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kurogane2512 · 8 months ago

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After reading the Cocolia one shot in wattpad and then in Tumblr, I can't help but wonder at the end. I really want to see what happened after 😭😭

I want a Herrscher of the Void (Sirin) reader meeting Star Rail Himeko and the reader avoids her when meeting her because back in her universe, killing her Himeko was the biggest regret the reader made, thinking it was all a trap for her, now living in regret she has to get used to this Star Rail Himeko as they journey on the Astral Express. (SFW or NSFW)

I actually have a request for a fic about her continuation with the Express so I'll be writing all my thoughts in that! 🥰

And oh my god my heart broke reading the request all I think of is the arc when Kiana suffered the aftermath of the Hyperion battle and blamed herself so much for Himeko's death 😭

Game: Honkai Star Rail

Characters: HSR Himeko x Herrscher!reader (HoV)

Type: Fluff and slight angst with comfort

The Astral Express soared through the vast empty galaxy when an unexpected obstruction rocked the train and alerted its passengers. Pom Pom notified that some kind of portal formed on the path and an entity appeared from it, stopping the express from moving. March and Dan Heng took out their weapons and stood on guard while Welt stood in front of the door as it opened, the obsturction finally coming in their sight.

"Oh, it really is a train... Huh, interesting."

Welt's eyes widened at the person in front. How could it be? He had no idea.

"....Been a long time, Mr Welt. So, this is where you have been all these years."

"....Y/n, or should I say.... Herrscher of the Void? What's your objective here?"

"Now now, no need to be on guard. I'm not here to harm anyone, I was just strolling through space when I picked up your energy and thought to say hi~"

Welt glared at you then looked back at March and Dan Heng who lowered their weapons on his signal and allowed you inside.

"You have changed, Y/n. Did you win over the Honkai?"

"Mhm, you could say that. The price was leaving everyone and everything I cherished, but I don't regret it."

"You have been... floating through space since then? How long has it been?"

"I don't know anymore.... I remember I left a few months after that incident. When did you leave Earth, Mr Welt?"

"....Around 8 years after that incident according to Earth's time."

"I see, it's been a while then...."

Safe to say, your first encounter with the Astral Express Crew was full of surprises and uneasiness. Welt introduced you to March and Dan Heng to the best of his abilities, intentionally skipping to disclose too many details about Earth. You had just begun to take in the atmosphere and feel of the Express when your eyes fell upon a familiar woman walking towards you.... those flame-like wavy hair and golden eyes, you couldn't believe your eyes.

"Ahem, Welt? What's going on?"

Welt walked up to the said woman and explained the same things to her, all the while you stood speechless at your spot and stared at her with wide eyes. It was a splitting image, yet there were significant differences between her and the woman in your memory.

"H....H-Himeko? Is that you....?"

You spoke in a shaky and unsteady voice, countless memories and images surging through your mind at the moment. The woman responded to your voice and looked at you with a gentle smile, and right at that moment you saw her again. That face appeared in front of you, projected on this woman's face with the exact same expression.

"Ara, you already know my name? Welt, did you tell her?" the woman named Himeko spoke, and indeed her voice was exactly the same as well. It was like meeting a clone, but deep inside you knew what was happening yet you found it hard to believe.

"Ah, no— How to explain this?" Welt said with a sigh and held his head. Himeko softly chuckled then came closer to you, observing you from head-to-toe for a moment with a smile.

"Welcome to the Astral Express. I'm Himeko, the Navigator of the Express. It's a pleasure to meet someone like you, Y/n. Welt has told me about Herrschers on his home world, and I must say it's quite exciting to meet one with my own eyes finally."

This woman was her, yet also wasn't her. You didn't know how to react.

"Uh... I... I...." you stammered and stepped back, wanting to run far away from here.

"I.... No.... I.... I'm sorry!" you blurted out and summoned a portal but couldn't jump in as Welt held your arm and stopped you, using his own powers to cancel out your portal.

"Hold it, Y/n! Dan Heng, March! Don't let her leave!" Welt ordered and both March and Dan Heng immediately held you from the other side.

"W-What?! Welt, let me go! What's the meaning of this?!" you shouted and struggled out of their hold; you could push everyone away in the blink of an eye but the presence of the woman in front made you powerless.

"Y/n, calm down! Let us talk first!" Welt shouted.

"I don't want to! Let me go! I'll leave and never come back! I promise I won't hurt anyone!" tears were swelling up in your eyes as you looked back n forth at all the people in front. Himeko was visibly worried and tried to help as well, but the barrage of traumatic memories and your past weighed you down causing you to pass out in front of everyone. The next time you woke up was in one of the rooms of the Express, tears stains on your face as you stared at the unfamiliar ceiling and recalled your past.

You had a slight hope it was your Himeko, but you knew that wasn't the case and maybe that was for the best. You ended up staying on the Express for a few days on Welt's request, you didn't understand his motive but you couldn't deny you were drawn to the company here. March and Dang Heng were pleasant to be around and kept you occupied with questions and activities, eager to see your powers and know you more.

As for Himeko? You didn't see her after you woke up, you were informed she was fixing up any problems on the Express caused by your unexpected arrival. But that was only for a day. Afterwards, you saw her every now and then sitting in the lobby drinking coffee or reading some book. She always greeted you with the same gentle smile and offered you to sit beside her but you politely refused every time.

You had come close to everyone on the Express except Himeko, and she was quick to notice that. It was obvious how you avoided her, either looking away from her whenever in the same room or making very small talk if she tried approaching you. While Himeko would never interfere in your personal life, she couldn't deny it was upsetting how you avoided only her. She wondered if you hated her, and what she did to make you hate her.

You had become a reliable helping hand around the Express, Pom Pom seemed to find you quite efficient and was happy to have you on-board. There were times when you'd reach places generally difficult to reach in the Express and fix errors; like the time when the engine suddenly stopped working and Himeko was trying to fix it but she needed someone to go outside and aid her. It was an easy task for you so you offered to help, despite your hidden reluctance.

"And... that was it! Well done, Y/n. Thank you very much for the help. I'd normally make Dan Heng go outside and do that but you made it so much easier. Say, would you mind if I invited you for some coffee and snacks? Or anything other than coffee even, I'd just like to thank you for helping me with this." Himeko extended a cordial invitation to you, hopeful that you'd accept.

"Ah.... Um, sorry but no. You don't need to do that to thank me. Uh... s-sorry, I'll leave now. You can call me to help again, I don't mind."

"A-Ah, wait, Y/n—!" Himeko tried to protest but you already teleported away from her sight. She sighed and looked down in perplexion; thanking you was just one reason; she had hoped to get to know you better and perhaps clear any misunderstandings. It was truly confusing and upsetting to her now. She decided to talk to Welt after all her attempts to befriend you failed, he was the only person who knew you best.

That night, you laid on the bed of your cabin when an unexpected knock came on your door followed by an even more unexpected voice, "Y/n, it's me. Are you still awake? I'm sorry but I needed your help with something." It was Himeko. You sat up in shock and contemplated what to do, ultimately deciding to agree since you wanted to help her. You didn't care what she thought of you, as long as she was safe and happy.

"Oh, sure. I'll come." you opened the door for her and she asked you to come with her. To your surprise, she took you to her own room. You didn't understand what kind of help she needed here, and you became slightly suspicious.

"S-So, what do you need help with, Hi— Um, ma'am?" you struggled to even say her name.

Himeko smiled, "Have a seat first, make yourself comfortable."

You slowly nodded and made your way to the bed then sat down on one side. She looked through her belongings for a while then picked up something and came to sit beside you quite closely, making you shift away from her in a tensed manner.

"Here, does this look familiar to you?" Himeko handed you a photo and your eyes widened looking at it, your hands trembling while holding it.

"T-This... how come? W-Where is this? And how do you...?" you blabbered a string of words and looked at Himeko in shock.

"....It's on a Space Station that the Express regularly visits. I don't know if it's the real thing, but it is there in their storage room as a prized possession of the Space Station's owner. Sometimes I have been close to it and observed it, and I hear some strange whispers in my ear for a brief moment but I'm never able to make out what they say."

"I see.... I do know about it. It's.... from my world, from someone close to me."

You looked away then handed back the photo to her and abruptly stood up to walk out, "Is that all? Sorry, I'll help you some other time��"

"I know what happened, Y/n. I know who you are referring to." Himeko spoke before you could leave, making you stop in your tracks with your back turned to her.

"....Did Welt tell you?"

Himeko sighed, "Yes.... I didn't want to barge into your personal matters but I became increasingly worried how you avoided me. Will you give me a chance to talk, Y/n?"

"There's nothing to talk about.... It's not your fault, none of it is. You did nothing wrong. It's my own inability and fear. I'm sorry for making you feel that way but just know you are not in the wrong."

"Then!" Himeko suddenly came near you and held your wrist, "Then, let me help you through that fear! Let me help you overcome it!"

Her words shocked you, the touch of her skin sending shivers in your body. You gritted your teeth then slowly turned to look at her, the same gentle smile and kind eyes gazing at you.

"....Let go. I don't deserve it."

Himeko was surprised by the hurtful look on your face then frowned at your words and pulled you towards herself, tightly embracing you.

"Who decides that? I believe people can change and deserve a second chance, a chance to make things right and forge their own path. I look forward to the future."

".....You are so much like her. She would also say something similar in such situations."

Tears welled up in your eyes, Himeko gently caressed your head while embracing you and you couldn't hold back anymore. You melted in her touch and familiar feeling, wrapping your own arms around her and holding her close as if you never wanted to let go. Both of you sat down on the bed beside each other and she held your hand while wiping the tears from your face then cupping your face.

"S-Sorry, I don't know what to do in this situation...."

"Well, for starters, how about telling me what's on your mind? You have only been saying 'sorry' and running away from me every time I tried to talk."

"Ah, sorry about that. No, I mean—" you mindlessly blurted more string of apologies making Himeko chuckle and hold you again.

"Just calm down first, okay? Take it slow, you don't have to force yourself."

You nodded then finally calmed down enough after some time and felt like talking.

"How much did Welt tell you?"

"Not much. He explained what Herrschers were in your world and what kind of powers you have. He said you likely hold yourself responsible for causing pain and destruction there, and that you have seemingly been floating in space for a long time as punishment for your actions...."

"He left out the most important part then.... Yes, he's correct about all of that. I.... lost control of myself and killed so many people, destroyed so many lives. Among them was her..... the one woman I loved. She saved me, but I was blinded by power and....k-killed her too."

