural thing in the world, a soft groan escaping him when you swipe your tongue across his mouth, already eager for entrance.

The kiss deepens, and his hands grip you tighter, pulling you flush to his chest. It feels absolutely insane to be actually doing this in your waking hours- nothing your mind could conjure up compares to the real Zoro-

You can feel his cock already pressing against your hip and it makes you whine loudly, shoving your hand between your bodies to cup him through his pants. He's as big as you imagined he would be, and your pussy flutters with interest.

"Zoro-" you whimper, already needing more.

You've been waiting too long for this, for him-

He groans. "Say that again."

One of his hands joins yours between your bodies, but his slips under the waistband of your shorts, deft fingers rubbing you through your panties.

"Fuck, angel, you're already soaked-"

"Zoro!" you moan, louder this time.

"Tell me you want my fingers."

"God, I need them," you gasp when he leans in, pressing kisses and tracing his tongue along your throat. "I need you inside of me- any of you, I just- I need you!"

"Good girl," he says smoothly, pushing your panties to the side.

His fingers make contact with your dripping cunt, and he teases your pussy lips, just dipping inside enough to coat his skin before he circles your clit.

You cry out, squeezing his cock harder-

"Enough of that," Zoro practically slaps your hand away from him. "Tonight is about you. Let it be about you."

"Fuck, you're too nice to me-"

"Trust me, you deserve it." His fingers sink into your pussy and you moan loudly, leaning forward to begin peppering his own throat in kisses. You thread your fingers through his hair, keeping him close as he begins pumping his digits in and out of your wet core.

You can already hear yourself- the sick squelching of your pussy as he works you open. His palm rubs against your clit, creating a delightful pressure that has your legs shaking and your toes curling.

"You sound so pretty."

Who knew he'd be such a sweet talker.

In the exhibitionistic privacy of the Crowsnest, with the crew sleeping soundly below, Zoro is showing you his true colors, and you couldn't be happier.

No one has touched you like this in too long- but then again, has anyone ever actually touched you like this?

You can't believe how close you already are to cumming. Your skin tingles and you moan louder against his neck, moving your mouth up to suckle on his earlobe.

Zoro groans, and the sound goes straight to your aching core.

"Close already?"

All you can manage is a nod, your eyes closing as you focus on the pleasure of his fingers pumping into your wet hole. "Please-"

"You can cum for me," he tells you. "I wanna hear it."

You can hardly even stand on your own. If it weren't for his strong form, steady under your grip, you're sure you'd be falling. His free palm is on the small of your back, keeping you snug to his front while his fingers work you closer and closer-

"Zoro," you whimper again, feeling tears in your eyes from how tight the coil in your stomach has grown.

"Be a good girl and let go for me. Come on, I know you can do it."

You let out a strangled half sob as your high slams into you. Your entire body tingles with electric energy as your core clamps onto his fingers, which continue inside of you, working you through your orgasm. You shake against him, digging your nails into his shoulders while you whimper and moan, lips pressed to his throat.

"That's it," he praises you, a steady guide through one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

You nearly black out, only for his fingers to slow inside of you, drawing you back into your body. Zoro removes his hand from your pants, and you listen to him suck his digits clean, letting out a small groan at your taste.

"Can I lay you down?" he asks next, tone gentle.

You nod, unable to speak. Zoro softly helps you onto the wooden floor of the small Crowsnest, staring at you with dark eyes that seem to sparkle in the moonlight.

He slowly undresses you, watching as you lift your hips to help him remove your shorts. Your shirt and bra are next, and he's careful to set them nearby before removing his own clothing.

"You still want to do this?" he asks.

"There's nothing I want more."

Once he's naked, Zoro gets between your thighs, holding himself over you while you wrap your legs around his hips. You grab at his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss.

His hard cock is too enticing for you not to touch, and soon, you're gripping it while your tongues battle. His moans are music to your ears, and you swipe your thumb over the head of his length to smear his skin with precum.

"You know-" he swallows thickly. "After today, after watching you cum on my fingers, I might not last that long."

"That's okay, I won't last long either." Your pussy is already aching for him again, and from the way his cock twitches in your hand, you know he's as into this as you are. "Just fuck me Zoro, please."

He kisses you deeply, allowing you to guide him to your wet hole.

He's big, but you're soaked, and slipping into you is much too easy. He sinks all the way in, his hips flush to yours when he bottoms out. You moan into each other's mouths, and you grab his face, wanting to keep his lips on yours as he begins to thrust into you.

"Fuck, Zoro, it's so good-" you whimper, pussy clenching tightly around him to earn another sound of appreciation.

"Angel, you're fucking perfect," he agrees, pace already quickening.

The sound of skin on skin fills the night air. You open your eyes, looking up at the moon and stars. It feels natural to be with him like this, under the watchful eye of the heavens-

Your nails dig into his shoulders when his hand adjusts your thigh on his hip. He drives deeper into your wet hole, and each thrust has your head spinning.

You can feel him everywhere, and it's the first time you've ever really felt full, complete.

"Zoro," you whisper, gaining his attention as you draw his lips back to your own.

You get lost in him. His cock is filling you perfectly, and his lips feel like they were made to be on your own.

That familiar tightening in your lower abdomen builds much too fast, and each thrust has Zoro grunting and moaning even louder-

"Fuck, angel, I'm close-"

"Me too," you assure him, pressing your forehead to his own and staring into his eyes. "You'll cum with me, right?"

He can only nod as you slip your hand between your bodies, fingers rubbing your sensitive clit-

Your core tightens even more around his thick length and Zoro lets out a deep moan-

"Shit," he mutters, "where should I cum?"

"Inside," you insist. "Cum inside, I'm on birth control, please, I want it, I need it-"

Zoro's hand balls into a fist on the wooden plank by your head, and he groans. "Can't wait-"

"Me neither," you whisper, eyes closing as the feeling ravages your body, "Cumming-"

Zoro buries his face against your throat as you both reach your highs. You can feel him painting your inner walls, making you even more full than you already are with his cock- it's the most delightful feeling.

Your toes curl as he fucks you through it all, his pace even harder than before, if not a bit erratic. The sounds he's making will be something you never forget, and you cling to him like a lifeline, tracing his muscular shoulders and gasping-

It's as if your orgasm lasts ages, and when Zoro's motions finally begin to slow, it's hard to even catch your breath.

He begins to press kisses along your throat again, working his way to your ear, and then your mouth.

You can't help but grin into each soft press of his lips against your own.

"You look happy," he muses.

"That's because I am. Are you happy?"

"Very."

Your smile widens. "So we're done not talking and pretending to be indifferent to each other, right?"

"Completely done."

"Good, because I don't think I could go back to that."

"Me neither," he admits.

"I like you a lot."

Zoro presses another soft kiss to your lips, his pretty eyes twinkling with emotion in a way you've never seen from the swordsman. "I like you too."

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! If you liked this, check out my fics for Sanji and Mihawk :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here

#zoro roronoa #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa smut #roronoa zoro smut #opla smut #zoro opla #opla zoro #opla #one piece #one piece smut #one piece live action #zoro x reader

4K notes · View notes

mywritersmind · 2 months ago

Text

ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR - LN4

↳ pt.2

summary : You and Lando’s mind games don’t stop with the sea breeze. A day full of being Sweaty, Messy, and Drunk might just change your view on eachother.

og summary : Its the vacation of your dreams! With your best friends, rich men, live music, and flowing drinks, nothing can ruin it. Even if a certain Formula 1 driver (who seems to have an affinity for annoying you) is there every step of the sandy way.

listen up : kissing🙈 suggestive content! language! thanks for all the love on pt.1 <3 i hope this lives up to ur expectations!! pt.3 is loading…

word count : 1983

⋆｡‧˚⋆

LANDO

I wake up and run.

I run on the beach, through the palm trees, up steps, and through shops. I run to the ocean, my feet stopping just before the tide.

I’m running because I woke up with a girl in my bed and my mind filled with another. She was pretty and liked me, we didn’t go all the way because she was shit drunk and i’m not a dickhead.

But I’m not bothered by my lack of a sex life, I'm bothered because I had an imaginary good one.

Y/n was there. Of course she was.

These past two days, she’s been there a lot.

Too much.

I know she doesn’t like me. Maybe that’s why I like her so much. I mean, I like messing with her. She’s annoying as hell sometimes.

But last night, she wasn’t being annoying. Probably because it was a dream and she was straddling me. I shake my head and sit on the sand, trying to forget how she felt against me in that stupid cooking class.

I get up and run again. I run to clear my mind and strengthen my body, but no matter how far or how fast, she’s always there.

⋆༺

YOU

I’ve always wanted to Jet ski. Today my dream has come true and it’s become even more magical because I'm beating Lando in a race.

“Please don’t die!” Kika yells at me from her own jet ski, holding onto Pierre.

I’m laughing so hard that my stomach hurts as I watch Lando fall off his water toy. I get closer to him, “Need help up, love?” He stares up at me, floating in his life vest as water drips down his face.

“Fuck off.” Is all he says before lifting himself back on the jetski. I immediately shut my mouth because the sight of his hard and wet body makes me go dumb. He clearly notices, “My eyes are up here, pretty.” He drives off without another word.

I pick up Alex who holds onto my vest and screams in pure happiness as we glide through the clear water. I’m having so much fun that I don’t realize everyone else has gone in, I turn back to drop off Alex who swims in while laughing. Lando is looking up at me when I leave Alex, “Let me give you a ride. I’ll show you how it’s really done.”

I want to laugh and scream ‘NO’ but I just smile, “Okay.” He grins and grabs onto the side, lifting him up to sit behind me.

“Switch with me.” As soon as his hand grips my life jacket, I take off. No way was I going to let my life be on the line with Lando driving. “Shit! Y/n!” He screams and scrambles to hold on, “Snake!” He’s holding onto me for dear life and screaming like a little girl. I’ve never had so much fun with him, even if I’m the only one smiling.

“Thief!” I yell right back at him. I hear him chuckle in my ear as we turn and see our friends on the beach. They’re jumping up and down and waving. When I lift my arms to wave back, Lando snakes his under mine, grabbing the handles and squeezing.

We take off with me not holding onto anything, “Norris!”

“Pretty!” He yells right back while mocking my voice, pressing up against me so I’m practically sitting on his lap. I have no choice but to hold onto his arms and scream.

“I hate you!” I scream as his curls brush my cheek.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Is all he says to make me even angrier. I take his compromising position and use it as my advantage. Grinding my ass into him, he clearly is taken by surprise and lets go of the handles to grip my waist and push me forward.

I grab the handles and take control again. What I didn’t expect was his hands to stay on my hips. His skin is cold against my bikini bottoms and I can feel how big his hands are.

“You play dirty.” He says in my ear as I grin and go faster. “I do something dirty but it’s not something I play at.” And with that, I spin us so hard that his grip on my hips loosen and he goes flying.

I feel no remorse even as he floats to the surface, looking deathly and pissed. He’s breathing hard and coughs as he looks up at me, his eyes being brightened by the sun and water, “You got mean.”

“I’ve been mean.”

“It’s hot.” I narrow my eyes at his tone. What is he playing at now?

I raise a brow, my hands still on the handles, “Me throwing you off a jetski is hot?”

He just shrugs his shoulders, “We all have our preferences.”

I roll my eyes and leave him there.

My friends yelled at me when I got back to the beach, seeing Lando slowly but surely swimming in. He's alive so they’re not too mad anymore.

Our second full day is filled with sun and sand. We rented just about every water sport activity, tried sailing (which did not go well) and ended up split. I’m at the spa with Alex, Charles, Kika, and Rebecca. While Carlos, Lando, Pierre, Alex, and Lily go golfing.

I get my nails done first with Charles squirming next to me while the lady gives him a pedicure. “How do you do this!?” He whisper yells at me while the lady gives him a death stare.

I laugh, “I think I’m just used to it by now.”

He shakes his head and sits stiller as the woman starts painting his toes. He goes on his phone, holding it up and taking a selfie, catching me completely off guard, “Charles! Delete that.”

He laughs, shaking his head, “It’s just to the group chat.” I hold back my true thoughts, not telling him that I don’t want to give Lando another reason to make fun of me. But as I think about it, my phone pings with the photo and I wonder if I don’t want Lando to see me in any weird state because I care more than I think.

Nope! It’s definitely because he’ll make fun of me.

⋆༺

“You’re gonna be mad at us.” I’m sitting in my hotel room having a girls night. We have face masks and Turkish treats. I can barely look at Kika without laughing at her face mask and hair pulled up.

I take a bite of my snacks as they all start smiling weirdly, “It was the guys idea!” Lily says quickly.

Rebecca nods, “We always want to spend time with you!”

I look at Alex to break the news, “We’re having a couples day tomorrow… so you’ll be alone. And possibly stuck with-”

“Lando!?” I groan, “I’d rather spend the day alone.”

I’m not mad that they want time with their boyfriends, just annoyed that my opinion is solitude or Lando Norris.

“That’s the thing…” Kika clears her throat, “We don’t want you to get kidnapped!”

Lily nods rapidly, “And Lando agreed!” I raise a brow. So they talked to Lando before me?

Rebecca sips her soda, “So we think it’s best if you two just stick together.”

“I’m not going to get kidnapped! I’m a grown woman-”

“And very pretty and no offense darling, but not very strong.” I gape at Alex, not believing that they’re this worried about my safety. But then I think what I would do if they were in my situation…

I flop back on the bed, “If I lose him, I’m not going on a search! I’ll continue my day in peace.” Lily squeals and hugs me, I can’t help but smile at her hair getting in her face mask, “Yeah yeah you totally owe me an ice cream.”

⋆༺

LANDO

I hear Y/n tapping her foot before I see her. She’s waiting at the front of the hotel, in shorts and a yellow tank top, her bathing suit top peaking out. When she turns, her expression turns from bored to annoyed.

I put on my best smile and walk up to her, “Morning, pretty.” Her expression doesn’t change but I catch her eyes narrowing just a bit.

“You’re late.” I blink at her, not really knowing what to say. She crosses her arms, “I have a schedule.” And with that, she walks away, not turning back to see if I’m following. I have the feeling that she wants to walk away without me, but I don’t let her.

“Okay little miss organized.” I slip my hands in my shorts pockets, “What are we doing first, then?”

⋆༺

YOU

I make him hike first. For someone so athletic, you would think he would be okay while walking for a couple miles.

Wow was I wrong.

Lando’s huffing and puffing, hands on his knees and sweat on his face, “You’re trying to kill me.” I scoff when I look at him, the landscape behind him is so beautiful and I can’t believe he’s complaining.

“I thought you ran every morning.” I snatch his camera from him and snap a photo of him and the landscape.

I turn to take more as he leans against the rocks, “I do! I thought you hated exercise.”

How does he know that? “I do… But this is worth it.” He stands up straight and finally looks past me.

His breath slows and I don’t dare look back so see how close he is, “You’re right.”

I make a face and have to turn to look at him now, “I’m what now?”

He rolls his pretty green eyes and takes his camera back, facing it towards me, “Smile, pretty.” I’m still not used to the nickname, and I flip off the camera instead. He tilts his head at me, his curls damp and falling in his face, “Charming.”

I make my way down the steps, watching the world below me. Everyone looks so small, the people on the beach and in the water look like ants.

I hear Lando’s steps behind me. We walk down in silence, my feet start to hurt but I keep my mouth shut.

The moment the sand starts to show and the crystal clear water comes into view, I slow my step as Lando catches up to me.

He pulls off his shirt and grins, slipping his shoes off and shoving his camera into my arms before taking off without me, “Lando!” I scream as he runs down the beach, “Lando we have to go-”

He turns and starts running backwards, grinning at me, “We don’t have to do anything! Come on Y/n, do you want to hang out with sweaty me all day?”

I groan, mumbling to myself, “I’d rather not hang with you at all.” He just motions me to join before running towards the water.

I contemplate how mad my friends would be if I left, but the sweat on my neck makes me practically drool at the sight of the cool water. And the sight of Lando in his trunks and tan skin.

I pull my clothes off quickly and throw them down with his things, walking down the beach at a much slower pace than he did. He stands up and watches me, his shorts low on his torso and a smirk on his face.

The moment he sinks back down to the water, I dive under, my body and mind cooling off immediately.

⋆༺

The beach stop took longer than I realized and now we’re completely behind and I have a man child following me around with a camera.

“I’m going to tell someone that a creepy man is following me.”

He snaps another photo, his face pressed against his camera, “You’re so ungrateful.” He tisks, “I’m basically a professional photographer.”

“You’re basically a professional idiot.”

“I didn’t know we were in second grade.” I whip my head back at him, “Jeez come here.” He grabs my arm but I pull it away quickly and simply follow.

We walk into a bakery, it’s tiny and empty except for the woman at the register. Lando smiles politely and asks for two sandwiches, handing over his money.

“Norris, I can pay.” I try but he just ignores me.

He just sits at the window and pulls the chair next to him out for me. I sit next to him and cross my arms, looking out at the people on the streets. The woman hands us our food five cruel minutes later and I almost moan at the taste.

“Better?” Lando asks, taking a bite of his own food, “You seemed hangry.”

