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mattsunsdollie · 1 month ago

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Tourist Attraction

Trent Alexander Arnold x Fem!Reader

What better place for a girls trip then England? You get to cross it off your bucket list, and cross fucking a scouser too.

When your girlfriends suggested a girls trip to England, you were thinking London, Manchester or hell even Nottingham. Except, your girlfriends have a different city in mind, Liverpool.

You had no vendetta against Liverpool, but you had expected other “touristy” cities. When you all had landed you were met with thick accents, a little hard to understand but undeniably sexy.

The Air BnB was cozy, a small house for you and the 3 other girls. It was in the middle of the city, allowing you to just walk where needed. Although you yearned to visit London, you would still be able to cross England off of your bucket list.

You quickly learned that it was a town filed with huge personalities, and die hard fans for their soccer team. The locals also referring to each other as scouser��s.

The first few days were relatively spent the same way, exploring the town and trying restaurants and pubs. But after days of just being on the go, you needed a good relaxer and possibly a tan.

Finding a beach close by you convince your friends to go on the second to last day of the trip. It was noon and the streets were already filled with people.

Your pastel yellow bikini showing through your cover up crotchet dress. The stares and broken necks only fueled your ego. When you finally arrived at the beach the smell of salt comforted you.

It had been ages since you had been to the beach. Your friends found a spot and you all quickly placed your towels down and began applying tanning oil.

Putting your headphones on, you decided to lay on your stomach first. The hot sun burning your skin in a good way, a relaxing way. After 30 minutes you flipped over to your back. Which is when you noticed your friends had gone in the water, but you couldn’t be bothered.

Taking off your headphones for a moment, you see a little girl running and giggling. And before you know it, she’s running towards your set up, and sitting down on one of the towels next to you.

She’s a giggling mess as a man who you assume to be her father chases her.

“M’sorry, she’s a bit of’a runner” the man states in his thick accent. “No worries, I don’t mind the company” you reply supporting yourself on your elbows.

He’s attractive, black curls sitting on-top of his head, and muscular body covered in a sheer coat of sunscreen.

“Your daughter is adorable” you say as you look over at the girl playing with a book one of your friends eft behind. “Oh, not m’daughter, she’s me niece” he corrects.

You nod, as he puts his arms out for the girl but she shakes her head. She clearly didn’t want to go back, so the man asked to sit with her. You obviously allowed him to, not wanting him to go away just yet.

“I’m Trent by the way” he says, holding his hand out for you to shake. The grip he has on your hand makes your mind spin. You wonder what that grip would be like on your waist.

You introduce yourself, and conversation spark between you both. You explain how you’re on a girls trip, and he recommends some restaurants for your last night. He’s a local, born and raised, telling you what places are worth your money.

“What’s the best tourist attraction here?” you ask, head titled trying to shield the sun from your eyes. “Yer looking at it love” he says cockily.

“You got an ego to you huh” you tease and he laughs. Your gaze momentarily fixated on his lips, and he obviously notices.

Just as he was opening his mouth to respond, his niece grew fussy. Starting to cry, he quickly carried her, standing up.

Feeling bold, you state “Will I get to see the best tourist attraction before I leave?” Staring down at you he smiles, a deep profound one that showcases his beautiful teeth.

“Suppose ya can, pass me yer phone” he states, trying to act hard to get. He types his number in your phone before going off with the crying toddler.

You could feel a stupid grin creep on your face as you thought about Trent. This was a girls trip, strictly girls and no men, but you couldn’t pass up on this opportunity. You watched as your friends swam in the water, deciding to join them and tell them what just happened.

Hours later, and a cold shower with lots of body oil and aloe vera you were back in the rental. Sitting in a towel, you decide to text Trent.

8:49 pm

“Does Liverpool’s best tourist attraction accept clients after hours?”

Grinning as you wrote the cheeky message. You put the ball in his court, he could decide how this played out. Shortly after he replied

8:51 pm

“Only certain clients. Usually the ones who don’t make me wait all day for a message”

Laying flat on your back, feeling comfort in the white duvet under you. Not wanting to answer too quickly you gave it a few before responding.

8:55 pm

“Can this client apologize? Possibly in person at 10?”

There was no need to be shy, you had nothing to lose. It’s not like if he turned you down you would see him down the street.

8:58 pm

“Send the location, I’ll be there at 10. Have that apology ready darling”

With that you sent the location, quickly getting out of your towel. It was causal, but you still wanted to look presentable. You slipped on a pair of shorts and a tube top. Letting your hair air dry, you only did a subtle natural makeup look.

Before you knew it, it was 10, and time to face your friends to let them know you would be leaving. When you walked into the kitchen, it was as if they already knew.

Reminding you to keep your location on, to wear a condom and be safe. You laughed as you exited the home. You were greeted with a tinted Rolls Royce infront of the house.

Opening the door, you see Trent, causal in a white t-shirt and shorts. His car smelling like his expensive cologne. “Didn’t expect anything less from Liverpool’s finest” you joke, referring to the expensive car.

“Think ya owe me an apology, love.” he reminds you, the car still in park. “I apologize for making you wait” you blatantly say.

“It’s not big deal” he jokes, trying to see as if he didn’t care. You lightly smack his chest. The streets are still filled, regardless of the time. “ ‘M thinkin of going back to the beach” he says while at a red light. “Let’s go then” is all you say before looking back out the window admiring the street lights and houses.

The beach at night looks like a whole new world. He brings two towels from his back seat, placing them on the sand. You laid down as you watched the waves hit the sand and rocks before retreating back to their homes.

The conversation was light, jumping from topic to topic naturally. You couldn’t ignore the way he would stare at you for longer than needed while you looked at the sea.

“You usually serve as a tour guide and tourist attraction to all foreigners?” you say, deciding to push some buttons.

“Would ya believe me if I said yer the first?” he smirked.

“How can you be Liverpool’s best tourist attraction if I’m the first one to experience it?” turning to fully face him.

He looks at your eyes before switching his gaze to your lips then your hardened nipples poking through your tube top.

“Give me a review after then” he says, keeping eye contact. Leaning in, looking directly at his lips you say “Maybe I will, we’ll see if it’s five star worthy”

You pull another chuckle from him, before there’s silence besides from the waves hitting the rocks. “Can I kiss ya?” he asks sweetly.

Nodding, he cups your face pulling you in slowly. His lips feel better than you would have imagined. You move in sync, eyes fluttering shut as you grip his arm. His tongue enters your mouth and he deepens the kiss, pulling you onto him.

Laying down on him, while legs on either sides of his hips you don’t care how obscene this looks. All you care about is continuing to kiss him, and feel his hardening erection through the shorts.

Slowly moving your hips, you cup his face. “Shit, let’s go to my car” he states, hands on your hips. You both quickly grab the towels and make your way back to the car parked in an empty parking lot.

The deep tints helping in this situation. He sits in the back seat and you follow, sitting on him once again. Grinding on him you moan lightly, which makes Trent go crazy.

“Can I?” he asks, referring to your clothes and removing them. You nod, putting his hands on your body. There was no time to waste, especially when fucking in a parking lot. Your clothes are quickly disregarded and so are his.

He spits on his fingers, using it a lube of sorts. Rubbing your wet folds causing your head to be thrown back. He grabs a condom from his short’s pocket that were on the floor.

He was bigger than you’ve taken, but you were so turned on you didn’t care for the lack of prep or the stretch. He rolled the condom down skillfully.

Eagerness filled your veins, the second the condom reached the base, you aligned yourself. Slowly inching yourself down your jaw was left hanging open.

It was a delicious burn, one you’ll never forget. Trent quickly began to suck and play with your nipples, stimulating you even more. When you finally reached the bottom all you could do was grind back and forth.

Trent’s hand found their way to your ass, grabbing it and guiding you to bounce.

“Just like that baby” he moaned out when you slammed your hips down on him.

“So big Trent” you whispered, trying to keep quiet. The smell of his cologne, and his touches around your body leaving you feeling dizzy.

“Don’t get lazy on me now baby” he groaned out, encouraging you to continue to bounce. He was out of luck, your legs already shaking.

“C-can’t, please” you cried out. Placing his feet hard onto the floor of his expensive vehicle, he wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you to his chest while he thrusted up.

“Can’t even ride me properly. It’s okay baby, I’ll give ya a proper fuck” he says in your ear.

His hips hitting yours at a pace you’ve never had before. “Keep clamping down on me and ‘m gonna cum” he says through gritted teeth. But truth be told, you were already on the edge.

He was reached spots no one has before. The coil in your stomach begging to unravel, and it did once he began sucking on your neck. You were certain there’d be marks when you finished.

Gripping him in a way no one has you convulsed, creaming all over him. With one final stroke, completely bottoming he released into the condom.

It was a one night stand, a fun night on your girls trip. At least that’s what you expected. But Trent had other plans, texting you while you boarded your plane. Liverpool’s finest begging to still talk to you while thousands of miles away. He should’ve known you don’t revisit tourist attractions you’ve already seen.

hello dolls!! I hope you enjoyed this fic. this was voted for the fic to be released! thank you for voting. I wanted to switch the roles and make the woman the one enforcing the “one night only” stance.

also I just wanted to touch on 2 things:

1. I am not from England, so if I used a city that is in fact not touristy, you know why now LMAO. I also hope I described Liverpool correctly, and did it justice. google can only help so much

2. I know there is a lot regarding Trent in the media right now. this is not the place to drag someone or gossip, but I will say I did not want to punish myself by not publishing this work that I spent a lot of time on. Although he is not going to be continuing to play in Liverpool, for this fic’s sake, he is.

#mattsunsdollie #fanfic #smut #trent alexander x you #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander x reader #trent aa #trent alexander arnold smut #trent alexander arnold #alexander arnold #liverpool smut #liverpool fc #trent smut #liverpool trent #taa fanfic #taa smut

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frvnkcastles · 8 months ago

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I'd love something where the reader used to work at The Beef from the bear show, bur had to move to NYC and met Frank, she ends up feeding him the best Beef this side of the east coast and he instantly falls in love, then she makes him the Family Spaghetti and he's like "I wanna fuckin marry her" internally? Fluff?

But the reader is very much cooking out of stress as that's how she feels she can i guess win people over to stick around?

(I was the cunt in school on wedges day where I'd shout every one in my group wedges since otherwise I think they wouldn't stick around me,I wasn't smart enough for them but I paid for food.

I still do this with my baking business)

HONEY, DON’T YOU LEAVE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You and Frank bond over your cooking, but you can’t shake the feeling that that’s all he wants from you.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, language, feminine nicknames

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: Gahhhhh, I am so annoyed that I’m being so slow with requests but college is back in motion and it has NOT been a soft landing, I have been immediately flooded with things to do. On top of that I’ve just been really tired and unmotivated, but I’m trying my best to write at least a little every day! Anon, thank you so much for your patience. I don’t really do crossovers so it’s never specified where the reader worked before, but I hope you like it anyway! I’m sending you so much love <3

Frank fell in love with you quicker than he cared to admit. He had closed himself off from the possibility of finding someone new, not really interested in making connections of any kind, but you came and conquered his heart with immense ease.

It was complete luck, too. It wasn’t unusual for him to pay a visit to a diner for some food and coffee, but you definitely weren’t supposed to be there. You had a history of working in fairly successful restaurants, yet when you had moved to New York, you faced great difficulty with landing a job that you actually wanted. The places you thought were right on your level turned you down, but you needed money for rent, so you lowered your standards, and wound up working for a diner — the same one Frank stumbled into that night.

It had been mostly uneventful and quiet, and you were left alone with the responsibility of closing. There were no other customers except Frank, but he didn’t seem that open to conversation, so you stayed stationed behind the cash register.

And then, two armed men burst in, their faces concealed with ski masks as they held you at gunpoint. With shaky hands, you began to empty the register, but you didn’t have the time to hand over all the money when one of the guys was knocked out to the ground. You flinched, watching in shock and fear how your only customer beat up the other guy and wrangled the gun out of his hands only to whip him in the face with it. You didn’t know what to do, but it seemed he didn’t need your help — within a minute, both armed men were rushing out of the diner with their tails between their legs.

Stunned speechless, you stared at the tall, rugged man who remained. He caught his breath and then turned to you, his sharp features making you swallow. ”You okay, ma’am?” he grunted, his deep voice incredibly enchanting, and you managed a nod. He was about to turn and return to his seat but you found your voice and spoke up.

”Thank you. Let me make it up to you”, you uttered out, making him halt but the look he gave you was almost amused.

”You don’t owe me anythin’, ma’am”, he replied casually, but you weren’t budging.

”Well, I kinda do. Anyway, the food here is… not that great, so maybe you could let me cook for you? Um, we’re closed tomorrow so there’d be no one else here”, you explained, the words coming out of your mouth before your brain fully processed what you were promising him. You were really yearning to cook again, something other than eggs and bacon, and he had definitely earned it.

He eyed you up and down, weighing his options for a second before reluctantly nodding. ”Aight. If you insist”, he agreed, sparking a smile on your face as you nodded to confirm that you weren’t having it any other way. You told him what time to arrive, and as he returned to finish his sandwich, you couldn’t help but feel giddy.

The next day, you got to the diner early and started working on what you hoped would be a meal to remember. You were mostly excited, and at least cooking kept you busy, which meant you didn’t have the time to worry about being alone with the man. Although he had saved your life, it was hard not to be intimidated by him.

As soon as he arrived at the diner, though, he quickly proved to you that there was nothing to fear. He called you ma’am right up until you told him your name and insisted that there was no need to be formal, and when he introduced himself, he did it in a way that was undeniably charming — and polite. You had seen him around the diner enough to know that he wasn’t a chatty person, but as you brought out the food, he attempted to get to know you better and it made your heart race.

You maintained small-talk, but you couldn’t deny you were nervous to find out what he thought of the food. Once he dug in, though, his eyes immediately widened.

”Wow”, Frank blurted out, a little taken aback by the sheer deliciousness. ”Sweetheart, this is amazin’. Where’d you learn how to cook like this?” he inquired, far too curious to not ask.

With heat on your face, you smiled. ”Uh, well, cooking classes mostly. I used to work at a restaurant. Hopefully I will again some day soon. And a lot of practice at home, of course”, you explained, and nodding along your story, Frank divided his attention between the heavenly food and your equally enthralling voice.

”I bet you will. Your talents are wasted in this place”, he commented, making you chuckle softly.

He didn’t stop praising you throughout the meal, but he also asked follow-up questions, keen to learn everything about you. In return, he vaguely opened up about himself, though you could tell he was holding back a little.

That said, the time you spent in that diner over that meal was enough for him to get hooked on you. He kept stopping by for weeks until he finally got the nerve to ask you on a date, suggesting that you’d make dinner together. It hadn’t taken you long to start falling for him, either, so it was easy to agree to what you didn’t realize would bloom into a serious relationship.

Truthfully, you sort of skipped the casual phase. Frank could be an intense man when it came to relationships, even if he hadn’t really thought he would find himself in one. Nevertheless, he felt strongly about you early on, and your first date developed into constantly spending time at each other’s places and sharing a bed on most nights. He tried his best to impress you with his cooking, and while it certainly wasn’t awful, there was a lot you could teach him — and he received the help willingly, eager to listen to you and learn more about your number one passion.

The night that you cooked the spaghetti recipe that your family had followed for years, he was done for.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so captivated by you, and the food, he would have noticed the tension in your shoulders and the constant chewing on your bottom lip. You were quickly falling back into the bad habit of weighing your own worth based on your cooking, convinced that the moment you’d stop making all these elaborate meals for Frank, he would walk out on you. Your way with food was undoubtedly a perk of dating you, and right now, you were struggling to think of any other ones.

”I hope you like it”, you smiled nervously as you handed over the plate of spaghetti to Frank. He gave you an affectionate look and thanked you before giving the food a go, and in an instant, his heart soared.

The food was amazing, but so were you. You had so much talent in you, and when Frank looked up from the plate and met your gaze, he felt so much love in his heart. He admired you and everything you did, finding you so utterly beautiful and amazing and… God, he wanted to marry you.

He had to fight the urge to just announce it there and then, giving you a small smile. ”I’m speechless, sweetheart. You outdo yourself every time. I’m one lucky asshole”, he declared proudly, making you smile but you couldn’t hide the anxiety in your eyes. Would he consider himself lucky if you didn’t cook for him tomorrow?

He noticed the hesitation on your face, though. ”Hey, darlin’. Somethin’ wrong?” he asked with worry evident in his voice, and you rushed to wave it off.

”I’m okay. I’m glad you like it, baby”, you promised, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand.

Only a week later, the issue resurfaced. You came down with the flu and you were rendered useless for a couple of days, giving you a great deal of stress. Frank was all over you, providing you with medication as well as something to drink and eat — and he was not letting you do a thing by yourself. You were his patient to care for and any attempt to get up from the couch was shot down within seconds.

Once his attention faltered from you and he disappeared in the bedroom to find you a cozy sweater, you made your way to the kitchen. Sniffling and aching all over, you began taking out pots and ingredients, and the noise immediately alerted Frank.

”Nah, nah, sweetheart, what’d I tell ya? You ain’t doin’ a thing except rest tonight. You’re sick and you need to just lay down, aight?” he reminded with a firm tone, his hands coming to cover yours in an attempt to stop you.

Reluctantly, you admitted defeat but it didn’t take long for the frustrated, anxious tears to fill your eyes. Frank’s stern expression fell and he tilted his head down at you, concern taking over.

”Hey, hey, hey. I know it sucks but you need to listen to your body right now”, he sighed, trying to understand what was making you cry. You covered your face with one hand as the tears streamed down your cheeks, and with his heart breaking, Frank hauled you into his arms, shushing you softly while wrapping you in a tight embrace.

”I just don’t want you to leave me”, you admitted faintly, and right away, Frank’s eyebrows knitted together and he pulled back to give you a confused look.

”Sweetheart, I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Why would you say that?” he frowned, genuinely surprised by your confession.

With a sniffle, you shrugged. ”You love my cooking. And I guess it’s the main reason you’re with me. So, if I stop cooking… why would you stay?” you explained the logic that you had built inside your own head. But Frank didn’t agree with you, and the fond chuckle that he huffed at you was enough to imply as much.

”Baby, I do love your cooking, but it definitely ain’t the main reason I’m with you. I love you, hear me? I’m with you ’cause you’re so fuckin’ kind and understanding and real supportive. And you make me so goddamn happy. I’d still be just as in love if you stopped cooking for good, yeah? It’s great but it ain’t why I adore you so much”, he countered while lifting one hand up to your jaw and tipping it so you could meet his eye. He looked completely serious, and you really wanted to believe him.

”You mean that?” you asked carefully, and he wasted no time in nodding to confirm.

”I fuckin’ mean it. I, uh… I kinda wanna spend the rest of my life with ya”, he cleared his throat, and astonished to hear that, your eyes flew wide open and a wide smile curled your lips up high.

”Frankie… I want that, too”, you breathed out, earning a tender look from him. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, the soft feeling of his lips making your heart do somersaults.

”Hey, I’mma take over the cookin’ responsibilities this week. You just get cozy on the couch and I’ll whip somethin’ up for us, yeah?” he decided, and you shot him a teasing grin.

”Sure you can handle it?” you wondered, taunting him, and he responded with a mixture of a laugh and a scoff.

”My girl’s a comedian now, huh? Get outta here”, he grumbled, gently patting your ass to encourage you towards the couch.