Your breath hitched as you finally said the words deep in your heart.

"That woman was.... Himeko in your world?"

You nodded, "She looked just like you.... Same hair color, eyes and voice. She was my teacher first, she taught me so much and helped me. And I.... what did I do to repay her?"

More tears filled your eyes and Himeko caressed your head, "I understand. Thank you for being so brave and telling me."

"I know I shouldn't project her on you. You are indeed similar but also significantly different, I have noticed it during the time I have been here. But.... I.... I'm sorry I just—"

"Shh shh, it's okay. No need to say more, I completely understand."

You nodded and she again hugged you closely, keeping your head on her chest and tenderly caressing it.

"But you know, Y/n, what Welt told me about Herrschers was different, especially about you. He said you were experimented on as a child and injected with the Honkai virus. Then the Honkai virus is responsible for what happened, it controlled your mind and made you do all that, then you left your planet to stay away from everyone and keep them safe. And now you gained control over the Honkai all by yourself; so tell me, how is any of this your fault? To me, it seems you are just a victim like everyone else. In fact, you have suffered the most in all of this."

"....I'm still the one who committed all those actions, it was my body and my face. If I was strong enough to gain control earlier then I would have prevented it, but I couldn't. It is on me.... I can't undo it even with these powers."

Himeko looked at you with a sympathetic expression then gently held your chin and turned your face to herself, you gazed into her deep golden eyes and felt lost as if you were looking at the love of your life. But you knew what the truth was and there was no denying it, it was pointless to gaze into this depth and search for her. You pulled away from her grip and turned around, your back facing her now.

"Uh, thank you for listening but I'm fine. I'll leave the Express tomorrow and not bother any of you more, it was a nice change of pace meeting you all and you treated me really well. I can't thank you enough..."

Himeko was caught by surprise, "You know, everyone would be happy if you stay. They have all already accepted you as a Nameless. Pom Pom loves how helpful you are with repairs, March is happy to have a companion around the same age as her and it seems you both share some hobbies, Dan Heng is intrigued by you and finds you a good practice partner, Welt is... well, you already know him enough."

"....And what about you? What do you think of me? I have only been avoiding you all this time...."

Himeko smiled to herself and moved closer to you then embraced you from behind, wrapping her arms around your torso and snuggling into your shoulder. The action made you blush, her body pressed closely to you and her breath tickled your ear, her lips even ghosting your skin.

"Why, you are very helpful to me as well. Everytime you helped me selflessly and asked for nothing in return. I know how you observe me and keep a close eye on me even when we aren't in the same space. You avoid me up-front but you are otherwise always attentive to me, aren't you?"

"....How did you know?"

"Hehe, just call it a Navigator's instinct. Of course, I'm happy if you stay as well. You have been alone and lonely long enough, it's time you heal your wounds and find happiness. If you like being with us then you are more than welcome to stay."

"I do... I really like it here. All of you are so different yet you seem like a family, I didn't know this is what a family felt like...."

"Mhm, we have been together for a while and faced many things together. All of us will always support each other. That's the way of the Nameless."

You wiped the tears in your eyes then let out a chuckle, "To think it's Himeko again who's comforting me.... It's a strange turn of fate."

Himeko smiled to herself then kissed your cheek, a blush forming on your face as you slowly turned to face her. She cupped your face and caressed your cheek with her thumb then came closer and kissed your forehead too followed by kissing your other cheek.

"H-Himeko.... you don't have to...." you said embarrassingly.

"Hehe, I can't help myself. You are so adorable and you finally called my name~"

You looked away bashfully, giving her the chance to kiss your cheek again. The barrage of kisses on your face didn't stop and soon you found yourself pinned on the bed with Himeko straddling you, both of you gazing at each other with ragged breaths and red faces. She cupped your face and slowly leaned down to connect her lips with yours, initiating a soft and gentle kiss. Your eyes opened wide at this, yet the feeling of her lips on yours made you melt into her and kiss back.

The kiss didn't last for long, it felt more like a loving peck with how quickly she pulled back, leaving you with a sense of wanting more. Himeko smiled and sat up on your waist, pulling you with herself. She wrapped her arms around your neck and embraced you again, whispering in a soft tone, "Let's take it slow, shall we? If you want to do more, that is~"

You blushed then kept your hand on her upper back and nodded, "I do.... but I don't want to think of you as a replacement for her. You are Himeko but you are not her, and I want to love you for who you are not because you are Himeko. Um, did that make sense?"

"Mhm, I understand. I also want that, I'd be upset if you take me just because I look and sound like her...." she paushed then leaned close to your ear, "....I'll make you love me, I hope you will be prepared~"

Little did you both know that you were already drawn to her, the Himeko that she was and not the one in your memory.

#honkai star rail #star rail #hsr himeko #hsr x reader #hsr himeko x reader #honkai star rail himeko #himeko x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail fluff #hsr women #fem reader #herrscher reader

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preyingmaneater · 1 month ago

Text

Feast.

summary: Steve had been charming you into his trap, instead, you matched his freak.

a/n: This is my first time writing this character. I had a lot of fun, even if I'm late to the party. I didn't mean for this to get SO LONG. I swear. But I wanted to try to really write this in an interesting way, exploring his character and describing every little thing to set the moods and whatnot. Unedited, I wrote this in three days and didn't want to edit. ;; wc: 8.9k 😭

You met Steve during a late-night grocery run. The fluorescent lights of the store cast a harsh glow on the aisles, emphasizing the lateness of the hour.

Your appearance was casual, befitting the time - just past nine in the evening. You hadn't made any effort to dress up, as impressing anyone was far from your mind at this hour. Your focus was solely on completing your shopping and returning home. As you navigated the produce section, your eyes scanned the shelves of herbs. Your hand reached out, grabbing a handful of fragrant rosemary, then delicate parsley, and finally aromatic bay leaves. You had a specific dish in mind and you looked forward to getting home and making it. Your gaze settled on the sage, and you moved to grasp it.

In that moment another hand appeared, reaching for the same bunch of sage. Your fingers inadvertently touched, and you instinctively jerked your hand back, the contact catching you off guard. "Sorry," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper in the quiet store. Feeling a wave of discomfort wash over you, you took a step back from the herb section. Without making eye contact with the stranger, you turned on your heel, ready to retreat to another aisle.

"Hey, it's okay," the voice called back in response, causing you to pause mid-step, turning back to face the source of the reassurance. Your gaze fell upon the stranger, a man whose handsome features were framed by dark, tousled hair. As you scanned his appearance, taking in every detail from his welcoming expression to his casual attire, your eyes were inevitably drawn to his outstretched hand. In his grasp was the coveted sage, "You can take it," he offered with a gentle smile, his voice carrying a hint of warmth that seemed to ease the tension in the air. "I still have some at home, so this one's yours if you want it."

You hesitated.

Despite your initial uncertainty, you accepted the sage from his hand. It was, after all, the last one on the shelf, and his unexpected kindness had caught you off guard. Your heart was set on the recipe that called for the sage and you didn’t want to abandon it for something else. "Thanks..." you murmured, your voice trailing off as you lifted your gaze to meet his. You allowed yourself to truly observe him, your eyes meticulously cataloging every feature of his face.

He was well groomed, exuding an aura of refined handsomeness that immediately caught your attention, despite feeling some sort of wariness at talking to a complete stranger. His jawline was chiseled to perfection, giving him strong features, while his eyes were a captivating steel blue that seemed to pierce right through you. Those eyes held a depth that hinted at both intelligence and mystery, drawing you in despite yourself.

Your eyes trailed down to his lips, a soft and inviting shade of pink, formed the most enchanting shapes when he smiled, both warm and slightly mischievous. His chocolate-colored hair was expertly styled, swept upwards in a way that not only complemented his face shape but also suggested he had a habit of paying a careful attention to detail.

It was clear that he knew exactly how to present himself to make the best impression, every aspect of his appearance thoughtfully curated. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret about your own casual attire. You found yourself wishing you had put a bit more effort into your appearance before going on what you had assumed would be an uneventful and quick late-night grocery run.

"I'm Steve," he introduced himself, his voice as smooth and appealing as his appearance. He offered you another smile, this one somehow even more charming than the last. "And I have a weird habit of speaking to very...good looking strangers in the middle of aisle two." He delivered the line with a playful tone, his eyes twinkling with humor, clearly aiming to put you at ease while also subtly complimenting you.

You returned his smile with one of your own, your natural wariness slowly dissipating. His effort to put you at ease worked, he was charming enough, and he looked harmless. There was something disarmingly genuine about his demeanor that made you feel unexpectedly comfortable. After a moment's hesitation, you decided to share your name with him, watching as his face lit up with an appreciative smile. He carefully repeated your name, as if savoring each syllable, then looked back at you with a twinkle in his eye. "It's a beautiful name," he said softly, "It suits you perfectly."

A comfortable silence settled between you for a few seconds, during which you both seemed to be contemplating what to say next. Eventually, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a hint of nervousness creeping into his posture. "Well, uh," he began, his voice tinged with a mixture of reluctance and politeness, "I should, uh, let you get back to your shopping. Have a good night." With a slightly awkward nod, he hesitantly turned on his heel and began to walk away, his steps slow and measured as if he was fighting an internal battle.

You watched him go for a moment before turning your attention back to the produce display, your mind still lingering on the interaction. However, just as you were about to resume your shopping, you heard familiar footsteps approaching. Looking up, you saw Steve returning, a determined yet slightly sheepish expression on his face. "You know what?" he said, a hint of self-deprecating humor in his voice, "I've already crashed and burned, so I might as well go all in."

He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say next. Walking back to you with renewed purpose, he met your gaze and exhaled, "I know this might be a long shot, but... can I have your number?"

You and Steve had gone on several delightful dates over the course of the following month.

His charismatic personality shone through in every interaction, as he consistently displayed politeness, a great sense of humor, and gentlemanly behavior. Steve always made sure you were comfortable and having a good time. He demonstrated his respect for your boundaries each and every time, he didn’t ask for anything or appear to pout in any way when you declined inviting him to your home or even giving him a kiss. But, your bond grew deeper and you found yourself increasingly drawn to his charming demeanor.

After your last date, you decided to take a step forward in your relationship. You felt enough of a strong sense of trust and comfort with Steve, so you invited him inside to stay the night.