Everytime he flirts with me, it’s not a big deal. Sometimes I entertain it because I'm bored and he never shuts up. But this is genuinely surprising.

“Thank you.” And I mean it.

Lando raises a brow at me, “Are you being genuine? For once? For me?” He clutches his chest as if it’s the most insane thing in the world. I’m back to being annoyed. He laughs a bit to himself, “You’re very welcome, pretty.”

“Don’t get too used to it.”

He smiles, “So what else is on the schedule of our forced day together?”

I wipe my mouth, “Well you derailed my schedule with your little detour… So honestly we can do whatever!”

He taps the back of my chair, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Lando is easily distracted and he won’t show me the google maps he’s following on his phone. He buys a new bracelet on the way and convinces me to buy a pretty jeweled necklace.

He’s so convincing that i’m worried he was a scammer in another life.

I’ve never known any of Lando’s interests. Besides driving and photography, he hasn’t mentioned anything else around me.

Or maybe he has and I just tuned him out.

So you see, that’s why I'm surprised when he takes me to throw pottery.

We sit in the back because we’re already late and apparently, Lando can’t tell time despite his million dollar watches.

The room is filled with people speaking Turkish and many groups of what look like locals.

The instructor eyes us but hands us two aprons and chunks of clay. “Have you done this before?” I whisper to Lando as he starts spinning his wheel.

“For my helmet reveal.” He whispers back, his hands slipping over the wet clay. His gaze flicks down to my dry clay staying still, “I’m assuming you haven’t?”

“I’m more of the paper and pencil type.” I screw up my face when the clay almost flies off and I press my foot down too hard.

The room is large and very open, but Lando and I are pressed up against the wall. The woman in front is talking but I'm too busy trying to get my clay to stay on the wheel.

Lando moves his hand off the clay, and relocates it to my knee, pulling my leg back softly so the pressure is less. The clay leaves a mark before he returns to his own creation.

I pretend like my heart rate didn’t rapidly go up, and ask, “What are we supposed to be making?”

Lando shrugs, his eyes still on his wheel. “No clue, let the art overtake you.” I let out a snort of a laugh as everyone turns to look at me. I see Lando holding back a smile as I apologize.

“Smooth.” He mumbles.

I lean over and squeeze extra water from the sponge onto his clay so his hands slip around and the top of his… mound? Flies off.

We’re both laughing now, I don’t know why. It’s one of those things where you start laughing and you can’t stop.

“Shut up.” I whisper as he gives me an accusatory look.

“Me? You started this!” He flicks his hand at me and water sprays onto my face. I scoff and do the same thing right back at him, a piece of clay coming from my finger and onto his cheek.

He wipes his face with his shoulder but just ends up swearing the orange clay more. I’m laughing harder because of his facial expression.

He seems even more lost and runs his hand through his hair, smearing the clay through his curls. I always cry when I laugh hard enough and today is no exception.

He takes his hands and lifts them closer to me. I flinch and scoot back in my chair which screeches against the floor.

The instructor comes to us with a stoney face, “Please keep it down and focus on your work.”

I nod as Lando mumbles an apology and we both turn back to our ‘works’. Mine is still how I started and Lando’s is now pointy.

I bite my lip and think of anything serious to keep me from laughing. But the moment Lando’s hand comes into view, I almost lose it.

I don’t look at him, just grit out, “I swear- I’ll choke you!”

I can hear the smirk in his voice, “Is that a threat of a promise?” My jaw drops and Lando takes my shock as extra time, rubbing his hand on my hair and down to my jaw and neck.

I scream and slap his hand away, smearing clay on his shirt and arm. He’s bent over with laughter, shaking his head rapidly and trying to control his volume. We both fail in the last part. “Excuse me!”

The woman is in front of us again, pointing outside as the people around stare in annoyance, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave!” We’re up and gone in seconds, not caring about our mess and how it’s getting on everything we touch.

I’m still laughing as we run down the steps, passing people and trying to get the hell away from that place. “The moment you fucking snorted, I lost it!” Lando wipes his hands on his shirt, cleaning his camera as well.

“You said some inspirational shit, How could I not!?” Lando Norris being dramatic while sitting and throwing pottery was something I’d never thought I’d see.

“The tears actually got me. Am I that funny?”

I shake my head, “No but you do have clay all over your face!” Without thinking, I push the one side of my hand that’s clean, and wipe off his face. My fingers brush the cut on his nose but only dry clay flakes off.

I rub his face over and over but the clay just won’t quit! I don’t realize he’s looking at me awkwardly until I place my hands back on my hips, “Won’t budge.” I clear my throat as he nods, “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, pretty.”

We find ourselves in a gift shop that’s white and covered in vines and flowers. The bathroom is small so he lets me wash my hands first.

I’m looking at the sunglasses when he comes out, as clean as he could get without a change of clothes.

I try on a neon yellow pair that’s too big for my face, “What do you think?”

Lando claps his hands together, “It’s a look, for sure!” He pulls them off my face and onto his own, grabbing orange ones and replacing mine.

“You and papaya.” I roll my eyes as I look into the small mirror, “Horrible color.”

He hums, “Yet you still look good in it.”

I tilt the glasses to the bridge of my nose, “You’re such a flirt.”

He flashes me his green eyes and does the same, “You make it easy…” He steps a bit forward, “It’s fun to watch you squirm.”

“I do not squirm!” I cross my arms, scoffing.

He licks his lips, smiling, “You’re doing it right now.”

I narrow my eyes, “I can’t stand you.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Whatever you say, pretty.”

“I tried to drown you.” I say, wondering if he’s forgotten every moment he’s hated me.

“I deserved it. Plus I had a great view of you leaving so…” I push him away, rolling my eyes and taking the glasses off.

“I hate you.” There’s no real reason behind it, I just feel the need to get something out that doesn’t cause attention to my reddening cheeks.

“Not like you did three days ago.” He’s right and I can’t stand him for it. Something about this trip, about today… has made me somewhat tolerate him.

“You should hate me.”

He puts the glasses back on the stand, “I’ve never done well with people telling me what to do.”

I pout, jutting out my bottom lip, “Right… Papaya rules?”

“Hey now- That’s too far! You can’t say shit about what I do on track until you come to a race.”

I raise a brow, “I’ve been to a race.”

“I mean wearing orange.” His tone is playful but I can tell he’s serious. His hand goes to hair, pulling something out that I know is not clay because I made sure I got it all out in the bathroom.

Just as I’m about to comment on that fact, An older woman comes up to us. She’s got gray curls that reach past her elbows and lots of jewelry, “Excuse me, I just had to tell you- you two are an adorable couple!” She has an accent but it’s not Turkish.

I’m shocked at first, then start talking, “Oh we’re-”

Before I can finish, Lando slips his arm around me so he’s holding my waist, “Thank you so much!”

The woman’s smile is warm and kind. A man, about the same age as her, approaches us and takes her hand, “Dear, are you bothering newlyweds again?” I almost choke at his words but regain my breath when she laughs.

“Oh don’t be silly, Paul. I was just complimenting them!” She looks at him with love in her eyes, swatting his chest where a camera lay. He looks like he’d hang the moon for her, “You two remind me of us, quick witted and in love- or at least we used to be quick!”

Paul kisses her cheek, “Still very much in love, though.” Lando’s hold on me softens and when I look up at him, he’s watching them softly.

“That’s…”

Lando starts to trail off so I lean into him and smile, “Lovely. And inspiring.” I feel his gaze shift to me but I keep looking at the couple, “I’m Y/n.”

“I’m Effie! And this Paul!” I get the feeling that Paul is quiet just because he likes to listen to her talk.

“Lando.” He shakes their hands as Paul looks him up and down. “You two are great. How long have you been together?”

Effie is very pleased by this, “Fifty years today! We’re here for our anniversary. How about you two?”

Lando responds quickly, “Almost a year. Took a second for her to talk to me without throwing something at me.”

Paul and Effie laugh, “Well we won’t hold you two up any longer! It’s almost sunset, going to be a beautiful one!”

“Pleasure to meet you both.” I smile, placing my hand over Lando’s, intertwining our fingers.

“Have a good night!” Effie smiles and goes to turn but is caught up by Paul looking at my fake lover.

“Hold onto her, Lando.” Is all he says before walking away.

I drop his hand the second they’re out of sight, we’re silent and I refuse to look at him. Until he clears his throat and messes around with his camera, “I need a drink.”

“I second that.”

⋆༺

LANDO

We decided to freshen up before grabbing a drink. It’s weird that we’re apart after the whole day together and that we’re both willingly getting back together tonight.

I run my hands through my hair in the mirror, looking at a nicely dressed version of myself.

I change immediately.

I land on a white, short sleeved, linen button down, and shorts. It’s too hot for anything else. I chug water as I check the time over and over again, but the clock ticks slower and slower each time.

I finally leave my room just to get some air, I feel weirdly nervous. I rarely feel nervous before dates, it’s never something I need to worry about. Not that this is a date!

This is us ending our forced day together!

It’s really hard to remember it’s not a date when I see her walk into the beach bar.

She’s wearing sandals that have a heel, her legs are tan and smooth, a baby blue dress falling right below her ass, and her hair wavy and being affected by the humidity in a weirdly good way.

Her eyes are big as she looks around for me and for a second, I want to leave. I can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that Y/n is the same girl who started cursing me out on day one.

She slides into the bar chair next to me, smiling softly. Something that used to never be aimed at me. “I almost didn’t recognize you. All fancy and not covered in clay.” I smile, that’s the attitude I know and take comfort in.

“Well you’re smiling at me right now so… I’m just as confused as you are.”

⋆༺

YOU

The sunset is gorgeous but the darkness overtakes us far too quickly. I don’t know how many drinks in I am, but Lando and I end up on the beach again.

He’s leaning back on his arms, his legs stretched out as a bottle of wine sits between us. Our glasses are long gone and I can’t remember why, but Lando’s shirt is fully unbuttoned.

I’m definitely not complaining though.

“Alright- Next race, you’re coming to McLaren!” I smile at his drunken state, “I know for a fact that everyone would love how you bully me!”

I fake innocence, “I do no such thing!”

Lando shakes his head, sipping from the bottle. I watch his adams apple and his hand grip the glass before looking back to the crashing waves in front of us.

“No use in lying. It’s just us and this magical bottle of wine.”

I push my hand in the sand, feeling the granules between my fingers. “I had fun today.”

He sits up straighter at my words, “Wow! Y/n L/n, publicly admitting she had fun with me?”

“You just said it’s just us and the wine! I’ll deny it if you tell anyone!”

He meets my eyes, sarcastically saying, “I would never betray your trust like that, pretty.”

I groan, “Stop calling me that.”

“Why?” He leans closer, leaning against his arm so he’s looking up at me instead of down like usual, “It’s like the one thing I'm serious about with you.”

His words shock me, but his tone shocks me more. It’s the first time in a while that I genuinely look at him. I look at his freckles, trace them until they disappear beneath his collared shirt. I notice how his eyes are darker now, in the moonlight and looking at me so intensely.

“Norris.” I say seriously.

He eyes me, “Uh oh… last name.”

I give him a look to which he smirks at, drawing aimlessly in the sand, “Don’t be stupid.”

“Impossible.” Lando’s flat tone makes me laugh and the wine between us reminds me why I'm so intrigued by him, “I had fun today too, Y/n. Surprisingly so.”

“Am I surprising to you?” My voice is soft as he leans in.

“Yes. I like it.” Lando’s accent is like my kryptonite and he has no clue. When I don’t say anything else, he speaks again, “I have a proposal for you.”

“I don’t like you that much, Norris.” I eye his smirk.

“Let’s have more fun, civil fun, our friends will be happy. I think today is proof that we can be within five feet of each other without hurting one another.” I raise a brow as he continues, “If you still can’t stand me by the end of this trip, I promise you’ll never have to speak to me again.”

I look down at him, at his hand and his deep, meaningful eyes. “Alright.” He grins, “No funny business. Seriousness only. A truce.”

His hand meets mine, the difference in size evident, “A truce.” He repeats my words and shakes my hand, tugging me closer. I don’t really know how it happens.

I know that one second ago I was shaking his hand and now his lips are on mine. Our hands are still together but now his other one finds my waist as if it’s muscle memory. He’s got against me, his tongue in my mouth and tasting like wine and pure adrenaline.

His breath turns heavy when my hand goes into his hair and slides across his stomach. My heart is racing as his hand goes up the side of my dress, not overstepping, just feeling my skin against his.

Lando feels perfect against me, his lips are soft but I barely notice it because our kisses turn hungry and I moan into his mouth. He’s rough and he’s hot and he’s Lando fucking Norris.

I pull back stiffly, taking in what I've done, what we’ve done.

Lando’s chest rises and falls with the waves, his words shooting out of the same mouth he just devoured me with, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Is all I can get out as he pulls back, looking out at the water with his knees to his chest. My mind is racing, my lips are tingling, and my body is on fire, “Goodnight.” I stand up and I run.

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris fluff #lando x you

422 notes · View notes

sourszt · 3 months ago

Text

𝟏:𝟓𝟓 𝐚𝐦 | 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — art the clown x gn!reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 — fluff, art meets someone who isn’t scared of him, art goes to kill u but alas you are … autistic!reader, nonverbal!reader, lowkey a projection of me and how i regress/how art makes me regress lol, also a little theory as to how art gains strength/why he kills so relentlessly as a demon, not proofread!

a demon must feed off of fear. it’s how it gains strength and power. art was no different.

it was his luck that his appearance alone usually struck the fear of god into people. tall but lean in a black and white clown suit, sometimes stained with a strange red substance. face painted white, black outlining an eerily smiling mouth and wide blue eyes. at least, sometimes they were blue.

when he was knee deep into brutally slaughtering people, his eyes would go pitch black from excitement and because his strength was slowly doubling.

everyone who had the misfortune of knowing of his presence feared even his name. all except one.

he’d encountered many who feigned tolerance towards him, some even daring to embrace him before meeting the same fate as everybody else. because they reeked of the same fear as the rest. he could tell in the way they tried to steady their shaking hands, the way their eyes glazed over as they realized they had lost the fight.

but you. you.

you were different. he’d tracked you down after watching you walk home from a little neighborhood party, and he observed you for a couple of days. you lived alone, hardly touched your phone, typed and typed away on your computer with your glasses hanging onto the edge of your nose. completely indifferent to the rest of the world outside.

nobody would miss you. nobody even turned their heads towards your house as they walked by it.

so obviously nobody noticed when he slipped into your house that night. the inside was drab. nicely decorated but it still felt empty. perhaps you’d just moved in not too long ago.

when he found you in your bedroom, comfortably sleeping, he found that wasn’t quite the case. all of the decor, if you could call it that, was stuffed up in here. merchandise from several franchises were nailed, taped, displayed on every surface of your bedroom. sonic, ninja turtles, spiderman.

art stared at it. then at you. you were swarmed by stuffed animals, arms wrapped tightly around a particularly huge fuzzy stuffed sonic plush. the side of your face squished into it and you hummed in your sleep.

he set the garbage bag he had slung over his shoulder down and began searching for something to dismantle you with. the metallic clinks echoed in the room and seemed to wake you up when your muffled grunts became clearer and you began to stretch out your curled limbs.

it took you a while to notice him, but when you did you only blinked. art figured it was a shock response and gave you a taunting smile, baring ugly teeth. your eyebrows knitted together while you sat up, but still you said nothing. not even a scream.

art rose to his feet, towering over you even on your hip-high mattress. in his hand, he had a hefty tool that glinted in the moonlight. fear should have been radiating off of you by now, but that rush he was expecting never came. perhaps you thought you were dreaming.

but as your eyes scanned him from top to bottom, you seemed to accept it as reality. even as you reached out and gingerly tapped his bloodied, gloved hand with the tip of your finger. you didn’t question it.

art hesitated. but only because he doubted he would be strong enough to take your head off with one clean swipe. he wasn’t even close to half of his full strength yet. why was this taking so long?

you turned to the side, searching for something in the sea of stuffies you were haloed with just moments earlier. plucking a smaller one out of the heap, you offered it to the mysterious clown at the side of your bed. it was one of your lesser favorites because you didn’t want him to get it dirty with his white-stained-red gloves. a little fuzzy bee you got from a museum years back.

art pointed at himself, and you nodded with a gentle smile. you half thought that was what he wanted. some strange stuffed animal reaper.

he reached for it, and the cleaver in his hand hit the ground with a thud that made you flinch and cover your ears. almost instinctively, you leaned towards him.

you weren’t scared of the knife itself but the loud noise. art was baffled that somebody could look to him for protection. had you any idea who he was? the miles county clown, was the name every tv within a 50 mile radius was echoing daily because of him.

well, you probably actually didn’t. in the days he watched you, you neglected to turn on the news or scroll through social media. was that why you weren’t scared of him?

either way, his palm found the top of your head, awkwardly patting it with a force that told you he was also trying to push you away. you peered up at him with a straight lipped smile, and gently grabbed the wrist of the hand on your head. he tensed, shocked, but allowed you to flip his palm upwards, watching as you ran your finger over his red stained glove.

you spelled out your name, letter by letter, and pointed to yourself. you also couldn’t speak. or you couldn’t at the moment.

art could only tilt his head at you, genuinely frowning because his presence wasn’t scaring you shitless. he was more confused than anything else.

you gestured towards him and handed him your own palm. he was to etch his name onto your skin.

it took him a second to do it, letting his hand cradle yours while he dragged his finger across your palm. A-R-T.

registering the name, you nodded up at him. it was quite fitting for him, you thought.

the clown grinned and waved your own stuffed animal in front of your face before booping your nose with it. he found he liked the sound of your giggle, which brought him both comfort and unease.

you were sad when he left so quickly, dropping your stuffed bee into your lap and grabbing his garbage bag. he put a finger to his lips and wagged his fingers at you before retreating back into your hallway. the sound of your comforter shuffling made him pause and he found you bent over, picking his cleaver up off of your floor.

you sheepishly held the heavy handle out to him.

you were quite tall. still significantly shorter than him, but taller than he was expecting. wearing a slim fitting tank top and some athletic shorts. you even had some tattoos on your arms and on your thighs. things he hadn’t seen past your sweaters and jeans.

he took the cleaver and prepared to take his leave, but was stunned when you suddenly wrapped your arms around him. for a moment, he was the scared one. but he soon realized that you were only hugging him.