He may not have been as good of a cook as you were, but he made an effort and stayed true to his promise, not letting you anywhere the kitchen until you were feeling much better. And even then, he insisted on helping or occasionally being in charge, just to show you that you were a team and you didn’t owe him anything.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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circle-with-me · 10 months ago

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summer’s in the air, heaven’s in your eyes

pairing: matt dierkes x female reader

tags/cw: 18+MDNI!! unprotected vaginal sex, the tiniest bit of spanking, overstimulation, skinny dipping, teasing, angst, fluff, yearning, hurt/comfort.

word count: 3.3k

tag list: @deathblacksmoke @darksigns-exe @malice-ov-mercy @baddestomens @sitkowski @cncohshit @lma1986 @sprokat @rain-down-on-me @honeytama @thisbicc @blackveilomens

author’s note: this is the third installment of my summer series. it ended up being way longer than i intended but matt has rotted my brain so he gets a long one :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics

It was supposed to be a girl’s trip. You and three of your best friends decided to go to the lake for a week. Your boyfriend of three years broke up with you at the end of May. It was sudden and unexpected, but you both kept it amicable. It would take a couple of weeks before his new place would be ready so you allowed him to stay in the spare room until then.

Not even two days later you walked in on him and his coworker having sex in your room on your bed. After you chased both of them out of the house with a baseball bat, threw his things in the yard, and changed all of the locks, you locked yourself in your room for a month. Your friends eventually came to your rescue, dragging you out and forcing you to shower. Telling you that you desperately needed a tan and some social interaction.

The lake trip was branded as a girl’s trip but you knew your friends had plans to get you laid. You had no plans on getting involved with anyone. All you wanted was a relaxing trip and to forget about the break up.

Meeting Matt wasn’t a part of the plan.

It wasn’t your fault he happened to be in the cabin next to yours and his dogs just so happened to take a liking to you.

It was annoyingly cliche how you met. He threw a tennis ball too far and it landed between you and your friends. Not long after it landed, so did two very wet and enthusiastic dogs. They were suddenly enthralled to find themselves among new friends—making sure everyone else was equally as drenched as they were.

Matt came running over apologizing profusely trying but failing to wrangle them, who you later learned were called Boo and Zeus. Your friends huffed about how they were going to have to reapply tanning oil, grabbing their towels to dry off. Meanwhile, you were too busy having a rom-com, wind in your hair, “Take My Breath Away” playing in the background moment as the gorgeous man in front of you spoke.

He offers his hand to you and you gladly take it, admiring the tattoos that cover his arm. You ask about them and he promises he’ll tell you all about them if you accompany him and the dogs on their nightly walk. He works fast, you’ll give him that. He beams at you when you agree—nearly stumbling over Zeus as he backs away, nervously telling you what time he’d be by to get you.

It’s endearing how he shows up a few minutes early.

He stands outside patiently; Boo and Zeus wait excitedly by his side. He’s freshly showered by the looks of the still damp ends of his hair—black baseball cap sitting backward on his head. The nervous smile he gives you as he hands you Boo’s leash makes your tummy do flips.

Conversation with Matt is easy. He keeps his promise and explains the tattoos on his arms, utterly appalled that you’ve never seen Lord of the Rings and making you promise to watch them once you return home. He catches himself droning on (his own words) about it and apologizes but you think you could listen to him read an instruction manual and find it interesting.

You learn that he’s a tour manager for a band you’ve never heard of. He’s almost thrilled to hear this—telling you that once women hear that he works with Bad Omens they’re far more concerned with getting autographs or meeting their favorite member. He laughs it off but the way he chews the inside of his cheek tells you it bothers him more than he lets on. Fighting your nerves, you lace your fingers with his and squeeze his hand.

“Everyone knows that tour managers are the hottest guys in the industry anyway.” You smile at him. He laughs and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to your lips. It’s all a little overwhelming—after all you just met this man. He counters your claim with self-deprecating humor but the way his thumb lightly brushes over the back of your palm tells you that he’s smitten. Maybe a little summer distraction wouldn’t be too bad after all.

You weren’t sure how he talked you into it. It could have been the alcohol coursing through your veins that made you feel a bit brave. Or maybe it was how his arm wrapped around your waist, eyes sparkling even through the darkness, that made you agree. Regardless of the true culprit, you found yourself shucking your clothes off and running naked off the pier and into the water.

Neither of you accounted for the water being so cold. Matt’s teeth chatter similar to yours as he swims closer to you, angrily murmuring about the temperature. The giggles that escape you don’t help his mood. He starts to swim off but you grab him by the arm, wrapping your legs around his waist.

As you lean in to kiss him, your bare breasts press against his chest. You feel him suck in a breath and hold it when you tighten your legs around him, trying to maintain some self control. Smirking against his mouth, you drag your tongue across his bottom lip, and you feel the hands that were hesitantly on your waist shoot to your hips.

“Warm enough, yet?”

Matt blows out the air he was holding as he laughs. The open mouth kisses you leave across his jaw have his head tilting to the side so you have more access. You decide to test the waters, teeth scraping across the surface of his neck. He jerks a little, but the fingers now threading through your hair prompt you to continue.

“Yeah,” He finally responds in a breathy laugh. “Yeah—I, um… I’m definitely warm now.” His fingers flex into the meat of your hips, fingernails scraping against the skin. The hand in your hair pulls you off of his neck and kisses you harshly, tongue exploring your mouth. He squeezes you tight around him, pressing his erection into you. There’s no insistence behind it—he seems perfectly content rocking his hips slowly against you. Every gasp and mewl that leaves your lips is quickly devoured by his mouth on yours.

It’s comical, you think, how confident you were that you wouldn’t meet someone on this trip. You planned to enjoy your Fourth of July week with as much alcohol, sun, and alone time as you could get. Then, day one, Matt Dierkes comes along and ruins your plans in the best way—now you’ve spent every minute of the past four days together.

It was made known on day two when you would be leaving. He learned you lived several hours away, while you learned this was a regular getaway spot for him—his house being less than an hour from the campgrounds. He toured frequently with the band and wasn’t home that often. It wasn’t an issue. You’d spend some time together, maybe get laid, then move on with your life.

Except it became so much more than that.

Matt was kind. Kinder than you’d ever experienced. He held your hand everywhere you walked, thumb caressing the back of your hand like it did the first time you hung out. He took a genuine interest in your life and what you enjoyed doing for fun—and was so god damn adorable talking emphatically about his own interests.

The reality that you would ultimately have to leave him in a few short days loomed over you. The closer the day came the more the tension in the air thickened. You tried not to let it bother you, but there would be times where you would catch him staring at you—a somber look that screamed “please stay” but the plea was never spoken out loud.

It all hits you so fast and nearly knocks the breath out of you. The hands roaming your body, lips covering every inch of exposed skin, and the beautiful eyes that peer up at you like you’re heaven sent are all temporary. Somehow, losing a man that you’ve known for less than a week feels more devastating than the one you knew for three years.

Matt stops what he’s doing as your face contorts and immediately gives you space. He pulls you further up his torso and moves his hands back to your waist, stroking your back as he places your foreheads together. There’s no third degree, no sign of disappointment in his face. You think that somehow he knows exactly what is bothering you.

“Are you sure you have to leave on Friday?” He asks, as if you needed the reminder. The sadness in his voice is evident and you’re pretty sure ripping your heart out would be less painful. Your emotions overwhelm you so you nod meekly, afraid of your voice betraying you. Matt presses a kiss to your lips, whispering that it will be okay—that he’ll do what he can to make it work, and you think you believe him.

There was a plan set for tonight. A perfectly laid out plan:

Take the dogs for their nightly walk.

Have dinner.

Go watch the fireworks on the lake.

Easy.

The dogs got their walk. You were on time to go to dinner, but when you came out of the bathroom in a yellow floral sundress that hit just at the right spot below your knees, Matt's eyes darkened. He pulled you in by the waist and skirted his hands up your thighs. He kissed your stomach over the cotton fabric of the dress and when his fingers brushed over your already wet aching core, plans were instantly changed.

You did get to see the fireworks, kind of. From the window of the cabin—the one behind the bed that Matt had you on as he slid his cock in and out of you so agonizingly slow you thought you might crumble into a million pieces. Somewhere between rounds, you lost track of time. Each push inside of you reminds you that you’re spent but you can’t find it in yourself to care. As long as you’re with him, you’ll happily stay in this bed for eternity.

Matt picks up on it, though. The way your body shakes beneath him. How desperate your whines have become. You’ve been so good for him—cum so many times for him—he can’t believe you’re real and you’re his. Even if he can’t make it work after tonight. You’re his for now.

“I know it, honey,” He soothes you, softly kissing your collarbone. “I just want to remember every inch of you.” He slows his pace to a near stop and the sob that tears through you makes his brain go numb. You’re making that sound for him. For his cock. He buries his face in your neck, trying to will the throbbing away.

“Baby,” You pant, threading your hand in his blonde locks. “Please, please move.” The way you arch into him forces a groan from the back of his throat.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Matt whispers, kissing behind your ear.

“You won’t, need to feel you,” As your body writhes underneath him, he breaks—pulling out of you and flipping you over in one swift motion. He smacks and grabs your ass, kneading the plump flesh with his palms. He gives you a few more good smacks before he’s kissing and marking up your back.

“Get on your knees for me, baby,” He requests, but he’s already got his hands on your hips pulling you up to meet him. You feel his cock at your entrance and he doesn’t ease into you this time. The stretch and the ache hurts in the best way—you beg him to move faster.

If there was ever a moment that you wished you had eyes in the back of your head, it would be now. The vulgar noises Matt makes as he thrusts into you are so intoxicating you have to see his face. The reflection of him in the window gives you minimal help and the sheer force of his hips against yours make it more difficult to maneuver around… but you have to see his face.

When you turn and see him, he’s glistening with sweat— eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. His jaw muscles are clenched so tight they’re bound to snap any second. His eyes stay fixed on where the two of you are connected and you wish you could see it too.

Matt catches you staring and leans over, wrapping a large hand around your throat and pulling you against his chest. His hand stays only to keep you against him, the other slithering around to your center to circle your clit. He sinks deeper into you, so deep it feels impossible—hitting the perfect spot each time.

He recites the sweetest filth in your ear, every part of him working ardently to chase both of your highs. When you reach yours the dam breaks—the hold he has on you being the only thing that keeps you from collapsing into the bed as your legs give out. Matt twitches inside of you, filling you to the brim.

He guides the two of you back down to the mattress on your sides, your back held tightly against his chest. Aside from your heavy breathing and the fireworks in the distance, it’s completely quiet. He remains inside of you, unwilling to part from you for a second. You fall asleep like this—with him softening inside of you—and pray the morning arrives a lot slower than it normally does.

You’re awake long before he is. The desire to turn in his arms to admire him as he sleeps makes you ache. He’s sleeping so soundly you can’t bring yourself to disturb him. He softly snores into the crook of your neck, still holding you in the same position that you fell asleep in.

When he wakes up, he litters your neck and cheek with kisses. He doesn’t move from his spot, though—just tugs you even closer. He’s hard between your legs but makes no effort to remedy it. There’s no conversation. No tears. You stay slotted together until you’re dangerously late to leave.

Matt helps you pack your luggage and the car. He refuses to let the girls put their own bags in the trunk and if he had it his way, they wouldn't have carried it out of the cabin either.

“You have some stubborn friends,” He gripes, playing tetris with the last couple of bags.

“Independent is the word I think you’re looking for.” You smiled at him.

The two of you head back to your own cabin—the one you barely spent five minutes in the whole week. You wanted to do one last sweep of the place to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything. Matt sits on the edge of one of the beds, quietly watching you. You ask him if he’s seen your sunglasses but he ignores the question.

“What if I don’t let you go?” Matt blurts out. Thinking he’s joking you laugh, but when you turn to look at him, he’s completely serious. “What if—ah, fuck—what if you tell your friends to leave without you? You call your boss at that stupid job you hate and tell him to go to hell. And you stayed.”

“Matt..”

“I know it’s fucked. We just met. If anyone else did this I’d call them a damn idiot but..” He pauses, lifting his hat to card a hand through his hair before placing it back. “There’s something between us. I don’t know what to call it yet, but I can’t stand the thought of you taking off and never finding out.”

“Matt, this all sounds wonderful but it’s not that easy. I have to work. I need a place to stay. I can’t just drop everything to stay here.”

Matt looks at you bewildered. “I know I just spouted out a lot at once but which part of what I said makes you think I’m not going to take care of you?”

All of the air is immediately sucked out of your lungs. You stand in front of him, staring like a deer caught in the headlights. Matt’s right, this is fucked. You just met. It would be insane to do this. This whole trip was to get over a relationship, not start a new one. Meeting Matt was not part of the plan! Yet—

What if it was?

“I was thinking—” Matt interrupts your thoughts. “I was hoping that you would stay with me. I have a house. It’s nothing special but I have a spare bedroom you can have if you’re not comfortable sleeping with me, yet.”

He closes the space between you, smiling as he takes your hand.

“A job I can help with too. You can come on tour with us and be our merch girl. Steve desperately needs help at the merch table,” He leans in and whispers as if there’s anyone else in the room that could hear you. “If you ever tell him I said that I’ll call you a liar.”

You slap his arm playfully as you laugh together. He takes your face in his hands kissing you through your giggles. You circle your arms around him and lay your head on his chest sighing. There’s so much to consider in a short time. The thought of uprooting your whole life to take a chance like this—it all seems impossible. The fear of leaving and never finding out, however, was devastating.

“If you’re not ready for all of this, I understand,” He confesses. “I still would like to keep in touch with you. See you when I’m not touring.”

The horn honks outside and your world closes in on you. Going home would be the safest option. You have a job, a home, friends, stability. You also hate that job, live in a townhome that holds nothing but bad memories for you, and have friends who are more worried about their tan than their friends’ wellbeing.

Staying with Matt meant taking risks. Traveling the world with people you barely know. A completely new job. Living in a tour bus and hotels for an unknown amount of time. You’re used to stability. There is nothing stable about this option.

Somewhere deep inside a new version of you creeps out and screams, “Fuck stability.”

Staying with Matt meant traveling the world. Making new friends. Friends that he’s spent the last week raving about and how much they’d love you. Learning a completely new job that sounds so much better than the crap office job you have. Being crammed in a tour bus or a hotel room is better than being reminded of a failed relationship day in and day out—not to mention being alone.

And the best part? You’ll have Matt.

The dread that covers his face when you shift to look at him turns to hope when he sees you grinning at him. He searches your face excitedly, eagerly awaiting for you to say something. You stand on your tiptoes, kissing the bridge of his nose, which he promptly scrunches. You think you can get used to this.

#matt dierkes x reader #matt dierkes fanfiction #matt dierkes fanfic #matt dierkes fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic #matt dierkes smut #matt dierkes fluff #matt dierkes angst #circ's fics

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sinnomel · 2 years ago

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Absolutely Peachy

Pairing: Gale x f!Tav

Summary: Tav and Gale's conversation after Elminster's visit goes great. Slight angst but it ends cute imo.

A/N: First post breaking my very long writing hiatus to write about Gale because there aren't enough fics. Let me know if you'd like more one shots cause I think the world needs more Gale ( ´ ▿ ` ) - Sin

There was nothing in this world that could’ve prepared Tav for the surprise encounter with Elminster. She was hoping that she could meet the esteemed wizard under happier circumstances, perhaps when this damned tadpole was out from between her eyes, attempting to command the helm that is her brain.

The wise old man was jolly at first, introducing himself to the rest of the group, reprimanding Gale for his lack of decorum and grace. Tav thought nothing of it, inviting the elder to their camp, despite Gale’s scowl, awaiting for Elminster’s true reason for appearing before them in the shadow lands.

However, after the food and wine, Elminster’s visage seemed less friendly, less warm. His words were cold, concise, and fatal. Gale was to gain Mystra’s forgiveness on one condition - he was to essentially explode, destroying the curse within him and everything in a large surrounding area. It could rid them of the Absolute, of course. It could bring death to a lot of people if he decided to do this in or near Baldur’s Gate. Usually, this would be a decision that the group would push past, finding the cure for the tadpoles being their priority as the clock was ticking on them becoming mindflayers. However, this revelation had Tav’s heart sinking to the ground below her.

Tav had become particularly close to Gale, finding her feeling solidified after spending time with him in between camping and the battlefield. A complete accident on her part. There was something charming about the man’s rants, how his eyes lit up explaining the Weave, talking about his cat and how he would spend his days rummaging through the literature that covered the walls of his tower in Waterdeep. Tav never intended to fall for Gale, yet here she was.

It was clear as day what her thoughts on the matter were, as Gale had asked if everything was alright once Elminster and everyone else had retired to their respective tents and bedrolls. Tav was beside herself, “Am I alright? Absolutely peachy Gale.” Gale’s eyes held a hint of sadness as she continued. “I’m definitely alright. I’m wonderful knowing that Mystra herself has offered you forgiveness but only under the guise of the afterlife,” she spat. “Tav. I understand your frustration. Trust me, I too am frustrated with Mystra. But I can no longer satiate the hunger of the Orb that rests inside of me. There is nothing that I can do. This is my fate,” he explained, his hand twitching, as if involuntarily reaching out for her hand but stopping himself because she’s upset. He can only assume that his touch would only lead to more anger and hurt. If only he knew how much Tav yearned for his touch, how much she would fantasize it under the stars, sometimes without her knowing how she got to that topic of thinking.

“Since when have we ever listened to fate?” Tav asked, her gaze off towards the right where the water seemed to stand still and the only sound accompanying them was the soft crackle of the makeshift fire off towards the center of camp. “We have tadpoles that threaten our very existence. Every hour that passes, we teeter on the brink of becoming mind flayers. How long have we traveled together and not a single tentacle has sprouted?” she asked. Tav was breathing heavy, the conversation weighing on her physically. She couldn’t comprehend why he was giving in to this demand - his life was on the line and would he so easily throw it away? However, in that instance, Tav realized that this is coming from a selfish place. In this moment, Tav realized that the reason she was so uncharacteristically upset about Gale throwing his life away for the sake of Mystra’s forgiveness and to satiate the Orb maintaining its nest in his chest is because she has grown to love the wizard of Waterdeep.

Perhaps her eyes had given Gale indication that she had realized something, as he asked “Tav, what’s-“ “Do not ask me what is wrong Gale. I fear I realized something a bit too late. I do not wish to talk about it right now…it isn’t appropriate.” “Is it about me?” He intercepted.

Tav stumbled and said nothing. Her gaze was now on the dirt ground, her heart pounding out of her rib cage. She was silent for a beat, but Gale was patient. If she was willing to speak, he was more than willing to listen - it would be ironic if she listened to his rambling and he couldn’t do the same. Tav, despite just saying that she didn’t wish to speak on the matter, could not stop herself.

“I’m acting out of emotion rather than logic, Gale,” Tav started. Her eyes slowly made her way up to his own brown ones, making this conversation harder. She could feel her heart changing rhythm upon meeting his gaze, how her body yearned to be held in his embrace in this moment, how she craved a chaste kiss.

Gale seemed to put two and two together, or rather, what he thought was two and two.

“I know this seems very obscene and I may never be granted forgiveness. Trust me, I don’t wish to die. But Mystra wants to rid the world of the Absolute. My demise might very well be the only thing that could stop-“

“I love you.”

Gale was taken aback and fell silent, completely off guard by the three sweet words he would often dream of hearing from Tav’s lips. Perhaps he had imagined it? He dared ask, hoping his imagination, or the amalgamation of his heart beating so thunderously in his chest wouldn’t disrupt the orb.

“Pardon?” Gale asked, his eyebrows furrowed as he took a step toward her. “I love you Gale. I don’t want you to succumb to that entitled goddess for my own selfish reasons,” Tav started, unable to stop her words from coming out. If not now, she felt, when? Who knew when Gale would just decide to commit to Mystra’s possible false promises.

“There is always another way. We’ve constantly found alternatives to problems. Please…don’t go through with this. Do you not wish to live?” the appointed leader of the group asked the man before her. She could feel the warm accumulation of tears threatening to pour over the edge of her tear ducts, the shakiness of her breath not helping her.