"We should go away somewhere together," Steve suggested after quite the…passionate display and rawly fucking you into your bed. You were nestled comfortably against him, your head resting on his bare chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. At his words, you stirred slightly, curiosity piqued by the idea of a getaway with him.

Lifting your head a little to meet his gaze, you responded with a mix of intrigue and playful questioning in your voice. "Somewhere?" you echoed, your mind already beginning to conjure up images of potential romantic destinations. "Where?" you asked, eager to hear what kind of escape he had in mind for the two of you.

"I dunno..it might be a surprise," he said, his expression turning serious as he gazed downward. A mischievous smirk spread across his face, and he looked back up at you. "A very special surprise for a very special girl."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his words, a mix of amusement and exasperation coloring your features. His confidence was almost obnoxious, and that cheeky attitude of his was on full display. "Always so mysterious," you remarked, shaking your head slightly. "You and your cryptic responses... I swear, sometimes it's like trying to decipher a complex puzzle just to get a straight answer out of you."

After you let out your playful complaints, you settled back against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. A contented sigh escaped your lips as you allowed yourself to relax into his warmth. The comfortable moment was short-lived as you became acutely aware of the state you were both in. "You know what? I'm feeling rather sticky and gross right now," you announced, wrinkling your nose slightly. "A nice, hot shower sounds absolutely perfect."

Steve felt a swell of pride in his chest, smirking to himself, "Ah, did I do that?" He feigned innocently, his hand roamed down and squeezed your ass lightly. "I guess we should shower then, baby. But...you sitting here with my cum sitting inside you does turn me on a lot..."

"Oh hush," you smacked his chest and got up, "I'm not getting an infection for your satisfaction," You called over your shoulder as you walked to your bathroom.

You indulged in a much needed, long, hot shower. Steve joined you a few minutes later, gladly stepping under the hot streams of water and pulling you close to him. His hands gracefully glided across your skin, applying and distributing soap suds over every inch of your body. The sensation was invigorating and soothing as he skillfully massaged your tender muscles after having intense sex with him, releasing the tension your muscles held.

Steve held you close, providing you a comforting feeling of security and affection and intensifying your attraction to him. He was such a change of pace compared to your past romantic encounters. The disappointing dates and less-than-ideal partners you had encountered before left you feeling hopeless, then Steve popped into your life at the perfect time. A true gem among the rough of shitty men.

You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling it soaked under the water, with tiny bubbles and bits of shampoo still clinging to the strands. Gently, you helped rinse out the last remnants of shampoo, your fingers massaging his scalp in slow, circular motions. Steve closed his eyes and surrendered himself to your care, completely relaxed and at ease. There was something incredibly intimate about this moment, different from the hard sex you had moments ago. It felt more affectionate and meaningful, lust gone from the moment and being replaced with care.

The tension melted away from his features, he looked so peaceful as you washed his hair out. Steve’s expression one of utter contentment and trust, his vulnerable state allowed you to see a side of him that intrigued you. Your eyes were drawn to his neck, you eyed his pulse, you could almost see the blood pumping through him.

Not a single concern seemed to cloud his mind, he wasn’t paying much attention to anything but your fingers delicately moving against his scalp.

"You remind me of a statue. So pristine, smooth...it must be your diet." You commented coolly, your voice carrying a hint of playful admiration. The words hung in the air, charged with an underlying tension that neither of you could ignore.

Steve's gaze slowly drifted downward, meeting your eyes with a sudden shift occurred in his demeanor. The cool blue of his irises now seemed to recede, overwhelmed by the expanding darkness of his pupils. It was as if a storm had suddenly brewed within those oceanic depths, transforming them into something more intense, more dangerous.

His body language changed in tandem with his eyes. His relaxed state became rigid, every muscle taut with an energy that seemed barely contained. You observed the change with wariness, your head tilting to one side in a gesture that was both curious and slightly challenging.

For a moment, the man before you bore little resemblance to the Steve you thought you knew. Gone was the familiar warmth and easy-going nature. In its place stood someone darker, more complex. He exuded an aura that was simultaneously alluring and slightly unsettling, reminiscent of those enigmatic figures often portrayed in noir films - the kind of character whose true nature remains shrouded in mystery, the serial criminal eluding the police and performing dark, gritty murders.

"Steve?" you asked, your brow furrowing with concern as your date's demeanor shifted, taking on a more ominous air. His name was spoken with a hint of apprehension, but it pierced through whatever fog had descended upon him. He snapped out of his trance, blinking rapidly, his features softening back into the countenance you recognized.

The unsettling glint that had momentarily clouded his eyes dissipated, replaced by the familiar look you'd grown accustomed.

"Ah, sorry," he apologized, clearing his throat. "I think I'm just a little dazed from the high my orgasm gave me," he muttered softly, his explanation hanging in the air between you. His hands found their way to your hips, fingers gently pressing into your skin.

He always knew how to make you forget those little moments. Where his nature peeked through.

Steve's home was nestled in the forest, a luxurious place you marveled at, far more expansive and opulent than you had initially anticipated. He told you he was a butcher, but his skills were so refined and meticulous that he could become a surgeon. The thought never prompted you to question his claims; after all, Steve had always been honest with you, never once resorting to deception or falsehoods in your interactions.

As you observed him in the kitchen, you found yourself utterly captivated by his culinary prowess. His movements were so fluid and precise that you couldn't help but imagine him as a master chef in a high-end restaurant. Every aspect of his food preparation was pure artistry.

The way he deftly maneuvered the knife through various ingredients, the graceful arc of the blade as it glided through succulent meats and crisp vegetables, and the meticulous attention he paid to the presentation of each element on the plate. It was as if he were composing a gastronomic symphony, with every cut, chop, and arrangement contributing to a masterpiece that was as visually stunning as it was sure to be delicious.

Steve presented you with an exquisite culinary masterpiece. The centerpiece was a succulent cut of red meat, perfectly seared and glistening with moisture. Its exterior was adorned with a generous coating of cracked peppercorns, creating an enticing crust that promised a burst of flavor with every bite. Your eyes traced the contours of the meat, you noticed a tantalizing flow of crimson juice emanating from its center, pooling on the plate and making you drool.

Beside it was an equally delicious looking salad, it was a vibrant cornucopia of fresh vegetables, each meticulously chosen for both its nutritional value and aesthetic appeal. The vegetables were arranged with an artist's touch, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that was as pleasing to the eye as it promised to be to the palate. A light sheen of glazed vinaigrette draped over the greens, adding a subtle luster and hinting at the perfect balance of tangy and sweet flavors that awaited.

"This looks absolutely delicious, Steve," you praised warmly, settling into your seat across from him. As you reached for your fork, your movements were slow and deliberate, as if to savor every moment of anticipation before the first bite.

The meat tasted...familiar, you've savored it countless times before. As you took your first bite, the flavors danced across your tongue, evoking exciting memories of past meals. The red meat possessed a delicate sweetness, akin to the tender flesh of veal, while its consistency bore resemblance to the well-known texture of beef. You chewed slowly, deliberately, allowing your taste buds to fully explore the complex interplay of flavors and textures. The softness of the meat yielded effortlessly beneath your teeth, its juices releasing a burst of rich, savory notes that coated your palate.

You continued to savor the bite, your discerning palate began to recognize the specific cut, as if recalling an old friend. Suddenly, an unexpected sensation stirred in your belly, a curious flip that gave you pause. You raised your eyes to meet Steve's gaze, having just swallowed the bite of meat. "I'm amazed that you haven't pursued a career as a professional chef in a high-end restaurant. This presentation alone is worthy of a Michelin star."

He chuckled softly, a warm smile playing across his lips. "Flatterer," Steve remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He took a deliberate bite of his food, savoring the flavors while watching you with keen interest as you began to sample the carefully prepared dish he had presented. The anticipation was evident in his gaze, eager to gauge your reaction to his culinary creation.

"Ah, and before I forget," he suddenly exclaimed, his tone brightening with excitement. Steve gracefully rose from his seat and made his way over to an ornate rack along the far wall. He selected a dark, elegant bottle from among the collection and returned to the table, he held it up for you to admire. "This is Imperial Chateau Mouton Rothschild," he announced with a hint of pride in his voice. "It's not just a good wine, it's exceptional. Aged to perfection over many years, and, I have to admit, quite costly. But for an occasion like this, nothing but the best will do."

With the skill of a seasoned sommelier, Steve carefully uncorked the bottle, you could smell the price tag on it. It smelled like riches you'd never be able to achieve.

The soft pop echoed in the room, releasing the wine's complex bouquet. He then reached for a delicate crystal glass, tilting it slightly as he poured a generous measure of the deep ruby liquid. The wine cascaded smoothly, forming a perfect meniscus at the rim of the glass. With a flourish, he presented the glass to you, his eyes meeting yours as he offered this liquid treasure.

You accepted the glass with a nod of appreciation, your fingers curling around the stem. Following proper wine tasting etiquette, you gently swirled the wine, allowing it to breathe and release its full array of aromas. The rich, garnet color caught the light, hinting at the depth of flavors to come. You brought the glass to your lips and you took a small sip, letting the wine linger on your palate.

The initial bitterness gave way to a complex medley of flavors - dark fruits, subtle oak, and a hint of spice. As you swallowed, the wine's warmth spread through your chest, leaving a lingering finish that complemented the rich, savory notes of the red meat perfectly. The pairing was indeed masterful, elevating both the wine and the dish to new heights of culinary pleasure.

"This is absolutely divine," you hummed with delight as you gently placed the crystal wine glass back on the pristine tablecloth. The rich, burgundy liquid swirled gracefully inside, catching the soft candlelight. "It pairs so well with the steak.”

"That's the idea," Steve replied with a satisfied smile, settling back into his chair. He reached for his own glass, filled with an amber liquid - whiskey, or perhaps gin, you weren't entirely certain. The warm glow of the dining room cast a flattering light on his sharp features as he raised the glass to his lips.

He eyed you intently as he took a long, measured sip, savoring the burning sensation of the potent liquor as it slid down his throat. You could see his Adam's apple bob slightly as he swallowed. His gaze never left you as you continued to enjoy your meal, and you found yourself glancing up at him between bites, a mixture of gratitude and playful mischief in your eyes. "I must say, I'm thoroughly impressed," you teased, your voice lilting with amusement.

"Why on earth haven't you been cooking for me like this all along? You've been holding out on me, Steve.” You leaned back in your chair, shooting him a playful smirk, “If I had known you possessed such skills, I would have fucked you much sooner. This meal is nothing short of seduction on a plate."