“thank you,” you whispered, so softly and shakily he almost missed it over the buzz of your electric fan. still, you held no fear of him.

you smiled when his arms briefly closed around you.

and then he was gone.

i love him sm 😞😞

#terrifier #art the clown #art the clown x reader #art the clown x you #slashers #terrifier art #terrifier art the clown #terrifier fluff #art the clown fluff #drabble #fluff

507 notes · View notes

sordidmusings · 1 year ago

Text

Let Go and Grip Me Tighter

Moot request! Mihawk struggles with guilt from the nature of his fantasies about you and begins pulling away. You won't let that happen.

A/N: Omfg this one was cooking for awhile but it's finally ready. It starts with some angst (living without sex ed or resources on that causes Problems) but then there's like a lot of smut then a quick wind down with some aftercare! Has some “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails vibes 💀

Word Count: 9.3 k

Warnings: afab!reader, fem!reader, NSFW all over the place, dom!Mihawk, sub!reader, edging, overstimulation, spanking, praise, degradation, biting, marking, rough treatment, claiming, prone bone, missionary, creampie, manhandling, established relationship, Mihawk is very deeply in love with you and struggles with wanting to be a strict dom, he gets condescending 👌🏻, Mihawk orders you around, miscommunication angst up front

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

More than anything else, Mihawk was certain that the depths of his guilt were vast enough to have the breadth of the seas shrink to a mere droplet in their stead. He loves you so, so much, but his mind has been tormenting with thoughts he feels unforgivable. It started small; his fantasies of you started to latch onto that whiny, pathetic moan you’d let out when he grabbed you a bit too hard. He began to imagine himself purposefully digging his hands into you to leave bruises there, which then turned to smacking handprints into your skin. The thought of your ass red and bouncing with each hit had him cumming faster than he’d like to admit the first time it played behind his eyelids.

He began to get used to those ideas and started to get a little more… creative. What would your neck and shoulders look like littered in bruises and bite marks? Would your moans be as whiny and pathetic if he tied your hands and feet to the corners of the bed, leaving you with no option but to struggle and beg? Maybe he could just tie your hands behind your back and use his grip on the rope to pull you back to him harder on each thrust. Maybe he’d grab you and move you around as he liked, overpowering any attempts to move on your own and eating up the high-pitched whines from the force. He’d hold you down and fuck you until any unease became begging, and begging became “too much!”.

Mihawk felt a feral place in his heart burn every time he spit filthy words at you in his dreams. Tucked away in his nightly unconscious entanglements, he claimed you as his whore, his cocksleeve, his slutty little love. Many claims came and went but they were always possessive and you were always perfect, just as you were in his waking life. The heart that held such devoted and worshiping love for you ached at the idea of calling you such insults, but they set his cock aching just as greatly and he felt as if he was splitting in two.

How could he want to treat you in such a way? Mihawk loves you. He loves you and you love him and you always treat him with ceaseless care and support and he repays you by cumming to the thought of hurting you? Would you run from him if you found out? You knew the power he held; you’d helped him wash off the stains of those foolish enough to challenge him many times. Surely you would flee if you knew that the wielder of such power held ill intent towards you.

No - ill intent wasn’t right. He couldn’t hold ill intent towards you if he tried. So what was this then? He didn’t want to hurt you but he wanted you to enjoy being hurt by him. He wanted you at his whims as far as he could press before any real damage could happen. He wanted to come at you, teeth bared against your throat, and have you respond by offering your jugular. He wanted you to take pleasure in being moved and taken by his charge. That was it then - he wanted to own and control. To dominate. But how could he ask that of you if it required such beastly treatment?

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Mihawk’s hands on you have felt different. Normally, you could feel their comforting weight resting on your body or their firm press, born of the need to keep you held tight. You are still held but more by the will of gravity than Mihawk himself. Laying half draped over his body, as you are now, is one of your favorite ways to end the day. The unfamiliarity of his hands, though, will not let you find rest. Where is the sweet indulgence of fingers threading through your hair and scratching gently at your scalp? Where is the healing service of kneading fingertips releasing you from the aches of the day? Where is the steadfast protection of the grounding hold anchored to your hip?

In place of these daily devotions are the hesitant, whispering touches of a man you’ve never known. Your Mihawk has always been sure in his movements. That was certain from the very first touch - a tender grip on your fingers and lips at your knuckles, then a quick flip of his wrist so that lips could move to warm the inside of your wrist. Your Mihawk doesn’t know how to falter. He can wait and assess and test but none of that encompasses the way he shifts to shy away from your seeking touch. It happens incredibly slowly to hide from your notice, but you need his touch too much to overlook its retreat. Your body and heart take to it like roots to water, always reached out and ready to soak in the vitality it brings.

You lay and continue to wonder fruitlessly at the nature of the trailing fingertips moving from your shoulder to your elbow. The endless circling thoughts are wearing at you, and you snuggle your cheek further into his chest for comfort. At the feeling of his meager caress stuttering in response, you resolve to find and fix the problem immediately.

Lifting your head up, you seek Mihawk’s gaze. His head remains tilted away and his eyes remain shut despite the fact that he can definitely feel you staring at him. After giving him a few moments to do it on his own, you bring a hand to his chin and guide him to face you. You delicately trace the lines of his facial hair, which look extra sharp in the shadows cast by the warm lamplight. He opens his honey yellow eyes and circles them all around your face. He meets your gaze last.

“You’re hiding from me.” You state it as what you know it is; a fact.

“I do not hide-”

“Yes, you do,” you interrupt. “Every time you’re afraid to talk about something, you live in that head of yours.” You shift your hand to cradle his jaw, brushing your thumb lovingly across his cheek. “But, you’ve never pulled your presence from me too. You know we always figure it out, love. What has you like this?”

Mihawk closes his eyes again. Your answer is kept somewhere behind those lids. You wait for it to appear, but it seems less likely to happen with each passing second.

“I miss you,” you whisper. The little warble that snuck into your voice twisted the pit in Mihawk’s chest. His eyes open to mirror the concern roiling in your own.

“I’m right here,” he says, finally using his hold to press your body into him. The gesture pleases you but not enough to distract you from the way his words weren’t reassuring; they were begging to be believed. You let him have some time to try and let his eyes speak to you when he could not. Deliberately deep and measured breaths set rhythm for the way his chest floats you like calm waves beneath a ship. Taking in his unspoken cues, you could only understand that he was putting in great effort to hold something back. The conflict you felt in him between the need to shield you and the need to comfort you set you on edge. What could he hold in himself that he thinks so catastrophic? What does he know that could cause you such harm?

“Mihawk, please,” you beg. Your plea works against you; his eyes and grip harden.

“No.” Mihawk maneuvers you off of himself and moves to get up. You chase right after him, trailing rumpled sheets behind you. He makes it two steps from your shared bed before you catch him, locking your arms around his waist. You burrow your face into the warm skin between his shoulder blades and press your body as close to him as you can, clinging desperately. He remains silent but his hands move to your wrists in warning.

“Don’t run from me,” you plead, throat tight to hold back the whimpers starting to build in your lungs. He’s never left you during an argument - he had said it’s because he couldn’t stand to leave you upset. This sudden change leaves you shaken, holding tight to him in the hope that he is still your greatest stability and comfort. He begins pulling your arms away. The distress you feel lets him.

Mihawk at least turns around to see the damage he has caused. You see his regret in wet eyes, bowed head, and caving shoulders. Contrition compels him to rub circles on the wrist he still holds and the affectionate gesture pulls the first tear from your eyes. He begins reaching to brush it away but instead pulls back, his hand curling into a fist at his side. In a quick burst of anger, you snatch that hand and push it to your face. You hold it there even after it opens to embrace your cheek, scared it’ll leave you again. Mihawk hates the tears wetting his thumb and the shakiness of your breath, feeling the weight of his guilt become unbearable in their stead. He shrinks into himself even further from the way your eyes have narrowed in accusation.

“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me with your problems?” You bite out at him. He can no longer look at you, choosing to gaze unseeing at the floor instead.

“No,” he mumbles like a child facing the rage from authority.

“Then what is wrong?” You press, voice turning from vicious to exasperated. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you. I love you, Mihawk, that won’t change! And I can help-”

“No you can’t!” He roars, snapping his head back up to bare his teeth at you. “You can’t help me! Not with this.”

Wide wet eyes stare back at him, shaken of their fight. Your lips tremble around stuttering breaths and his own angry breath puffs out into the small space between you. They’re all you can hear while you try to process his anger and the way his fingers begin to sink onto your wrist and jaw like claws.

“I-I’m sorry,” you say, trying to get things back under control. “I shouldn’t have pressed so hard when you weren’t ready.” Mihawk scrunches his eyes shut and bears his teeth again.

“No. You don’t understand,” he starts. A deep breath flushes his whole body and rattles him on the way out. He’s staring right into you again. “I want to hurt you.”

Confusion strikes you before fear has a chance. “What?”

Both of Mihawk's hands are now cradling your face, and the pressure of his fingertips betrays the controlling nature of his hold. He steps in close so your bodies just barely brush and he looms his head and shoulders into your space. His golden eyes burn molten, looking down on you.

“I want to hurt you,” MIhawk repeats, beginning to stalk forward to force you backwards. “I want to grip you ‘til you bruise, bite and leave marks.” You simply listen and follow as he speaks and the relief of releasing his fantasies has the confessions rushing out of him. “I want to force you down and fuck you so hard you scream.” Your calves hit the bed and you sit down on it when his hands continue leading you back. Your easy compliance has his mind blurry and spinning, now beyond his own will.

“I want to control your breath.” One hand clamps down next to your neck, shoving you quickly onto your back. Mihawk’s thumb presses threateningly into the base of your throat, not enough to halt your breath but enough for your veins to pound back against it. “I want to bend you over and watch your flesh tremble and burn red while I strike you.” His knees spread your legs wide, before he lifts one knee onto the bed, forcing your leg up with him. “I want to tie you like a captive and fuck you while you’re bound and have to take it.” His other knee is on the bed, making your other leg open up for him too. He’s hovering over you, letting some of his weight bleed into the grip beside your neck before releasing it. The hand moves to dig into your upper arm. Mihawk crawls forward into the middle of the bed, using that grip and his shoving thighs to drag you with him. “I want to own and command you.”

You have never felt so small and exposed and it’s sending an addictive thrill through you. Your heart is pumping bubbling adrenaline through your veins, most of it moving to boil between your hips. Looking up at the fierceness of Mihawk is bringing back temptations you had locked away long ago. Your hands move to fist into your own shirt, too unsure to touch him but needing to hold onto something.

Despite his rough grip, the way Mihawk bends down to brush his forehead against yours is reverent. “I want you to let me touch you however I want, fuck you until I’ve had my fill, until neither of us can move.” His eyes close and his hold softens and his nose nudges yours. His breath is soft against your lips, smelling sweetly of the wine you shared over dessert. His voice loses its power and creaks with defeat. “I want to do so many awful things to you, but you’re my love - my life.”

You tilt your chin up to press a soft kiss against his lips. Mihawk stays still, simply letting you mold your lips to his, until his resolve breaks and he’s lunging forward to kiss you ravenously. He’s in immediate control of the kiss, needing to take everything he can from you while you’re still willing to love him. His hand moves to the side of your head, helping guide you to follow his frantic movements. You’re immediately lost in the heat of his touch and tongue, relieved to receive his affections again. Needing to feel more of him, you brush your thighs against his, your skin sliding easily against his silk sleep pants. When your thighs make it over his hips and you feel the muscles of his sides tickling the insides of your knees, you hook your legs around him. He fights you when you try to pull him down.

“Dear heart,” Mihawk manages to say between tasting you, “I should not.”

“You should,” you gasp back against his lips. Your kissing has grown to match his in hunger, filling him with joy and guilt. Another light squeeze of your legs fails to bring him down to you. This time he pulls away to look at you, eyes shining with conflict.

“I do not deserve-” You cut him off by using the strength of your legs to pull your hips up to meet his. The thin silk he wears does nothing to hide the shape and warmth of his hard cock. You earn a low moan from him when you grind against it. Trying not to fold to your temptations, Mihawk keeps on his hands and knees while you hang off of him.

“I want you,” you assert, “And you want me.” You grind along his whole length to emphasize your point. Your thighs burn with the effort, but the way his eyes flutter at the bliss makes it worth it. “And I-” you pause and swallow, stealing yourself. “I want all that too.”

“What?” Mihawk asks urgently. He grabs your chin, keeping you centered on him.

“I want all of that stuff too,” you say, letting yourself fall from him and back to the comfort of the mattress. He’s still staring at you with the unreadable, analytical face he usually saves for opponents, so you elaborate. “Your control. You own my heart, why not the rest of me?”

“And the harm?” he prompts bitterly. Not wanting him to pull away, you smooth your hands into his hair and massage at his scalp, trapping him to you in the gentlest way possible.

“That too,” you admit quietly. Your body flushes hot again, but this time with shame. “There were times when I would see your fierceness in battle and find myself more attracted than I should be. The first year we were together it was unbearable and I would fantasize about what it would be like to feel the force of your strength and will on me.” Mihawk’s breath halts and his face slackens. His hand releases your chin to brush fingertips across your cheek in awe. “I’d dream of you throwing me around, commanding me, punishing me. I got myself to stop over time because wanting something like that? I mean, there must be something wrong with me.”

“Never,” Mihawk growls. “You’re perfect.”

He descends on you and all you know of the world shrinks down to only Mihawk. Grasping hands rove over the both of you, pulling at hair and clothes and flesh. This time his hips are chasing yours, lighting your nerves on fire at the pressure of his grinds sinking your hips into the mattress. Your canting moans are muffled by his lips and tongue, but he hears them all the same and feasts on them greedily. One of his hands finds its home at the back of your head, fisted into your hair. You let out a high whine when he pulls back and holds you still.

“You will tell me if I do something you don’t like,” Mihawk commands. Unable to speak with the way the head of his dick is teasing your clit, you nod your head. “Words,” he growls, tightening his grip on your hair.

“Yes, my lord!” you answer, half gasping, half moaning. The pull on your hair relents and his fingers massage your scalp, soothing it.

“And you will tell me to stop if it becomes too much,” he continues, watching your face intently to make sure you’re truly hearing him and understanding what you’re agreeing to. He also needs to soak you in to make sure this is real, that you really want this. You focus in on the violent yellow of his eyes, taking in the seriousness and desperation you see in them.

“Yes, my lord,” you breathe out.

His lips cheat you of your next breath, but you don’t have the will to care. Everything of yours is his anyway. You’re just relaxing into the kiss when he’s pulling away to sit up.

“Get off the bed,” he orders. You only hesitate a moment before crawling your way to the foot of the bed and standing up from it. You turn to look at him for more direction, hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt while you wait. The way his eyes roam over you, assessing you, does little for your nerves; you feel like an unprepared student.

Mihawk turns and gets up from the side of the bed. He prowls over to you, taking his time to unsettle you further. The way his tall form slinks over to you treats you to a show of the shapes of his sloped muscles cutting lines across his body. His Adonis belt in particular catches your attention, on full display by the low rise of his pants. You shudder in anticipation when you follow those lines to the large bulge between them. It keeps your attention until he is stopped in front of you and you trail your gaze up to meet his neutral face. You know him well enough to notice the desire darkening his eyes. He leans his upper body forward, forcing you to crane your head back to maintain eye contact.

“Undress me.”

You fall to your knees, looking up at him while you sneak your fingers into his waistband. Slowly, you lower his pants down his thighs. You miss the way his cock bobs in front of your face when it’s freed, unable to look away from his eyes staring into your own. You let the pants fall when you reach his knees and place your hands on his warm thighs. Still looking to him, you begin smoothing your hands up his legs. Feeling emboldened by touching him, you look down to take in his length. While Mihawk may look unaffected, the truth shows in the flushed and leaking cock in front of you. A thick vein on the underside tempts you to lick it, but when you lean forward a punishing hand holds you by the hair.