Gale was speechless. He didn’t know what to do. He always painted this picture of how he wanted to profess his love to Tav - a beautiful sunset in Waterdeep whilst both of them spent the hours in his tower, two glasses of wine served out for them and Tara, his cat in his company, along with the countless books he seems to have. The piano would play songs from their travels to incite conversation of nostalgia, how they felt in those moments, laughing about their perilous travels. And when the sun hit the golden hour, the sky would be adorned with pink, orange and purple clouds, he would place his forehead on hers, his gaze focused on her soft lips and utter…

“I love you.”

But they were here, in this camp, the conditions of his profession of love not met. Perhaps this was how it was supposed to be because he wouldn’t make it back to Waterdeep. Perhaps he won't live past a couple nights from now.

“Gale…Say something,” Tav said, her voice cracking, two tears escaping their captivity, trailing down her cheeks. Gale couldn’t think of any words. Instead he chose to react, slowly closing the space between them. His hands made their way up to her cheeks, softly wiping away the stray tears. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was torn. He very badly wanted to rid himself of the Orb and obtain Mystra’s forgiveness, but on the other, he had Tav, who had seemingly loved him unconditionally. None of his magic was necessary to woo her. Not his history of being a prodigy of magic, not his mastery of spells, not his conduction of the weave. Just him.

Gale couldn’t help but close the space between himself and Tav, placing a soft kiss upon her lips. In this moment, he forgot all about Mystra and her empty promises, the orb, all of it. All that occupied his mind was Tav and how soft her lips felt against his own. He pulled away, staying close.

“I love you too.”

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale x tav #gale bg3 #gale x reader #bg3 fanfiction #gale dekarios x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #Tav

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a-maru-writesback · 15 hours ago

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Third time's the charm

(A Zayne Collection. 2 from my old blog and one new. You can read it as the same protagonist in different contexts or different protag altogether, as a sort of parallel universe. Each has a happy ending <3)

In it you'll find: The kind healer; wouldn't you agree, doctor Zayne?; Zayne finally confesses.

Warning: NSFW, MDNI, feelings

The kind healer

She sat beside the diligent man, a book in hands; the weight of it making the spine of the book lean on her lap. She had a beautiful embroided dress - gifted from the village she came from on the day she said yes to the same man sitting by her. There were hints of burgundy against the baby blue fabric; it was the piece she cherished the most, after her wedding attire; the laces were arranged in tight braids and decorated her shoulders and hips. They were what stood out from the rather lack of color and texture of the over all piece, but it had costed the seamstresses hours and hours to finish; so, she cherished it the most. It hugged her while leaving room for breathing and movement - both rather necessary in her daily busy routine. The angles ended in U shapes that represented her newfound status. She wore her attire with a certain frequency, as its keeping was easy due to the lightness of the fabric; perhaps that was why it flew past Zayne’s head on every occurance.

His eyes never left the endless sheets of medical reports; only occasionaly closing as to blink the tiredness away. The kindhearted North capital healer, Mr. Li - as everyone knew him by. Zayne with vivid green eyes that turned away from her first thing in the morning - as she knew him by. His eyes scanned every word as if drinking a different sort of nectar, inaccessible to her ignorant mind. But not once did he pay attention to her own scanning of words; words coated in an altogether different nectar. One that like honey stuck to her fingers right after she felt the deepest parts of her womanhood in all the lonely nights she felt the odd burning in her lower stomach and the nuisance between her legs.

He read like this every night; all throughout the day, only stopping his unstopable quest for knowledge when she shook his heavy-clothed shoulder softly, her calloused hand announcing lunch; and even then, he would dismiss her call, explaining he would have something to eat later. Without sparing more than a glance at her standing form. All that food in perfectly arranged logic now sat abandoned. She had started eating by herself - as usual. However, this time she had a strange urge to stand from this miserable table and destroy that perfect little logic. She wanted to set her arms free from her usual composed state and send every bowl, dish, glass and silverware flying to the tiles she so carefully scrubbed on Wednesdays and Fridays.

Words were lost to her; the characters’ lovemaking was lost to her; her mind was elsewhere, but there she was, appearing calm as ever. She sat there reading, but could feel a boiling anger and a bubbling loneliness rising; evaporating in tears that she tried to hide. Because no matter how much of his attention he devoted to his research; he could never ignore her pain. And she truly did try to hide, but the burning and the yearning and the wetness was too much for her to handle. With a dry sob, almost as low as a balckbirds’ twindle, she dropped the book and got out of the room. Her low heels made close to no sound as she escaped that study; trying to set as much distance from herself as possible.

Her legs seemed to know the direction better than her mind; perhaps guided by a desire in her heart. Whatever the reason for the current destination, she found herself heaving, grasping for air that refused to enter her lungs. With a clutched hand to her chest she bent, noticing how her hair had fallen from the careful routine bun - the same her mother had taught her when she was no more than ten and dreamed of seeing more than the vastness of the Southern dry lands. Sweat and tears mingled as she fought to steady her breathing.

Her notion of time was off, she could sense it by the echoed warbling of the Mountain Bluebird in the back of the property; the first hours of dawn had long passed. The frogs that always hopped to and fro seemed disappointed at the scene and were hiding from the lovely lake that was her favorite spot to unwind. A sick pit formed in her stomach - what had gotten into her; to storm out of her own house like that? Her own house, the one she put hard work into keeping at pristine condition - so much so, that Zayne’s mentor, the old healer, Mr. Noah would sit in the armchair on the side of hers and praise her care. He would say things she wished come out of her husband’s mouth. Her husband, her house. But was it her love, her home?

As she felt a bad taste on her mouth, she remembered the book, left open in her hush. “I’m tired of it”, she uttered between intakes of air.

It was not the concern for time and decency that had the healer looking up from his hunched position to witness his wife making a run for the back door near the kitchen cupboards. It was not curiosity for the reason that would make her behave in such a manner; in fact, it was his awareness of her unique condition. A fragile heart like the glass that held the pure white of the jasmines he sttubornly tried to keep alive and well-cared for. He had collected this one in the Southern regions; where he had picked up the habit of knowing all there was to know about the pretty flower. Yet, it wilthered every time; no matter if he regularly watered it in the right amount and took care as not to expose it to excessive sunlight. What could a fragile plant need to thrive? He was clueless.

What truly made him set a quick pace in search for his wife was the threat of her worsening; a wilthering that would deeply wound his pride as a healer - he kept telling himself so. The navy blue of his pants matched the one of his heavy blouse; the rustling showed his fastening pace. The bluebird ate a small yellowy fruit and then dropped it to fly away.

Not long after he made his way out, he saw a light blue shape crouched near the flowery lake. It was a bountiful spring that had brought much color to the sides of the pond; and as he got closer, the colors complemented her attire. He got to her level and inquired in a hushed tone whether she was fine. The lack of response made him look closer and notice her clutched hand. Right above the heart; the ever fragile heart. That seemed to put the healer on high alert, and he rushed to tell her to lay down and allow him to ascertain her condition. ‘Has it worsened, or is it just a sudden peak?’ He professionaly thought. Yet the small frown in his forehead felt detached from the usual cold façade of his.

Her breathing was rapidly normalizing, and her pained expression fading with the Spring breeze.

He took her body into his arms and walked back to the house. The entire time, he focused on the path ahead, slightly rocky - it was a surprised she had not tumbled in her haste. Crossing the back entrance, he made his way to the bedroom they would share on nights he could not physically nor mentally go on with his research. The room which walls sometimes carried a fragrance still unknown to him; sweet and inviting. Something his instincts recognized somehow, judging by the warmth that set in his lower belly. Usually a couple of slow breaths would be enough to settle himself and he would face a tormented sleep. Other times, it was absolutely unbearable and he had to visit the bathroom and take care of a very bulging problem.

Her face was hidden on a fold of his large blouse, her breathing steadier; she was like a burning pan. When she felt his arms releasing her frame onto the bed and setting the pillows, she turned away, to stare at the nightstand. “you know you shouldn’t make unnecessary efforts”, his voice bored a hole in her heart. She replayed the word unnecessary in her mind; each time it got bigger and bigger. Until it swallow her reason and she shouted at the air “I’m tired of it!”

It was a blurt of words like regurgitation, it felt good to get it out of her system, but the taste afterwards was bitter.

He stood there, bent middair as he arranged the pillows; his eyes now nowehere but on her face. His mind was fogged, the healer was out of words to say.

His logic ressurfaced, scampering to find a question that would reveal the truth behind all of this strange happening, whys and whats crossed his mind - as he thought back to his patients. However, he did not come up with any satisfactory inquiry. He was so good at this; why couldn’t he make out the question to get to the heart of the problem, so he could treat it?

The heart of the problem, he thought to be the fragile heart of hers.

She was frozen too. Much too afraid of his reaction towards her utterance. She was now looking at him as well. What would he be thinking, with that confused stare and that deep frown. Would he not want her in this house anymore? Was he considering returning her to the village so she could learn her place - and, Gods, be shamed as the wife who could not keep her marriage standing.

His heart. He felt it beating, raging at his ears.

She opened her mouth to utter an apology, half-expecting him to just forget everything and go back to his important, necessary work.

Had she not been sleeping well? Was she in pain? Was his wife suffering? And because of what; what was ‘it’ that she was tired from? Her housework? Her books? Him?

She was looking at him; but at the same time, she was looking beyond him. Just what was written in her eyes? Couldn’t he, a polyglot, an academic, a healer, read his own wife?

Her hands covered her mouth, and uncovered it; in a repeated motion. Should she apologize in a formal way, or in an informal way? Could she even pronounce the right words to sound well-spoken in front of him?

She then said the only words she knew when we want to apologize for not being a good person, “I’m sorry”.

He heard it; and his lips curled downwards.

'O, Gods, it is coming!' She thought with desperation. Her eyes bulging, and her movements of covering and uncovering, now, frantic. Suddenly she forgot how to breath.

What came were not words, were not distant glances. It was the healer’s unexperienced lips crashing on to hers.

The racing mind, the beating heart; all of it made him question his actions; his sanity.

Still, he let himself be taken by that new feeling. A texture he could not have put words to so new it was. It was not only a plump, warm and nice feel. It was not smooth like ice or velvety like plums either. What was it? It was soft, yes; and...

Her eyes shot open, impossibly open upon his action. She experienced this touch for the first time. A succulent touch, scorching after a day under the sun. A hot summer day when she could practically taste life blooming.

She knew it now. And she moved her hand to the nape of his neck, right where the ponytail started; she pushed it out of the way and felt his skin; hot under the hair and the heavy attire. She liked how close he felt. For the first time.

His brain melted; and alongside the puddle took all rationality; the moment her warm hands rested on his nape, he shut off completely. And could only think of drawing closer and closer until she and him were consumed.

Her own questions had been expurgated from her system. She sought only more of that euphoria.

He understood her need somehow, and followed what his body demanded - not his intelligence.

His weight worked a cage, or an all-encompassing blanket, on top of her. But she did not feel trapped by it.

She worked a cage of her own, letting her arms fully embrace his neck now.

All the doubts turned into a passionate energy that drove both to seek treasures, first-time explorers as their tongues dance an awkward dance. Not knowing why it felt so rewarding to be tangling her tongue with his, she continued.

He kept going as well, beginning to feel a similar heat in his groins as he had felt as the nightly memories come back to him. That fragrance, he realized the source of it was her. The most intimate part of her.

And so she realized why it felt so rewarding. He was giving her his full attention.

Her body invited his like when she invited her fingers.

And he accepted the invitation, moving in a grinding fashion, seeking the closeness. The motion did things to him he never thought possible. His nights have never provided him that intense feeling of belonging.

And then, it dawned on him. This was his wife. The woman he set his eyes on in one of his many field trips. The one who had smiled at him with sweet summer lips. As he kissed her, he realized, the texture was succulent. She was not one of his patients. She was his wife. His wife! He felt foolish, and broke off the kiss.

She was caught by surprise, she could still feel the ghost sensation hovering.

He was ashamed.

She saw a new emotion. Was it embarrassment? No, it felt more powerful. Was it shame?

And before his own rationality would interfere with pesky rational thoughts, he confessed “I’m sorry”.

Overwriting her own words with his; he had wanted to say he was sorry for putting so much work on her shoulders, for not paying attention to her beautiful attire, for not sitting at the table, for not keeping her company at night. For not being there for her...

Yet, she nodded. And kissed him fiercely.

─── ❄️☃️❄️ ───

Wouldn’t you agree, doctor Zayne?

“You can touch them if you want” she said, looking at the exhausted doctor with up and down deliberate glances. His hands were busy filling the patient’s report - the last of the night. And she had been waiting to leave with him since eight, perhaps extend the night with a nice, professional, friendly table for two in her apartment, maybe with the recently bought maple-scented candles and a nice glass of red wine.

Marking her beautiful eyes, he could see some signs of her terrible sleeping schedule. Leaning on the table, she looked at his hazel eyes with softness. He adored her, and loved how easy it felt being around her, as her friend. Noticing he made no movement, she rested her weight on the table, laying her head on top of her bicep - never losing sight of him. “Aren’t you tired of this… restraint, doctor Zayne?” She smiled, her eyes fluttering shut for a second as her brow relaxed further, sighing in a soft manner. Everything about her seemed soft tonight - no, it had always been so...

He pinched his nose for a second, in a habit she knew well - her poor, overworked darl-doctor.

She had no idea how done he was - done pretending, done holding back, done allowing her to be the only one showing affection so freely. But his protective nature did not allow him to recreate that fear in her eyes - it still consumed him. That afternoon still haunted his nightmares.

So, he tried to relax and kept busying his hands and mind with work - until he noticed her idly playing with one of his pens. She was a good hunter, with good hands; the pen danced across her fingers, perfectly landing after each spin, and Zayne wondered who had taught her that trick…

Yet, his eyes would ocasionally land on them; her now squashed breasts, protected by a low cover with a v cut. He swallowed dryly. He had to force his eyes back to that numbing screen. A sting made him force his orbs shut with a frown to his fluffy brows.

Without him realizing, she watched him with short, quick glances. The trick brought his attention back to her, and she remembered how it must have worked on her as Caleb’s fingers moved in an almost hypnotic way ‘of course I can teach you, pipsqueak’, he had that proud, boyish smile as her first attempts resulted in huge, amusing failures; she missed Skyhaven.

The leaning woman brought the pen closer to her chest, pretending to admire the heavy black shiny material; it must have been an expensive pen - then her nimble fingers brought it even closer and now it rested in the valley of her breasts.

She blushed as she looked up, expecting to see his eyes. But doctor Zayne was like a immovable mountain - one covered in thick snow.

The woman was getting frustrated, tired of being so open and him so closed off. She stirred, her body lifting itself from the table. The pen had slipped and nestled on the hem of her skirt.

Suddenly his eyes looked sternly at her; his fingers mid-typing. Conflict written all over his face, and as she put her hand inside her shirt to pick the long object back, his told her to stop.

She froze like a haze had hit her naked skin in the heavy winter, and she felt a light shiver across her spine. Zayne’s voice had that barely contained command, but his eyes - my god, his eyes were devouring her.

She approached him, one leg in front of the other, slowly and carefully, eyes locked on to his - those wild greens she wanted to never let go of, they reminded her of a tiger ready to tackle its prey and bite its neck deliciously. This time, he did not lose sight of her either - her own dangerous orbs reminded him of his desire and his mistake; his body fell back into the chair as he turned to her. She got closer and closer and closer until they were face to face, her hands trapping him by holding the handle of the chair.

She pressed on the cushion of it, and felt the pen sliding softly, crossing the line between acceptable and unacceptable - and she mused if her own personal trick would work as well as Caleb’s.

He was frozen too. His heartbeat seemed impossibly fast - he was almost afraid it was a sign of something else, but since he only felt the stiffening of a certain lower region and not of his arm, he considered himself somewhat safe. Somewhat, because as he gazed lowered from her breasts, the pen nuzzled against her crotch. The shape was deliciously inviting.

And now doctor Zayne - who had always been a decided man was stuck, lost in his own haze.

She bit her lip upon noticing how lost he looked; no more than a lost cat - it made her want to unleash the little monster that gnawed at her at midnight when she knew the world was asleep. The beast that kissed her inner thighs and made her move the dumb plastic across her lips, down and around her hard nipples, all the way to her stomach and end on her needy sex.

“Won’t you help me out, doctor… my hands are quite busy… and shaky right now. The hands of a surgeon are the most fit for dealing with small stubborn objects, wouldn’t you agree?” She spoke slowly, making sure he captured every sound that came out.

She could feel the pen stuck on the hem of her flimsy underwear.

Zayne wished he could hold on to something and cursed her softly for taking the arm of the chair away from his reach. His breathing was irregular, shallow. He gazed at her and something primal in his brain moved his hands from the crossed position to meet hers, sliding sluggishly up her forearm and bicep, until he reached her shoulders, and then, the back of his hands brushed on her collarbone and adored her body all the way to her hips, where he touched the front, feeling the pen. He swallowed dryly again.

She had soft, round eyes, letting him take his time.

But Zayne could not adore her truly - a god made sure of it. As his heart raced, he began to feel that painful, freezing sensation emerging from his pores; the cold reaching his fingertips and creating small, delicate fractals on her skirt.

If something could break Zayne was this scene, her scared eyes - in his mind, terrified of him -, staring down at his crime again. His hands were now closer to his heart; and the chair had slid a few centimeters away from her standing form.

“You should go and rest.” There was an undeniable panic in his tone - although he still sounded like doctor Zayne.

She was looking down, where he had been; and in her eyes, there was not much light, as her hands mechanically fred the pen from her enclosure. Laying it carefully on the table. Then she glanced from her shoulder, “you too”, her eyes devoided of the previous warmth - yet, still somewhat soft.

Did he deserve that softness?

With the click of the door, the cold felt unbearable. She had been so close to him - and he had lost control again. ‘Why, why, why, must it be this way’, he felt his deep frustration rising like a tsunami. He let out angry tears, pressing his closed palms to his eyes, nearly knocking his glasses off; he did not hold himself back now - no one was watching, so it never hapenned.

It had been so when he handed Josephine’s file... he thought it had gotten better - what a stupid thought, this sort of thing could only be magical thinking, wishful thinking. Maybe he needed to check in with his therapist earlier than scheduled. His eyes and bridge of his nose hurt from the pressing; and he forced himself to blink away the tears.

There, at the table, the pen stared back at him; black as the void. His shaky fingers moved to place it alongside his things on the drawer, yet how could he, that pen contained a part of her now - and that primal part won again; his heart raced once more as he brought it closer to his nose - her scent was light, but undeniably felt like home, brown sugar and vanilla, and something else that was entirely hers. It made him feel terrible, as if he was being a creep, invading her space; but he could not help; Zayne held the pen there for longer. The tears dried, and his thoughts took a different direction. He could not have her, nor have many things that reminded him of her - except for the few gifts. None smelt like her, though. He was quickly reminded of his small problem, as he tried to find a comfortable position on his chair.

No matter how much he attempted to steer his thoughs away from that danger, he could not. And so, doctor Zayne, the stoic doctor, fell for the trap and unzipped his linen pants and dragged his underwear down, feeling himself. His defeat made him even angrier and he gripped his member with his slight thick fingers - making himself jerk forward with the sudden assault, he was too sensitive.

Zayne palmed his hardness furiously until he felt drained, pumping until the last drop of cum, forgetting all about the world, his work and whatever else was out there - all his senses were commited to the image of her body so open and inviting to him; and her scent that he wished to ingrain in his memories like fire. He did not count how many times he had released on his hand - now completely lubricated -, he could only think of unchaining himself from that feeling that he was not allowed to express freely. He begged, nose flaring against the material, and lips puffed, desiring an imaginary kiss. A kiss would surely melt him into a puddle of nothing - he knew. Which is why he only dared to keep things safe in his fantasies; her hips going up and down as she welcomed him home, but he did not dare to imagine other scenario - even in the most private corner of himself - as picturing her soft mouth around his cock would feel too shameful, too below what she should be receiving. If he could wish something for himself, he would ask that she become his goddess, a benevolent; but dangerous deity that would bless him with her mere presence, her mere scent.