"Awe, baby...don't tease me like that..." Steve shot you a lustful glare, "But does that mean I'll get to bed you tonight, hm? Is my meal worthy of your pretty, delicate pussy...?"

"Maybe for dessert.." you suggested with a mischievous glint in your eye, your foot deliberately caressing the outer part of his shin. You traced slow, sensuous patterns along his leg, the gentle pressure both tantalizing and promising. The subtle yet unmistakable flirtation sent a shiver of anticipation through him, causing him to stifle a groan of pleasure. Your boldness left little doubt about the direction the evening was taking, and he found himself eagerly anticipating what was to come.

As the tension between you built, his mind began to race, contemplating the myriad possibilities that lay ahead. He knew he'd need to adjust his plans for the night, but the prospect of spontaneity only added to the excitement.

But that was his goal anyway. Get you in the bedroom.

Silly…

Naive…

...stupid girl.

You savored the meal, each bite tantalized your taste buds. As the evening wore on, you found yourselves in the living room, a makeshift dance floor. Your bodies moving in perfect synchronization with the pulsating rhythm of the music. The alcohol coursed through your veins, not enough to make you drunk, but just enough to lower inhibitions and heighten sensations. A pleasant buzz enveloped you, making everything feel slightly dreamlike and intensely vivid at the same time.

Your bodies swayed together, a perfect harmony of movement and touch. His hands rested on your hips, guiding your movements with gentle pressure. He manipulated your arms, raising them high above your head in a graceful arc as you swayed with him. As the music pulsed around you, your bodies pressed closer, rubbing against each other in a sensual rhythm that matched the beat perfectly and grew increasingly sexual.

Steve pulled away, a laugh escaping his lips as he watched you continue to move. Your body kept swaying sensually, as if unwilling to break the spell of the music. "Another drink?" he called out, his voice barely audible over the upbeat tunes filling the air. He turned towards the bar without waiting for a response, you couldn't help but notice how the dancing had affected him too. His dark hair was now charmingly disheveled, giving him a more relaxed and carefree appearance.

Your eyes followed him as he made his way to the counter, his movements still in tune with the music even as he focused on the task at hand. He began pouring another drink for you, as you watched, a troubling detail caught your eye. He reached into his pocket and produced a small packet containing a light white powder. He emptied the contents into your drink, stirring it gently to ensure it dissolved completely.

He returned to your side, drink in hand, offering it to you with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. You noticed a slight cloudiness in the liquid, confirming your suspicions. You declined the drink. Did he truly believe you wouldn't notice?

Deciding to play along, you chose a more subtle approach. Rather than confronting him about the tampered drink, you opted for a different strategy. With a coy smile, you slowly ran your hands up his chest, feeling the firmness beneath his shirt. Leaning in close, you whispered in a sultry tone, your breath hot against his ear, "Come on, baby... why don't we skip all this and get right to the good stuff? I've been thinking about this all night..."

Steve succumbed to your act, captivated by the alluring timbre of your voice and the nature of your words. He bent forward, his lips meeting yours in a passionate embrace as the complex flavors of wine and whiskey intermingled on your tongues. The kiss deepened, your mouths moving in perfect synchronization, mirroring the sensual dance your bodies had engaged in earlier.

Caught up in the moment, you both began to sway, your movements slightly unsteady from the alcohol, as you made your way towards his bedroom in a meandering, intoxicated path. You hit the walls, the paintings twisting into crooked positions as you continued on your driven path.

As you approached the edge of the bed, you felt the firm pressure against the back of your legs, causing you to instinctively lower yourself onto the mattress. The momentum of your movement naturally pulled you backwards, leaving you lying supine on the soft bedding. Steve’s eyes were dark with desire, followed your descent, positioning himself above you.

His lips began a teasing journey along the curve of your jaw, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake. As his mouth explored the sensitive skin of your neck, his hands roamed your body with increasing urgency, fingers fumbling with the fastenings of your clothing in his haste to remove them from you.

He removed your top, revealing your bare skin to the cool air. His eyes roamed appreciatively over your exposed form, lingering on the gentle curves of your breasts. Steve let out a low groan of desire, cupping them in his hands, his fingers expertly kneading the soft flesh. His touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body, your back arched naturally up into his hands.

Steve leaned in and captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss in response to your body’s eagerness for his touch. His tongue sought entrance, and you willingly parted your lips, allowing him to explore every inch of your mouth. The intensity of the kiss left you breathless and yearning for more.

"So beautiful," he murmured against your lips, his voice husky with desire. He pulled back slightly, his eyes roaming over your flushed face. "So beautiful..." he repeated, a strange glint appearing in his eyes, "...and so stupid."

His words hit you like a bucket of ice water, abruptly pulling you out of your passion-induced haze. You blinked, confusion replacing the desire in your eyes as you looked up at him. The fog of alcohol that had been clouding your judgment suddenly lifted, leaving you with a startling moment of clarity.

Before you could react, a sudden impact struck your head with a resounding crack. The sharp sting of broken glass and the acrid scent of whiskey filled your senses as an old tumbler shattered against your scalp. Surprisingly, the force of the blow wasn't enough to render you unconscious. Instead, you found yourself plunged into a disorienting haze, your thoughts struggling to coalesce through the fog of alcohol already clouding your system. Even as your mind reeled, a surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, fighting against the encroaching stupor and sharpening your awareness rapidly.

Steve's eyes widened in surprise as he realized his initial attack had failed to incapacitate you. Without hesitation, he changed tactics, his hands darting out to encircle your throat. His fingers dug into your flesh as he attempted to cut off your air supply. "Stop fighting, just give in, make it easy on me, baby..." he growled, his voice a menacing rumble that sent chills down your spine.

You could feel the corded muscles in his arms flexing and straining as he redoubled his efforts to render you unconscious, his grip tightening with each passing second. The room began to spin, your vision blurring at the edges as you struggled against his iron hold, desperately fighting to maintain consciousness.

Rage coursed through your veins, overriding the pain from the choking pressure on your neck. You reached up and ignored trying to stop the pressure, your fingers finding purchase in his thick hair instead. You yanked his head violently to the side, eliciting a loud, pained groan from Steve. His iron grip on your neck faltered, giving you the opening you needed.

Summoning all your strength you had, you planted your feet firmly against his torso and kicked, sending him flying off you and crashing onto the floor with a resounding thud that echoed through the room.

You rolled to your feet and pounced on him, reversing your positions. Now it was your turn to straddle him, your fingers wrapping around his throat in a vice-like grip. The tables had turned, and you could see the anger and fear flickering in his eyes as he realized his predicament. Blood trickled down your face from where the glass had shattered against your head, the warm, sticky substance warming your scalp and staining your skin.

Leaning down, you brought your face close to his, your eyes burning with a mixture of anger. The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth as you spoke, your voice a low, menacing growl that sent shivers down Steve's spine. "I know what you are," you snarled.

Steve continued to struggle, he growled back at you, tugging against your surprisingly strong hold. "I recognize human flesh no matter how hard you try to disguise it with fancy seasoning and luxury wine." You spat, your lips curling up into a chuckle as you leaned back down onto his hips. "You thought I'd be easy, did you? An easy bitch to drug and sell to disgusting, perverted men who want to eat my meat?"

"Fuck you!" He shouted, his voice filled with rage as he brought his knee up forcefully into your back. A sharp, searing pain shot up your spine, causing you to falter momentarily. Taking advantage of your looser grip, he swiftly flipped you onto your back again, his eyes scanning the room for a weapon and landing on a jagged piece of broken glass, which he quickly snatched up. He looked at you furiously and thrust the glass shard down, aiming directly for your neck.

You anticipated his move, your survival instincts kicking in the second you saw the glint of the glass. You jerked your head to the side, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow. Even with your evasion, the sharp edge of the glass still caught the delicate skin that joined your neck and shoulder, leaving a gash that pooled blood and felt like fire cutting through you.

You hissed in pain, adrenaline continued coursing through your veins as your senses became narrowed on him. You dug your nails deep into his biceps, clawing at him with all your might. The two of you began to struggle against one another, rolling around on the floor as you both fought desperately to pin the other down. As you grappled and thrashed, you both sustained numerous cuts from the broken glass scattered across the floor.

The furniture in the room became obstacles and weapons, as you knocked into the bed frame , dresser, and mirror. The sound of splintering wood and shattering objects filled the air, punctuated by grunts of exertion and gasps of pain. It was a chaotic, dangerous dance, with neither of you willing to give in to the other.

Eventually, your stamina wore down as his did, and you both grew increasingly sluggish. The intense exertion had taken its toll on both of you, leaving you panting and struggling to maintain your composure. The two of you breathed heavily, your bodies bearing wounds from your scuffle. You had several gashes along your body, varying in depth and severity.

Your lip was busted, swollen and throbbing, and a deep laceration marred your eyebrow, threatening to obscure your vision with trickling blood. Steve, on the other hand, was littered with more cuts, though none were as deep as yours. However the sheer number of impacts he had endured was evident in his battered appearance and labored breathing, he had more bruising and he had taken much heavier hits than you.

As you laid there, limbs entangled in a final deadlock, both of you struggled to catch your breaths. The adrenaline that had fueled your fight was slowly ebbing away, leaving behind a raw, pulsating pain from your various wounds. Steve, from his position above you, fixed you with an intense glare. His eyes, though weary, burned with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "You...know?" He managed to ask between ragged breaths, his chest heaving with each intake of air. “How?”

You met his gaze unflinchingly, your own eyes reflecting a hardened resolve despite your exhaustion. "I know the taste of flesh," you grunted back, the words coming out rough and guttural. The statement hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken history and grim experience. Your unwavering glare challenged him, daring him to question further, even as you both remained locked in your physical stalemate.

He knew what you meant. You had consumed human flesh before tonight, and while he thought he was being sneaky for his own satisfaction by feeding you a fresh piece of thigh, you weren't as dumb as he suspected. "I was planning on killing you." Your blunt words cut through the air and stung more than the littered lashes the glass made across his skin.

"You did?" His pupils blew once again, like two black holes consuming the icy color around them.

"Yes." Your own eyes traced his face again, his lips barely parted as he remained above you. The tension between you was obvious, electric, as if the very air around you crackled with anticipation. His breath ghosted across your skin, sending shivers down your spine despite the circumstances. After seconds of drawn out silence, you both suddenly moved in unison, closing the gap between you.