“I didn’t give you permission,” Mihawk warns. The way you look up at him with big contrite eyes has his cock twitching but does nothing to change his resolve.

“I’m sorry, my lord.” You get no response except his hand petting down your head and gently cupping your cheek. He leaves you waiting a few breaths while his palm warms your cheek and your eyes soften his.

“Undress yourself.”

Your hands drift slowly from his hips to the hem of your shirt. In a smooth motion you lift it over your head, only losing eye contact when there’s fabric between the two of you, and lay it on the floor next to you. Your thumbs hook into your underwear, holding their position while you stand up to rid yourself of them. Despite your nudity, his eyes stick to your own.

“Back on the bed.”

Mihawk watches you while you crawl onto the mattress, enraptured by the way your ass sways back and forth as you move. The teasing peaks he gets of your pussy as you move test his resolve to take his time commanding you before he sinks into you. When you get to the head of the bed he notices you hesitate, staying still on hands and knees before peeking over your shoulder for direction. The way you look to him, pleading for guidance, has his heart pounding and his mind running feral. He reels it in with a slow breath.

“On your back. You need to be able to look at me for now.” You follow his command, ending up propped on your elbows with your bent legs acting as a barrier between you two. Mihawk has seen you naked almost daily for a handful of years, but you find yourself feeling shy and exposed. This is a deep fantasy finally coming to fruition for the both of you, and what if the real you doesn’t measure up?

“Spread yourself.” You shiver at the command, absolutely dripping from the hunger rumbling in his voice. You look down to your knees and falter, worrying at being completely exposed to his voracious gaze.

“Precious,” he calls, bringing your eyes back up to him. His face is still stern but there is a touch of gentleness in his voice when he softly prompts, “Go on.”

Choosing to focus on your most beloved yellow to ground yourself, you slowly spread your legs apart. They end up in a wide v, still propped bent with your feet planted in the soft sheets.

“Good girl,” he purrs. Mihawk takes his time admiring the curves of your spread legs before he can no longer keep his gaze from your exposed cunt. He admires those curves and lines too and is flooded with delicious memories of having his face stuffed there. Fresh heat washes from his chest to his cock, and he has to swallow from the way his mouth waters.

Your previous worries leave you when you see how Mihawk looks at you. He’s a man possessed, taken and corrupted in the face of immeasurable riches. You see the men of myth, who scheme and steal under the noses of angry gods, in his face. That look of his snaps up to your face and you turn into prey. You love the way it has you feeling so alive.

Mihawk finally makes his way over to you. He takes his time, letting you feel each shift in the mattress from the weight of his limbs. It gives you time to feel smaller and smaller as he overtakes you, overwhelming you as his broad shoulders get higher and higher over your body, enclosing you between him and the bed. Strong arms plant themselves on each side of your head, caging you into his dark gaze. His handsome face, haloed by dark curls, looks striking in the dim lamplight, his sharp features casting shadows across pale skin. You can’t resist the call to reach up and caress him.

“Did I say you could touch me yet?” Mihawk growls, snatching each of your hands from his face. The threat in his tone and the forceful grip squeezing your wrists has bright adrenalin bursting in your chest and tingling in your limbs. He presses your hands down in the sheets next to your hips and releases them as he tells you, “Lay on them.”

Hesitantly, you arch your back and clasp your hands together in the new gap. When you lower onto them, you scrunch your nose at the uncomfortable feeling of your knuckles rubbing into your spine. Mihawk notices and gives you a disapproving look. He places a spread hand on your stomach and presses down, making your knuckles and spine roll over each other. He keeps some pressure there; a reminder of your disobedience.

Your hands grip hard into each other when Mihawk finally lowers his hips flush to yours. The feeling of hot skin is such a relief to your frazzled nerves and pleading pussy. His dick fits perfectly within your folds, rubbing deliciously through them as he ruts against you. There’s no distracting pinch or catch; you’re wet enough to cover him and spread over any skin he touches. A shiver shakes up Mihawk’s spine at the feeling of you clenching around nothing against the base of his cock. He’s treated to the sweet sounds of your whimpers and moans, pulling especially delightful ones from you each time he angles to circle more firmly around your clit.

“Please, sir,” you whine, “I need you inside me.”

“Such a greedy whore,” Mihawk chides, tone so condescending it almost sounds bored. You whimper back to him, but he catches the way your hips twitch and press more firmly to him. He takes pity on you and gives in to his own needs to feel you around him.

Mihawk is big but it was never a problem because he enjoyed taking his time when pleasing you, so the prepping happened naturally by the time he was ready to make his way inside you. Today though, Mihawk finds himself overcome with the need to force you open when he shoves two fingers in and feels you clenching tight around them. He spreads those long fingers to press against your plush wet flesh and keeps pressing as he slides them back out. His fingers move to hold his cock, which is soaked from grinding into you and the precum he’d been uncontrollably leaking, and line him up with your entrance. He starts pushing into you immediately, groaning at how you clamp down tight in surprise.

The way your breath hiccups as he keeps inching his way into you has his mind spinning. He bites into his cheek to keep himself from bottoming out in one brutal thrust; he wants to feel every flutter and twitch of your cunt and body as they try to accommodate him. He needs you to feel every second of him taking ownership of your body, needs you to feel how much more powerful he is. Wet fingers dig into the meat of your hip as he tries to hold himself back. You feel the sweet mix of the smooth slide of every ridge on his cock playing at your nerves and the burn of your muscles stretching almost too far. You surrender fully to your trust in him, releasing all tension from your muscles and all thoughts from your head.

“Much better,” Mihawk breathes against your lips. He stares deep into your eyes and watches them become fully dilated and hazy. You stare right back and give him a lethargic smile for the praise. The rush of giving up control while he takes your body leaves your brain and body feeling like liquid. You almost move to touch him again, but his words are the only things still held in your mind.

Mihawk pulls back slowly, treasuring the way your body tries to suck him back in. You get halfway through an inhale before a quick thrust knocks all the air from your lungs. The satisfying clap of his hips on your ass ricochets through you. You get a chance to breathe when he stays deep in you and circles his hips to feel every inch and detail of your pulsing cunt. Overwhelmed, you whimper, “Mihawk-”

“Not my name,” he snaps. His hand flies up to your mouth and shoves two fingers in, pressing the taste of yourself into your tongue. You suck on them, looking up with apologetic eyes, hoping to placate him. It doesn’t work. “And to think I was giving you time to adjust.”

That’s all the warning you get before he sets a rough pace, each impact bouncing through your body, shaking your thighs, hips, and breasts. You shut your eyes against the onslaught, each nerve screaming its pleasure at you loudly. You feel unbearably full of Mihawk but also unable to feel enough of him. You need him in your hands, on your tongue, ringing in your ears, pulling you apart. The closest you can do now is tilt your hips up to feel him even deeper and offer more room for his hips to rub your skin at the end of each thrust.

When he feels your thighs squeeze tight to his waist, Mihawk falls to his elbows under the instinct to curl into you. With frenzied motions, he readjusts his forearms to be beside your chest, pressing your upper arms into your ribs. His hands clamp down on your shoulders, keeping you trapped against each pound of his thick cock into you. His claim on you flushes through your veins and seeps into your bones. Your mouth, now free, hangs open to pant and moan for him. His forehead presses to your temple so he can feel your breath deliver each sound directly to his ear, persuading him further and further from sanity. His lips hovering so close to you lets you hear his own harsh breath and hushed groans.

“My lord, sir, please,” you beg, needing more from him but too lost to say how. You know he’ll figure out what you need, he’ll take care of you, push you as far as you can go before you snap and become pure pleasure.

“Fuck, treasure,” Mihawk moans, hot breath tingling on your neck, “just be my good cocksleeve - lay there and take it.”

He switches his rhythm, starting to pull out slower to draw out his time in the grip of your cunt. Each push into you is still punishing, taking advantage of his curve to shove the head of his dick across your g spot. The steady hammering has pressure building between your hips quickly. “Sir -hah- I’m so -nngaaaah- ‘s so good I’m -hahnn- my lord -aah-” you continue babbling pleading nonsense to him, trying to let him know how close you are.

Mihawk can tell even without you senseless moaning; your thighs have begun to tremble and jump and you get impossibly tighter with each thrust and he’s sure he’s found heaven in your cunt. His face buries in your neck, sucking harshly at your delicate skin and savoring the light flavor of salt on his tongue. His teeth begin to come into play, worrying against little sections of your neck, mixing a sweet sting into the flurry of pleasure surging to your head. He feels you tip your hips away from him and wiggle in his grip, trying to hold off your orgasm so you can cum when he does and he hates it.

“Don’t run from me,” he snarls, snapping his right hand to grip the back of your neck. You obey immediately, but sob out at the overwhelming pressure pulsing behind your clit. The sound has Mihawk’s balls pulling tight and his cock pulsing but he’s chasing your orgasm, not his. He wants to feel the violence of it being forced out of you. His left hand moves down your back, fingers dug deep into muscle the whole way, and covers your clasped hands with his own. Mihawk licks up the side of your neck to nibble your earlobe. His tone is biting when he taunts, “Cumming already little whore?” and you’re gone.

He manages to keep his pace through your orgasm, each press of his cock making another wave of bliss crash through you. High moans knock from you in time with his hips, but you're deaf to them from the buzzing between your ears. His cock twitches hard in the threat of release, and he bites down meanly into the meat of your shoulder to muscle his way through it. The feeling of you trapped beneath him, legs clinging to him in desperation while you cum is better than any of his fantasies have granted. Through your settling fog, you feel deep moans vibrating into your shoulder through Mihawk’s teeth.

“Thank you, sir,” you rasp, “feels so good.” Teeth release from your shoulder and thrusts become circling grinds.

“Ah but you were supposed to be making me feel good, weren’t you?” Mihawk chides. He licks his burning hot tongue over his bite mark, pleased with how deep the indents are.

“Sorry, my lord,” you whine pathetically, “I couldn’t -hahn- couldn’t help myself.”

Mihawk turns to nip at your jaw before hovering his face above yours. His piercing eyes narrow down at you as he mocks, “Oh, poor you.”

He’s detaching from you, getting up onto hands and knees, leaving you empty. Your eyes widen in panic and you almost reach for him. Instead, all you can do is whimper at him while he pulls your legs from around his waist and hope your sad eyes will entice him back. Mihawk takes them in with a twinge of remorse, but mostly they send arousal shooting through him. At first, he thought of rewarding you for keeping your hands still and letting your legs go limp while he maneuvered them, but he wanted to push you more first.

“Flip over. Chest down, ass up.”

You blink twice to process his words then get to work. Your movements are sluggish and sloppy, your muscles still recovering from your orgasm. Seeing how weak you’ve become from his touch has Mihawk resisting the urge to surge at you again. The sway of your movements causes your ass to wag in front of him and he’s glad you can’t see the way his jaw slackens at the sight. You look divine - no, more like sin incarnate. Your lax muscles cause your upper body to sag fully into the bed, making your ass arch obscenely high in the air. Your tired face is buried in your arms and the sheets. The display has his mouth watering and he can hardly tear his eyes away from your glistening pussy peeking out between your thighs.

“So perfect,” Mihawk purrs, reaching a hand out to touch you. You jump slightly at the first touch then relax into it, humming appreciatively. He massages his thumbs into the curve where your ass meets your thighs. When you ease into that touch, gently swaying with the oscillating pressure, he slides his large palms onto your skin. For a short while, he simply takes greedy handfuls of you, switching and shifting his grip so that every bit of your ass and hips have been squeezed. Your lax body continues to follow his hands as his lovely marionette.

“Since you’ve forgotten the one reason you’re in my bed, I’ll have to take my pleasure from your punishment instead,” Mihawk drawls. He wastes no time delivering the first smack onto the thickest part of your ass. You jolt with it even though it was barely a fraction of his strength, just barely enough to sting. The warmth of his palm settling over the sparking skin soothes any hurt into pleasant tingles. You’re beginning to mourn the fading of the feeling when his opposite hand strikes your other cheek just as hard. This time you gasp and arch your ass higher, forcing Mihawk to take a deep breath to keep his steady pace.

“Careful now or I might think you’re enjoying this,” Mihawk chastises. Beneath his flat tone, he’s positively bursting with excitement. He had worried that you only thought you would be okay with this, but you’re leaning your hips towards him just as eagerly as you do the days he spends hours unraveling you on his face, fingers, and cock. There’s a buzz settling under his skin that’s making every touch feel so sharply in focus. You let out a slightly embarrassed wine, but continue to display yourself to him shamelessly, begging for more.

A harsher smack stings your right cheek, sending ripples down your leg and up your side. You shiver at the burst of brilliant sensation. In anticipation for the next one, you shorten your breath, feeling on edge that you have no clue when it’s coming. The air of the room is electric as it brushes against the goosebumps on your body, vibrating with threat and promise. A breath too long passes with the hand gone and you tense up, immediately receiving a strike to the left in response. It rattles through your bones more with the tensed muscle, knocking the air from you in a loud moan. Your already burning flesh is struck over again, tripling the number of pin pricks you can feel dancing under his hand. You moan, “Sir!”

“Is that all you can take, precious?” Mihawk’s tone is just a touch gentler. He’s smoothing his palms over your marked skin, unable to stop his need to keep touching you. Staring down dark eyed at the first budding handprint, he desperately hopes you’ll let him make more. He’s barely got himself held back as it is now that he knows that sting on his palm, the sight of your ass shaking, the sharp clapping sound, your gasps and moans, the rush of absolute control. His breath is shaking with the need to overwhelm you and fill himself with as much of you as he can shove in his nerves.

“No,” you promise. You shuffle your knees just an inch closer to your chest and give an enticing wiggle of your hips. “More, please, my lord.”

“Good whore,” Mihawk groans. His hand digs into the flesh of your left hip and his right delivers two sharp slaps, each punctuated by a moan from you. You feel the hits fizzle in your skin and echo in a wanting burn rolling through your cunt. Your used pussy already felt swollen but now that’s amplified by bright pounding, feeling like your heart has fled your chest to beat between your legs. A thumb digs and swirls into the center of the bubbling handprint on your skin before disappearing again. You expect another hit, but instead you feel two thick fingers slipping through your entrance, causing you to moan long in relief. You greet them by eagerly pressing your hips backwards, trying to get his fingers to sink in deeper. Mihawk stops at the last knuckle and offers you two indulgent grinds of his hand before it rests still.

“Pleeeease,” you whine. Mihawk responds by adding another handprint to your ass, this time on the left side. His mind is swirling with the sound of your eager squeal, but he’s truly lost at the feeling wrapped around his fingers. He can feel the power of his own hit through you but it is the strong pulsing of your cunt that really makes his hips jerk with want. Mihawk presses his fingers down towards your belly button, seeking the way your pussy trembles with each successive spank. His punishing hand and your body’s spasms have his fingers hooked and twitching over your g-spot and you can feel another climax start to build with each throb of your clit.

“You were made for me weren’t you, treasure?” Mihawk asks, voice tight with desire. Time and time again, his mind has played out the dream of you under him like this but it never could have prepared him for the rush of you getting off to it just as badly. Seeing you become a needy wreck for his strength and will has his heart pounding and cock aching near painfully. He wets his lips and swallows, barely holding back from replacing his fingers with his tongue to taste just how sweetly you’re dripping for him.

You cry out when his fingers leave you, earning a lighter smack to your hip in warning. You claw into the sheets in frustration but aren’t left wanting for long; fingers reenter you and your neglected right side gets groped. His hand massages deep, helping you loosen up again and enjoy the feeling of his fingers on both hands digging into you. Mihawk marvels at the sheen on your flesh where his fingers smeared the wetness from your leaking cunt. He can’t help but leave a harsh strike right on top of the wet patch. With the encouragement of your panting and moaning and writhing, he continues on, making you feel boiling hot and boneless.

At this point you’ve begun grinding back on his fingers, fucking yourself back onto them shallowly, afraid that anything more obvious would have him pull them out for good this time. That fear is more instinct at this point than an actual thought; your mind feels like soup and you only know how to feel and react. It’s becoming clear to Mihawk from the way your voice strains higher and your body squeezes down on him that you’ve got a strong climax building in your core. All you can recognize is more and more pressure gripping through your hips and more and more delicious friction earned with each curl back on his fingers.

Suddenly, that friction is gone.

“Nooooooo, no si-hah-irrrr,” you sob. You’re set adrift with the coil tightening in you beginning to unwind. There’s a hand holding each hip but it’s not stabilizing you at all.

“Be good for me, precious,” Mihawk warns, removing his left hand to tap his finger above your clit. It sends unhelpful jolts through your skin, teasing the nerves you need him to smother.

“I’ll be good, sir, promise, promise,” you cry. The way you move and arch your ass in an attempt to earn his touch back is obscene and has Mihawk's hand planting bruises into your hip. You twist your neck to show him one teary eye over your shoulder. “I’m yours, my lord, pleeeeeease. I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” he presses. His voice is just above a whisper, unwilling to interrupt any of the gasps and whines coming from you. You nod fervently. “Then don’t cum.”