He folded as he felt actual pain from rubbing himself too many times, and had to stop; his body forced his hand to drop to his side, and he panted hard. He was on fire, his jaw was locked and his eyes kept losing focus every moment. No one could see him, and yet, he covered the top part of his face with his arm, pressing the glasses onto his nose marking it further against his marble skin.

A frustrated, painful groan came out of him like a needy moan; he felt pathetic, like a teenager seeing his crush for the first time. He did not want to calm down, he wanted to lash out, run after her and confess. Let her take control of him in her car - anything but contain himself again. Yet, he was quickly reminded of his curse, as his cruel brain tortured him again with that recent image, overlapping with the other instances. He wanted to let go, but he simply could not.

So, he did what he had always done, moved on from that moment; hard as it was. And cleaned every trace of his mistake. As the lights were out, he walked off the hospital with his head low, barely acknowledging the few nurses still on duty. In his car, he felt it drop on him again, and his eyes stung. His head went for the wheel, one, two, three times until his rationality took hold of him and prevented him from making any harsher moves. He remembered her words ‘restraint’, and wished he could say he would change. However, the strings that held him back felt more like heavy chains. It was pure muscle memory that drove him back home. His cold and lonely home; or should he say house?

He left his bag and dark coat on the usual spots and put himself under the shower; a quick, steamy shower. He knew steaming showers were bad all around, but tonight, he needed to be anything but himself - or he might actually lose himself.

His bed was perfectly made; and he walked in fast strides towards it, throwing the blankets off and lying with his wet hair on the remaining pillow. He felt it drench the soft material under him - soft as her... no, she was softer. Usually, Zayne would meditate about next day’s tasks, but right now he only tossed and turned, unable to forget her body, the way it felt as he touched her. His delicate yet sharp features in a tortured expression, small folds on his nose and forehead. He had nothing left in him, yet, as drowsiness took him, he could still feel everything. Her eyes watching him, soft, then seducing, and ending downcast. His sleep was plagued by images of her. And his curse. She had become an ice medusa who trapped him in her stare; and his heart clenched upon looking at the spike of ice that pierced her neck.

She was forever stuck in an expression of fear and pain.

As morning came, Zayne went straight to the bathroom, feeling as if he had swallowed that same void; something wrong with him. He stepped into the shower and let the cold water circle him. Cold, cold, cold. He opened his eyes and stared at his feet. His hazel eyes whispered distance, cold and loneliness; a round vulnerability he never dared to show anyone - not even her.

He was late. But no one questioned him, only Greyson who gave him a brief overview of a new patient that had arrived. And they discussed quickly about the best course of action, it helped Zayne to come back to his role, but nothing could truly erase her from his memory. The day was like a smudged painting. A quick meal helps him survive the rest of his duties, and Zayne is for the first time in long anxious to leave his workspace; to go back to his house and just-

He stopped mid-step, his hands trying to stay warm in the white coat, but failing, as his nerves got the best of the stoic doctor. It only gets worse as he locks on a very delicate figure, he did not even realise he was heading to the entrance of the hospital, when someone calls for him in a low voice. Zayne would know that small crack, that light croakiness, the sweet melody of her voice anywhere. And even if he went deaf, he supposed, if she whispered his name close enough to him, his skin would recognize it.

She had worry in her eyes, and as she approached him, it only increased, “are you-?”

He signals for her, with his extended arms, “come.”

Was he prepared to face her? What would he even-

She brought him back, “we need to talk-”, she looked at everywhere but him, “I’m really sorry for my behavior last night... I-”, she felt the words choking her just how she would often imagine her hands choking that pretty neck of his-

“It’s not something to be sorry for.” He proclaims, and notices the disappointment in her frown.

She cleared her throat, expelling the naughty thoughts that seemed to cling to her nerves. She was afraid they would make her do something careless like previously, and make him ashamed of calling her his patient, his friend.

“Of course it is, Zayne. I know about us... about your evol, and still, I keep insisting in causing it to go haywire... I don’t wanna hurt you...”

Hurt him? He stared at her in disbelief, his mouth hanging slightly open, “you couldn’t possibly... hurt me.”

She looked at him furious now, “of course I could... It’s painful, isn’t it?” She approached him carefully, lacking the danger of a confident beast she had showcased last night, the double meaning was written in her tone. “Sometimes, I swear I see you in a throne of ice... and you look so... wounded and defeated... and lonely”, she sounded far away from his office, her voice echoing in the cold walls of a tower.

Zayne blinked quickly, trying to wake up from some reverie; he knew what she meant, he often had the same vision... alongside a dreadful dream of a man in black coat. Someone opposite to him. Would that version of himself be braver?

“I’m the only who should be apologizing”, he finally said after a long sigh, “if I’m being honest, I think you already have an idea of me... and I can’t deny that’s probably true”, he tried his best not to let on how much this weighed on him, “I am a coward.”

She stood, her thumb in between her lips, not quite bitting, “I never-”; but Zayne was not finished, “I know I am, and I also know I’ve been feeding your hopes with all the talk of our past, and how I miss it.”

She dreaded his next words; the woman felt her soul crushing again, Zayne was going to reject her; he was going to rub it in her face that they were just friends, that he was her doctor, that she was just a girl he had helped in the past, the they could not possibly be... anything.

As he stood, she thought she could not be more afraid of a moment in her entire life, things her brain did not dare to recall, Caleb’s disappearance, the loss; this felt almost as scary.

Yet, he took that hand in his and held it in his cooling touch - as he turned it up, a beautiful and simple jasmyne formed the the shell of her hand -; the gesture brought a strangely nostalgic feeling alongside a smile to her anxious lips.

“You’ve been honest and straightforward with me, always”, the flower still danced on her palm, “and I’ve let you down in this aspect”, he folded her palm with his, the icy feeling went away, and only his nice warmth remained, “it’s about time I cleared myself up...”

She waited patiently for him, her lips trembling from time to time; “if you still wish to listen, I’d love to try and be honest” he said.

Zayne’s calm voice always had a soothing effect on her, he seemed ethereal, like nothing ever got to him; but now she was not so sure. He had questioned her a few times in the café ‘do you really think I don’t feel anything?’ And it never occured to the woman that perhaps he was trying to soften the way she looked at him - he was not always stoic and distant, Zayne was human too - and as obvious as this seems, sometimes it was easy to forget this simple fact.

He still had her hand in his “do you want to have dinner with me?” His voice came low, still testing the waters.

Her smile came back, “of course, Zayne.”

─── ❄️☃️❄️ ───

Zayne finally confesses

“Wait!” His strained voice did nothing to prevent the woman in black mini skirt from leaving.

The breeze outside was too cold for her to be roaming with that outfit.

Zayne took long strides and held her arm in a strong grip, effectively stopping her; but also ruining her balanced strides in the black heels. It complemented her tanned complexion quite well. “Sorry”, he muttered as her fiery brown eyes shot holes on his face. His lips quivered, he wanted to say something else, anything that would make her stay.

But she beat him to it; she always did, “you’re not my boyfriend, Zayne. Don’t try to tell me what I can or cannot do!” She spat between her teeth; the imperfect line of teeth that could bite his heart out.

“It wasn’t-“, he started; but a sudden jerk of her arm interrupted his sentence.

“Oh, I know all about it, Zayne. You always mean well… but just don’t!” Her fists were sealed, the knuckles losing some of their pigmentation as her frustration seeped through the seams. Her eyes avoiding his, the frown growing impossibly deeper, creating ridges where once there was a smooth surface covered by a slight sheen that he had no clue where it came from. “Not today. Today, I want to have a night out, get drunk, fuck some random guy and sleep like a log.”

His eyes shot open; her brash words had caught him off guard, “what? You can't be serious!”

There it was again, her eyes shooting arrows, bullets and missiles at him, “and who’s gonna stop me?” The words left her open mouth as more than a threat; it was a promise. No one would stop her.

“You need to take care of yourself. Your last report had a spike in-“ he stammered; unable to stop the words from urgently flowing through his thin lips.

“So what! If I die I’ll be back anyway, right? They made sure of it!” Tears fell as she shouted.

Passersby watched the scene in silent judgment; Zayne could only focus his attention on the shiver that crossed her shoulders at the very end of her words.

“That doesn’t give you the right to waste yourself…”

It seemed to be the last straw, as she physically shook him by the shoulders. Not enough to throw his balance; but enough to make his arm retreat.

“Are you taking this away too? Don’t I have the right over my body, my soul? What else do you want from me?” Her glance was beyond him; as if she was shouting at someone above him.

“This is the closest thing I have to dying. If you’ve seen how these men treat me, Zaynie, you’d understand… I need it; it’s my only rest.”

She no longer sounded angry; only weakened by some invisible weight. Her words stabbed his heart in a way no ice shard could.

“I’m... sorry. I know I’m not the best at this… but I want to be. I want to help you in any way I can. I want to love you in any way I can…” his hazel eyes locked in her shocked ones. He saw himself amidst a haze of tears.

“What did you just say?” A hiccup was the only remnant of her crying; she was now hugging herself.

“I said I love you.” He did not falter. Those words had been choking him since the first time they met after all those years; it kept him awake as his days flew by in med school; and every day in his office. And only now seemed to have enough power to surface through years of repressed feelings. The box was open, “I’ve always had you on my mind; sometimes, I could barely sleep thinking how you were; where you were and if you had someone… I wanted to let you know sooner; but-“

His attention must have slipped for a second as he spilled his heart to the woman he loved, for when he came to, her lips were smudged against his in a passionate kiss; a gesture of longing and desperation.

A kiss that left both chasing each other; and then parting ways in shocked expressions and panting mouths.

“I swear, Zaynie; you love me more that I do” she smiled sadly, but did not let go of his cheek, “are you sure you want this mess?” She looked earnestly at his eyes, as a lie detector would pay attention to the heart beats.

“Mess? I’d give away everything if I could stand with you through it all.” He held her hand in his and gave it a peck, one on each knuckle.

“I won’t allow refunds, do you hear me, baby panda?” He smiled at her pet name; since that day on the claw machine she had grown fond of it.

“Ditto.”

The breeze now carried a certain something of Spring. And both exchanged loving glances as Zayne’s car moved through the busy streets of Linkon.

(I removed the character's name (previously, Sam))

(Also, apologies for making Zaynie go through pain. Our baby doesn't deserve it.)

#lnds #love and deepspace #lads zayne #lnds zayne #zayne/mc #zayne love and deepspace

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the-muppet-joker · 1 year ago

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Adam's Second Sin

Warnings: Adam (the Bible) x Joker x Kermit, breeding kink, discussion of God's hypocricy, muppet hole

♤♡◇♧

Adam screamed in frustration. How was he meant to populate the earth without Eve? As much as he despised her, he yearned to spread his seed across the land and just... BREED. He balled up his fists into his hair, lost in thought, when suddenly... A rustling from the bushes, with a hushed, crazed laughter and an amphibious-sounding moan.

"Shhh... Kermit, you have to keep it down, darling~ or the very first man will hear us... or is that what you want, you filthy exhibitionist <3"

Adam's errection perked up, listening. "I think I have found something worth breeding," he thought.

He pounced like a lion into the bushes, gasping at what he saw. Another man... how could this be? He had so recently been cast from the Garden of Eden, and believed after vowing to part ways with the traitorous Eve that he would never see another human again. But here, on the ground, was the Clown Prince of Crime himself. And what was this...?

Pinned below Joker, face-down in the lush grass between the bushes, was a blushing, drooling muppet. Joker's white hands were wrapped around the frog's green felt wrists, and what intruiged Adam even more... was the clown's white member pumping deep into Kermit's tight hole. Adam gulped.

Kermit's eyes met Adams and he stuttered, trying to alert Joker to their intruder. However, Joker's throbbing cock was so thick and felt so delicious in his hole, that he very quickly forgot how to speak and instead whined like a whore, twitching under the green-haired man.

"Ahem," said Adam. Joker lept up in suprise, jumping back just as he began to cum. White, milky ropes of seed burst from him like a firework, painting the grass below as well as Kermit, whose empty hole twitched around nothing as he wailed im despair. Joker's seed had miraculously missed Kermit's hole, despite splashing nearly everywhere else.

Joker's cock softened as his eyebrows raised. He grinned with his beautiful red lips and his shining white teeth. Like a shark's, with eyes just as predatory.

"Well I'll be damned! The father of humanity, come to watch our lovely display. I suppose we should be honored," the clown purred. "Perhaps we should call you Daddy? Ha, simply a joke. That is why they call me the Joker," Joker explained.

"Oh," said Adam. He considered this. He considered his lust, his primal need to breed, and the considerably breedable muppet lying painted in white on the ground.

Adam considered God. He wondered what motivation his Father had when creating him. What was Adam's purpose? Eden had been a paradise, but there was no meaning there. He was always destined to sin. Perhaps that was the reason God could never look him in the eyes. He was not the firstborn. He was the lamb to be sacrificed so that all of humanity would be allowed to live, to love, and to fail. And then to be condemened for their predestined failure. Adam realized he was created to sin and pass that sin onto humanity.

Well, so be it, Adam thought. I will sin on the outskirts of Eden. I will fuck this muppet until he is pregnant.

He nodded to himself resolutely. He turned to Joker, who had one eyebrow raised and a half-hard cock.

"No. Do not call me Daddy. I am your equal... may I please breed your beautiful muppet?"

Joker laughed in surprise, turning to Kermit who was still writhing and moaning on the ground. "Kermit? What do you think, darling?"

Kermit looked up, "Y-yes. Please..." he croaked.

Adam was rock hard and ready to fuck. Not make love, no there was no love left inside of him. It had been taken alongside his rib.

The man positioned himself behind Kermit, dragging the tip of his length alongside Kermit's pulsing, wet hole. "Gods... Kermit, I see why Joker was so worked up and excited," Adam growled, pushing in to the hilt.

"Fuck! Adam!" Kermit screamed.

Adam pumped into him, deep and hard, animalistically.

"Fuck.. Kermit.. Ah, hah, yes, hahhh~"

Joker was softly chuckling and stroking his member at the sight of his lover being pounded into with such vigor. What a view, he mused.

"OOOOHHHhh, Adam~" Kermit moaned like a prayer.

Kermit was fucked so hard that his moans began to sound instead like a beautiful song, familiar to Adam. He came with tears in his eyes, nearly roaring when he did so. His salty seed felt different to Kermit, but he came as well despite the different feeling causing him to wish it was Joker's cum inside him.

As Adam pulled out, a single string of cum connected his cock and the delicious, overflowing hole.

"Now he is pregnant with my child," Adam stated grimly. He feared what human-muppet hybrid would be spawned by this affair, a fear that earlier had been quelled by his lust.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Joker's insane laughter and Kermit's weak giggle. "What!" Adam demanded.

"Muppets," Kermit laughed, full of cum, "can't get pregnant, silly."

"WHAT?" Screamed Adam. "Then how will I repopulate the earth? Somebody needs to be impregnated!"

"And someome certainly will..." said Joker, approaching with his errection approaching first.

The clown winked at the human. "Tell me, darling, what do you know about mpreg?"

To be coninued

#adam x joker x kermit #kermit joker writes #happy birthday kermit

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oxygenbefore1775 · 2 years ago

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am i wrong giving my all making you stay tonight

➥zeke x fem!reader

➥tags: canonverse, the year is 850 just before zeke is deployed to paradis

➥cw: major mentions of hatred towards eldians, star-crossed lovers and forbidden relationship trope, zeke is a narcissist and a dick here, the reader is also not that nice tbh, twisted marriage proposal and all that comes with it, zeke has some morbid fascination with his death, derogatory treatment from zeke (it's hella toxic); nsfw! (mdni) but it's at the very end so don't hesitate to scroll all the way down if you wanna skip all the explanation to them fucking, rough fucking, man handling, prone bone, kinda dacryphillia, talking during sex, one instance of hair tuggung

➥wc: 8.4k — no beta we die like my sleep schedule while writing this

➥summary: the night zeke tells you about his upcoming mission on paradis doesn't go without its consequences.

➥a/n: so i have this huge-ass zeke fic that i'm writing in my mother-tongue and because i'm sooo original w my content on tumblr rn i'm just gonna translate some parts of it here with some alterations - prepare for some incoherent shit, i warned you, that's like the most delulu zeke i have ever written

He is not to be trusted.

There's a deceit lacing his each word.

Cold and cunning, he was nonetheless charming. You would be lying if you denied the scorching languor that the ice of his blue eyes kindled in you.

Fleeting sentiments filled your mind in his presence, renderring you deaf and numb to your own thoughts. Not to mention his words, their poison failing to fill your absent body as you often lost the thread of the conversation. A lopsided grin curled his lips whenever you found yourself confused and unable to answer his simplest of questions, yet again, your thoughts a molten and twisted mass. You knew no end to his teasing for your frivoulness that he elicited from you with naught but a look.

Who were you, compared to the War Chief Yeager? Neither wits nor status was on your side to rebuke his taunts. Courage was failing you, fleeing at the mere sight of the red gracing his left arm. Retaliatory jabs never landed, the harsh words melted at the tip of your tongue before ever reaching him. How he reveled in seeing you like this, feeble and helpless. Just some stupid Eldian girl, that's what you were in his eyes. Unfit to be by his side.

And yet, he yearned for it nonetheless. Otherwise there was no other explaination to the slight arrogance bleeding into the way he spoke to you, leaving no other interpretation but that of a hunter taunting a mortally wounded beast. A whim, display of power, oversaturated and evident.

Occasionally he would condescend to your polite and humble requests, presenting them in a way that painted him as virtuous, as if you should be overflowing with gratitude and praises for his mere consideration of your proposals. He, however, never stooped to an open request himself, whether it be willful ignorance or inability to put thoughs into words. In such cases you were left to rely blindly on your own insight, forced to navigate through the murky water of his genuine intentions.

But witnessing this facade of complacency that masked his features most of the time disappear never failed to amuse you. How easily it could be shattered with a simle act — merely increasing the distance between you by a few steps during your routine strolls or better yet vanishing entirely from his line of sight amidst the crowd. That's all it took for the cold arrogance to crumble away and give way to a barely palpable unrest as he sought to bridge the unfavourably long gap that had grown between you unbeknownst to him. Not too close, though, being wary of avoiding the contact between your bodies.

The game he played to you was cruel yet he persisted in subjecting you to it, time after time. The true nature of his motives eluded you. The shadow of pleasure he took in poisoning your thoughts was hard to deny. Until he inhibits you whole, there would be no stopping to the suffocating hold over you. You were keep falling victim of this, though, the torment gnawing at your body and mind.

His unbroken gaze was the image etched in your memory for eternity. As well as the burning need to keep you near, by his side. Like you not staying at his apartment for the night could cost him his sleep. Like not laying his eyes one you could cost him his peace.

He remained oblivious to the fact that you noticed all of this. How could he possibly entertain those suspicions? A stupid Eldian girl would never. And still...

His gait lacked definition for someone who got the military drills beaten into him from the young age. Strange — even the deepest of thoughts usually failed to lure out a reaction from his body. Always static and phlegmatical, now he paced up and down the room, forgetting you were here in this room with him altogether.

With quick glances, you attempted to read his expression whenever he would pass your form curled up on the couch, and all in vain. His features remained an unpenetrable mask robbed of any emotion. Maybe it was the coffee. Shifting your gaze to the table covered with dirty mugs, your assumption had some reasoning behind it but you quickly brushed it off. He'd been like that long before resorting to the caffein.