Your lips crashed together in a fierce, passionate kiss that ignited every nerve ending in your body. It was as if a dam had broken, releasing a torrent of raw need and unbridled desire. The taste of him, mingled with the metallic tang of blood from your earlier altercation, only served to heighten the intensity of the moment. Your tongues engaged in a sensual dance, exploring, teasing, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

The kiss deepened and your hands began to roam, desperate to touch, to feel, to claim each other. Fingers tangled in hair, gripping tightly as if afraid the other might disappear if you let go. The heat between your bodies grew, threatening to consume you both. You grasped onto him hard and flipped your positions, now straddling him from above.

Pressed against each other, your bodies moved in perfect synchronicity, every curve and plane aligning as if you were made for each other. Your hands continued their frantic exploration, alternating between gentle caresses and urgent grasps. His hair felt silky between your fingers and became delightfully disheveled under your ministrations. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in this moment of passionate abandon.

"You dirty bitch," He growled against your lips, his teeth grazing your soft flesh before biting down hard. A guttural groan escaped your throat in response, your body instinctively arching closer to his. His rough hands explored your curves, pawing at your sides and breasts with desire. He shoved you off him, forcing you onto your back. The second you hit the glass covered floor he was on top of you, his lips crashed against yours once more, hungry and demanding.

Your leg hooked over his hips, pulling him closer as your bodies pressed together. His fingers traced a path along your skin, finding the sensitive gash on your neck. A shiver ran down your spine as he leaned down, his hot breath ghosting over the wound.

Steve's lips locked onto the spot, his tongue darting out to lap at the tender flesh. He sucked gently at first, then with increasing intensity, eliciting a mix of pleasure and pain that made your toes curl and your fingers dig into his back.

You mewled out and hissed in pain, he pulled back, mouth crimson and blood staining his teeth and gums. Goddamn bastard.

You, in turn, leaned forward and sunk your teeth into the sensitive spot on his neck, easily penetrating his skin and feeling the warm, crimson liquid pool into your mouth. Steve clung to you and let out the most pornographic moan you had ever heard from a man, his large hands grasping the meaty flesh of your ass and making your cunt grind against his throbbing cock, still trapped in his pants.

"You like it rough, don't you? Wan' me to throw you down and take you?" Steve murmured in a low, husky voice, his breath hot against your ear. He wielded the same glass shard he had used to cut you earlier, now using it to slice through the fabric of your pants in a messy haste. The sound of tearing cloth filled the air as he held you down onto the floor, his strong hands gripping the material and ripping it away once he had created a large enough opening.

The cold bite of the glass returned as Steve turned his attention to your panties, the sharp edge grazing your skin as he methodically cut through the delicate fabric. The contrast between the chill of the glass and the warmth of his touch sent waves of excitement through you and to your core. You fought to suppress a moan that threatened to escape your lips, your body betraying your attempts at restraint.

Sensing your barely contained desire, Steve's movements became more urgent. His large hands found purchase on your legs, fingers digging into your flesh as he roughly yanked you closer to him. The sudden motion caused your breath to catch in your throat, looking up at him as he arched himself over you.

"Stay still." He ordered, shuffling over you and unbuttoning his jeans, hastily pulling them down to his knees along with his boxers. His cock sprung free, swollen and weeping with eager arousal. He groaned, rubbing it against your bare folds and slickening himself up with your own juices. "Fuck...such a little slut. Look at how wet you are for me," Steve leaned down and lapped at the cut on your neck again, you swore you could feel his cock throb between your delicate folds when he tasted your blood.

He pulled back, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling your face into his crotch, his nearly trimmed pubic hair weren't a bother for you, besides the gentle scratching against your cheek. He rubbed his cock all over your face, letting his precum coat your cheeks and forehead as he basically thrust himself against you. You could feel it getting in your hair, which was irritating.

You pulled your head away from his shameless rutting, but his hand brought your face right back to his cock. This time, he angled his head against your lips, smearing his arousal on you like salty lip gloss, then pushed himself into your waiting mouth swiftly. Your eyes widened a little as he touched the back of your throat without hesitation, the intrusion making you instinctively pull back.

"Oh fuck...yeah baby, suck my cock," He encouraged lucidly, more as a command than a plead, and he moved your head on him with his fist still locked in your hair so the pace he wanted was clear and set. "Come on, my cock is so full, I got a shit ton of cum for you. I'm gonna fill that belly up with it, go with the fuckin' meal I fed you." Steve all but snarled at you as his hips quickly took over your languid bobs.

He snapped his hips forward with little resistance from you, he held your head in place while he basically used your mouth as if it were a pussy. As annoyed as you were before, you couldn't deny that this was turning you on a lot. You relaxed your throat and it became easier for him to slip in and out of you, the once burning sensation of his cockhead hitting the back of your throat and sliding down a bit faded into a blissful tingling.

You made a series of muffled noises, an intricate symphony of gags and chokes echoing in the room and urging Steve's arousal. Your saliva had gathered around him, creating a cacophony of delightful slurps and squelches that filled his ears with auditory pleasure. He groaned loudly and held you tighter, "C'mon baby, choke on it..."

Glistening threads of saliva swung pendulously from your chin like delicate silk strands, Steve thrusted against your mouth with relentless vigor, his actions merciless as he pursued his own gratification with single-minded intensity. He was truly face fucking you, the slightly salty taste of his precum was coating your tongue and familiarizing you with it.

Just as you thought he was about to reach his climax, he unexpectedly withdrew, allowing you to catch your breath. You found yourself coughing slightly as he leaned back, your chest heaving with each deep inhale. "Y-You... you bastard," you managed to say between gasps, your throat feeling raw as you cleared it forcefully. You swallowed hard, trying to rid your mouth of any lingering saliva and precum.

You pushed against his chest suddenly, causing him to fall backwards. He landed with a sudden grunt at the unexpected push and you swung your leg over his body, straddling him and grinding your cunt against the length of his cock. "Your turn to sit still while I fuck you." You growled out through grit teeth and a knit brow, concentrating on rolling your hips.

His hands came to rest gently on your hips, his thumb swiping the clotted blood on the cut he left on your hip. He spread it around and groaned quietly seeing it stain your skin like brilliant crimson paint. Surprisingly, he made no attempt to alter your pace or grip you with such intensity that his fingertips would leave perfect imprints on your skin. Instead, he allowed you the freedom to grind at your own rhythm, savoring the sensations you were creating.

Steve felt an exhilarating excitement begin to coil in the pit of his stomach, a response to your unexpected change in position. The feeling was difficult to pinpoint, but having you straddling him, taking control, felt utterly invigorating. It reminded him of the heart-pounding anticipation one experiences just before the kill - that perfect mixture of adrenaline fueled energy and pure, unadulterated excitement.

The goddamn rush.

He felt and heard his heartbeat thundering in his ears, the rapid pulsations echoing through his body as his blue eyes snapped open from their previously lidded state. The sudden alertness was triggered by the exquisite sensation of you finally beginning to rub his sensitive tip against your warm, inviting folds. You teased your entrance with tantalizing slowness, savoring the anticipation of how you were going to stretch and accommodate him once you finally sunk down onto his length.

"Fuck..." you breathed, your voice husky with need, "I have to have you inside me again. You stupid, arrogant, egotistical man, thinking you were gonna make a meal of me? Gonna make money off of me?" Your words dripped with a mixture of desire and derision, the damn cannibal seemed to enjoy you degrading him. You hissed softly, the sound a mixture of frustration and anticipation, as you finally allowed gravity to help you sink on him.

You could feel every inch of him stretching and filling you, the delicious friction sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and ecstasy that left you breathless and yearning for more. His cock stretched you and filled your inner walls perfectly, every inch and crevice molding to him.

Steve bit his lip as he watched his cock sheathe inside you, those pretty pink lips swallowing him up and cheekily peeking his cock to him. "Greedy cunt," He growled at you, his hands now moving you to bounce on him, his patience having run out. "Bounce on me like a good girl, make me cum in you, make me fill this needy hole."

"Shut up." You snapped down at him, "You're gonna sit here and be quiet," your hips bounced and rolled, giving his desperate, weeping cock everything he could ever want. Your walls squeezing and eliciting more of that precum to kiss and coat your cervix, already feeling bruised from your hard bounces. The arousal he leaked balming your sore womb as you continued to fuck yourself on his cock.

"Fuck...gonna order me around? Think you can do that?" Steve chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief as his hands found their way to your breasts. They bounced tantalizingly in his face, and he couldn't resist kneading and toying with them, his fingers expertly exploring every curve and contour.

The sensation sent shivers down your spine, intensifying the pleasure you were already experiencing. Your hands pressed firmly on his abdomen and chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath your palms as you stabilized yourself further. He may be an arrogant ass, but god, was his dick good.

"Damnit," You hissed, your voice a mix of frustration and ecstasy as you felt your sensitive clit scratch against his pubic hair. The trimmed area provided just the right amount of stimulation and texture, sending jolts of pleasure through that bundle of nerves with every movement. The unexpected sensation was overwhelming, causing your head to fall back as a loud, unrestrained moan escaped your lips. Your body responded instinctively to the extra stimulation, driving you to ride him with increased vigor and abandon. Your hips moved with a newfound urgency, seeking out that perfect angle that would bring you to bliss.

"Oh god, baby, you're gonna make me cum," Steve groaned loudly, his hips thrusting up forcefully to meet your increasingly weakened bounces. Your own orgasm was rapidly approaching, causing your movements to become more erratic and desperate with each passing second. "M'gonna fill you up, get you nice and messy, make that ache go away~"

"Please! Please...Steve...oh my god, I'm close," you warned breathlessly, your voice thick with desire, “D-Don’t stop…” You rode him harder and quicker, rolling your hips and grinding to ensure every part of you was stimulated. The tension built to an almost unbearable level until finally, you reached that blissful peak you so desperately needed. A loud, unrestrained cry of pleasure escaped your lips as you rode through your intense climax, your body shuddering with waves of ecstasy.

Steve's hips stuttered momentarily, overwhelmed by the sensation of your release. Then, with a deep, guttural groan that emanated from the depths of his chest, he reached his own climax. You felt the warmth of his release as he filled you, hot strands of cum filling your womb as his body tensed beneath you before gradually relaxing into a state of blissful satisfaction.