Three fingers shove into you, slightly curled and thrusting with the force you’ve been begging for. The wet sounds from each dive of his fingers fill the air between your pants and moans. Mihawk’s arm hooks around your right thigh so he can start steady swirls of his fingers over your clit, timing them perfectly with the thrusts from his other hand. He tries to resist the urge to bend even closer to you, but he’s helpless to the pull. You feel the thick hair on his jaw brush over your right hip. The loving caress is soon replaced by warm lips and nipping teeth, adding even more sparks to the fire he’s tending in you.

It’s feeling more impossible by the second to obey Mihawk. The muscles in your legs want to curl and lock up and your hips are shaking against Mihawk’s hold. You’re open mouthed and pleading, not quite sure what words are actually coming out, just sure that you have no ability to keep any of them in. Your hands are clawing into the mattress, hoping to find some purchase to center yourself. The rhythmic bursts of pleasure that Mihawk is diligently working from you are so strong you’re not quite sure if you’ve tipped into cumming yet except there’s been no promised snap.

Mihawk is unmeasured in the way he bites and sucks at your flesh, but his hands are another story. He knows your body - has studied your reactions for years - and uses that to slow and lighten just enough each time a wave of pressure around his fingers gets a little too strong or your writhing stills to a tremble half a second too long. Instead of pulling you back or pushing you forward, he keeps you exactly at the edge of climax where he can actually test your will. He’s hard set on knowing how hard you’re going to try to obey him, the thought and sight of your struggle for him filling him with addicting arousal.

Your will over your body is just about to give out so you snap your teeth into the meat of your thumb to pull some attention away from the bliss of Mihawk’s touch. His attention goes up to see the bite when he hears the pitiful moan sneaking past your clenched teeth. He moans deeply at the site. “You’re being so good for me, fuck.” He presses his cheek hard into the burning handprints on your ass and unconsciously mimics the grinding of your hips with his own, finding no relief for himself. One more uptick in force and speed into your plush swollen pussy has you jerking. With digging teeth and a yelling moan into your hand, you manage to hold back against the raging tide of your orgasm.

Mihawk pulls from you and you collapse against the bed, taking in gasping breaths. You’re jostled as Mihawk shifts around quickly, moving to cover you. His breath is loud behind you as he settles there, legs stretched out between your and upper body help up only on his left elbow. That hand has shoved under you to flip around and grip your shoulder tight. His right hand anchors on your hip, guiding you back against his starved grinding.

“You did so well for me, my little whore,” Mihawk breathes into your ear. He nibbles at it before moving down to suck more red marks into your neck and shoulder. The slick way his cock glides through your folds has him burn with satisfaction. He made this pathetic mess of you. Having you soaking for him was no rarity, but the whiny mindlessness, the complete take over by your needy instincts, that was new and only had his need to tear into you grow stronger. He rumbles into your shoulder, “My perfect precious cunt, cum as much as you want.”

Mihawk is guiding himself into you and you shoot right back to being so close after only a few thrusts. You manage to slide your legs a little wider apart across the bed despite his heavy body, packed with muscle, pinning you under him.. It lets his balls tap at your clit with each thrust and just a handful more have a violent orgasm tearing through you. You cry out your bliss every moment you aren’t simply gasping and feel the muscles all the way up your core join the squeeze of your cunt, making the bright ball of pleasure feel like it’s reaching just as high. Your whole body is ringing with the echoes of it, everything feeling so overwhelmingly good.

Mihawk’s hips stutter for only a second before he’s continuing his ruthless pace. His body and mind are flooded with you and he folds to the torrent. A ravenous “more” is mumbled against your skin, barely reaching you through the whiteout in your head. His left hand shoots down to help keep your hips tilted and steady, leaving the weight of his chest to push you deeper into the bed. You’re completely smothered in him, his sweat damp skin pressing and sliding over yours. Unable to fully inhale under his resting bulk, your world gets a little fuzzier. There’s not a single part of you that cares; you feel trapped and controlled and protected and desired. You feel truly wanted and owned, being fucked into the matress under Mihawk while he holds you like a lifeline, sinks teeth into your shoulder, and speaks dark praises to you. When you come back to yourself more fully, having long been suspended somewhere between the crest of your orgasm and settled pleasure, you make little attempts to please Mihawk more. He notices the little turns and grinds of your hips and rewards you by slithering a hand under you to begin petting circles over your clit.

“You feel delicious, precious, you’re so fucking good, held out for me so long.” Mihawk’s voice is a moan and growl and sigh, sounding more untethered than you’d ever heard him. “Need to feel you forever -nnnnnghh- give me more.” The last word is all snarl and he’s shoving his face harder into the crook of your neck, sinking teeth back into your skin.

You aren’t sure if you have more to give him but still try, unquestioningly following his will. You don’t think you’ll need to try for long; both of you are wound precariously tight. Mihawk has lost his will to pull from you, so he moves against you in strong deep grinds. You’ve never felt closer; every sense is filled with Mihawk, every breath, every thought, every piece of you. It feels like he’s fucking you deeper than he’s ever reached, teasing your cervix with his thick tip, pulling you apart as if he’s somehow gotten bigger from the way your muscles have tightened around him. Mihawk feels the telltale buzz of his end flash through his nerves. Desperate, he bites out one more order, “You’re mine. Say it.”

You find the breath to chant, “I’m yours, I’m yours, yours-”

One arm shoves upwards, trapped tight between your breasts and crushing you back into him. He groans out, “Fuck, precious,” before his hips jerk and his cock is pulsing in you. His forehead presses to the side of your head and he’s moaning right into your ear. Fingers twitch against your clit and you feel his hot cum pumping into you and his arms cage you right to him and the friction of it all sends you right into another climax. This one is just as overwhelming as the last but sits in your body more smoothly. It’s a satisfied heat radiating through your muscles, rolling through you instead of jerking. You fall limp under the force of it, left to lay prone and take in every second of your body clutching and reshaping to Mihawk. He guides you both through it with the slow grind of his hips and the points of clarity where his hands grasp you.

“There you go, love, you are divine,” Mihawk praises quietly, as the aftershocks begin to settle out of you both. He gets his arms under him to lift some of his weight off of you and allow you to breathe deeply. He noses at your cheek, peppering you with kisses. You come back to your body slowly as he moves his kisses over the tender skin of your neck and shoulder. Testing the feeling, you open and close your hands, releasing the scrunched sheets. They feel inflated and clumsy, but it will do. Your right hand searches behind your head and quickly finds its way into Mihawk’s soft hair. You scratch lightly at his scalp while your other hand slides across the sheet to find his. Before you manage it, he puts his hand over your own, entwining your fingers in a comfortable hold. Mihawk rests his head behind yours, taking some time to breathe and bask in your touch. He decorates the passing moments with gentle praises, content sighs, and brushing thumbs.

Eventually, he gains the will to pull away from you to prep you both for bed. The moan you give him when he starts to pull away is endearingly grumpy like a spoiled pet roused from a nap. He’s just standing up when he notices your weak and begrudging attempts to get up and follow him.

“Stay down - you’re shaking like a newborn fawn.” The light insult is softened by a loving kiss to your temple. You’re more than used to his dry tone and direct comments anyway, knowing something like that had no cruel intent and that’s simply how he talked. That didn’t stop you from pretending to be a bit upset from time to time for apology affection. You’re pretty certain he was onto you. You were also pretty sure he enjoyed playing along.

You float thoughtlessly in your body, feeling like you’re napping pleasantly without going under. You startle when a hand lands on your shoulder. It’s hot and damp and you understand why when a soft cloth begins washing over your skin. Continuing your heavy-bodied haze, you lay there and let Mihawk wipe over your whole body, only moving to the patient prompts of his hands nudging and turning you. You wince when he works over your ass and pelvis, earning extra affectionate words and touches. You’re on your back, peeking up blearily at him through heavy eyelids, when he finishes up.

“Bathroom?” he prompts and you hum a lazy affirmative. You’re carried like a princess to and from the short stop and are thankful there’s no longer anything to keep you from or possibly interrupt your coming slumber. When you’re placed back onto the bed, Mihawk follows you with the sheets and comforter in tow. With practiced ease, you cocoon together in the bedding. On nights like this, where Mihawk has extra need to feel like he’s surrounding you, he pulls your back flush to his front and curls around you. His skin feels soft on the many places you’re molded together, but you notice it most while you both shift your legs to intertwine.

“Dove?” Mihawk calls, wanting to know you can still hear him. You hum and snuggle your cheek further into his bicep. “I love you,” he whispers into your hair, punctuating the declaration with a lingering kiss.

“Love you, too,” you promise, adding one last gentle squeeze to your hold on his arm.

Tomorrow he would wake you with gentle kisses and caressing hands. Your favorite morning drink would be ready for you to sip on while leaned back against his chest, enjoying the way he massages the soreness from your thighs. A bath with your favorite salts would await your tired body. Mihawk would sit with you and feed you both fruits and sweet bread. Once the candles saturate the air, he would set about cleaning you head to toe. He would gently tend each bruise and bite mark, murmuring his gratitude and devotion. Each act of loving worship would be a balm to you both, affirming that connecting to and caring for each other is both your greatest want and deepest need. For now, you settle into each other for some much needed rest.

#mihawk x reader #opla mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #opla mihawk #one piece smut #thirst hours #my writing #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #x reader smut #one piece #opla #afab reader #mihawk smut #fem reader #x reader

2K notes · View notes

allbark-no-bite · 4 months ago

Text

on the brink.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 2.6k)

summary: having children was never on the table. you never had the maternal instinct that most girls seemed to have growing up and you had no interest in the mundane tasks that came with acting as a mother in a plastic playground house. but when you're forced to choose between your husband's and your own dreams, the decision gets a little bit more complicated. aka the unplanned pregnancy fic that no one asked for

warnings: angst, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of abortion

author's note: okay i know this is not the fic that i've been promising yall, but i swear i'm working on it. this is pretty different than a lot of things that i've written before. a bit of self expression and indulgence if you will so just bear with me (if you hate it don't tell me)

————————————————————————

"I'm never having kids," you had admitted suddenly into the darkness of the cabin, staring up at the ceiling. The waves lapped at the sides of the ship, swaying the carrier just slightly. There was nothing, not even the faint footsteps of a sailor patrolling on night duty overhead, just the sounds of the vast open sea all around.

You could practically hear Bradley's eyebrows furrow, his voice of surprise coming out a bit loud considering the sailors that slept all around you. "Why?"

"Isn't that what you said to Maverick?" you retorted. "'No wife, no kids to mourn you when you burn in'?"

Even in the dimly lit bunk room, you could see Bradley sit up, his broad figure washed in blue moonlight. "That's not— Maverick's a—"

"A man?"

Bradley doesn't answer.

"Fuck you, Bradshaw."

As the years progressed, that was the typical response you received when you expressed your reluctance to have children. After a while, you grew used to it, being made out to be a monster, being told you would change your mind. You knew you wouldn't of course, but your act of considering the suggestion eased the consciences of those who thought they had carried out their duty of convincing you otherwise.

You never had the maternal instinct that most girls seemed to have growing up. You had no interest in the mundane tasks that came with acting as a mother in a plastic playground house or pushing a doll in a stroller. Because you never leave that plastic playground house. Not even when you grow up do you escape those four suffocating walls.

Because once you become a mother, that is all you are. Because that's who a mother is. Someone who devotes every single waking moment of the rest of their lives sacrificing for their children. Who you were before, your past, your achievements, that's not who you are anymore. You are 'Mom', 'Mommy', 'Mamma'.

You give it all up to be a mom. Because there is nothing worse than an absent mother. You had experienced it first hand, and you wouldn't do that to your children.

Your mother sacrificed to be a mom. But there wasn't a day that she let you forget it.

One thing you feared was the havoc it would wreck on your career. You were selfish in that way. Setting aside your career was not an option, not when you had worked so hard for so long. On top of being in the military, not wanting children was another blaring red flag. The combination didn't exactly lend itself to many dating opportunities.

Therefore, when you first met Jake, you weren't looking for anything serious. You knew how these kinds of things went. It would be fine at first. He'd be smitten with you, enamored even. You'd see each other for a while, maybe even start dating if things got that far. And then more serious conversations would happen, and he'd realize that no man wants to marry a woman who puts herself first.

Except Jake didn't seem to mind.

"Okay," he had replied without much hesitation. Dare you say without any hesitation.

"Okay?" You echoed in response, the confusion in your voice evident.

He'd shrugged, tipping back the last of his beer before standing up. "Yeah. Okay." You craned your neck to follow him. Jake stopped in front of you, leaning over to peck your lips. "We'll figure it out, okay?" And then he'd turned to take his righteous place at the dart board, as if it was as easy as that.

And for a while it almost was.

The Uranium mission came and went, deployments passed, and it all was just that easy. With the Commander of the Pacific Fleet on your side, it was never too hard to get assignments relatively near to each other, and even then, Jake was only ever a flight away. Even in the years before the two of you got around to getting married, when your chances of getting deployed halfway across the country from each other were high, it was all just so easy.

It was laughable how well things worked out between you and Jake. And maybe that sort of ease came with being in the same line of work and understanding the stress of the job, but even outside of that, life with Jake was ridiculously simple. As strange as it was to admit, your life didn't change drastically when Jake came into it. Jake liked to sleep by the door so the left side of the bed was still yours, Jake got off of work at the same time as you so you weren't stuck waiting around for someone to come home, he didn't speak to his family much so there were never any obligatory family gatherings to attend, and like you, he was in no rush to buy a home or get married. The only reason the two of you did finally get around to getting married was because Nat was convinced the two of you would just stay engaged forever and so she planned the whole ceremony herself. And there was no saying no to Nat.

Even after you married Jake, nothing changed. You moved in together sure, and with that came the assurance that you'd be the first person the Navy notified if anything ever happened to him and the same for you, but that was about it. All of the terrible things people warn you that will happen once you move in with your partner never happen. It's so fucking easy.

Until it isn't.

Jake is away on a mission when you start having symptoms. Not really even symptoms, just a bit of nausea here and there, an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach. Call it intuition if you will, but you know something is wrong. You dismiss it at first, put it off because you can. It's only once you start puking after every early morning hop that you come to terms with the fact that you've been avoiding the truth. And as much as you'd like to pretend like it isn't happening, you have to do something. You make an appointment at a clinic for the following week.

You wait until Jake's stateside to tell him. Not because there's any decision for you to make, or that you want to give him the opportunity to change your mind because you know he won't, but because you're established enough in your relationship that you know that this isn't going to change anything. As Jake had reassured you years ago, it was okay. You'd figure it out.

Jake had gotten back home early in the morning, but because you'd been assigned an early hop and then agreed to take on some of the newer pilots in some dogfighting, most of the day has passed by the time you're leaving base and you've still yet to see him. Just as you're grabbing your things and leaving the locker room, planning on calling him on the way to the clinic, he catches you in the hall.

You're mid stride when he saunters around the corner, moving with just enough comfortable confidence in his walk that it comes off as cocky, like he owns the place and hasn't been gone for a month. Jake breaks out into a grin. "Ah just who I was hoping to see."

"Jake!" you state in surprise, barley registering who he is before he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into a long overdue hug. One of his large hands comes up to pet your hair, the other squeezes your waist. Relaxing, you breathe him in, musky and familiar. You've been slightly on edge all day and a hug from him was just what you needed.

Phoenix huffs from behind you, breaking the silence. "That's funny because I was hoping not to see you, Bagman." The gleam in her eyes is affectionate. The Dagger Squad has remained close in the following years but that's not to say that old rivalries fade.

Jake releases you from the embrace for the most part but keeps his heavy arm draped across your shoulders, holding you close. "You been takin' care of my wife, Trace?" he asks, his voice warm and heavy.

Natasha glares at him playfully over her shoulder as she pushes past the two of you. "She was my wife before she was yours, Seresin. You stay gone too long again and I might steal her back."

You smile privately to yourself as they banter back and forth, watching as Phoenix finally disappears down the hallway. For a moment you forget about what you're about to do. Jake looks down at you, his grin stretching widely across his face, once again as he squeezes you in close. "Ready to head home?" he asks, his arm dropping from around you so that he can grab your bag.

Suddenly you hesitate, the words caught in your throat.

Immediately, Jake's smile falters just slightly, his brow creasing in worry as he steps back towards you. "It's everything okay? Did something happen?"

A sudden on rush of tears are stinging at your eyes and you struggle to get the words out of your closing throat.

"I think I'm pregnant, Jake."

At first you can't tell what he's thinking because the look on his face becomes immediately serious. His smile vanishes and his brow lifts in surprise. "Oh."

"Oh?" You echo, panic that you hadn't thought existed rising in your throat. Was he angry?

"No, I mean, fuck, that's great, baby," he quickly clarifies, reaching out to take your hand. "I just wasn't expecting that."

You stare at him, your panic rising even more now. Because that was not what you were expecting. "Great? No, it's not great. What do you mean, great?! I thought you said you didn't want kids?!"

Jake shrugs, throwing his hands up slightly in exasperation. "I mean maybe I didn't at one point, but things change, (Y/n). This isn't a bad thing."