Hesitation coursed through your every movement as you struggled to come up with a proper reaction. As intriguing as it was to find out what exactly had been plaguing the mind of steadfast War Chief, you couldn't muster up the insolence of striking up a conversation first. Who were you to inquire, anyway.

"One could hear your thoughts from a mile away."

His voice shook the cushioned silence of the room, bearing the same shadow of amusement he usually graced your way, as if the last hours weren't filled with restless pacing. Looking up to meet his gaze, a spark of amusement melted the cold of his eyes. The chance to divert his churning thoughts towards such a trivial remark seemed to bring him a little relief.

He prompted you with a quirk of his brow. "Speak what is it you have on your mind, or else you might burst."

There was that grin again, dark and painting his features in shadows. You shifted on the couch, nails digging into the flesh of your palm. At this point, each word you were going to say hardly veiled any obscurity since he'd already knew the nature of her question. He liked being proven right.

"Nothing really," your voice lacked the lively rebuke that usually sounded in your constant bickering back and forth, his unrest had seemed to rub off onto you as well. "You just seem off."

Your overtly careful choice of words elicited his soft chuckle. For a few moments he looked down on you, pondering just how much of information he should tell you. If he should tell you. After all, it was the knowledge not meant for the likes of you, civilians.

The light-hearted tone of his voice bore a stark contrast to the atmosphere and the words he was saying. "They're sending me to the island." His lips pressed into a thin bloodless line once he fell silent, his unbroken gaze on your face.

A deep line etched between your eyebrows. Still puzzled, you looked up at him searching for some sort of visual purchase.

The island of devils — any warrior would be elated at the prospect of proving their worth to Marley in battling the spawns of Paradis. Yet this sense of pride never captivated Zeke. More than anything, frustration seemed to have bled into his fair features.

Question, perhaps stupid in its naivete, plagued you so you let it leap off of your tongue. "Is this good or bad news?"

"And what do you think?" He retorted, pained playfullness still lingering in his voice. "When you send four Titans to an important mission and this is followed by five years of silence, how good can those news be?"

The air in the room became thick with smoke and smell of tobacco — Zeke must've lit a cigarette without you noticing. Your nose wrinkling, you slid to the other side of the couch where the gray thick cloud couldn't reach you. Uncanny thoughts soon started festering in your mind.

You cringed at your own way of thinking yet you couldn't help but to ask once more. "Are you—" unflattering crack snaked its way into your voice. "Is it going to be for a long time?"

He must've found your seeming worry endearing. His shoulders trembled in a fit of silent laughter, taking amusement in you. Like a pet who suddenly pulled a trick unbefitting of their intelligence. Artificial light cast dark shadows on his face as he neared the kitchen table, taking a sip from one of the half-empty mugs.

"I can only imagine." He stole a gaze at you, eager to capture the row of fleeting emotion painting your features. "Those four must've done a gravely mistake and now fear to face the punishment or died a long time ago. Now they expect me to clean up after them." Benevolent grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Warrior children, what a joke to Marley's army."

You shunned the way you had received the news. The insolence to fear, to assume the worst when you'd come to imagine him away on his mission was unacceptable of you, stupid Eldian girl. Your mind shouldn't be a harbor for such doubts. Zeke Yeager is a powerful warrior, the strongest in the unit. The red armband akin to the blood he'd spilt as an honorary Marleyan, a testament to hsi long service for the country. The island devils would be a little challenge for someone like him as his strength a prowess doomed him to imminent success. Your eyelashes fluttered as you sought solace in embrace of your arms, hiding your face in between your knees, away from his piercing stare. And yet you had the worries and you let them slowly eat away at you.

A temper tantrum would hardly influence Marley's decision and rid you of your predicament, but it didn't make you backtrack on your blind desire nonetheless. And he'd be thrilled to see your tears, especially if he was the cause of them.

Solitude started to weigh over your head like a dark stormy cloud. To be apart for such a long time rang so foreign to you. Foreign and cruel. Being at Yeager's side bore its benefits which you didn't hesitate to reap and now that the threat of those upsides being ripped away from you hung in the air, you felt... annoyed. You smiled to yourself at the fact that you'd finally been able to pin down your emotion. Annoyed sounded about right. And nothing else.

Noticing your downcast look, he decided to seal off your state with another barbed remark. "Spare Liberio your distraught sentiments. You weren't supposed to know about this in the first place. And I'd like to keep it that way in the eyes of the other people."

The ice in his gaze was persistent as he locked eyes with you. Not persistent enough to prevent the lopsided grin from twisting your lips.

In a fit of distorted glee, you inquired, your voice barely above whisper, "Why did you tell me about this then?" The words dripped with a mix of curiosity and spite, as if you had unraveled a hidden agenda beneath his carefully constructed facade. Your eyes bore into his, searching for a glimpse of vulnerability or truth amidst the web of deceit that surrounded him.

He was never easy to nail down so you didn't believe your luck when you caught a glimpse of emotion, as weak and light as the candle's flame, flicker in his eyes. And you didn't care for the nature of it — be it the amazement at the precision of your question or the anger with your insolence — it pleased you as long as it wasn't the usual cold spite. You found comfort in the knowledge that he, just like you, may be subservient to something other than his logic. That you're not the only one affected by the news of departure. The satisfaction was short-lived though as his features quickly acquired the same expression as before, a blank canvas you couldn't read.

The nicotine must've cleared his senses seeing as he scoffed at you in a condescending rebuke. "So that you won't make any fuss once you find the house empty." His hand reached to rest under your chin but you didn't accept the gesture, turning your head the other way. Stubborn behavior befitting the image of a stupid Eldian girl he painted you as in his mind. "It's still very much a secret mission so only limited number of people are allowed to know."

His touch rejected, he returned to the table, from which he continued keeping his unwavering gaze on you.

Did his remark suggest that his family was included in this selected group? Meaning, he went out of his way just to tell you? And for what? For you not to worry? Watching him form the corner of your eye, you couldn't help but to adore the stark discrepancy between his words and actions.

"I'll consider this your act of courtesy towards me." You shot back meekly, the tone of your voice suddenly growing more humble. At least you would have the satisfaction of having last word even if it meant resorting to your obsequious self.

Now, after a cigarette or two, he appeared utterly unfazed as if he weren't gambling with his own life by venturing onto the island of devils. When it came to his life, he never seemed to hold it at great value. You were the one to do it in his stead.

Curiosity took the better of you as you turned your head to face him, a hint of concern seeping through your facade. "How dangerous will it be? If the other Warriors had been on the island for five years, then those devils must be strong enough to pose a threat." You couldn't help but shudder at the thought of the mission potentially stretching beyond five years for Zeke. As capable and talented as he was, five years to his life were something that he just didn't have.

Zeke leaned back in his chair, the lazy twirling of smoke rising up out of his cigarette in contrast to the sharpness of the sneer that quickly appeared in the depths of his eyes. "For someone so uninvolved in the military campagns of Marley you seem to have too many questions about this mission. What's with the constant inquiries?" His words dripping with misleading benevolence.

His question momentarily silenced the room, knocking the air out of your lungs. Perhaps you indeed asked too many questions for someone of your station, someone who's supposed to be in a strictly comradely relationship with Zeke. You felt the tension growing more palpable the longer you kept him waiting. The glint in his eyes spoke volumes, a mix of amusement and knowing, hinting at the fact that he'd already got himself a satisfactory answer to his own inquiry. Part of you sensed that he'd guessed it right.

Nonetheless, you rushed to state the opposite in a futile attempt to undermine his own conclusion. "I think it's only logical of any Eldian to take interest in this mission." You pursed your lips before speaking again, feeling how artificial your words sounded leaping off your tongue. "The fate of the whole world depends on its outcome, does it not?"

At this point you'd grown too weary of him, his presence already intoxicating as it is. Why'd he brought you into his house? Just to tell you about his leave, take joy in seeing you shedding a shred of worry towards him but to mock you later for expressing those? Your drilled, bordering on automatic, response didn't win any favour with him yet managed to amuse him to some extent, evident in the way a mischevious grin split his face as he stood up from his chair.

His steps rang louder and louder with him approaching the couch you were sitting on. You let out a relieved sigh, cradling the hope that he'll finally grant you with leave, having had his share of playing games with you.

His eyes told otherwise. "No." He simply shook his head, denying you the last opportunity to leave his house. "I'll argue that there's more to it."

With that, his voice took on more sweetness that he usually allowed himself whilst talking to you which surprised you. At this point of your conversation he'd usually stoop down to tasteful taunts, a stark contrast to the moderation he was currently excercising, making your mind teem with thoughts.

"All the correspondence is forbidden for the Marleyan warriors whilst on the mission. Were you aware of that?" Still lacking a full comprehension of his motives, you nodded your head, your eyes big and doe-like. Nonetheless, he accepted your curt response, elusive benevolence seeping through his features. "Not if it's meant for the close family members, though. Also honorary Marleyans, like me. On that front Marley had been exceptionally allowing."

Again with the obscureness, as if expressing his thoughts in straight sentences would rob him of his last breath. Still, you continued to look at him, your eyes fixated on the enigma that was the fleeting chain of emotions lacing his features. The tips of your ears burning, the supressed frustration at having to sit here and listen to him welled up inside you. His monologue had just took off yet he was already dousing you with mental excercises you were unwilling to solve at this late hour.

Feather-light touch grazed against your temple, his fingers tucking an unruly strand behind your ear, bringing you back to the sound of his musings. "Wouldn't you be worried not knowing about my whereabouts on the Paradis?"

You rushed to deny his groundless assumptions but you found your lips too heavy to utter a word. Thus, he continued, a sliver of benevolent amusement in his tone. "Who knows, perhaps I would be captured or even killed and you would have no idea of my fate?"

The words sounded strange coming from him. He never paid any mind to the morbid consequences that may happen to him whilst on a mission and now that he was shedding light to it in front of you, it filled you with more confusion.

Still, you leaned in closer, intrigued by this newly discovered oddity of his, wanting to her what else he had to say.

"Aren't you?" He called out to you yet there wasn't a hint of condescention to his voice. As if he genuinely took interest in your answer, waiting for you to respond.

And you did answer, with a shallow "yes" whispered in the room. Usually you refrained from such vulnerability as this was often followed with barbed taunts, punishing you for the display of affection to someone as unfeasible as him. But this time, he seemed to had welcomed it.

The spark in his eyes was warm, an exception of his facade you rarely got to see. "Well, I just might help you to get rid of your worries. Would you like that?" You let him touch under your chin, lifting your gaze to see his.

In that moment, the fog of confusion clouding your mind began to lift, revealing glimpses of his true nature. Your eyes widened in surprise as you finally captured what was lurking behind the blue irises. He captured your gaze, too, as well as the sudden recognition, hence the smile, soft and warm, melting the curve of his lips as he opened his mouth to speak. You didn't have to listen to him to know what he was about to say yet it didn't substract from the surrealism of the situation.

"Be my wife."

Out of all the blows, this was by far the most cruel and perverted. The idea seemed too far-fetched, too out of reach for it to have any meaning behind it. You had grown accustomed to his teasing, his banter and the way he seemed to enjoy keeping you on your toes. Can this be another one of his games? Another way to rattle your composure?

Your gaze quickly turned skeptical. You couldn't risk remaining vulnerable in his presence and at this moment. You kept waiting for the mask of pretense to slide right off his face, for him to announce that he had indeed tried to trick you. Yet it stayed all the same, as if the expression was genuine, eyes brimming with inviting warmth like before. Still, doubt lingered within you.

Why should this day be a precedence? An upcoming operation on Paradis couldn't possibly cause this shift inside him. He'd been on other missions before and never before had his unwavering level-headedness left him.

He is not to be trusted. The words that were still echoing in your head are not to be trusted. The mantra sealing your lips, you tried to ward off the terrible temptation to give into what he was saying. He wouldn't hesitate to drag you through the mud if he finds out that you'd fallen prey to his words.

"You can't mean that." It was your final verdict. If he wasn't the one to aknowledge it then you had to be.

The smile on his lips gave way to a lopsided grin, as if your response didn't come as surprise to him. So it had been a game after all, you mused as you allowed yourself a mental praise for your own foresight.

"But I can." The rebuke remaining soft, he kept looking at you, waiting for your eyes to meet again.

It was of no use to you, though. All that you would see in the icy pools would be either that inviting warmth again or a blind wall. And neither of those would cast any light on what had been truly driving his actions all along.

The air felt silent and still. This — all of this — wasn't happenning to you. No night being spent at his house, no awkward pause between you two, no twisted words of proposal. It was all too much for the likes of you, common Eldian girl.

Regardless of your thoughts, he rushed to crush them, bringing you to the undeniable and inevitable reality.

He called out to you again, "So what?" the grin that seemed to appear on his features so often suddenly faded. "Will you be my wife?" You could only chuckle at his courtesy to having finally asked you, instead of bluntly stating his wishes.

With that, he sanked down on the sofa cushions, sitting next to her. The knowledge of his taunts, sometimes ruthless in their nature, implored you to momentarily refrain from answering his question and allowing him to continue, instead. The sincerity had no place in the words he was directing towards you. His statements were not to be held at face value, you had to remind yourself.

Nevertheless, you succumbed to the temptation that had been gnawing at you for a long time as you let your head fall onto his shoulder, the precise movement leaving no room for interpretation of your intentionall gesture. He would be hardly angry with you for such a display of weakness. Quite on the contrary, as your begrudgent vulnerability flattered him immensly.

The weight of the gone day suddenly crushed over you in waves, robbing you of any strength. "A lovely young captain's wife." The saccharine in his tone started to taste bitter. "Mrs. Yeager who would wait for her husband to return from military operations, her body and and soul devoted to him only. Who would meet me with joy and every evening after a working day take off my boots for me."

Wrinkling your nose, you otherwise didn't let your momentary disgust become apparent to him via your posture.

Alerted by your silence, he turned his head in your direction. His breath, hot and tart with tobacco, seared your face. "What do you say?"

Wife. The time had long come for you to forget this word. At this moment and in your position, it was an unthinkable thing for you. Who were you in comparison to the prized asset that Zeke was to the country? He was also no exception, even if the red armband signified otherwise. Bound by his service to Marley, he would never be allowed to dedicate even a sliver of his attention to something not pertaining to his warrior duty.

But on rare occasions you granted yourself the indulgence but also the freedom to your own dreams and you intended to do it today as well. Even if it was the first time for you to voice your hidden desires to someone else, let alone someone who figured in your dreams so often.

The warmth slid along her thigh where he ran his palm across your skin in a thoughtless caress, his touch radiating with heat. Just as thoughtlessly, you caught his movement, taking two of his fingers into your palm.

Being an Eldian in an internment zone, your fate had been sealed long ago yet you found comfort in the knowledge. With your future set in stone, you had all the freedom to fantasize about your chimerical impossible life.

Soon enough you started speaking, your words bearing the same bliss that his were. "Then your huge bath would be all mine and I would bathe in it every day. Definitely with bubbles. And you wouldn't be able to tell me anything against it."

Your ears caught a faint chuckle escaping his lips, accompanied by a subtle exhale.

The prospect of sharing a life with the captain held an irresistible allure. Despite all the taunts lacing his words, a grain of truth resonated within them. This was perhaps the best outcome an Eldian from the internment zone such as yourself could ever hope for. A sharp-tongued and occasionally unbearable husband aside, the advantages of such a union far outweighed the disadvatages. As the capitan of the warrior unit, his duties would often take him outside of Liberio, leaving you to revel in the opulence of your home for many days and even weeks to come.

Contrary to his words though, you would hardly harbour any sentiments over him not being by your side as he had teasingly described to you. Your heart would be unlikely to languish in lamenting the frequent separation, seeing as the luxury of your home would occupy your whole mind, sparing not a single thought for your warrior husband. Even in your sweetest dreams the love that typically exists between the spouses was conspicuously absent in your marriage. Such an emotion was barred for the two of you, as you remained essentially strangers to one another.

Your eyes dropped to the entanglement of your fingers from which he was in no hurry to free himself.

You started to forget yourself, as the most sincere of words weighed heavy on the tip of your tongue. "But also the coffee that you would brew every morning. I really like it."

His lips momentarily twitched, as if your timid praide had either amused or touched him.

A casual impudence found its way into his retort. "Oh no. After I get married I won't go into the kitchen at all so it will all be the responsibility of Mrs. Yeager." He dragged out the last words a little. "I don't want a wife who can't even make me coffee."

The warmth of his body enveloping you, you pulled your knees to your chest and settled into the comfort of your position. Usually, neither of you was insolent enough to seek proximity in each other's presence in this way. Besides sex, your bodies rarely touched, but at this moment it was all too tempting to mind your self-restraint. And yet, your move didn't provoke irritation in him. Instead, it seemed to have awakened a temporary surge of affection within him. He even opened his arms wider, as if embracing you more deeply. However, you couldn't ignore the subtle stiffness in his gestures, a reminder of the hopeless underlying truth about your relationship. You two were far from being a married couple and the likelihood of you ever becoming spouses seemed increasingly remote.

Possible or not, the illusion was sweet enough to numb the cynicism of your predicament.

Yet another breath of his scorched the shell of your ear. "But will you teach me? How to make coffee?" Your inquiry laced with naive politeness, you smiled as you felt his chest, a barely audible hum rumbling the air. "Will my husband have any other expectations of his poor tireless wife?"

In a feigned attempt to challenge him, your palm closed around his fingers even tighter, as if she wanted to attract even more of his attention to her.

This ploy of yours appeared to be succesfull, seeing as his hold of you grew closer. "Your husband would like you to spoil him with your cooking every day." He said with a soft chuckle. "Not that I have tried your food but that is all trivial. My regeneration can withstand the effects of any poison so your cooking would hardly deal any damage to me, no matter how disgusting it may be."

You fell silent at the lack of a proper rebuke, letting yourself get lost in this moment that you doubted you would see again any time soon.

And you were proven right. Just as you began to embrace the newfound comfort of your position, your hopes to have this moment last a bit longer were swiftly shattered. The warmth in his voice dissipated, replaced by a chilling tone as he leaned in to whisper into your ear. "Why deceive yourself?" His words dripped with cold determination. "I know all too well why someone like you would like to meddle with someone like me."

With no further explanation, he presented you with his armband, bright red fabric carelessly thrown onto your hand. The shift in his disposition was so sudden that you took a second to even register the feel of rough cloth against the skin of your palm. Disturbed by the intrusive nature of his inquiry, you tried to pry yourself away from him yet he didn't let you, his fingers finding their place under your chin to turn your face to him. The pools of his blue eyes were colder than ever, studying your expression, not losing sight of each fleeting emotion painting your features, as if the silent observation would provide him with more answers instead of just asking you directly.

Yet you didn't feel fear. In all the time that you had known each other, he never gave you the reason to be afraid around him. This surely had to be attributed to his charms since his each action, no matter how twisted or condescending, held a certain allure over you. Even now as you were pinned down in your place and forced to continuosly look back at him, all you could feel was frustration welling up inside you.

Your exasparetion started to overflow, evident in the way your brows knitted together. "You're hurting my neck," you voiced your discontent in a soft manner, only to be met with his unamuzed gaze.

He only got closer to you, your bodies pressing up against each other, his lips so near to yours that your mouth began to water at the bitter taste of tobacco dancing on your tongue.

Your protests were heeded, and he released his hold on your chin, seemingly satisfied with gazing at you. Another whisper, hot and sibilant, flowed into your ear. "It was hard not to notice, you stared at it too often." Instinctively, your hand tightened its grip on the red fabric, drawing it closer to your chest. "But I can understand your fascination with that thing. What is it that you want exactly?"