It pooled inside you, filling you to the brim and leaking out over his balls. The tension your rigid muscles held began to ebb away, replaced by a profound sense of relaxation. Your muscles were taut with exertion, but as the wave washed away they softened, allowing you to gently wilt onto his chest. You found yourself melting into his embrace, your breathing deep and synchronized with his own.

The aftermath of your passionate encounter was evident; a sheen of sweat glistened on your skin, mingled with traces of blood - testament to the fervor of your lovemaking and violent brawling. Your mind was consumed by the euphoria coursing through your body, an addicting cocktail of endorphins and oxytocin flooding your system as you lay there, basking in the afterglow.

Several minutes passed in silence, with only the sound of your breathing filling the room. The quiet was broken as the injuries on your body began to make themselves known, a burning sensation spreading across your skin and a throbbing pain pulsing through your muscles. The discomfort forced you to shift away from Steve, your movements stiff and careful. "Ah...damn..." you muttered, your hand instinctively moving to your neck where you felt the sting of a fresh gash.

Steve, noticing your discomfort, sat up alongside you. His eyes first focused on your neck, interest evident in his gaze, before they rose to meet yours. His voice was low and sincere as he spoke, "You're... you're something else, you know that? The best damn lay I've ever had, sure, but more than that. I can tell, I knew you were different baby. Christ, look at me... you've turned me into such a mess. It's like you reached inside and pulled something out of me. All this passion, this energy... I didn't even know it was there. Other women I just...you know, go through the motions."

He paused, his words carrying a weight that hung in the air between you. "You gave yourself to me, and I don't just mean physically. It was more than sex. You gave me your flesh, your blood and body. That... that means something to me. It means we are one together now, you surrendered to me..."

You exhaled deeply and fixed your gaze on him, a mixture of exasperation and disbelief evident in your expression. "You're a goddamn cannibal," you declared, your words tinged with a hint of resignation. Your eyes rolled dramatically when you spoke, which only served to elicit a sudden burst of laughter from Steve, who found your reaction thoroughly amusing.

"Oh, don't be so quick to judge, silly girl," Steve retorted, his voice a blend of amusement and something darker. A dark smile played at the corners of his mouth, but it held an edge of possessiveness. "You're just as guilty as I am in this little dance of ours. Don't pretend you're not." He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing, his tone growing more intense. "Can't you see the beautiful symmetry of it all? You're inside me, and I'm inside you. We've become intertwined, inseparable. We are ONE, don't you get it?" His eyes gleamed with a fervent light as he spoke.

"We've consumed each other in the most intimate way possible, tasted each other's essence. And now, my dear," Steve concluded, his voice dropping to a low, seductive whisper, "You belong to me."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the split lip had other ideas, sending a sharp, stinging sensation through your face that made you wince and grunt in pain. The sudden discomfort caught you off guard, causing you to inhale sharply and blink rapidly. Steve's attentive gaze immediately went to your lip, his eyes narrowing as a mischievous glint appeared. He chuckled, a warm sound that seemed to lighten the mood despite your discomfort. "I can fix you up, babe," he offered, his voice a mix of genuine care and playful banter. "I do have experience in the surgical field, after all..." He trailed off, his words laced with a hint of pride and dark humor.

You exhaled annoyingly, feeling a mix of frustration and amusement bubbling up inside you. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but let a small smile creep onto your face, careful not to aggravate your injured lip further. Goddamnit, his man was equally irritating as he was amusing, a combination that you found both infuriating and endearing. "If it weren't for your charming face," you quipped, your voice a blend of sarcasm and affection, "I'd punch you." The words came out softer than you intended, betraying the fondness you felt despite your attempts to maintain a tough exterior.

Steve helped you stand, your movements were a little shaky from riding him. The glass that was scattered across the floor dug into your feet, glinting dangerously in the light and most of the pieces holding a red hue from both your bodies. "We need to sweep this up..." you muttered, more to yourself than to Steve. Your eyes darted around the room, taking in the mess you both made. It had looked like a pair of wild animals fought, or that there was a murder with the amount of blood all over the place.

You paused for a moment, your gaze drawn back to the man standing beside you. As you looked at him, really looked at him, you felt a surge of emotions. This was the man with whom you had formed a strong bond, a connection that had developed seemingly against your will, yet felt undeniably right. The realization hit you again, as it often did in quiet moments like these. You both had a lifestyle that paired with one another just as well as that fancy ass wine and flesh he served you earlier that night.

"Just clean me up, baby." You snapped softly, letting Steve walk you into the bathroom. "Then I want to sleep. The only thing not destroyed in the damn bedroom was the bed."

Steve grinned at your words, his fondness for you evident in the effort he was putting into you. He gently set you down when you reached the bathroom, the soft rug plush against your ass, and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. "I promise you can sleep after this, sweetheart, but first..." he said, his voice a mix of excitement and mischief. He turned away and pulled out a ready kit from seemingly nowhere, as if he had prepared for this exact scenario. The sight of it made you raise an eyebrow in amused surprise. It was clear that Steve had anticipated, or perhaps hoped, for his evening to unfold in this delightful direction. You couldn't help but shake your head and smile at his forethought.

"You cheeky, prepared man," you murmured, a mixture of admiration and affection coloring your tone.

"Now..." Steve held up some wound cleaner and a thick cotton ball soaked in the foul smelling chemical. "Hold still..."

Thank you for reading. - B 🥩

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images from Pinterest

#steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #steve kemp x you #steve kemp x female reader #steve kemp smut #steve kemp x reader smut #steve kemp x you smut #fresh 2022 #blywrites🥩

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2soulscollide · 1 year ago

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Underrated tips to spice up your writing journey

Hello hello, it's me, Rach!

Today I'm here with a fresh post where, as you can guess from the title, I'll share some (underrated, I think) tips to help you go through your writing journey with ease.

So, let's get started!

People watching: Not in a creepy way :') but we, as authors who write about people and want to create realistic characters, should always be observing everyone around us: perceive how people laugh, go through their daily lives, talk, move, etc. Every little detail is crucial!

Create playlists for everything: I'm quite sus here because I'm obsessed with the art of playlist making. I reallyyyy love to pick songs that make me feel things, but hear me out!!! This will be so helpful to set the mood. Create playlists for your characters (that show their personality, their mood, etc), for your books, and for YOURSELF as a writer, too. Playlists are never too many, trust me.

Don't feel the need to write scene after scene: When I started writing, I thought I needed to write the events as they happen in the story, but later found out it wasn't true! I find it so fun to write whatever comes to my mind and then put everything together. You might even come up with an unexpected scene that you wouldn't think of if you were writing scene after scene!!

You can write everywhere: Well, you don't have to always wait until you get home to continue working on your masterpiece! If you keep all your writing in a synced software, you can take off your phone anytime and write a few paragraphs while you wait for your coffee, for example!

The empty page isn't a monster: You're starting a book... Okay, I've been there... It can be quite scary!!! You stare at the empty page and you're afraid to start with the wrong word, phrase even. But listen, you always have the chance to edit and re-write it later :) the most important step is to get started.

Let your characters take charge: Don't control your babies!! Let them lead the story to places you could never imagine. Let them have their own life, needs, and choices. This sounds crazy because they're the fruit of your imagination, right? But hey, once you see them as real people, you'll start having so much fun, and the events in your book will flow so much easier and they will even feel more realistic.

I really hope this post was somewhat useful! Feel free to reblog or share with someone who might love it as well <3

Also, don't forget to check my gumroad shop, where you can find plenty of FREEBIES (from notion templates for writers to workbooks and sheets).

-> Check out my freebies

Happy writing! <3

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kunekojo · 2 years ago

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Hii, I'm not sure if you write for these characters so I'm a little nervous, I read the list of ideas and I was wondering if you could write what it would be like to give a massage to zangetsu (including the hollow) and also to Ichigo, nsfw pls ^^♡

Heyyaaa, please don't be nervous! To be frank, I hardly started writing seriously a week ago and most stuff I felt like writing was Shunsui and Kisuke. So please, there's no need to be nervous about a few characters I did not yet write for! Honestly, I'm so sorry for taking this long but I wanted to make sure this comes out good

There's always room for more ^-^ I sincerely hope this is to your liking and that I did them justice.

NSFW Massage with Zangetsu (featuring Hollow Ichigo) and Ichigo x Fem!Reader

Warning: NSFW

Zangetsu

“You seem terribly stiff.” you point from behind as you carefully study the hint of restraint in his muscles.

“Do I?” Zangetsu turns his head and asks bluntly, a little taken aback by your remark.

“Yes, quite a lot.”

He can’t quite understand your capability to notice such tiny insignificant details, but it’s not unexpected of you given your observational skills. A little preoccupied with something else, he brushes this thought away. There’s no harm in restraint, so why should he be bothered by it?

“It’ll go away.” his short response makes you slightly furious. You are aware that the situation is not severe, but it doesn't mean he shouldn't take care of himself just this one time.

You've just seen him at work the past two days, so a little extra attention shouldn't hurt. It just will only last for a short period of time, not more. You reach out and seize his hand as you watch him turning to leave, which causes him to look at you bewilderedly as you clutch him tightly.

“I know but, can’t you let me take care of it? I promise it’ll be so much better afterward.” your pleading places him in utter confusion, what can you possibly do to ease up such a minor inconvenience?

Truthfully, it does cause him plenty of discomforts but not enough to halt him from tending to his work. Still, he can’t deny his curiosity, rather because he can hardly imagine what cure you might possibly hold.

“Take care of it? How?” he mouths softly, erasing some of the gaps between you two with tiny steps.

Zangetsu watches you silently with stern eyes holding a hint of intrigue, urging you to go ahead and speak.

“Would you let me give you a massage?” you offer timidly but the excitement in your eyes tells him this isn’t only about his back pain. But that won’t make him not take up your offer, especially since you give him your usual look of anticipation.

It doesn’t take him much to nod in agreement. He may not hold an interest in massages but if it’s something you wish to perform on him, he won’t reject it. However, his quick confirmation places you under so much cheerfulness that you immediately lead him to the bed. You signal him to take off his upper cloth and he quickly does it, placing it as neatly as possible on the nearest table.

“You’re going to enjoy it, trust me,” you reassure him to which he gives you a content hum and a slight smile beams on his face.

“Alright, I trust you.”

Once he stays still, you place your hands on his back, gently propping him closer to the softness of the matter. It feels so intimate to have him so close that you don't want to remove your hands from him. You even grease your fingers to make the experience better for him, but when you press against the sensitive portion of his skin, you can hear him groan. Even so, you don't feel any discomfort in his voice; rather, you hear maybe a hint of... Pleasure? It truly surprises you, making you want to look for additional places to hear him again.