Your eyebrows shoot up. Because this is quite possibly the worst thing that could have happened. "Are you kidding, Jake?! I can't be a mom! I'm a fucking fighter pilot!"

Now it's Jake's turn to look confused, like he's not quite sure where you're heading with this. Again, he shrugs, tossing up his hands. "So? I mean you would have to take some time off, but it's not unrealistic. People do it."

You look at him as if he's suddenly grown two heads. "Jake, you don't just "take time off" to raise a kid. That's not a temporary thing. That's the rest of my life."

Jake crosses his arms, going quiet for a moment before he sighs. "Okay, so quit. It's not like we need the money."

And suddenly everything you thought you'd ever known comes crashing down. There goes your career, your relationship, and the rest of your life. Your heart sinks to rock bottom in your chest because this is not how this was supposed to go. A broken, "What?" is all that escapes your cracked open chest.

Sensing your panic, Jake reaches out, his large, gentle fingers brushing your wrist. His voice is soft. "Look, I know this wasn't in the plans, but that doesn't mean it can't be. We could make it work."

You step back, pulling away from his outstretched hand as if he's burned you. "I can't believe that you would even suggest that," you say, the words 'so quit' ringing in your head. "Do you know how hard I worked to get to where I am right now?!"

Just being in the Navy as a female was hard. Even with going to the academy, the military was a man's world. You had to fight tooth and nail for every ounce of the respect that you deserved. And now to be here, where you are today at Top Gun, you've more than earned it.

Jake sighs heavily, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'm not telling you to quit. It was just a suggestion since you seem to think that you can't do both."

It's then that you come to the realization that he doesn't get it. No one gets it.

"I don't think you understand, Jake. I don't fucking want to do it. I don't want to be a mom."

And to that, Jake doesn't say anything. He just stares at you, his usually warm green eyes void of the typical playful gleam that they hold. The two of you stand there in silence for a long time, allowing the the thick blanket of realization to finally settle over you.

"So that's it?" Jake finally asks, his voice sounding closed off and hurt. "I don't even get a say?"

"Don't try to guilt me here, Jake. You knew how I felt about this, and you still married me. So no, you don't get a say."

Jake looks down at his boots, hands braced on his hips as your words process. He swallows, and you know he's fighting the tears in his eyes. "Okay."

"Jake—"

He picks your bag back up from the floor and turns his back towards you, heading for the exit door. "Go do what you have to do, (Y/n). I'll see you at home."

——

When you get back home, Jake is sitting alone at the kitchen table. From the looks of the empty bottle of beer beside him, he's been there for a while. Head in his hands, as if to ward off a headache, he only looks up once you approach the table. His fingers twist at the ring on his left hand.

Quietly, you place the ultrasound prints on the table—face down so that you don't have to look at them. You open your mouth, the words 'six weeks' about to escape, when Jake holds up his hand.

"Don't— (Y/n). Just don't."

You know he's hurt and you understand why. But when it comes down it it, this is your life. No matter how much you love Jake, you aren't going to suffer with a child you don't want to have out of the obligation of your relationship. You cross your arms defensively in front of your chest. "Then what do you want, Jake? Because I don't know what to do," you admit.

Jake stares across the table at you, his gaze unflinching, before his eyes fall to the black and white prints.

"I'm all in, (Y/n). I meant that much when I married you." His fingers tug at the ring on his finger and this time it slips past the knuckle and into his palm. "Either you're in or you're out."

You stare at the golden band and his suddenly bare finger and realize that you hardly remember a time that it wasn't there. With your throat constricting, you look back up to the face of the man that you love.

"Jake," you begin, and your voice breaks as you say his name. "You're asking me to choose between you and my job. That's not fair."

Jake sighs. He sets the ring down on the table and stands up. You watch him with a sinking heart.

"It seems like a pretty easy choice to me," he says finally. "Because I would choose you every time."

The thought hits you that maybe this is you being selfish. You have always been a selfish person, even your mother had always told you so. Was it so selfish to choose yourself—your career—over a hypothetical future? The military was not a kind profession to females who wanted families. You had seen too many women settle for less in their careers because they decided that the timeline of rising in the ranks was too long to wait and they chose to have children instead. A coworker had confessed to you that despite how much she loved her husband and her children, her life ended when she had them.

Realistically, you couldn't have both. Jake knew that. You knew that.

You can't even look Admiral Simpson in the eye when you had him your letter of resignation.

#top gun maverick #topgun maverick #hangman top gun #jake seresin #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #top gun imagine

406 notes · View notes

we-are-maladaptive · 8 months ago

Text

little dreamer ♡

contents: fluffy stuff, a little bit a children mentioned characters: katsuki bakugou, izuku midoriya, shouto todoroki, denki kaminari, eijirou kirishima (separate) authors note: hello (╥﹏╥) very sorry for being inactive recently!! my mother's ex boyfriend is in jail for attempted homocide and ive been helping her get it together since then ( not even kidding ) so therefore here is a hello present from me as an apology ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Husband Katsuki, who sits with you on the porch swing in the late afternoon, the golden light of the setting sun casting long shadows across the yard. The scent of jasmine fills the air, mingling with the sound of distant laughter from children playing nearby. He wraps a cozy blanket around your shoulders, pulling you close as the evening chill begins to set in. You sip on hot cocoa, marshmallows melting into sweet swirls, and talk about the little moments that made your day special. His arm around you feels like the safest place in the world, and as the first stars begin to appear in the twilight sky, he softly hums a tune that makes you feel like you’re the only two people in the universe.

Husband Izuku, who wakes you gently on lazy Sunday mornings with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of birds singing outside your window. He brings you breakfast in bed, a tray laden with your favorite pastries, fruits, and a delicate vase holding a single rose. As you share bites of buttery croissant and sip on coffee, you talk about dreams you had the night before and make plans for the day ahead. His fingers trace patterns on your arm as he listens, his eyes full of a love that makes you feel cherished and safe. Later, you both linger in bed, wrapped in the warmth of the morning sun and each other’s embrace, content to let the world outside fade away.

Husband Shouto, who takes you on evening walks along the beach, where the sky blazes with the colors of the setting sun, painting the waves with hues of orange and pink. As you stroll hand in hand, you collect smooth pebbles and seashells, giggling like children whenever you find a particularly beautiful one. You sit together on the sand, watching as the stars begin to twinkle into existence, and he wraps a blanket around your shoulders to keep you warm. His voice is soft and tender as he whispers stories of your future, of a house by the sea and children who run along the shore, their laughter mingling with the sound of the waves. You lean into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart and the promise of a lifetime of such evenings together.

Husband Denki, who plans a cozy movie night at home, the living room transformed into a haven of comfort with soft pillows and warm blankets scattered everywhere. He dims the lights and lights a few scented candles, their flickering flames casting a soft glow. You snuggle together on the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn and exchanging quiet laughter over inside jokes. As the movie plays, he holds you close, his fingers gently stroking your hair. The outside world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. When the credits roll, you find yourselves talking late into the night, about anything and everything, his voice a soothing melody that lulls you into a peaceful sleep, your head resting on his shoulder.

Husband Eijirou, who dances with you in the living room, the only light coming from the flickering flames in the fireplace, casting a golden glow over everything. The soft strains of a love song fill the room, and he holds you close, your feet moving in a slow, gentle rhythm. His hand rests on the small of your back, and you feel the warmth of his touch seep through your clothes. As the song ends, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache with love. He presses a kiss to your forehead, murmuring words of devotion, and you know in that moment that this is where you belong—dancing in his arms, forever and always.

935 notes · View notes

misswynters · 6 months ago

Text

Jacaerys Velaryon as your husband: headcanon

[note | might have some sensual undertones as my aemond headcanon. most fluffy just like his hair <3

He always wakes up early and insists on waking you up with a kiss on the forehead, followed by a gentle "Good morning, my love." He believes starting the day together sets the tone for a happy marriage.

He loves spending time with you, whether it’s flying on dragonback, practicing sword fighting, or reading in the library. He finds joy in sharing these moments and often surprises you with new books or small gifts related to your interests.

While he's not the best cook, Jacaerys loves trying out new recipes with you. The kitchen often becomes a place of laughter and fun, with him playfully stealing kisses while you both work on making a meal together.

He is incredibly protective of you. He ensures you are safe and feels secure at all times. His protective nature isn’t overbearing but rather comforting, making you feel cherished and loved.

He is very affectionate, always holding your hand, placing a hand on the small of your back, or brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. He believes in showing his love through small, constant gestures.

He is a great listener. No matter how busy he is, he always makes time to listen to your thoughts, dreams, and worries. He offers advice when needed but knows when to just be there for you.

He loves surprising you with spontaneous dates. Whether it’s a picnic by the sea, a midnight dragon ride, or a quiet evening under the stars, he always finds new ways to keep the romance alive.

He supports your ambitions and dreams wholeheartedly. He encourages you to pursue your passions and stands by you through any challenges, offering his unwavering support and love.

He is devoted to family. He dreams of having children with you and often talks about the future, imagining what your life together will be like. His eyes light up when he speaks about the possibility of a family. (would want 3 kids)

Life with him is never boring. He loves adventure and ensures you both experience the wonders of the world together. From exploring new lands to discovering hidden places, every moment with him is an exciting journey.

He makes it a point to remind you daily how much he loves and appreciates you. Whether it’s through words, actions, or little notes left around the house, he ensures you never forget how cherished you are.

Jace is an avid cuddler. He loves holding you close, especially at night. He believes there’s nothing more comforting than falling asleep in each other’s arms, knowing you are both safe and loved.

He believes in having shared goals and dreams. He often sits with you to discuss your future together, planning and setting goals that both of you can work towards, ensuring your lives are always intertwined.

Jace values emotional intimacy and works hard to maintain a deep connection with you. He is open about his feelings and encourages you to be the same, fostering a relationship built on trust and understanding.

Jace loves celebrating milestones, both big and small. From anniversaries to personal achievements, he ensures every special moment is celebrated, creating beautiful memories together.

Above all, he treats you with kindness and respect. He believes in mutual respect and ensures that your relationship is built on a foundation of love, trust, and understanding.

He takes his time exploring every inch of your body, his touches both tender and deliberate. His hands are gentle but firm, learning your responses and adjusting his movements to bring you the utmost pleasure.

When you both get intimate, he loves to whisper sweet nothings and his deepest desires into your ear. His breath against your skin adds to the sensation, making every word and sigh feel intensely personal and charged.

During your intimate moments, he moves with a rhythmic pace that leaves you begging for more. His movements are in sync with your own, creating a fluid, harmonious experience that makes you feel full.

Taglist: @benjicotblckwood @beebeechaos @spn-obession

banner: @cafekitsune

#house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #house targaryen #hotd smut #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys fluff #jacaerys velaryon smut #prince jacaerys #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #harry collett

682 notes · View notes

nonbinoclard · 23 days ago

Text

>>> TUNES TO LOSE YOUR MIND TO <<<

KEEP IN MIND: This is a living playlist! Songs may be added and removed at times to further curate the vibe I'm going for. I'll try to keep this post updated, but you can just check out the link for an up-to-date track list.

(EDIT: Song discussions are not finished! I have a lot more to say. I'll reblog when I've updated.)

This is set in a sort of nebulous time between Harry's life right before Martinaise and the night before he lost his memory. I wanted this playlist to feel erratic-- full of manic energy one second, then slow and bleak the next, dreamy, unreal, then right back to ridiculous.

(In no particular order. Shuffle for full emotional whiplash effect.)

I Don't Like My Mind - Mitski

I don't like my mind, I don't like being left alone in a room [...] And then I get sick and throw up and there's another memory that gets stuck / Inside the walls of my skull waiting for its turn to talk / And it may be a few years, but you can bet it's there, waiting still

The days before cleaning out the rooms... also, eating an entire cake and throwing it all up again feels very harry-esque... Overindulgence

A whole cake, so please don't take / Take this job from me

End Of The World - Hether

I mean, I could just post the entire set of lyrics as evidence, tbh. Struggling to find meaning and purpose in his life in the wake of heartbreak (5 year old heartbreak, but who's counting anyway)

I wake up in the morning and I wonder / Why everything's the same as it was I can't understand / No I can't understand / How life goes on the way it does

Cane Shuga - Glass Animals

Baby, don't go / I'll stop breathing coke / No more bloody nose / No more John Does Burn through my love / Just like your drugs / I've had quite enough / Or lack thereof

This is about the last moments of Harry and Dora's relationship to me. The chorus (a kind of circular, endless, self-aggrandizing internal monologue likely fueled by stimulants, implied in the song) continuing after the second verse kind of reflects the solution for Lonesome Long Way Home.

"11 Voyager Road. You no longer live there. Those times are gone, and so are those people. Why did you come here? Why are you still here? And where’s the dealer? You have to get back to work. That’s all you have now."

Hot Venom - Miniature Tigers

Hot venom is mixing with my blood / I can feel it on my fingers and taste it on her tongue / It feels so good to fall in love with you

I've heard a lot of people say this song is about heroin addiction, which is thematically appropriate for this playlist, but also. Harry's unhealthy obsession with Dora/Dolores Dei. Adoration (and hatred) so strong it's killing him.

Her venom makes me strong / Stronger than I am on my own / Before too long, I'll wake up to it gone / Wondering how I ever was happy [...] You can't go back now; that's not how this works / And as long as she's gone, I can never be happy

Who Is She ? - I Monster

This is just straight up about Harry's recurring dream to me. Just. Gestures at the lyrics.

Oh, who is she? / A misty memory / A haunting face / Is she a lost embrace? Am I in love with just a theme? / Or is Ayesha just a dream?

I feel like it falls in line really well with the idea that Harry's mind has been affected by the Pale-- a lack of memory, or maybe mixed memories, in a misty haze beyond the boundaries of reality. (and maybe Dolores Dei has started haunting him via Pale? Like some theories I've read.)

Somewhere across the sea of time / A love immortal such as mine Will come to me / Eternally

I Don't Miss You at All - FINNEAS

Dummy - Portugal. The Man

F the World - The Northern Boys

You Stupid Bitch - Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV Show)

These shards are a metaphor for my soul Won't stop the self-pity 'cause I'm on a roll

This song perfectly captures the inherent melodrama of a mental downward spiral imo. Catastrophic and all-encompassing. This is what I think it sounds like in there (Harry's head).

You ruined everything / You stupid bitch / You ruined everything / You stupid, stupid bitch / You're just a lying little bitch who ruins things / And wants the world to burn / Bitch / You're a stupid bitch / And lose some weight

Oleander - Mother Mother

Intermission - Scissor Sisters

Skit #2 - Kanye West

Self explanatory. He's got no money. He's got no clothes. He has no car and he has no hoes.

We broke, broke broke phi broke We ain't got it Broke, broke, broke phi broke We ain't got it Don't spend no money, ain't got no clothes Ain't got no cars, ain't got no hoes

Nobody - Mitski

My God, I'm so lonely, so I open the window To hear sounds of people, to hear sounds of people

This one is more about the feeling of the song itself rather than the lyrics specifically; I love the upbeat tempo that continues through the song (trying to remain steady, continue working), how the beat is simple at first then builds into a kaleidoscope of sound by the end of the track (overwhelmed by the world), then ending in a distorted loop (trapped in a cycle). This song has always felt really authentic to my own experience with mental spirals. The themes of loneliness tie it all into a nice bow.

I'm A Broken Heart - the bird and the bee

Not Allowed - TV Girl

Party Time - The Northern Boys

Comfortably Numb - Scissor Sisters

(Do The) Act Like You Never Met Me - TV Girl

Novocaine For The Soul - Eels

Basket Case - Green Day

Do you have the time / to listen to me whine About nothing and everything all at once? I am one of those melodramatic fools / Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it

I just think this one fits him well during Martinaise... just shaken up and unloading trauma onto unsuspecting strangers like a can of soda (bad analogy lol), depending on the dialogue you choose.

I went to a shrink to analyze my dreams She says it's lack of sex that's bringing me down I went to a whore, she said my life's a bore So quit my whining 'cause it's bringing her down

Sometimes, I give myself the creeps / Sometimes, my mind plays tricks on me It all keeps adding up / I think I'm cracking up Am I just paranoid, or am I stoned?

Also it's just a little pathetic, which just... it fits. Sorry Harry.

Labyrinth - Miracle Musical

#disco elysium #de fanart #disco elysium fanart #de #harry du bois #my art #jams #character playlist

225 notes · View notes

viloxity · 5 months ago

Text

Fluctuating Skies (Part 2 of 2) -- Yandere! Sung Jinwoo x Female Reader

Part 1

Synopsis: The scenario where the Monarchs rule Earth and the Shadow Monarch finds you in the New World A/N: it's finally here! thank you so much for the support on the previous part, i hope this lives up to expectation! reblogs and comments especially motivate me so let me know your thoughts <3 enjoy!

WC: 7.5k (oops)

Waking up to soft rays of light twinkling through cracks in the walls did not feel as invigorating as it should’ve been.