Considering all his past actions, his question sounded almost too caring, too soft and too thoughtful for someone like him. Were you a bit more perceptive in that moment, perhaps you would have been touched by his genuine interest but instead you couldn't help but to feel exposed. Maybe you did stare at it too much, as hardly a conversation with him went by without your excessive attention being drawn to some piece of fabric instead of the person it belonged to. You hoped that he hadn't been awake during the nights when you dared to harbor enough insolence to take the armband from his nightstand and pose with it in front of the mirror, the reflections of you with a red ring circling your left arm looking so dreamy and beautiful.

Hardly any Eldian in the internment zone didn't want to be an honorary Marleyan, and you were no exception. In fact, you were the most trivial showcase of this bold desire. It can give you a better life and safety and freedom, most of all. Freedom to go beyond the stone walls of the internment zone, even if for just a while.

In all your life you never came to think that the armband could be attained through the means Zeke had proposed to you not so long ago.

You were thankful to him for still keeping his composure. At least one of you had to. "So what is it? Everything, I assume?" You felt his breath hitch as soon as you answered with a curt nod. "Then everything it is. And I will give it to you."

The right words were coming hard to you yet you couldn't wait any longer to voice them. Pulling away, you finally put some distance between you two, finally free from his suffocating warmth. "Are you hearing yourself right now?"

Your attempts to reason with him were quickly put to rest with a single gaze he graced your way. The intensity in his eyes made your words falter on your lips, as a knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Right now, each of my word has weight so listen to me while I'm still talking."

Surprisingly, it worked. But it wasn't for his concise argument but rather the oddly familiar expression in the depths of his eyes. As you gazed deeper into those pools of blue, you saw a reflection of your own yearnings, a crack in his flawless facade. A pained smile bent your lips as you reveled in the realization that Zeke had given way to the same sentiments as you. And you thought once that he was insusceptible to this. A dark chuckle escaping your lips, the gravity of your predicament started to set in. Fools, both of you.

In a haste you took off his glasses before kissing him. You didn't want the metal frame to poke you in the eye again should the angle be not right.

His lips felt dry against yours, the tart taste of tobacco doing little to prevent you from sliding your tongue into his mouth. He smiled into the kiss as he felt you settling back into his embrace, the cushions collapsing under the collective weight of your bodies.

Your aggressive initiative was a welcome dynamic, with you quickly straddling his lap as he was left to take in the feel of your body. The coil in your stomach began to wind up with each painstakingly slow movement of your hips. The sloppy sounds of kissing rang loud in the room, interrupted only with your breathy whimpers whenever you grazed your sweet spot.

It took him all his strength to pull away, fake and long-soiled paragon of self-restraint lacing his tone when he spoke to you. "The couch would be too narrow for this." The voice barely above whisper.

With that, he grabbed you under your knees, drawing your legs closer to his body for a better purchase. Instinctively, you wrapped your hands around his neck and leaned into his chest so you wouldn't fall when he picked you up. His fingers sank into the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he carried you into the bedroom, your body barely a burden for him. A curt laughter rose from your chest and got lost in the tussels of his fair hair. You hadn't thought him to be so strong outside of his Titan form.

The springs of the mattress wailed as he let go of you, initiating your short fall. He looked down on you, his movements suddenly lacking resolve but his eyes still transfixed on your form. Reluctant to give any more thought to the ponderings teeming his mind, you didn't intend on waiting idly for him to join you. In the growing heat of the room your clothes became a nuisance, just another one of the barriers standing between you two.

Your fingers untypically spry for the state that you were in, you reached for the rows of buttons on your clothes, unburdening yourself layer by layer all the while watching him watch you.

Evidently, the sight of your naked form helped him come to his senses quickly as he stepped closer to the edge of the bed. In a bout of anticipation coursing through your veins you extended your arms towards him in an alluring invitation, starving to taste the tobacco on your tongue again.

All the same dark grin of his told otherwise. Instead of granting you the satisfaction of having his mouth on yours, he grabbed the hold of your hips to flip you over, tight grip sure to leave marks on the skin in the morning to come.

His weight came crushing over you, knocking the air out of your lungs and pinning you in place. Although he was using both of his hands to support his body, with each at the either side of you, it brought you little relief.

"Like I was saying," his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, you felt as if the reverberations of his voice reached your brain. "Marley allowing me to marry is more real than you think. Don't think they would refuse their most valuable asset in such a trivial matter. Maybe I'll even start winning more wars for them."

Your mind refused to give any more attention to his words, demanding a tangible satisfaction instead. You tried to arch your back in hopes that the sudden contact of your pelvises would make him forget his musings, forcing him to stoop down to the same level that you found yourself on, but it was all futile. Under the immense pressure your lower torso was rendered immobile, as if fused with the plush mass of the mattress.

The skin on your shoulder tingled with faint prickles where he rested his chin. "The armband, as significant as it may seem, is not the solution to each of your problem in the internment zone. A glorified scrap of fabric signifying that you're just a bit less miserable than all the others, that's what it is, really." he spoke, his voice tainted with sullen knowledge.

You absolutely hated how he remained so stationary while in arguably the most compromised position and how you lacked the power to change it. "Then why are you willing to go through the trouble of giving me one?" You hissed into the cradle of your palms, tone brimming with impotent dissatisfaction.

The next moment you felt him grabbing a fistful of your hair, with a violent tug forcing your head to turn to the side, your neck almost snapping from the sheer power of the motion. You were met with his gaze, angry yet at the same time seemingly insulted by your insolence to question his motives again. You responded in kind, your eyes watching his lips in anticipation of yet another one of his countless self-serving musings to be voiced. But you didn't hear any. He let go of your hair just as suddenly, nudging you to face away from him.

Sitting up straight, his body weight shifted towards your thighs as he was straddling them. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his shirt falling to the ground. The sound of the belt buckle coming unfastened was the next thing you heard, the soft clang of the metal clasp filling you with thrill.

His hand snaked its way to your abdomen, pressing against the small of the belly to make you raise your hips and you felt happy to oblige, displaying yourself nicely to him. His touch lingered on you for quite some time after that as both of his hands traveled to the back your thighs, absentmindedly caressing the supple flesh in lazy broad strokes. A surge of goosebumps cascaded across your body, each wave driven not only by his scorching touch but also by a sudden flash of realization.

He must have noticed how shamelessly wet you were. The positioning of your hips left barely any room for his imagination and presented him with the delectable view of your slit, slick covered and pulsing with heat. Exasperated, you bit down on your lower lip to supress a desperate moan all the while he took his sweet fucking time to revel in the way your cunt flutterd around nothing begging to be filled. As much as you wanted to feel him inside you, you kept your pleas to yourself, left solely at the mercy of his self-restraint which you hoped had started to diminish already. You'd rather die than make your weakness for him known again, as if your body wasn't enough of an indicator already.

Eternity might have passed but he eventually moved, shifting some of his weight back onto his arms as he mounted you.

You couldn't help but gasp at the way your walls enveloped him, struggling to take his girth at first. A drawn-out raspy fuck emitted from his chest once he entered you, his motion slow yet persistent as he slid his cock deeper inside you. Careful not to harm you, he halted whenever your breaths became too shallow and frantic from the stinging of the stretch, not moving any further without your leave.

Minutes later you felt him reach the deepest part of your cunt, the immense pressure from his continuous thrust built at the bottom of your stomach, so unbearable that it rendered all the other sensations non-existent. There was no way he couldn't feel your body tensing up below him. Nonetheless, he kept on pushing, as if trying to break you. Even as you tried to get away from the uncomfortable feeling, he stopped you, putting his palms over yours as another way to pin you down. The weight of the pressure bore down on you relentlessly, within mere seconds, tears began to bead on your lashline, threatening to cascase down your cheeks and fall onto the sheets.

The skin of your nape grew hot where he doused it in kisses. Twisted sense of comfort welled up inside of you in hopes that his caresses, so out-of-place yet so warranted, would at the very least provide some relief to you. It seemed that he would persist until you fully succumb to him. A whispered praise poured into your ear once all the struggle left your body and your flesh became pliable to him.

Only then did he back down. Letting you catch your breath as one of his hands traced its way to your face, brushing a strand aside to get a better look of your eyes glistening with tears.

Little did you know that it would be the final act of gentleness he bestowed upon you for a long time, leaving you yearning for more. You didn't even had the time to savour it as he set a new unforgiving pace.

Beyond the tingling sensation of his cock dragging against your walls in a brutalizing manner, sharp hissing grazed your ear. "Why in hell would I go through the trouble of giving you one," he tantalised, each of his thrusts only adding to the mockery. "So you won't forget that you're mine while I'm be away".

"Mine and safe," he murmured then, confident that you won't hear him.

It wasn't his voice. It sounded so unlike him in this moment, frail and vulnerable, but you were the only people in the room so it must've been him.

A jolt of pleasure railed through your body with the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over again, driving you wild. Your pleasure became apparent to him as well, his motions gaining more precision to increase the blissful sensation for you.

Struggling to form words you nonetheless tried to, your lips and tongue heavy. "So this is what comes with being your wife?" You couldn't believe the tenderness lacing your tone at this moment. The sentiments were a cruel thing, not something you were supposed to have towards him, nor he towards you.

His reply was overtly eager, as he leaned closer to you, your bodies pressing together almost seamlessly. "Pretty much," his voice rang in your ear. "You must admit that you're very fortunate."

You craned your neck to face him, curiosity sparkling in your eyes. Taking in your alluring look, he couldn't resist the glowing skin of your shoulders, so transfixed on tasting the salt of your sweat on his lips that he ground to a halt inside you.

All you could do was rile him up even further, a chuckle escaping your lips. "Oh yes, the prospect of having you cater to my every whim sounds like a remarkably enticing endeavor on my side."

As your words hung in the air, a mischievous glint danced in your eyes, reveling in the effect they had on him. The corners of his mouth curled into a sly grin, mirroring your own playful demeanor and growing heavy with somber tone. With that, his hold on you became tighter, his hand groping at the fat of your thighs.

His hips snapped against yours with such a force that you nearly mewled, feeling the reverberations of his thrust echoing throughout your body. "Enjoying it while you can." His voice dropped to a low, husky timbre, tinged with a hint of challenge and sneer. "You've got only five years left for that."

This level-headed bordering on indifferent demeanor in a blind disregard of his own words struck a nerve with you. You gulped some air, desperate to conceal the outburst within you.

You wished he hadn't remind you of the imminent futility of your secret musings. You wished he would just carry on with pounding into your leaking heat with no thought to it. As he moved inside you, sinking his cock inch by delicious inch, the pleasure of it faded even if your own body continued having visceral reaction to the process, your gummy fluttering around his girth. Now, only lament had residence in your mind. If it wasn't for your unfortunate fate of having been born as Eldians, perhaps you could have a chance at a normal life. Without the constant thoughts of him slipping away.

His resolve undying, he pressed your body deeper into the mattress, the pressure of his hands driving the air out of your lungs all the while his cock kept winding the coil in the pit of your stomach.

"Widowhood would suit you so good."

His voice remained just as mocking as before, as if the life that was put on the clock wasn't his. You, on the other hand, were precisely the one not entertaining such remarks. "Tell me." You could barely make out the words amongst the squelching sounds. "Tell me, will you mourn me? Funeral would be hard to organize, admittedly, with no body left for you to bury, but-"

You rushed to hide your face in the sheets. You heard enough. You didn't want to hear anymore of his taunts.

The words still reached your ear. "Will you cry for me like a good wife should for her husband?" He came to a halt deep inside you yet again, ready to break you should you not answer. "I've never seen those eyes cry before. So will you or will you not?"

The satisfaction wouldn't come so easily to him as you remained motionless under him. Only your shoulders quivered with subtle tremors, betraying the hidden distress that stirred within you. As simple thing such as breathing brought you a lot of struggle so you could only hope that your poise would last through all of this.

"It's not like I've taken your tongue away," he mocked.

A gesture of feigned compassion, you felt his fingers card through your hair, lulling you into false sense of security in hopes of luring out a desired reaction out of you. The sweet tone of his voice came off as cruel and mocking as he coaxed you for an answer, his fingers toying with your clit only adding to the torture.

Sick twisted pleasure, that's what he was getting from all of this. Your answer to his inquiries evident to him, he nonetheless wanted to hear it falling from your lips, dry and bitten at.

Yet, when he spoke again, his voice shed all its malice, barren as it trembled slightly. "At least remember me after I'm gone, would you do that for me?" He called out your name and it sounded vulnerable coming from him, his tone etching deep within your memory.

With a lump forming in your throat, you struggled to find your voice as well as enough air to form a response. There was no purchase for your mind as a scorching wave of orgasm coursed through your body, your face contourting in pleasure and your cunt squeezing in around him. With that, the last bit of poise left you and you broke down completely.

"Yes!" you pushed past your lips, hot tears streaming down your cheeks and your shoulders shaking with each sob.

In this moment you suddenly grew unaware of your surroundings, deaf to his whispers pouring into the ear and numb to the tingling stretch of your core as he was chasing his own high.

The skin of your inner thighs soiled with his seed, you would normally rush to the bathroom to wash away the stench of sex but this time you thought against it, curling up on the bed instead once he rolled off of you. Only now you began to feel the weight of your confession. Why did it have to be you alone to crack under the surge of sentiments that held immense power over you?

He decided to stay in bed as well, watching you struggle to come to terms with what you had just said, complacent grin plastered across his face. Evidently, you made him very happy this night.

"When are you leaving?" you asked in a raspy voice, watching him as he watched you in the enveloping darkness.

His fingers reached for a stray strand, sliding it behind your ear. His tone was thick with mindless glee. "In a couple of weeks, plenty of time for me to convince Marley to green light the marriage." The kiss he left on your lips acquired a bitter taste with time. "What will you say?" At the lack of suitable words, you just nodded dumbly.

He is not to be trusted.

There's a deceit lacing his each word.

But as you gazed deeper into his eyes, glinting in the dark shroud of the night, you let him deceive you yet again.

(phew)

#zeke x reader #zeke yeager x reader #zeke x you #zeke yeager x you #zeke smut #zeke yeager smut #aot smut

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resolutepath · 6 days ago

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With quiet contemplation, she'd observed him as he lowered himself to the ground. It seemed a slow, and deliberate motion, and the air felt as if it were caught in baited breath as it was enacted, as though it were waiting. There was a stillness to the gesture that was graceful, one that felt both foreign, and yet now, strangely intimate. She had borne witness to such a gesture before, flickers of it in moments gone by, caught in the subtle ebb and flow of human interaction— but its meaning remained as elusive as the wind, slipping between the spaces of mortal customs, and the ancient understanding she had long inhabited.

With quiet breath, the gesture tugged at her limbs as if the weight of it pulled at her own gravity, urging her to bend, and soften into the motion, as to meet him on this familiar soil that had been home to them both. And so slowly, her knees met that earth, the soft hum of the Black Shores murmuring beneath this silence, as though the very ground itself breathed with her. She kneeled, not in mimicry of him, but as if answering something that stirred within her chest, a quiet yearning to understand, and to share in this quiet gesture.

There was a flicker of something in her eyes— an uncertainty, yes, but also a glint of curiosity. "Why… do you kneel, Aalto?" Her voice was gentle, a soft cadence that lingered like the touch of a passing breeze. "Is this how you show respect, or is there another meaning to this action?" It is then that her gaze moved over the contours of his face, not in judgment, but with a quiet yearning for understanding.

His head cants from his position upon one knee, watching the emotion wash over her face, the query in her expression as she attempts to discern what drives him. She will not be the first to do so, nor the last. Aalto is a creature of the winds, fickle and free, a person who will do as he wishes when he wishes it, lies and deceives in the name of the truth, wears the masks needed to be who people need to see, and changes like the wind currents when one personality is not working. He does not act to be understood but as he pleases, to achieve his goals or chase his wants, and this in the end is no different.

The smile he offers is small, albeit perhaps more genuine than he offers upon most instances, his glasses entirely absent from his face as he awaits her verdict. He has no hurry; the ground is comfortable beneath his knee, his posture comfortable, his time his own. Yet she surprises him still by sinking to join him, her own knees meeting the soft soil, her head levelling and golden hues widen fractionally in response. She always defies his expectations.

"Why you ask? Have you not read the tales?" His smile is gentle and while his speech has not changed from that he ordinarily utilises it is softer somehow, explaining rather than avoiding, a tease but not a taunt. "Respect comes into it sure, but there's so much more behind a gesture, for when do we bow? When does one lower themself?" He lets the question ponder as her gaze caresses his face like a ghostly touch, a gesture that makes him shudder. How she can make him be so seen and yet hidden in the same look baffles but he enjoys it. The dance makes him hunger for more of that earnest response, to be studied for the truth not because it is beneficial or transactional, but for understanding itself.

"They say a loyal knight kneels for his fealty, to swear his life to his commander, to pledge himself to a cause. A man kneels to make a vow to a woman, perhaps one of eternity, a commitment to extend beyond frivolous notions." A pause, letting it sink in, wondering what she takes from his words, wondering if she sees the truth in them or is yet blind. He may have a jovial disposition but his loyalty to The Black Shores, to her, is unshakeable. The place that gave him purpose and drew him from the rot of a lawless land will always hold meaning, and she in her commitment will always inspire his own. She is the flutter of wings that a youth chases through the forest in hope for a glance, the shining star to lead the sailor home, his guiding light to return to no matter how twisted the journey became.

"And sometimes, one simply wishes to kneel to make a show of a gift, like this..." A flourish of the hand, a twist of a palm and a blake bloom appears between them, held preciously between fingers. He smiles, head tipping as he leans forward, offering the ebony-petaled flower to her. "Perhaps it means all of the above, perhaps none at all." He shrugs, but the glint in aureate hues is telling of the way it leans as his voice lowers to something hushed. "You choose what you want it to mean..."

he's the worst, sae, i'm sorry / @iniziare

#iniziare #muses. [ aalto. ]#source. [ w.uwa. ]#( sae you can hate him now okay dskjfhdskfjh )

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annaphoenix1994 · 4 months ago

Text

The Way a Cowboy Should

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

Four days in the saddle can have a toll on a man, but not a true cowboy like Bud Dutton. Simon admired him - how the man never complained, how he always had a quick wit about the different situations before him, how he never ceased to tell a joke when the time was right, and how honorable he was with anything he did. With dusk approaching, the group was becoming restless after being fueled by beans and coffee and in desperate desire of a shower and a warm bed to sleep in.

Even with all of these desires arising on everyone's mind, nobody - even Baler - found the time to complain about it. "Baler?" Simon directed, getting his attention. "Go put that cow back in line."

"Um... H-How do I do that?"

"Ride up on her left flank and guide her back into the herd!"

"O-Okay!" Baler nodded, nudging his horse into a lope as he kept his eye on the cow, using his horse to guide the cow back into the herd, looking back towards Simon with the hopes of approval, a big smile smearing across his face after realizing he had done something new. "I want to chase another one!"

"That time will come, lad," Simon shouted. "Get back in formation!"

Laughs. Genuine, happy laughs were exchanged between the men - and Teeter - as they herded the two-hundred head of cattle through the valley, eager to get them to Lick Creek to lay over for the night before making their way back to the ranch, each eager to return home to the loved ones waiting for them. With every dusk and dawn, Kiera never failed to slip into Simon's mind, the thought of her greeting him with a warm smile and yearning kiss followed by constant admiring of their children. It never bloody gets old, he thought. I can't wait for her to be my wife.

After nightfall came, it was roughly eleven o'clock before the group got the cattle and horses settled in for the night, Simon settling under a nearby tree to shield him from the morning sun when it arose. Sitting with his back against the bark, he crossed his ankles as he scrolled through the photos of Kiera and his children on his phone, wishing he could be granted with a bar of service to send a quick I love you text message, grimacing as he didn't have the privilege he had wished for.

"One day, you'll be glad to not have that little box beeping at you every twenty minutes." Bud chuckled, his saddle landing next to Simon before he slowly took a seat next to him.

"You're still awake, old man?" Simon chuckled, watching Bud take a seat next to him before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out two cigars.