Again, you stroke the appropriate area, but this time his grumbling is a bit louder, and Oh god, you almost seem to be enjoying it a little too much. Your cheeks are already burning red, but you try to contain it for a little longer to explore more of his body.

“Move your hand a little lower.” his low-toned voice stuns you but you comply with his request.

Fingers creeping lower against his skin, you press gently enough for him to let out a pleased hum. Then, you slowly make your way around his waist and swirl gentle long-pressed motions. Although you don't really know anything about massages, he seems to be enjoying himself as he guides you around just with the noises he’s making.

The feel of his muscles’ tenderness makes you want to wander around his front but this isn’t about you following your desires, it’s about giving him a good time. However, you can’t help but think about the image of you trailing along his chiseled pecs, deepening your touch with each grunt he gives. The way you’d caress his stiff shoulder, pressing yourself into him to grasp him from behind. You feel a fine tingle in your lower as your daydream’s features grow a little descriptive with the possibility of taking care of him in ways he likes.

The huff of his voice snatches your attention and you’re back to reality. You hear slightly ragged breaths coming from him and you wonder what’s going on. But as you pay a little attention around, you notice you’ve accidentally bent over his back with your hands tightly wrapped around his abs.

How did it get like this? You question yourself, a little embarrassed with your stunt. Feeling bad, you toss your body back but he’s quick to seize one of your arms, not letting go of you. His firm grip makes you gasp and right when you’re readying yourself to mumble an apology, he cuts you off.

“No, keep going.” he demands with a faint groan, bringing your hand back to where it was and you comply, drawing soft-pressed traces. Did you just make him horny? You must find out.

You lean forward and rest your head on his shoulders out of curiosity, letting your gaze drift down to his groin where you are surprised to see the prominence of his pulsing member. Its slight twitching makes your walls clench, urging you to gradually lower your hand. Zangetsu hums in satisfaction as you gently make your way to his downward and right when you’re close in range to it, he pushes his hand into yours and settles it on his crotch.

The sensation of his twitches makes you wonder how much he’s waited for you to touch him like that, but now it doesn't matter because you'll take proper care of his trouble. As another grunt squeaks out of his mouth, you teasingly wrap your fingers around his cock and stroke along the created line there.

You can feel the impatience in his motions, but once you draw your lips closer to his ears, you whisper. “Shhh, don’t worry, I’ve got you.” you can’t see the expression on his face but the relaxation of his tensed build helps you picture it.

You can’t bear to play with him, so you swiftly reach for his pants and unbuckle them open. When you slide your hand underneath his underwear and softly pull his throbbing cock out, Zangetsu breathes heavily, making you wonder how much it’ll take for him to burst.

You glide your hand across his shaft, jerking it at a slow pace but the sudden tightening of his hand around yours makes you jolt. You open your eyes and stare confusedly only to notice the coming of an unfamiliar chuckle.

“Grip it tighter.” the hollow urged you, steadying your own pace and you tried to keep with him.

His appearance takes you by surprise but not as much as previously and just by the shift of the atmosphere you can tell how much this situation will escalate. This thought makes you smile and you can barely wait to see just what’ll happen next.

Once he deems your jerks quick enough, his hand moves away, finding comfort close to your thigh. He bents his back to place it between your thighs as his fingers blindly reach for your cunt to shove soft presses. You gasp at how much he’s deepening his thrusts, slightly messing with your pace but you’re quick to compose yourself.

You both touch yourself rhythmically, panting with each heavy stroke either of you performs. But you can tell he’s much closer to his arrival than you, given he was the last to handle you. It compels you that you’ve got the upper hand so you must make sure he cums first at all costs.

You quickly move your palm up and down while letting out a small gasp as bubbles of cum begin to form on his tip. As you tighten your hold, he tosses his head back, giving you the opportunity to go faster.

You jerk him a couple more times and loudly pant in his ear, causing him to hunch his hips and slither as liquid rapidly drops down his cock and dribbles onto his jeans. He exhales quickly and appears to be about to fall over, but just as he turns to face you, you pull away from him, grinning in anticipation.

You can foresee his words just by the way he’s glancing at you intently as if he’s readying to do so much more.

“Now’s my turn.” He smiles mischievously and borders you in his arms.

Ichigo

“Ouch.” you hear him right next to you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I think I pressured my muscles too much.” Ichigo replies, rubbing his chest but the noise of another pained gasp makes you clutch his pecs.

You massage the area with gentle pressings but despite feeling his soreness worsen, your touch gradually eases him up.

You swing your hand around as he's carefully observing your motions and he can’t help but wonder where you learned to do that.

“There, is this better?” You ask, parting your lips whilst you watch him closely for any more signals.

Your voice makes him lower his head to look at you, but when sees you staring at him with wide-open eyes and not halting your hands, a wave of warmth surges through him. The way you rub him feels so good that he can’t put into words how great it is but hum contently instead.

“Yeah, it is.” He approves, drawing his face close to your lips to place a smooth kiss. “Thank you.”

But right when he’s about to pull away, you tightly grasp his shirt.

“Hold up, where do you think you’re going?”

“Huh? What do you mean? It doesn’t hurt anymore.” He insists with furrowed brows, confused with the way you’re not letting him go. What was more to do?

“I know but it doesn’t mean there’s no need to prevent it.” You protest, a little unsure if massages work that way but it’s worth a shot.

You follow him with intent eyes, hinting that he has no choice but play along. You really won’t give up until he gets that massage, won’t you? Ichigo sighs in slight amusement at how precautious you are, giving into your wish. After all, it’s a pretty good feeling so why not have it for a little longer.

“Fine.” He agrees as a soft smile builds on his face as your trailing softens his body, filling him with a craving to feel you linger across his skin for much longer.

“Good, but I need you to remove your shirt.” Your implication takes him aback, stunning him momentarily.

“What? Can’t you just do it like this?” The timidness in his voice makes you chuckle, how can you tend to him properly with material slipping between your fingers? “It can't be any different with my shirt off.”

“No, silly. There has to be no obstacle for this to be effective.” Your explanation sounds a little far off but he doesn’t really want you to stop at this point. But the way you indicate it'll feel better makes him burn with a little intrigue. “Or I can just leave you be and-“

“No.” The shifting in his voice makes you blink at him curiously. It takes you by surprise just how quick he replied and you can’t help yourself but wonder what made him change his mind?

You lean toward him to observe him better but the look of pleasure in his eyes tells your traces are simply that good. However, the way he watches you so tensely gives you a vibe of uncertainty.

“Are you sure? Ichi?” you search for his reassurance which he provides by gently pulling your hand away so he can take out his shirt.

“Yes, Y/N. Don't worry, go ahead.” he smoothly presses your fingers against his chest and you gaze back at him, returning to your pace.

Feeling his muscles so plainly helps you rub him better than before, thing you're able to tell by the way his body relaxes. You focus all your concentration on the area but Ichigo can't seem to look anywhere else but at you, as you do your little performance. His eyes dart to your face and stay to observe your firm expression with great interest. But when you part your lips as you lose yourself in touching him, he can't take his glance away from their tenderness.

Have your lips always been this fleshy? He wonders, desiring to run his finger across them to test it out, but he won't interrupt you when you're this focused. Still, his mind does the trick for him, picturing how you would probably lift your head to look into his eyes. It's the image of your expression that brings more warmth in him, so much that your fingers running down his chest worsen it.

But he can't compose himself at this point, not even after he sways his stare toward your firm hand.

The sudden sensation of his hand lifting your head causes you to stop with a gasp, but as he presses his lips against yours, you do nothing but indulge yourself in his taste. With your hand unmoved, you clutch his muscles as his other hand wraps around your waist, gradually pulling you closer.

The drive in him to do this makes you question whether this was a consequence of your massage but the deepening of his kiss causes a jolt of arousal to run through your veins.

Ichigo makes sure he leaves no corners of your mouth untouched whilst you grant him the pleasure to explore inside. The heat of the moment makes you both pant into each other’s mouths, lingering for more.

Holding you, he slowly leans you down to lie on the mattress and moves his hands along your curves.

“Ichigo.” you let out a faint moan as he halts the kiss by lifting himself to observe you from above.

The red hue flushing your cheeks makes his stiffening member throb. Watching you beautifully laid down fills him with a desire to make more noises escape from you. But how should he do it? He ponders but soon sees your thighs rubbing against each other in search of a stimulus.

“Y/N, please spread your legs.” he pleads, unable to take his focus away and upon hearing him, you hum and comply.

Hands reaching for your lower, he hastily takes your clothes off, and once he’s left with the sight of your wet folds, his mouth rushes to your love box. His hands go under your legs to settle them to rest on his shoulders while his mouth begins brushing your sex.

The feeling of his firm tingles makes you squirm below him, providing him with what he wanted. You feel the tip of his tongue caress your clit with pressed strokes and moan with each circling he performs.

“Oh, Ichigo,” you whine, placing your hand on his head to push him deeper. He wants to hear more of that.

But right as he savors your sweetness, he finds the right pace once you let a sharp cry out. Ichigo quickens his motions, occasionally sucking your clit. His grip around your legs tightens with each tremble you make, giving more music to his ears. He can't get enough of your juices, greedily eating you out to get more.

His tongue moves so well around your slick folds and makes you toss your head back as shivers run down your spine. But he's doing such a great job that you can't restrain your hips more not to buckle into his mouth, begging him to make you cum. God, the way he will make you cum.

Your toes curl while the incoming climax makes you seize his hair harshly, and once you shout his name fiercely, he helps you ride through your orgasm.

Your body quivers profoundly in his touch, but the placements of smooth kisses over your cherry make you gasp with how sensitive you are.

“So good.” Ichigo mumbles, lifting himself to look over how good he made you feel.

#zangetsu #tensa zangetsu #zangestu x reader #zangetsu smut #hollow ichigo #hollow ichigo smut #ichigo kurosaki #ichigo x you #ichigo x reader #ichigo smut #adult ichigo #bleach #bleach smut #bleach imagines

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shmowder · 4 months ago

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LOVE LOVE LOVE YOUR POLY SERIES. i binge read ALL of them and I'm beyond obsessed!!!! the way you characterize both artemy and daniil is so amazing. everything feels so in character it's all my brain needs to squeal.