You slowly raised a hand to unwrap the blankets around you, stopping as yesterday’s events flashed through your mind. How could you even describe it? His behavior was becoming progressively uncanny and the foreboding that he would only get worse stuck with you. You felt like you were drowning, suddenly, weary eyes blinking to find yourself underwater in the middle of an endless ocean. You were surrounded by blue, as if you put on filtered sunglasses and now your world was the singularity of a color that reflected the same shade of the sky. Despite your circulatory system’s losing battle as the deep blue engulfed your trachea, you felt a sense of tranquility. Under the sky’s watchful gaze and the water’s gentle hands, you were protected. No longer did you have to suffer from the wars, the loss, the pain; you were free. Free to forget, free to explore, and free to experience.

You spent your time rejoicing under the guise that trepidation was a falsehood and forgetting that nothing was permanent because time waits for no one.

By the time you discerned the forgotten unpleasantry known as angst that did not belong in your Better World, it was too late.

You did not notice the inky black tendrils that were wrapping around your free-floating form.

You tried to swim away, to fight back, but they were relentless in caging you. The shadowy cage was reminiscent of a black tomb that fixated your view behind pole-like structures and entrapped you within something inescapable.

You distantly spotted a single immensely darkened creature as it swirled at the lower depths of the sea. The unknown entity eyed you hungrily from beyond the blackened bars, swimming patiently as you began to register once more the water bursting down your esophagus and into your lungs. You grabbed the bars with all your might and pulled, realizing too late that it only hastened your submerging. You were sinking deeper, closer to the unknown and closer to a fate that you would no longer be in control of. At last—before you buried the last of your desires—you screamed, attempting to curse out that disgusting monstrosity that spectated your descent to darkness; the water engulfed you, then, happy to oblige to your acceptance of asphyxiation.

The moment the light faded, your eyes shot wide open as your hands quickly moved away from clutching your throat. You gasped for breath, uncontrollably coughing as you wildly looked around. Your eyes finally settled on the streams of light pouring from the window, the rush of blood flowing past your ears beginning to fade. You then counted each beat of your heart, the tallying of each thump dissolving your heightened senses as you drifted under the threshold.

You hadn’t realized the moment you fell back asleep.

Gradually, as each night brought misery the second your eyes closed, you found yourself struggling to get a wink of sleep. The crevices of your mind were so desolate, so dolorous, that you shuddered at the mere notion of the night blanketing you. Each dream was similar, with some darkened figure watching over you like a god spectating their worshippers—never forwardly reacting, and never intervening. At the end of every scenario, you eerily felt that the entity delighted in your cycle of despair as previously neutral movements transitioned into fervent, animated motions. If it appeared like a shadowy humanoid, they would lean down and smile as you inevitably drifted towards them. In your most recent dream, it resembled a piranha that eagerly circled you as it waited to devour your impending despondence. Every single time, you remembered the creature, its face, its actions, and your anguish.

It had been a few days since your first meeting with Jinwoo, simultaneously marking the first day you began to fear the dark.

The darkness was another mask the sky used—a different side on the same coin of the marvelous bright blue you woke to. If the bright sky told you it was a beginning, the blackened night represented an end. Every day was unique; the beginning and end were never the same, nor did they repeat. A new day was a new beginning, while a new end was a new conclusion. In a society brimming with devastation, people tended to characterize ‘the end’ in this way—as a sum of its parts. This was a consequence, survivors learned, because it meant you neglected the substantiality of an imperfect world and became the first sacrifice as a method of fidelity to the strongest in the realm. The totality of the ending was the truth, because the whole is always greater than the sum of its parts in the New World.

You stopped looking at the other side of the coin because it was never meant for you. The strongest controlled the night sky and you had an inkling that Jinwoo might be one of them; a being that can write your ending so long as it satisfied him, his face abruptly flashing through your mind was enough to make you retch.

Your head turned towards the sky, somewhat covered by the walls of your home. At the very least, the morning sky was still your oyster—every morning was a fresh start that alleviated the pain of a predetermined ending. You learned to forgive it back then because you could not dream of never relying on it again.

You rose from under your bed covers. It was no longer something you could ignore.

To a degree, you were certain that there was some positive correlation between Jinwoo’s behavior and your nightmares. The more your mind flickered back to yesterday, the more unsalvageable his company looked. He was more a threat to your survivability than someone who you could befriend like the others. If it came down to it, you would possibly have to run the most you’ve ever done in your life. You were willing, but it was a matter of if you would get the chance to in the first place.

Jinwoo’s words from yesterday vividly echoed throughout your mind—in any case, there was no avoiding him today. You moved to the closet, creaky wooden doors opening to reveal you staring at your reflection. The mirror was placed in the middle of the closet, nearly engulfed by what looked to be a storm that passed through your belongings. You patted your face, fingers kneading away knit eyebrows as you tried not to focus on weary eyes and the tight line drawn on your face. Your affliction was proof of your dejection due to your new circumstance—it was unlike you to be in such a state. You survived to live freely and now you placed yourself in a predicament that threatened your state of being.

You ignored the sensation of faint prickling that tickled the corners of your lips.

Jinwoo was unpredictable, and that was a major problem in terms of survivability.

Damn it, how could you get out?

He was slowly beginning to root himself into your life and that was terrifying. Even worse, you were never clued in to his actual intentions—by a stroke of fate he gave you the ‘honor’ of his attention, and now he was feeding you handfuls. Was it a major oversight on your part, to not pay attention to such an action? Would your careless decision during a moment of vulnerability cost you everything? It was easy to envision how your life would eventually center around his, like a satellite orbiting a planet—Jinwoo’s raw strength and unknown capabilities could be enough to bend an individual to his desires. Said individual would no longer maintain the privilege of free choice; any option that was not correct—in his eyes—was a rash decision that betrayed his wishes.

Fuck. All paths that tied in Jinwoo involved a life half-lived.

Unless you were inferring too much. Everything thus far was still speculation, other than a few abnormalities in his usual solemn behavior. It had only been a few days, and yet your mind portrayed him as a villain.

And yet…

And yet it felt like he was hiding. The feeling that he was still lurking within the shadows, just like the first day you met him. That he was not… fully there. He was faded out, but if you cared to look a little closer, you would see that he wasn’t a normal shadow.

Your antsy temperance, driven by countless near-fatal encounters, never quelled itself in the presence of Jinwoo.

Either your mentality was cracking under pressure—his pressure—or the severe amount of devils advocate you played as a paroxysm of coping.

It would not be long until your mind landed itself in the grave, by his hand or yours.

You watched the intense rich shade of red trickle down your lips and onto your chin, its boldness absorbing your attention and trail suctioning color beneath its crimson hue. Perhaps the aching of your sensory receptors was a direct consequence of the peril you put yourself in—an unconscious and remorseful action.

You could not regret—there was no time, for he controlled that too.

Reaching for a towel to wipe the ruby from your face, a flash of purple streaked from the corner of your eye. You quickly turned but all your bulging eyes made contact with was the floor.

The floor and your shadow.

Your shadow was swirling, its outline swaying against the wooden floorboards and darkness crawling as it followed your movements. Within its depths was the image of a battle; the clash of fragments of hazel scattered throughout the pools of ink. Each unconquered piece slowly succumbed to the tide because lone soldiers were weak in the face of an army. As rich brown gradually swirled into deep black, you were reminded of the arachnids; the eight-legged creature that crawled where it pleased and patiently waited for its prey to fall into its carefully crafted web. The flush colored area that unluckily landed itself behind you was now trapped in a web of gloom, an inescapable route that held no other option but to wait for its end.

Akin to how your shadow absorbed the surroundings around it—colors swirling from vivid to black—you too were mesmerized by its outlandish ferocity. The way it continued to entrench on other areas despite your lack of movement gave you the feeling it was more lively than how you remembered it.

You moved a step back. You felt your heart racing as the shadow stormed after you, quickly discarding its entrapped victims and viciously tearing apart others to get to you. Once it reached your side, the shadow began to swirl around in its new area, straying slightly farther than your outline as it dragged other pieces of hazel within its midst.

You took several steps back, fearful eyes following your shadow’s barbaric barreling as its outline shook and swirling hastened. You could make out a small groaning sound, then a wave of sighs once the shadow reached you. Your shadow’s outline and swirling lessened in intensity, resuming its invasion sequence. Near the bottom of your feet, you almost didn’t make out the tiny inky strings that connected you to the shadow. You wanted to say they resembled hands, the way there were several small strings tied to one long string, but the swirling of the ink made it hard to make out.

Even in your own home you were going crazy.

Shortly after, you quickly got dressed and rushed out the door, never once looking back at your shadow.

The trek was fast because you did not bother to stop and look around for people to hand out food to. You were too absorbed in rethinking each encounter that you did not realize the man standing outside the shed.

“Glad to see you’re back.” Jinwoo greeted, body leaning against the shed with arms crossed. He was in a spot that offered him shade from the morning sun, dressed in his normal attire of all-black from head to toe.

You caught yourself from flinching, breaking out of your dazed state and willing yourself to speak to him.

“I, um, don’t see why not,” You meekly replied, the grip on the strap of your bag getting a little tighter. “The earthquake from yesterday did scare me, though.”

“There is no need to be afraid as long as I’m here,” Jinwoo said, pushing off the shed and stopping a shy few inches away from you.

You had not fully realized it, but Jinwoo really was an intimidating character. You never saw him at full height as he would always be sitting on something at some distance away from you and shrouded by shadows. With the way your eyes were nearly shoved into a face full of chest, you were struggling to maintain your fortitude against his domineering posture and terrorizing stare. His hands in his pockets could only do so much to shrink his broad shoulders that boldly shaped his black dress shirt.

Jinwoo leaned down toward you, head slightly tilted. His gray eyes immediately collapsed your own, unable to turn away as your heart beat sporadically. Soon the chirps of birds and the swaying of grass by the wind drowned out as static filled your ears. There was only static, until you made out faint whispering that echoed by your feet—it was incomprehensible, but it was there. You could not look away to confirm or deny your paranoia—to prove you maintained a piece of sanity—but that did not matter in the face of the ferocious beast in front of you. No, what you were more scared of now was if Jinwoo could hear how fast your heart raced—whether he could read your thoughts by glimpsing through your eyes and by the amount of time he’s spent in your head. You were able to push back the trembling, but how long could you hold it for?

A voice was murmuring underneath the ocean of sound, promptly silencing the whispers that plagued your ears.

“Huh?” Your mind was still mushy after the wave of panic passed you, having forgotten who was in front of you. The ringing static faded the harder your nails dug into your palm.

“No charity work today?” Jinwoo repeated, head tilting more at his inquiry. He leaned back, the mist clouding your mind finally settling as he separated from you.

Your fingers fiddling with the bag strap and the shuffling noise it emitted reminded you of the donations you were given today.

Wait—the donations. You sucked in a breath, trying to even out your breathing. It was made a point that you would always hand out food before meeting with him, as you would offer him the last piece you had. It was a consistent act that you performed despite only knowing Jinwoo for a minimal amount of time. How was he aware, that today of all days, was the one irregularity in your schedule?

You quickly cleared your throat. “I planned on going after meeting with you.”

Jinwoo hummed, eyes flashing to the small stream of red that trickled down your palm. His prolonged glare at the crimson liquid and clenched fists was nearly enough for you to voice your concern, but what could you even say? The tension in the air wound your vocal cords like tight knots with a string and you were too scared to unweave them.

The brief flicker of a violet hue immediately stilled your fiddling. The color was as vivid and deep as you remembered, so much so that your body couldn’t help but freeze.

There was no way he didn’t notice.

For a moment, the only sound you heard was the blood rushing through your ears as neither of you spoke a word.

Then, Jinwoo smiled. “I’ll go with you.”

“Ah—wait, um—“ You stuttered out a flood of incomprehensible blabber, quickly muted by the pattering of Jinwoo’s shoes as they trailed off in the direction you just came from.

Jinwoo turned after a few steps, eyelids slightly crinkled due to the corners of his lips being upturned. The way that his eyes were glazed over with a somber shade, the lines of his lips wavering from his strange smile, and his tight, restrained posture snipped the words of rejection off the tip of your tongue.

Oddly, your attention shifted to the floor. The sun was blaring strongly at the current hour, your shadow desperately clinging underneath you seeking respite from its isolation to other shadowy entities. You watched—in a state of shock and awe—as the shadow stretched its outline farther, almost as if extending an open hand, as Jinwoo crept closer to you. His silhouette looked animated as inky black pools excitedly swirled the closer it got. It was drawn to you—desperately trying to stay close to you—as if it was a planet orbiting the sun.

The gravity that must surround you enough to pull in an entity of the likes of possibly Jupiter—did it mean you were significant, someone that finally held power?

…Even then, would that be a good thing?

The sun’s gravity was strong enough to pull in other planets to its orbit, and they would remain there for however long the sun remained. If the sun moved, the planets moved with it.

The sun was significant, so the sun was trapped.

…Could the sun ever defy its fate?

Gray eyes pierced like needles into your skin.

“Shall we?”

“Please use this to take care of yourself.”

You handed a woman a portion of your donations, watching as she carefully grasped the bread before hastily running off in the opposite direction.

You did not blame the woman since the oppressive presence behind you was beginning to give you a headache. You could say he was like a shadow that followed your movement, but that felt obvious.

In any case, he felt more like a parasite. He fed off any and all emotions you had and indulged as if it were a banquet and you were a feast—when you smiled after someone was vigorously thanking you, the atmosphere felt lighter. If you so much as frowned at someone’s words, the inky shadows that trailed his form flickered harshly.

He shared your actions, albeit more ferociously.

It was out of the question telling him to leave, so was it within the realm of possibility to tell Jinwoo to calm down?

Speak of the devil—he suddenly interrupted your thoughts.

“Would you care to enlighten me for a moment?” You perked up at Jinwoo’s words. He was smiling, albeit a bit more widely when your eyes met his.

“What are your thoughts about ‘wielding power’?”

A spontaneous question; something you were never normally asked. Sure, people ask what ability you would have if you awakened but they never asked about the concept. The wording was… off putting to say the least, but….

You pursed your lips. “Power is the gauge of potential. An individual can hold a certain level of power and thus exert that same level of authority over those without it.”

The Hunters Association and all guilds used a similar basis. Individuals had power, but what about combining power? There was a reason why the top guilds all held S-ranks and many A-ranks.

“When it comes to wielding power, I don’t think my opinion matters.”

“Well, I asked specifically for it, no?”

You shook your head. “That’s not what I mean. My opinion is that I have no opinion because it’s something I could never experience.”

Hunters? Awakening? If you had not seen the end of the world you wouldn’t have believed such nonsensical words. Your life was so awfully normal that dropping your phone on the floor was likely a weekly highlight for you.

“Wielding power… is something I’ve merely wished for. More precisely, I wish for the ability to protect.”

“The ability to protect…” Jinwoo echoed, pondering for a moment. Your eyes caught a glimpse of his eyebrow twitching, as if he had decided something. You wanted to inquire, but he looked incredibly deep in thought.

Eventually, you gathered the courage to speak.

“Jinwoo—“

“Excuse me?” A male voice spoke out from your side.

A boyish-looking male came into view and the first thing you noticed was his tattered clothing. His shoes were completely worn while his satchel was tearing apart at the seams. His clothes and face were marred with dirt and you felt your heart tug a little.

He looked exasperated.

You nodded quickly, pulling out bread and a bottle of water. You ignored the annoyed grunt from behind you.

The way the boy’s eyes lit up… it was a reminder of why you pushed so far. The loss of folks you cherished so deeply nearly tipped you over the edge. No matter how many times you begged the wind to guide you to at least a breathing sibling, or knelt down crying in front of the small cemetery that would never hold a single one of your family members—it would not bring them back. But, doing some good for others felt good. It reminded you of the days when they were still there—the small smiles plastered on grateful faces morphed into ones that resembled familiar, joyful expressions.

Familiarity was comforting in a world that was anything but.

What was not familiar, however, was the sudden warmth you felt allocating your entire body. Your wide eyes met his closed ones—he had shaky arms wrapped around you while murmuring multiple thank you’s. It was an uncommon occurrence for passerby’s to show this degree of gratitude, mostly because of fear. It took you a few seconds to realize he was hugging you, but when you did, you hugged back. Maybe it was because his hug felt like your parents were embracing you, or that he distinctly sounded like your younger cousin. Maybe it was out of pity. Nonetheless, you hugged him back and patted his shoulder.

“You’ll be okay,” You mumbled. You weren’t sure if it was to yourself or to the boy.

The boy pulled away, hesitating before saying, “Please thank the man that was with you for me.”

You raised a brow. ‘Was’? You turned around, seeking a figure that was no longer there. Your body shook a bit, hair on your arms standing. Where did he go?

You weren’t paying attention to where he fled, or whether he said anything or not. It wasn’t like him to suddenly walk out, at least, you thought so.

Maybe that was why your chest felt so light.

You waved farewell to the boy after a few more minutes of him bowing, watching him vanish among the cluster of trees. You couldn’t help but take another sweep around to make sure Jinwoo left. The numerous amount of times you’ve experienced him doing something unpredictable still did not quell the insurmountable dread racking over you.