Bud reached one over to him, "I invite you sir to celebrate another drive."

"I better not. Kiera would kill me-"

"Why'd you think I brought these cigars for a trip she wasn't on?" Bud chuckled. "Eva threatens to kill me every time she smells the smoke on me, but she don't. I quite like makin' her mad sometimes," He admitted while both of them chuckled. "She's cute when she's mad."

"You and me both, sir. I quite like making your daughter mad sometimes," Simon admitted. "On minor things, though-"

"No need to explain," He chuckled. "I know what you mean. You still planning on that honeymoon you were telling me about?"

Simon smirked, "Yeah. I just want to give her something extravagant - something she had never done before. I figured what better way to do it than for our honeymoon."

"Well, you know Eva and I will be more than happy to watch the kids for you," Bud smiled, nudging Simon's elbow with his. "I quite envy you - I'd never been able to dress up in period clothing."

"Me either, but her favorite show is Peaky Blinders and there's a sort of convention in Birmingham and I know she'd love to dress up in that time period. And I meant to tell you, but I never could get you away from earshot of her - there's a ship coming back to the states that sponsors the convention, so we'll be coming back to the states in that time period so to speak."

"She'd love that. I don't know what Squeaky Blinders is, but I'm sure she'd love it."

Simon chuckled at Bud's misunderstanding, "I'm quite excited for it too."

"Well, I have something I want to give you," Bud said, puffing a cloud of cigar smoke as he reached into his coat pocket. "Consider it as a wedding gift for future use."

Simon furrowed his brows as he fondled with the two pieces of folded paper between his fingers, taking a few moments before he opened the folded papers.

A land deed with a handwritten note:

"I know, it's a lot to take in," Bud snickered. "But don't get all sentimental... I've done shed my tears when I wrote it."

"Sir, I- I truly don't know what to say-"

"Your reaction is enough, son," Bud assured him with a smile, clasping his free hand on Simon's shoulder. "I've been chompin' at the bit to give this letter to you, but I figured now is the right time."

"What makes you say that?"

Simon saw that Bud had something on his mind, like he knew he had to give the deed to him soon but chose not to pester him about it. "I just... Felt like I needed to give it to you before the wedding."

"I-Well, thank you, sir. Really. I don't know how I can top what you've done with this place."

"Your kids, Simon. They are what makes this ranch a home."

Simon smirked, "You sure it's not past your bedtime?"

"My bedtime is when I'm dead'n gone, buddy."

The men chuckled, Simon shaking his head as he tucked away Bud's gift within the confines of the breast pocket of his jacket, his gaze turning to Bud when he saw him splay a wool blanket over his legs. "How'd you tote a blanket up here, old man?"

"I traded out my slicker and I gambled it wouldn't rain. I think I gambled right!"

"You know, I've come to believe perfection only lives in little moments, ya know? Can't be sustained over hours, just instances - little wisps of time. Then the world becomes imperfect again. This day damn near proved me wrong."

"And to think I didn't think you'd be sentimental," Bud snickered. "But, if it wasn't perfect, it was damn near close."

"Yeah, damn close indeed." Simon replied, he and Bud sharing a laugh.

"A former British S.A.S sittin' on the side of a mountain in Wyoming with his old goat of a father-in-law, sleepin' with his boots on after tellin' me at one point he'd never step foot in America - Damn, this world may have a chance yet." Bud poked as he laid down against his saddle.

"You keep your head up in that saddle, old man. I don't need to listen to your snoring. I hear it enough lying next to Kiera at night."

Bud laughed, "Where do ya think she gets it from? Her dear old daddy. Thank the good Lord she didn't get her looks from me!"

"She still would've been perfect enough for me."

"Wise words, son. Wise words."

Simon chuckled, "Just like Kiera has told me before: if you can't sleep through a man's snoring or hers, you're not tired enough."

"I remember tellin' her that when she was a little girl. She'd always complain about my snorin' when we went on cattle drives."

"I bet she was a little savage growing up, yeah?"

"Buddy, you have no idea! You better hope that little girl of yours doesn't have a spittin' image of her attitude!"

"I have a feeling she will be," Simon smirked. "I've already prepared myself for it."

"Good man," Bud yawned. "I'll see you on the other side."

"I'll see you on the other side, mate. Goodnight." Simon chuckled, oblivious to what Bud actually meant.

"Goodnight. Keep forgettin' you're a Brit." He teased.

"Hopefully my kids learn my accent."

"Let's argue about this in the morning." He snickered.

"Sounds like a plan to argue over tea."

»»-------¤-------««

Simon awoke once he sensed the sun arise, sitting up and running a free hand through his hair before putting back on his hat. He looked over at Bud, seeing his mouth agape and his eyes closed peacefully. Considering it was still somewhat dark with minor light from the morning sun, Simon decided to leave him be knowing that the old man deserved his rest.

"Looks like I slept through your snoring, old man." He chuckled to himself before walking towards the high line to saddle up his horse, surprised that he saw Baler with Johnny and Teeter, each doing the same.

"I don't mind working for less than minimum wage, but these mornings with no-coffee rubbish..." Johnny complained, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.

"It's cowboy shit, baby." Teeter giggled.

"It'll just make it taste that much better once you get down the hill, Soap Sud." Baler snickered.

"There you go, mate. Drink up some of that cowboy wisdom!" Simon chimed, his face decorated with a smirk as he joined them, patting his horse on the neck with his free hand while his saddle and pad occupied his other.

"Just one peaceful morning without you poking at me would be great, L.T."

"Unfortunately for you, that'll never happen."

"Where's grandpa?"

"He's still asleep. I figured I'd let him sleep in since all we have to do is ride back to the ranch."

"Woah, stone cold Simon has a heart?" Teeter poked.

"It's a cold one, but it's soft for ones he respects." Johnny answered for him.

"Ain't that the truth."

"Alright, now I know who's in charge of cooking breakfast."

"Who?"

"You, lad."

"Why?" Baler scoffed.

"Because you're the first one to have your horse saddled and already talking your shite. Go on."

The teen huffed, slumping his shoulders as he made his way towards the small fire, sitting on a nearby log as he prepared to heat a can of beans for breakfast. I can't wait to eat mom's breakfast tomorrow, he thought.

"Father of the year, eh?" Johnny teased. "Looks like you have him all under control."

"I don't know about that, but we've come a long way that's for sure."

»»-------¤-------««

Once the morning sun shone across the Wyoming landscape, Simon took notice that Bud hadn't joined them for their late breakfast. Staying on foot, he led his horse towards the tree that he and Bud slept under the night before, seeing him in the same position since he last saw him. "I know it's our day to ride home, but we can get there sooner if you wake up, mate."

Once he got closer, his playful smirk faded into a frown once he saw the purple and light blue haze that took over his complexion.

Bud had passed away.

Sighing heavily through his nose, he looked down at his feet, unaware that a tear had slipped down his cheek. "Well, I couldn't have thought of a better death for you even if you paid me," He sighed. "Sir, I know what you meant when you said you'd see me on the other side. I just hope you're waiting for me with a cigar and a glass of whiskey."

"Dad! You coming?" Baler shouted from less than a hundred feet away, riding his horse closer to him and stopping once he realized what had happened. "Oh, shit. W-What do we do?"

"Go get the satellite phone from Teeter. We're not leaving until he is taken care of."

"Yes, sir."

»»-------¤-------««

Several hours later, Simon, Johnny, Baler, and Teeter arrived back to the ranch, Baler taking Simon's horse to settle them in while Simon was left to deliver the news to Eva and Kiera, his heart breaking at the thought of what he was to say when the time came.

He forced a smile when he watched Eva stand to her feet after seeing him approach from the porch, a warm and welcoming smile splaying across her face. "Come back in one piece I see!" She smiled. "How are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm well, thank you," He breathed, welcoming her embrace. "I wouldn't stand too close, I probably don't smell too good."

"Honey, I can't count on my little old fingers how many times I've smelled Bud with cologne. I'm used to the smell of a man who's been laying in the dirt and sleeping against leather," She giggled, reaching up to wipe a streak of dirt from Simon's cheek. "I figured he would've walked up with you? Did he get caught up talking again?" She smiled.

Simon sighed, "Where's Kiera?"

"She went into town with Kristen. They took the kids. Something about going for lunch. She said she tried to text you-"

"No, no, that's okay. I didn't have service the entire time," Simon shook his head. "I-I need to tell you something, I-"

Simon's heart broke when he watched Eva's usual and cheerful face fall into a frown. "Wh-? Si-Simon?"

She watched him shake his head, avoiding eye contact with her as she slowly put together the pieces. "I'm so sorry, love-"

"-How?" She began to cry, her knees buckling from under her as Simon hastily reached out to catch her, helping her sit on the nearby chair while he rested on one knee in front of her, his frame nearly towering over her as she sat, letting her cling to his coat while she cried, providing a comforting and empathetic embrace for his mother-in-law.

"Like a cowboy should," He sighed. "His head on his saddle, looking up at the stars, and having a humorous conversation with a friend. He closed his eyes and passed in his sleep."

He held Eva close as she wept, letting her use the collar of his coat to wipe her tears, "I sure hope that conversation was with you, Simon. He spoke so highly of you."

"I know," He assured her. "We even had a cigar."

"I'm not surprised," She forced a playful tone. "I smelled it on you before you even said anything."

"He mentioned he always liked to pick at you and make you mad."

"That he did," She sniffled. "I can't lie and say I enjoyed that stupid little smirk he did when I'd get irritated with him."

"I saw it every day, love."

#simonghostriley #simonriley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty #callofduty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #cod #ghost cod mw2 #cod mw2 ghost #cod mw2 #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost

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talesfromtheleaf · 3 months ago

Text

Part 3: The Land of Waves

To begin with, my apologies for the delay in this post. Due to Christmas and general life roadblocks, I haven't had much mental energy to sit down and write.

Today, I want to post about the Land of Waves. In my opinion, there isn't much you can change about the Land of Waves. For that purpose, I will solely be focusing on adding an epilogue to the Land of Waves, that delves into the interconnected web of relationships between Naruto, Sasuke, Kakashi and Hiruzen.

Be aware that this is all mostly original content, not changes to the existing story.

1.1 - Mission Report

First of all is a new scene, where Kakashi delivers Team 7's mission report to the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, and the elders Koharu and Homura. The report would cover all the details of the mission, including the new developments within team 7:

Sasuke has unlocked the Sharingan.

Naruto drew on the power of the Nine-Tails.

I doubt Kishimoto had the importance of these powers fully & truly mapped out, especially as this arc was still in Naruto's first year of publication. Witht he power of hindsight, we know that this news should be critical to the Hokage and his council. After all, two fresh genin suddenly wielding life-changing powers is incredible news.

Without Danzo in this rewrite, Koharu & Homura take on the role of devils advocate to Hiruzen. Remembering the recent tragedies (the Nine-Tailed Attack, the Uchiha massacre), they will immediately call into question whether Naruto & Sasuke should be on the same team, or perhaps even be ninja at all. On top of these concerns, I think the elders would ask why Kakashi Hatake has been removed from ANBU to serve as their leader.

1.2 - The Humanity of a Ninja

Hiruzen is an old man, a retired ninja brought back into action after fighting in three wars and losing his successor. He watched his mentors die, and saw his own proteges defect/retire, all three of the Sannin falling into their various vices. His wife perished and one of his sons is dead, leaving him with a grandson and another son who has felt the impact of the strain all of these traumas have inflicted on Hiruzen.

Hiruzen will argue that Naruto & Sasuke should be given the chance to be ninja, and perhaps find a different path to the people before them. And that same chance should be extended to Kakashi, as he sees ANBU stamp out the passion and love in Kakashi's eyes, sending him further down a path of isolation.

This rejection of ANBU's ideals will play into the story later.

Suggesting that ANBU could be abolished outright, Hiruzen says it's time for Kakashi to open his eyes again and find something to care about. And who better to care about than Naruto Uzumaki & Sasuke Uchiha, two boys who need caring for the most, and both tied to Kakashi's past.

By doing this, we plant the seeds of just how important Kakashi's backstory is, and emphasises that Hiruzen is an old man sick of war and yearning for a new world - something we see shortly as he announces a collaborative Chunin Exams.

1.3 - The Lineage of a Sharingan

Sasuke and Kakashi never seem to talk about Kakashi's Sharingan. While I don't want Kakashi to spill his backstory this early on in the series, as it would be premature, I think a scene of Sasuke asking Kakashi about it makes sense and should suffice.

So Sasuke has followed Kakashi to Obito's grave - seeing the name engraved, Sasuke connects the dots as to how Kakashi obtained his Sharingan. Assuming Kakashi to have taken the eye by force, Sasuke would demand answers. Of course Kakashi would explain that the eye was given to him by a close friend, leaving Sasuke blindsided but accepting of the situation.

I would love to see this honest communication between the pair. It also foreshadows Obito earlier on, and follows up on Hiruzen's wish for Kakashi to heal by having him mentor Naruto & Sasuke. We begin to see the budding mentorship between Kakashi & Sasuke.

1.4 - A Visit from the Hokage

We never see Hiruzen & Naruto really communicate - I touched on this in my first post. To mirror Kakashi & Sasuke, I'd like to insert a scene of Hiruzen & Naruto. I enjoyed the filler anime scenes of Hiruzen checking in on Naruto, even though they didn't make complete sense.

In my version, Hiruzen pays a visit to Naruto, bringing fresh milk to replace his own spoiled carton.

Reminiscing on Haku, Naruto asks the Third Hokage about his own parents, as all he knows is that they died during the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox's attack. I think it's fair for the Third Hokage to tell Naruto that his father was a great ninja, known as the "Yellow Flash", and that he was Kakashi's mentor. This would shock Naruto, but I doubt Hiruzen would elaborate on it any more at this time.

Again this clues us in on Kakashi's backstory - something that won't be relevant for some time, but has captivated our attention now.

1.5 - A Brotherhood Forms

The final vignette of this epilogue that I want to include is one between Naruto and Sasuke. I love their bond but I would have liked to see them actually becoming friends. The way I picture it is simple - since they live in the same apartment block, Sasuke would invite Naruto out for ramen to celebrate the end of their first mission.

As they walk to meet Sakura, both boys would realise that the other gets strange looks from the villagers. People turn away or stare fixatedly. Parents gather children away. Due to their heritage, both boys are ostracised from society, and in this moment Naruto and Sasuke realise this.

I'm not sure this even needs to be a verbal exchange, but a silent understanding from the other that they're actually not so different. Something that I think is so obvious and yet so sorely missed from the early narrative.

Before the sadness and sorrow (heh) sets in, the boys are roused from this uncomfortable moment by Sakura, who waves and shouts at them from Ichiraku Ramen - they're in for a treat, as Kakashi is paying. Naruto and Sasuke grin as they race towards the ramen shop, and the arc ends as the sun sets on Konoha, with Team 7 taking their seats.

So concludes my rewrite entries for the early arcs of Naruto. Not a lot to change, but by adding in the Kakashi mask filler as canon, and throwing in some scenes of Team 7 bonding, we enter the meat and bones of the story knowing a little more about the friendship between our protagonists, Naruto and Sasuke.

#naruto au #naruto rewrite #talesfromtheleaf

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mohsinzavi · 2 months ago

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How Pakistani Independent Filmmaker Mohsin Khan Made His Short Film Raah

Mohsin Khan reveals the process of making Raah and the lessons he learned along the way.

Mohsin Khan, an independent filmmaker from Larkana, Sindh, Pakistan, is carving a unique path in the world of cinema. As the founder of The Solid Filmmakers, he has dedicated himself to crafting compelling narratives that explore the depths of human psychology, moral dilemmas, and emotional struggles. His latest short film, Raah, is a striking example of his storytelling prowess — an intimate yet intense exploration of guilt, regret, and redemption.

Despite having no formal training in filmmaking, Mohsin has established himself as a writer, editor, and director with a strong creative vision. His previous works, including Fractured Reflections and Echoes of Choices, showcase his ability to blend dark comedy, drama, and psychological tension. With Raah, he takes on a more reflective and emotionally charged narrative, pushing the boundaries of independent filmmaking in Pakistan.

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Raah follows Zafar, a man whose involvement in a drug deal gone wrong lands him in police custody. As he faces the consequences of his actions, he is forced to confront the decisions, betrayals, and societal judgments that have shaped his life. Through a heartfelt letter to his sister, Zafar expresses his guilt, remorse, and desperate yearning for redemption, offering a deeply personal glimpse into his emotional turmoil.

The film is set against a tense and atmospheric backdrop, moving between the empty streets where the failed drug deal unfolds and the stark confines of a police interrogation room. These settings serve as visual metaphors — the streets symbolize Zafar’s isolation, while the harsh lighting of the police station reflects the weight of judgment bearing down on him.

As the story unfolds, the audience is left questioning whether Zafar’s release from custody marks a chance at redemption or the beginning of yet another cycle of missteps. The open-ended conclusion is deliberate, challenging viewers to reflect on the unpredictability of life and the consequences of desperate choices.

Making Raah was not without its struggles. Mohsin collaborated closely with writer and producer Farhan Ali Surahio, whose storytelling expertise helped shape Zafar’s complex character. “The idea for Raah was born from our shared fascination with the irreversible consequences of human choices,” Mohsin explains. “Farhan’s story provided the foundation, and my role in co-writing the screenplay was to transform that foundation into a visually and emotionally engaging experience.”

The production faced several setbacks, the most significant being the loss of the film’s editing project due to a technical failure. “We had to start from scratch, which was incredibly frustrating,” Mohsin recalls. “But in a way, it reinforced our commitment to telling this story the right way.”

As a filmmaker, Mohsin Khan gravitates toward stories that exist in moral gray areas. “I’m fascinated by moments where morality and circumstance collide — where people make choices that define their fate,” he shares. In Raah, this theme is brought to life not just through the narrative, but through carefully crafted visuals. The dark, deserted streets emphasize Zafar’s loneliness, while the claustrophobic police station setting heightens his emotional distress.

At the heart of the film is Zafar’s letter to his sister — a deeply personal confession that serves as the emotional core of the story. It is through this letter that audiences gain insight into his pain, his regrets, and the complex forces that have shaped his life.

More than just a crime drama, Raah is a poignant reflection on human vulnerability, societal judgment, and the search for redemption. By leaving Zafar’s fate uncertain, the film forces viewers to consider the unpredictable nature of life and the weight of our decisions.

For Mohsin Khan, filmmaking is about more than just storytelling — it’s about challenging perspectives and sparking conversation. His journey as a self-taught independent filmmaker is a testament to passion, resilience, and the power of storytelling. Through The Solid Filmmakers YouTube channel, he continues to share his evolving creative journey, proving that independent cinema in Pakistan is alive and thriving.

#Filmmaking #Filmmaker #The Solid Filmmaker #Mohsin Khan #Mohsin Khan Filmmaker #Filmmaker Mohsin Khan #Cinematography #Director #Film #Short Film #Raah Short Film #Raah #Film Director

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bengiyo · 1 year ago

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Absolute Zero Ep 6 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Adult Soon finally started asking basic questions about the time travel he’s experiencing and trying to determine how he might potentially change anything. He continued to date Young Ong-sa and explained their history. He told Ong-sa that they shouldn’t be together even as he confessed that he loves him. He also left a letter with the DVD store owner. The show is slow in ways that haven’t been great, and they’re muddling the time travel component.

“If we can start over, my answer will be the same.”

Does he not remember his interaction with the strange man next door? If so, why is he saying the same things?

I can’t believe we went over a month without interacting with Young Soon.

Wait? Is Soon back in the future now?

This butterfly motif is actually starting to irk me.

Oh, don’t pull out the Dutch angles now. This man went and fucked with the timeline and now they want me to be like “oh no! it’s off!”

Yep. Time for Ong-sa to panic and spiral.

They sent Ong-sa in the rain to cry on the bridge in the middle of a Boy Sompob song. I feel bad for Young Ong-sa, but I’m just baffled by Future Suansoon. I understand that he’s grappling with the lonely future he’s set for himself by making these changes, but it’s all just so inherently stupid.

We didn’t need the kids to confirm that everyone noticed that Ong-sa was in love with Soon.

On paper, shifting the way we saw this first interaction between Ong-sa and Young Soon is fascinating. Instead of it being some kind of coincidental meet cute, this is twisted by Ong-sa yearning for a version of Soon that he already knows and trying to find it in the younger version of him. However, it’s been so painfully slow to get here that it all doesn’t land for me. It just feels really messed up in a way that diminishes the romance. There could be a really fucked up kind of viewpoint here about when and where the love between them began, but the asymmetry is really bothering me.

After six episodes I genuinely cannot recommend this show. It’s not been a very rewarding experience, and I mostly find myself bored at this point. I had a lot of hopes for this show, but It’s not delivering. How could they make a time travel romance so sleepy?

#absolute zero #absolute zero the series #absolute zero meta #thai bl #bl series #Ben watches

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pulaasul · 2 years ago

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Forge Mine Own Path - ED 3 (Velvet Intervention)

Despite what they knew, Keiwa was there unconscious but alive and things are explained to them.

Shoutout to @rainixdra for helping me with the plot of this one lol.

FFN I Ao3

1 I 2

---------

Suddenly, a blue light shone in the space between all of five people inside the building. They looked at it expectantly hoping for good news.

As soon as the blue light faded, it left a standing Tsumuri, an unconscious shirtless Keiwa on the floor, and four unfamiliar people all wearing blue.

Sara immediately rushed to her brother's side and began touching his wrist and neck before sighing in relief and crying her heart out in joy.

"Then…" Neon looked at the elder Sakurai expectantly.

Sara, the relief in her system prevented her from forming words but she did convey the news to everyone around her, with a strong nod.

"Thank goodness." Neon sighed. "Thank goodness." She repeated as tears formed in her eyes.

"But how?" Ace asked the question no one seemed to be asking. "I was under the impression that he was sacrificing himself for us."

"He was indeed hoping to take down the god of desires with him," the long-haired woman among the quartet of blue-wearing people spoke. "However, just as how the embodiment of human desire for death cannot be extinguished, the embodiment of human wishes can not be extinguished."

"The embodiment of human desire for death." Michinaga repeated one part of the sentence.

"Were Keiwa's efforts and sacrifices all for nothing?" Sara looked up at the people wearing blue.

"No, it wasn't all for nothing." The short-haired woman shook her head with a smile. "While they continue to grow and accumulate as people grow and desire, they can still be flopped? Dropped? Stopped?"

"As my sister was saying," The only man in the group interjected. "The embodiment of human wishes can not be extinguished but it can be halted and be scattered before it can take its form again."

"But, people desire for anything every time." Michinaga growled.

"And he too will reform," The youngest of the group responded. "But he is weakened and cannot do everything as he had been doing."

"Unlike the embodiment of desire for death, who constantly tries to end all sentient life, the embodiment of desire for wishes can bide its time and will reform well past all of your lifetimes." The long-haired woman finished.

"There is a form for the desire to die?" Michinaga couldn't help but fixate on that fact.

"Yes, just as there are embodiments of yearning for bonds, desire to be controlled, and many others, so too the desire for human death." The youngest of the group responded.

"Elizabeth, we weren't supposed to interfere." Margaret sighed.

"But dear sister, I did not," Elizabeth shook her head dramatically. "I simply erected a barrier between his attack and us, I certainly did not think that it would have protected him."

The youngest of the group shook her head.

"I'm sorry but we weren't supposed to interfere." The youngest of the group stated honestly. "I do not know what the consequences are for our interference…"

"Dear Lavenza, only Elizabeth has interfered in the course of events, as she has left the Velvet Room, it is my understanding that her interference is well within the scope of her journey." The only male in the group offered.

"Indeed," The long-haired woman chuckled. "And we were mere witnesses of her journey."

"I'm glad you see it my way, dear sister." The short-haired woman – Elizabeth – smiled warmly before turning towards the conscious people in the group. "Until our paths floss? Gross? Poss? Whatever."

As the quartet of blue-wearing people disappeared the way they arrived, by way of blue light shining on them and fading alongside the light, the short-haired woman seemed to have dropped two beads.

They rolled toward the unconscious members of the group.

Suddenly a single flower sprouted from each bead and two blue butterflies landed on them, one for each flower.

The butterflies and flowers faded from existence before a single petal fell on top of the unconscious Mitsumi and Keiwa.

After Keiwa and Mitsume glowed blue, the both of them started coughing, waking up from their slumber.

Tsumuri and Ace rushed to Mitsume's side.

Sara and Neon rushed to Keiwa's side.

"Wha-what happened?" Keiwa asked in a really hoarse voice.

Sara's response was to hug her brother as tight as she could.

"Nee-chan… I'm sorry."

"No, you're here now," Sara responded as she hugged her brother. "That's all that matters now."

"The ambulances are arriving soon," Michinaga reported. "We need to figure out a way to explain Tycoon's and the goddess's appearance."

"Mitsume."

"Fine, Tycoon's and Mitsume's appearances."

Ace suddenly removed his expensive cardigan and stripped himself of his shirt and gave it to Sara.

"Are you sure, Ace-sama?"

"Just accept it." Ace insisted as he wore his cardigan again and donned the DGP's jacket, after a long time he hasn't worn them.

"Geats, you and Na-go need to scram."

"Wha- Oi, Buffa.

"Ace, no one knows that Mitsume-san is your mother, we can't be seen here, we're too public of figures to be involved here." Neon explained.

"Ace, I'm going to be fine." Mitsume assured her son.

"Fine, you better not harm my mother, Buffa."

---------

It took weeks for Keiwa to be released from the hospital. The doctors were quite worried that there were some bones that healed incorrectly and there were some infected wounds.

As for Mitsume, it took years for her to be finally out of the hospital. Spending centuries as a statue has atrophied her muscles and she needed to stay in the hospital to rehabilitate her motor skills.

It came as a surprise to both Keiwa and Sara when their parents, who were supposed to be dead, came and visited Keiwa one time.

It turns out, Tsumuri used the last of the powers Sueru had implanted in her to make one big wish.

A wish that would have been granted had Keiwa won at least one DGP game.

Tsumuri's act of using the last of Sueru's powers forced her body to drop unconscious, it was a sight to see Ace so frazzled from seeing his sister unconscious.

He does care about Tsumuri-san.

Michinaga on the other hand almost stormed into Keiwa's room after he saw his best friend greet him, like nothing happened, at work.

"A little warning, next time."

"There won't be a next time," Keiwa hoarsely explained. "Neither Tsumuri-san nor Mitsume-san has the power of Eros anymore."

"I see." Michinaga turned his back on the Sakurai.

"For what it's worth, Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Keiwa shook his head.

"and I'm sorry."

"I can't forgive the deaths, Michinaga." Keiwa closed his eyes. "Turning into bubbles was painful, if not for me awakening to that, I would have really died."

"So you didn't?"

"While I didn't, I was transferred to someplace else, where I did, multiple times."

"You mentioned that,"

"The paper attack I subjected you with was far tamer than the darkness version, it literally burns your skin."

"Why? You had all the reason…"

"I may find it hard to forgive, but I'm not vindictive." Keiwa shook his head. "In time, maybe I can forgive what you have done, but not now."

"I can understand that."

---------

Keiwa found himself in a place, not unlike where the goddess once stood.

In the center, was a man in a white suit with a blue butterfly mask on his face.

"Welcome to the Collective Unconscious." The man greeted. "We meet again, my friend."

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worriedvision · 2 years ago

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Here is part 2 of this fic! It's the one where Alhaitham and Reader were friends since they were young and there's a bunch of feelings that get tweaked about. I'd recommend reading the first part because it would bring the background to this part! I was planning on this being the last part but of course I had to leave it was a multiple ending thing because it would start to get way too long. Be patient, they'll come soon!

You decided to sign up for one of those speed date programmes. It was risky, and you heard the eligible bachelor's were downright creepy or some form of red flag, but you wanted to find someone that you could be with. Since your last conversation with Alhaitham, you never saw him in his usual spots. You knew he was trying to avoid you, and it just solidified that you ruined any chance of keeping the connection you had with him.

Your speed dates didn't go well, but neither did the other people looking for men. You land up making good friends with quite a few people, bonding over the stories you had of the guys at the speed dates that objectified their "potential trophy" as one man stated. As great as it was to make friends, and finding hobbies through them, you still yearned for a lover.

You couldn't stop thinking of him, and you thought getting someone to be a rebound would somehow help.

"Kaveh, why did you gather us here?" Cyno asks, Tighnari nodding in agreement as he looks over for a response.

"I want you two to sign up for that speed dating-"

"Hold on, none of us need that..." Tighnari trails off, Cyno crossing his arms and looking away. "What's this for?"

"Fine, I'll explain." Kaveh sighs, sitting down. "I've noticed Alhaitham sulking around the bar at the time the speed dating is taking place. If I was to guess, it has something to do with one of the people there."

"I would rather not find out how much strength he has by testing his jealousy." Tighnari protests. "He's a fully grown man, surely he knows how to make a move."

"...you two better keep the rest of this to yourselves, got it?" Kaveh asks, continuing before he can get a rejection. "I overheard a confession from his childhood friend and all-time crush. Trust me, it's obvious from everyone but them. He rejected them, explaining he wasn't interested in a relationship for the reason of needing to maintain one."

"I'm still not...oh." Cyno realises, sharing a look with Tighnari. "How about we both go along together. That way, if Alhaitham does try something, it'll be two against one. Not that I think he'd try that in public." Cyno suggests, Tighnari finally accepting it.

There was one day you couldn't go along to the session, work particularly hard, and the next session you saw Alhaitham with one of your friends. It was clear he was there as a successful match. As much as you didn't want to admit it, it hurt to see him courting someone after he told you he was emotionally unavailable for social reasons.

"Good evening." You hear a deep voice say, waving you over. "Care to join me?"

You decide to take a seat in between Tighnari and Cyno, the seat Cyno patted. You made friends with them, finding it nice that you were able to talk to them without looking for the chance to get away.

"Oh, _!" Your friend exclaims, hugging you before ordering a coffee. "The one time you weren't here, a handsome man came in!"

"I'm happy to see you've got someone." You smile softly, knowing for a fact Alhaitham was staring at you. They walk back after getting their coffee, Alhaitham engaging in conversation once again.

"Still not over him?" Cyno asks, you nodding. "Don't force it. From our conversation, I can tell you don't need to do speed dating to find someone."

"I have to agree with Cyno here." Tighnari hums out, taking a quick glance. "He's certainly moved on quicker than you have."

"I mean, it was one sided." You brush off. "It only makes sense that he was able to move on. Maybe after my confession, he decided to give romance a chance." You shake your head, groaning out. "I shouldn't be telling you two about my failure of a romantic life."

"I find it quite interesting." Cyno reassures. "Well, if you are interested, feel free to join me at a table any time I'm here. Due to work, I can't come often." Cyno nods, leaving for his work after waving goodbye to you.

"Oh, that's so sweet of you!" You head your friend exclaim. Looking over, you can see Alhaitham with a small gift for his date. Alhaitham responds with a simple 'I know', which does actually go well, before walking out with his date - walking them home.

"He isn't worth crying over." Tighnari grumbles, turning to you. "I think Cyno is a better match for you. And I'm not just saying that to be a wingman, I know Cyno is better with these things." Tighnari reassures you, taking his leave after finishing his drink.

The bartender looks over the moment the door closes, and they decide to throw in their opinion for free.

"The whole time Alhaitham's date wasn't looking at him, he was stealing glances at you." The bartender states. "He was here the time you weren't, and I think he was looking for you."

"So he's decided to use a friend of mine to find out where I am?" You raise a brow, thoroughly confused. "He wouldn't do that."

"Whatever you say... Just saying, he looked bothered when you were talking to your new pals."

#gender neutral reader #genshin impact imagines #angst #tighnari #cyno #alhaitham #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #alhaitham x reader

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hollandsmushroom · 4 years ago

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OMG YAY ok so what about tom doing push ups and you are getting super horny watching him, so you ask him to stop just for you to get under him and... you know, suck his dick while he's doing push ups jgbkgbkgbkh if this is too filthy for you let me know

(Mouth)Fucking Pushups

HNNNG!!!!

Word count: 1705

Warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS GO AWAY! blow jobs, sweat and mouth fucking.

Request/Chat with Me

“Tom!” you called out through the seemingly empty house, dropping your keys in the dish on the entryway table, the clatter sounding through the walls as you followed the faint hints of music to the basement, pushing the door open, the sounds getting louder, loud enough that you knew Tom couldn’t hear you but you still thought you would call out again.

“Tom?” you tried again but your voice was drowned out by the beat that was vibrating through the ground beneath your feet as you stepped down the carpeted steps. When you reached the bottom of the stairs you stood on the solid hardwood floor, the beat of the music even more intense against your soles. Though you normally would have been fascinated by how the feeling rose through your body, any curiosity had been replaced with a keen interest in the man in front of you. He was laid out on a yoga mat, the flesh of his belly rolling slightly as he curled his upper body up off the floor, his biceps taught against the short sleeves of his shirt, his hands gripping the opposite shoulders. His brown eyes were squeezed shut in exertion and you knew that you should make yourself known but he looked too dialectable to interrupt, you just wanted to sit and admire as a drop of sweat trickled between his pecs. You sat on the seat of the rowing machine, pressing your feet into the floor so the seat wouldn’t roll down the metal slide and watch. His knees were spread and you could see the way that his shorts had hitched up his hips, accentuating his cock through his basketball shorts, tightening on either side of his balls and it made you gulp. You felt yourself beginning to yearn for him, your mouth was salivating as you watched him, so fixated on the space between his legs and the continuing loosening and tightening of his shorts that you didn’t notice Tom sitting up, breaking open his eyes to find you sitting there watching him.

“JESUS FUCK!” He cried out when he saw you, still having thought that he was alone while he was working out. His words shocked you out of your cock lusted haze and made you jump, nearly falling off of the erg but his hand wrapped itself around yours and pulled you back to a stable position, also using you as a way to hoist himself off the floor so he stood above you, his sweaty brown curls falling in front of his quizzical orbs as he hooked a finger under your chin and brought your eyes to his, tearing your gaze from his glistening abs that were now in front of your face and you just wanted to smear your lips across them.

“Sorry for scaring you, Tommy” you utter, as his thumb brushes your cheek, your words eliciting a small chuck from Tom.

“It’s alright, love, how long were you sitting there?” he queried, wondering just how long you had been silently staring at him, well by the looks of it, admiring him, and he couldn’t help the blush that rose from his chest at the thought of you just tracing every curve of his body with your eyes without him knowing.

“Don’t actually know, but don’t let me interrupt you look like you still have things to do” he furrows his brow at your words, fully prepared to stop working out and spend time with you but you seemed pretty set on letting him continue so he didn’t argue, ducking down and stealing a kiss from your lips before returning to his mat.

His knees met the foam first then catching himself on his hands, pushing his legs back into a push-up position and dipping down. This position gave you a stunning view of his ass, how it squeezed when he bowed down to the floor, the way his grunts made it over the loud music was making your thirst for the man in front of you simply multiply. You couldn’t stop yourself, you had literally just told him to go back to work and there you were opening your mouth to ask him to stop.

“Tommy?” you called out, making him stop his actions and turn to look at you from over his shoulder, his brows scrunched with laughter.

“I thought you told me not to let you interrupt” he chuckled as he held himself in a side plank, his eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile as he watched you stand. “Whatcha doin’ love?” he asked as you laid down so your shoulder was flush with his hand.

“Giving you motivation” you insisted, pulling him pack down into a push up position by tugging on his shoulder, forcing him to fall over you.

“Was doing just fine without it” he laughed as you puckered your lips, inviting him to bow his elbows back and press down to your lips but as soon as he nearly reached them you dodged to the side, pressing a kiss under his ear, licking over the juncture very softly making him gasp. God his noises were gonna be the death of you.

“W-what was that?” he asks when he pushes back above you, elbows locking as he looks at you intently.

“A kiss” you explain, looking at him like he was dumb to cover your devilish desires, and your explanation seemed to be enough to satisfy Tom as he began to lower himself again, and this time you pressed a kiss against his collar bone, sucking lightly until he pulled away.

“Y/n” he groaned, looking down at where your head was but not it was just your hair, having scooted yourself down so you could kiss your way down his chest. His skin was salty against your lips but you didn’t mind, you cared less about his sweat and more about the fact that you could now feel Tom’s hardening cock pressing into you when he lowered down. It was pressing into your belly now as you peppered kisses down from his belly button, tracing your tongue along the waistband of his shorts.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” Tom panted but you ignored him, pulling his shorts down until they were resting part way down his thighs, beneath his ball sack, his cock springing free and hitting you in the chin. You tilted your head down so your chin rested on your chest, letting his cock between your lips and rest on your tongue. You could sense Tom’s apprehension, almost able to hear the worried whimper of your name that was building in his throat but you decided to skip that part, wrapping your arms around his waist and digging your hands into his asscheeks and pulling him down, forcing him to do a push up.

His cock brushed the back of your throat but you managed to contain the gag that it triggered, letting him pull from between his lips as he pushed back up only to have you pull him back down again, removing one hand from his ass cheek and wrapping it in a searing grip around his hardon, positioning it so he would slip eagerly in between your salivating lips.

“Fuck” you heard Tom murmur in pleasure, his ab muscles were twitchin in your view as you opened yoru jaw just a little bit more, taking him in further when his body rises and falls again, he was enraptured by your mouth, focused on the wet friction of his dick against your tongue that he forgot what his arms were doing until he felt like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore.

He sat back on his knees, his cock still nestled in your mouth as he gripped onto your scalp, pulling your head forward as he began to fuck into your mouth, bringing himself closer and closer to the edge with every jerk of his hips, his tip still brushing against the back of your throat with every stroke and it was making you gag, your throat clenching around his length, the constriction a sudden shock that was enough to send him over the edge, his cum shooting down your throat and spreading across the insides of your cheeks as you sucked harder and his cock, draining him for every ounce of cum that you could possibly manage until he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. He was moaning and whining and convulsing on top of you, unable to support himself he feel forward, catching himself on his palms as he pulled out of your mouth, a choked gargle leaving your lips as cum began to drip down your now empty throat, pushing yourself up from between his legs and letting his body fully collapse onto the mat.

“Fuck” He winced, having landed on his overly sensitive cock, crushing the spongy flesh slightly making him roll over onto his back.

You looked over your shoulder to admire your work, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you laid down next to him, resting your head on his chest as you looked up into his hooded and tired eyes. Your fingers traced down his accentuated abs muscles until they reached his cock, tracing very gently over the wet and tired skin earning a couple more twitches from him as you maintained eye contact.

“If I knew that was gonna happen when you watched me work out I would have made you come to every session with me” he laughs, fingers brushing your forehead as you tried to hide your face in his chest.

“Hey, none of that” he ordered, pulling you up so you were now above him, your knees on either side of his hips and lips only centimeters apart, breath hot as your eye contact made your belly erupt into little butterflies.

“I love you” he murmurs, closing the space between the both of you slowly.

“Love you too” you assure, setting your hips down onto his and feeling his cock again. “Love this cock too” you giggle, grinding down slightly, feeling it harden.

“God, you’re gonna kill me” Tom groaned, making you cease your actions and throw your head back in laughter.

Join my sleepover

♡Taglist♡

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#tom holland reader #tom holland request #tom holland blurb #tom holland oneshot #tom holland one shot #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland #tom holland filth

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