Some time passed during your small scavenge to see where he had gone and you ultimately decided to return home at the sight of the darkening sky. The sounds of the night… on occasion there were the croaks of animals but, really, all that remained were the small insects the strong never worried about. The more you thought about it, you and the people you knew resembled those same insects. You all buzzed around as a population and prayed the predators didn’t bat an eye at the footprints left behind. The moment the noises got loud enough, the population would be wiped in an instant.

You readjusted your bag strap as you stepped over a tree root. The narrow path signaled you were getting closer to home. The familiar twisting of branches and rocks ensnared in crevices eased your spiraling mind. Leaves crunched under your foot with each step and eventually was matched by the sound of your breathing. This, too, was familiar.

You took another step. Crunch.

Then another step. Crunch.

Another step. Cr—

The crunching noise was subsided by a light splash-like sound. You took another step, not quite registering the sudden change, yet felt a sticky substance beneath your feet. You looked down, seeing splatters of a mysterious liquid littered around leaves. It looked like there was a trail, but even when you squinted your eyes you could not make out what the liquid was. You continued to walk, splatters turning into pools and your feet felt like it was moving through mud. The brisk fresh air that felt easy to breathe began to filter out as dread filled your lungs. The trees parted out around this point now, and the village was just in sight. The crimson gleamed grimly under the moonlight and you willed your shaking knees to not give out. You wanted to let out a sob but your throat tightened as the wind picked up. Leaves, some dyed with red, flew past you and all you could do was linger on the familiar flow of hair that sat atop an unmoving body surrounded by waves of blood.

You refused to move outside of the village.

The first few days, you stranded yourself inside your home. After finding the corpse, you immediately ran to the village chief and reported it. You were interrogated for a short while, but upon determining your innocence—the crime scene did not match how clean your clothes were—you were allowed to return home. The tread back did not stop you from listening to the whispers of curious crowds.

“He was stabbed a grand total of 30 times all around his body.”

“Really? I would’ve thought some sort of monster had slaughtered him, the way he was completely torn through…”

“He looks awfully young… This is truly a tragedy.”

“What caused this?”

“Does anyone know who this is?”

You shut the door, leaning your head down and bumping it harshly against the wooden door.

The familiar patch of hair covered in blood, cold amber eyes, and scarred boyish features kept you awake that night.

You did not tell the others that you had met him hours prior—had given him a portion of the donations you always carried with you. Perhaps it was so you could grieve by your lonesome, or so you wouldn’t have to face reality just yet.

You mourned the fact you didn’t even know his name.

For the first time ever, you refused to hand out donations. Instead, you helped around the village. Your guilt was eating away at you and you needed a distraction. You helped repair houses, organize food, and babysat children. Each job wore you down worse than the other, to the point where you would pass out in bed. You took nearly every job in the hopes of being kept away from… thinking.

It worked out for a while. You stopped thinking about the body, and you stopped thinking about Jinwoo.

Jinwoo. It was not difficult to put the pieces together.

He was despair incarnate—an accident waiting to happen.

It was high time you stopped fooling yourself that he would be anything less than ‘normal’.

You refused to fathom the ‘why’ and ‘how’. He was not someone you wanted to concern yourself with anymore. Each event that played out, odd occurrences, and anxiety attacks all linked to him.

To be around him… it was like reliving trauma from the day the world collapsed.

Each day away from him you continued living your past life of normalcy. You didn’t second guess actions of others, less nightmares, and you stopped paying attention to your shadow. There was a slight pull on your heart sometimes, one that resembled fear, and it motivated you go all the way for a fresh new start.

By the end of the week, you would move out. Based on the local nomads that come and go from your village, there was another shelter farther from here. It would be a long journey—not an easy feat—but you welcomed this as a new experience.

You were going to put everything behind you and live free. Your lost family, friends—maybe they would rest more easily knowing you finally stopped clinging to their memories.

You opened the closet door and looked into the mirror. Your face looked brighter and fuller. You smiled to the reflection, happy that for the first time in forever you were proud of yourself.

A heavy knock sounded at your door and you practically bounced over. It could be one of the parent’s wanting you to watch their children again; someone like May would want her daughter to get a proper goodbye.

An unfamiliar face greeted you at the door and you were taken aback by her petrified expression. Your smile dropped near instantaneously.

“T-The c-center… y-you…” The woman was quivering so much you thought she would fall.

You did not need to hear the rest of her words to start sprinting towards the village’s center.

The center had a good amount of space for larger-than-normal gatherings and meetings. Closest to the center housed the village’s chief, so any and all important duties always beelined to the center.

Certainly there was not a special meeting today, otherwise you would’ve heard about it. A surprise occasion, perhaps?

You spotted a giant cluster of people swarming the center. Roughly speaking, nearly the entire village’s population was gathered outside with even the scavengers joining the party based off the number of familiar heads you saw. The large crowd of people made you more suspicious. This was definitely not normal. You could make out numerous terrified whispers beyond the turning heads and mouths behind their hands. It was only when you got closer that you realized this was not a normal gathering.

At the edges of the crowd and covered in a thick, deep black were multiple entities. They varied in form from large bears, elves, ants, and wolves to humanoid figures covered in armor. You would’ve assumed them to be beasts if not for their color and that they were not attacking the unarmed civilians they surrounded.

A gut-wrenching feeling was pooling. All of the village was gathered, there were beasts patrolling thought to be untamable, and you specifically were reached out to. Your house was a bit out of the way—it was the one closest to the edge and furthest from the center. It would make sense why you did not hear the commotion, but it did not make sense for you to be called on out of everyone else.

In a moment you made up your mind. The beasts were busy watching over the crowd so you took quiet steps to back away. It was better to make distance in case you needed a head start—something you wish you did when the portals opened and you were too awestruck to move.

There was growling heard from a wolf as a woman attempted to leave.

You took a few more steps back. If you reached a bit farther back you could block yourself with the bushes.

In any case, the situation looked dire enough for you to debate running to another village for help. The closest one was about a day or two’s worth of walking, it was a risk but what other option did you possibly have? All the people here were in danger, yet again, you were powerless. What a bitter feeling.

You took another step only to stop at the sound of groaning behind you.

You turned, nearly falling to the floor at the sight in front of you.

The figure was tall—tall enough that you had to turn your head up to see its head. Similar to its peers, it was completely encased in an inky black. Now that you could get a closer look, you also noticed dark clouds pooling around the entity, almost like a mist-like substance was protruding from it. It confirmed that whatever these… things were, they were not normal portal creatures. Your eyes trailed slowly from its darkened plates—was that armor?—to two white orbs. Its white eyes were staring holes into you, face hidden behind an armor helmet. You watched in horror as the plume atop its head waved, metal creaking as it bent its top half forward. You were expecting hostility; perhaps the being would usher you forcefully into the crowd or treat you as if you escaped. To your surprise, the head dipped—it went low enough for the white to disappear. The right hand of the knight was placed gently against the center of its chest and it kept its head down for a few moments. Was it… bowing?

You moved to sprint but the knight’s head shot up. It narrowed its eyes in a way that said ‘don’t’. The moment you saw the heavy sheathed sword strapped to its side you stopped. You felt your eye twitch as it waved its hand in the direction of the center, motioning for you to step forward first. You could clearly see, then, the other shadowy entities staring at you and how the armored knight perfectly stood atop your shadow. You were caught in the same trap as the others, the sinking feeling in your chest unyielding.

You reluctantly made your way towards the center. Following your steps behind you was the sound of metal grating and heavy thudding against the clear plain. No matter how many times you pinched yourself, the sight remained the same: large crowd and beasts. It reminded you so vividly of back then that you couldn’t stop the trembling in your legs. As you approached the crowd, their faces reflected your shaking: uneasy and fearful. Some shadows moved to part the crowd, allowing you an easier entryway towards the center. They mimicked what the knight from before did, all bowing in their own way.

You felt everyone staring and never before did you feel so anxious.

The sudden hushes from the crowd that swiftly turned into silence allowed you to hear the booming voices in the distance.

The familiar sinking of your heart stimulated the fully formulated sensation of fear—a new-found source of dread entirely because one of the booming voices you recognized.

“…This offer is beneficial to you, is it not?” A deep voice said, sending a tremor down your spine.

“It is a negotiation, not an offer,” Another voice said, “I am uncertain of your terms so I cannot comply.”

There was a long, drawn-out sigh. You peeked from behind the shoulder of a soldier in front of you, praying you wouldn’t be noticed.

Jinwoo ran a hand through his messy dark hair, eyes practically glowering at the village chief. The leader of the community—the one who allocates and organizes everyone’s resources while ensuring safety—is known as the village chief. For the minor semblance to how past society lived, they were elected periodically by the community. You talked to him recently about the body, but… why was he talking to Jinwoo?

Wait, why was Jinwoo even here?

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I only asked for your permission out of convenience.”

“After all, the person I was waiting for is finally here.”

You cowered behind the soldier, watching as his eyes raked through the entire crowd until stopping on you.

“Isn’t that right, Y/N? Come out now.” He was beckoning you forward with his hand, index finger wagging at you as if trying to cage a scared puppy.

Jinwoo, of the attire you’ve seen him in previously, was wearing something different. Instead of slightly ragged clothes he was wearing a long black coat with silver engravings around the shoulder and wrists. He wore a clean white shirt underneath along with black pants and formal black shoes—the outfit would’ve screamed ‘money’ to you if there was such things as designer still.

He was befitting to be someone of high society, in fact.

Your eyes met with the village chief and it seemed he immediately understood the situation. He was mouthing ‘no’ at you, trying to deter you—this was enough to keep your feet planted.

You remained still. Soon enough, you felt something spike in the air, the shadows beneath his coat tail flicking wildly at your impertinence. The entities surrounding the crowd grew restless, with the shadow-being you were hiding behind shaking. Jinwoo was staring bullets into you, even behind the soldier, and the shadows were as well.

“Move.” Jinwoo flicked his wrist towards the soldier and it immediately crumbled into a dark cloudy mist. The essence then moved back towards Jinwoo’s shadow, becoming absorbed into his outline.

Petrified, you stood still. A lot of things started to click as you began to realize what Jinwoo’s true power was. The way his shadow never stood still or how your own never acted quite right… it made sense.

Now you were staring at him and he was staring at you. Jinwoo gave you a slight wave.

He smiled. “I missed you.”

You were too scared to open your mouth with how tight your throat was.

Jinwoo turned to the tall knight next to you. “Good work, Igris. Now—“

The knight nodded his head, white eyes still watching you.

“—I’d like to discuss our future.” There was a glow emitting from Jinwoo’s eyes, light shining on his violet pupils.

He held out his hand, tapping the right palm of the hand using his left index finger. “From now on, the people living here will act under me.”

What? What did he say?

“I reject!” The village chief roared. “For someone like you to show up like this…”

“Quiet.” Jinwoo held a finger to his lips, purple eyes violently flashing.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

He turned towards you. “I will protect all that live here.”

Jinwoo licked his lips. “In return, Y/N, you will be my betrothed.”

No. No, no, no, no.

No.

After all that has happened, maybe it was because of him. Just him. He single-handedly ruined the remaining good parts of your life and for what? To be some selfish bastard?

No. No way.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Jinwoo?” You shouted, holding back tears. No wonder his behavior was so goddamn psychotic—he wanted you to be his lover?

“I barely know who the hell you are, and what you’re doing right now is absurd. Just who are you?”

Jinwoo tilted his head. “Do you really not know?” He tapped a finger against his cheek.

“Have you heard of the Monarchs?”

Monarchs? Did he mean the Monarchs of Calamity?

Although you experienced the end of the world, you were unfamiliar concerning its origin. There were multiple theories that were shared with you, such as planned gate-opening or that multiple outbreaks occurred simultaneously due to probability. A leading theory was that there were beings, named Monarchs, who acted as divinity because they possessed power that rivaled gods. Even when the S-rank hunters of other countries joined forces, they were unable to be on equal footing with the Monarchs. These Monarchs, for an unbeknownst reason, released an unnatural calamity upon the world—hence the name ‘Monarchs of Calamity.’ You never pondered this theory—why would you want to reflect on the idea that a disaster was intentionally brought upon you? The fact that it was brought up means…

“…Are you a Monarch?” You asked, eyes flashing towards the darkened knight he called ‘Igris.’

“I am the Monarch of Shadows.” Jinwoo sneered at the title, the corner of his lips momentarily quirking upward as he watched despair flash over the village chief’s face.

It seemed Jinwoo did not like your own befallen expression, though.

“It’s of interest to you because that means I am also the leader of Monarchs.” You curled your right fist, squeezing your nails as hard as you could against the palm of your hand.

“In terms of protection, I am the best there is.” Jinwoo continued, waving towards his army—monstrosities that have already conquered countless civilizations within a blink of an eye.

“The people you love now… I can take care of them. All you have to do is say yes.”

You looked back towards the crowd. They were still anxious and afraid. The familiar faces you saw, the children, the families… this was cruel. If you said no, would he—

“Do you remember the conversation we had the other day, about power?” Jinwoo asked suddenly. The way his eyes were watching you so intently, that he was eagerly awaiting your responses frightened you more than anything. You saw him flick his wrists, pulling out something from within his shadow. There was a gleam of red and immediately you let out a scream for him to stop but it was far too late.

There was a loud thud next to you and you nearly vomited.

“Your wish to obtain power… I can grant it, so long as you become my Queen.”

There, lying on the ground next to you, was the unmoving body of the village chief. The one who attempted to protect this little community to the very end, who tried to shield you despite the circumstances, and stood up to a Monarch despite not wielding power himself. There was a large, red dagger driven deep into his chest. As his blood pooled out onto the floor, the screaming began. Men shouted and roared out of fear and anger, some women screamed while others covered the childrens’ eyes. The dagger currently lodged in his chest made you blink once, then twice.

You gasped suddenly, your mind flashing back to the corpse of the boy who was overly cheerful—the image of the deep slash marks, riddled with slashes that tore out skin from bone churned through your head.

“You… the boy—it was you, wasn’t it?” You choked out, reaching for the village chief.

“He overstepped, by touching what is mine,” Jinwoo hissed, expression smoldering and hair bristling. “It’s unforgivable.”

The shadows were shrieking now, trying to tame the crowd while their Monarch was simmering. He was about to burst, but you were already on the edge. You were so overwhelmed, so tired of him and whatever despair he brought with him, that you started letting go.

“You’re a monster. A cruel, unruly, disgusting monster.” You sharply emphasized every word, hoping it stabbed as deep as he did to those innocent people. “I will never agree to your dogshit proposal.”

The yelling of the crowd began turning into shattering shrieks and now everything was unraveling to be a slaughter. There were brave people who fought and those who fled. Those who were caught began to follow the village chief. The sound of constant thudding flooded your mind but all you could simply do was tearfully stare at the corpses.

It was like the end of the world all over again.

Jinwoo held a firm hand against his face, a purple eye peeking through his fingers to peer at you.

“I still have yet to understand you. Death is such an easy thing yet you act like it’s your first time witnessing it everytime…” Jinwoo softly gritted his teeth.

“However, if death is the only issue, then it’s fixable.” Jinwoo raised a hand towards the village chief, the shadowy cloud quickly enveloping the corpse.

“Arise.”

Everything happened so quickly that you were nearly convinced you had blacked out. From the corpse that remained on the now bloody floor rose a new shadowy figure. This time, it was in the very shape of the man who you saw killed just moments ago. In fact, multiple other figures emerged from unmoving bodies that sat on the ground. Each face was a face that you recognized as people you interacted with daily. They were familiar, yet not at the same time—their faces were dull, expressionless, as if they became puppets and were waiting for the master to pull the strings.

“Queen,” The village chief spoke next to you and you stepped back out of alarm. “You are the Queen.”

“Queen,” The crowd repeated in unison. “You are the Queen.”

Stop.

Queen. It was like standing in an echo chamber.

You are the Queen. Was he this heartless?

Queen. You are the Queen.

“Stop,” You whispered.

Queen. Some children were repeating it too.

You. Are. The. Queen.

“Stop it!” You screamed, holding both hands against your ears as you finally let a sob rack over your body.

You heard footsteps approaching you, but you didn’t care. You just wanted it all to stop—everything. All the pain, the suffering, the memories. You were tired. Enough fighting, enough thinking—just, please, stop.

A warmth enveloped your body and you felt a hand gently uncover one side of your ear.

“I have waited so long for you, so accept me.” Jinwoo’s breath tickled your ear and you couldn’t help but shiver.

"Just as you belong to me, I belong to you. Any item you want, I will give. Any person you dislike will vanish within an instant.”

If you want the stars in the sky, I will lay them at your feet. If you want to conquer the entire sky, it will all be yours."

“Just be mine.”

#sung jinwoo x reader #sung jin-woo x reader #sung jin woo x reader #solo leveling x reader #yandere sung jinwoo #yandere sung jinwoo x reader #Yandere sung Jin-woo x reader #Yandere solo leveling #Yandere solo leveling x reader #yandere #yandere sung Jin woo x reader #yandere x reader #Jinwoo sung x reader #yandere jinwoo sung x reader #Yandere jinwoo sung #sung jinwoo #sung jin-woo

412 notes · View notes