I've noticed that for the most part daniil ends up eating you out while artemy fucks or breeds you. And I've been wondering how it would be if they switched places? as in artemy eats you out instead and daniil is in charge of the penetration?

i love your writing so much and discovering your blog was like finding pure gold in a clump of hay. unexpected but much welcome

-🌈 anon

"unexpected but welcome" OFBQOXJAIJDJSJS lmao, nice to have you here rainbow anon <3

You noticed that detail! I do it deliberately, giving each character a subtle preference for certain sexual activities and how they tend to behave in bed. It helps make them seem more alive and keeps the smut different and refreshing for each new character, otherwise there are only so many ways to describe having sex before it gets repetitive.

That's why I assign them a trait or two, a habit in bed they rely on the most. You noticed how Artemy prefers holding you during sex the most. He prefers penetrative sex and doesn't care for receiving oral much, big dick problems and all.

smut below...after my monologue

Meanwhile, Daniil is nearly oral obsessed, be it receiving or giving. He rarely thinks of penetration when it comes to sex. He prefers fingering you or using his hands in general. He's also the least touchy in bed, but the most vocal.

Victor prolongs the foreplay, it's his favourite part above all and he tends to edge you for hours because of it. He's also extremely aware of the passage of time.

It's nothing set in stone. Just vague guidelines to keep things fresh. I want you to be able to distinguish between the characters through sex descriptions alone without me having to say their name.

Yulia stubbornly tries to push past her limit and comfort, she wants the "masculine" role in bed, the service caring top, even when her leg makes it very hard to hold these positions. You have to be the one to accommodate it otherwise she will endure the pain just to have you on her lap a bit longer.

Stakh–While I haven't written smut about him before, I imagine him to feel... undeserving of pleasure and attention almost? He neglects his needs and focuses on satisfying you. He tends to worship your body, touching it in reverence as his wide eyes gawk at your naked form. Shaking hands and tightly shut lips, he is the least vocal during sex but the most sensitive, touch starved even. He can shed a few tears from a particularly intense orgasm

I talked about Aglay and Big Vlad before. Anyway, you get the idea. So yeah! thank you for noticing this little detail <3

Daniil taking Artemy's place

The size difference is the first thing you notice, the head of Daniil's cock seamlessly pops into place inside you with very little resistance. There is no painful stretch, no need for half a bottle of lube, and an almost hour of getting prepared by 4 of Artemy's thick fingers just to fit all of his girth inside you.

It adjusts to your insides clenching around it rather than the other way around, Daniil's cock brushes against your walls, slots perfectly in place.

The pace he sets is calculated, giving an experimental thrust as his hands ghost over your body. Testing the angles and observing your reaction with keen eyes.

Daniil makes a point to tell you before he goes in deeper, to inform you before he changes positions. He doesn't manhandle you around, rather coax your body into moving along with him, into following in his steps.

His fingers toy with your sensitive area, thumb grinding against your clit and circling around the bundle of nerves in rhythm with his thrusts.

Or having a steady grasp around your cock, trailing the sensitive underside and smearing the precum along the shaft. Watching it twitch and bounce with the movement of his hips.

His pretty face all flushed, a mess of fluffy black hair begging you to weave your fingers through it and tug, quiet moans slipping past his kiss-swollen lips. Daniil looks nothing short of mesmerising, half-lidded eyes filled with lust and desire.

Instructing you to meet his hips halfway, to touch yourself until you're tethering at the edge of climax before ordering you to stop.

Brushing his soaked thumb against your lips, pressing it against your tongue as he keeps your face positioned towards him, watching the drool seeping from the corner of your mouth as your whines and moans fill the room.

Rather than finishing inside, his cock slides out with a wet pop as he moves your hand to wrap around it. Jerk him off and you'll be rewarded with his cum painting your skin, stripes of white falling against your chest, stomach and pooling down your thighs.

Smearing it against your body, he makes sure to get a good amount of it on his hand before moving it between your thighs, using his cum as a lubricant to finish you with it. Watching you desperately chase your relief through his hand alone, like a sweet thing in heat, all needy and seeking his approval.

Your eyes searching for any sign of permission from him, pleading to allow you this euphoria he's tauntly keeping just out of reach.

"Aren't you being too harsh, Danya." Hearing Artemy's voice was akin to finding an oasis amidst the desert, "You poor thing, he didn't breed you like you're used to, did he?"

Your body eagerly melting into his familiar touch as the strong arms you're so used to finally find their place around you.

You go down without resistance when he guides your head by the nape to fall face first into the pillow directly next to Daniil's head, your bodies pressed together.

Artemy's cock sliding between your thighs, your hole clenching against the empty air, your body too well trained by him.

The delicious burning of being stretched on the head alone, before it's even fully in, an orgasm takes you by surprise as your insides convulse and overwhelming pleasure floods your brain, turning it to mush.

There's a surprise groan from behind you, Artemy not expecting you to clench this tightly around him so fast.

Your embarrassingly quick orgasm only surprised one of them, it seems, if Daniil's smug face was anything to go by.

"You were saying, Burakh?"

"Fuck you."

Artemy taking Daniil's place

It was clumsy, the way his tongue swiped against your sensitive heat, experimental licks and curious touches.

But whatever he lacked in experience, he made up for in passion and enthusiasm. Artemy's could take all of you in so easily, the wet heat of his mouth felt heavenly against you.

There was clear frustration in his attempts to reach deeper inside, as if he could will his tongue into being longer somehow. No matter how deeply he buried his head between your thighs until his nose was directly pressing against your navel, he simply wasn't satisfied.

Without a warning, he lifted your whole body up as if it was a mere toy in his hands. Adjusting your position so your thighs are directly next to his head, he wanted you to sit on his face.

Truly sit down with all of your weight, Artemy didn't allow you the space to pull away or carry your own body. He needed you resting fully on him until breaking his neck becomes an actual possibility.

This new position gave him more control.

Allowed him to eat you out with fervour, as if you were his first meal after a long, exhausting day. The way he'd suck against your sensitive spots, swallow down your wetness, and savour every taste.

His hands massaging your thighs to get you to relax and melt against him more, squishing your hips, fingers digging into your ass and leaving bruises as he pulls you even more down.

Trailing up your sides, feeling your chest with the flat of his palm. His hands moved with a mind of their own as his brain only focused on eating you out, on completely overwhelming you with pleasure until you have no choice but to finish down his throat.

A haze clouding his eyes, the way his leaking cock is pulsing between his legs, screaming at him to touch it. Artemy has to supress his instincts telling him to slam his cock into you, to properly fuck you rather than just use his tongue to bring you pleasure.

But he won't... no matter how much he wants to. He gave you a word, and so he'll do his best to fulfil it.

It's only when your thighs press against his head impossibly tight that he's nearly suffocating, does he finally realise how close to the edge you are.

Artemy attempts to fit one of his fingers inside you while he takes your clit/cock into his mouth and starts sucking on it, flickering his tongue against it until you're losing your mind.

One finger quickly becomes two, they're thicker than the average person, and knuckles deep inside you by now. Brushing and grinding against your walls

Confident in their intrusive movement, as if he has memorised your body perfectly.

He doesn't stop or slow down as your first orgasm approaches dangerously fast, a rush of euphoria that quickly twists into sharp pleasure.

Overstimulating you until your thighs are shaking, his hand keeping your hips planted on his face, you can't escape as another painful orgasm is stolen from you in a row.

There's a feral look in his eyes, you've never felt more akin to prey than now with your most vulnerable and intimate areas exposed directly in front of his face, free for the taking.

You cry out his name, tug against his hair to no avail as he milks a third orgasm out of you. Your vision blanks out for a second, the only thing keeping you upright is Artemy's hand moving to support your back.

His hunger knows no end, insatiable desire to taste all of you, to choke down on your cum until your orgasms are dry or you pass out from the burning sensation frying the nerves between your legs.

Thankfully, neither will happen tonight.

"That's enough." Daniil's gloved hand dive shamelessly under your hips, taking a hold of Artemy's tongue like a misbehaving pet, harshly pressing down. "Look at all the mess you've made. Really, I expect that from a crude animal, but you?"

The hold on your back and hips finally releases, Daniil prevents your fall by catching you in his arms, gently lowering you to the bed instead.

It's only now that you notice the sharp teeth mark littering your inner thighs, the wetness covering Artemy's mouth and neck, how drenched his chest is.

You're met with the most satisfied look on Artemy's face, a sincere smile that has no right looking this innocent after all that he's put you through... Still, the sight of his usual glaring eyes being soft and relaxed for once is not something you'll ever forget.

It's hard to be annoyed at someone who manages to look breathtakingly beautiful after eating you out until you nearly passed out. It's so much harder when he calls you that endearing petname with his lovely deep voice.

"Shhh... you did well, Kheerkhen ." Artemy cradles your face with his hand, a gentle kiss against the corner of your lips, then your cheek, up next to your eye, and a final one against your temple. "Get some rest."

Your eyes flutter shut, and the world around you quiets down as you drift off to sleep.

#♧artemy #♧poly #♧daniil #♧x reader #♧smut #daniil dankovsky x reader #Artemy Burakh x reader #pathologic x reader #x reader #pathologic smut #smut #♧🌈 anon

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welcometololaland · 1 year ago

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Howe do you get the characterisation of the characters you write about soo well? Like legit was reading the ring in (again) and that was a huge take away I got. Like “man, this IS Carlos and TK” same with your firstprince fics. What’s your secret? 👀

Hey, anon. This was super nice and very unexpected, so thank you for making my night <3

Truthfully, I can't articulate this well, so I'm sorry if it seems a bit scattered. A lot of my characterisation comes from me scheming up scenes in the shower, literally zoning out and thinking of dialogue as if the characters are being acted out in front of me. I do have some tips that work for me (and I hope are helpful for you!) which I've put below. Please feel free to let me know if you need further clarification!

Also, if anyone else has any tips, feel free to contribute. I'd love to hear them :)

TIP 1: For Lone Star (or any visual media - TV/movies), I'd spend a LOT of time re-watching the scenes, observing character's mannerisms and trying to replicate that in and amongst the dialogue (you don't even want to KNOW how many times I've watched Tarlos compilations - it's sickening). I think a LOT can be achieved with visual cues - for example, TK loves that sassy hand he whips out every now and again - and I'll try and build those things in with my dialogue. THIS IS ALSO WHERE GIF MAKERS ARE SO AMAZING, because GIFs provide snippets of scenes which allow writers to really hone in on a character's micro expressions. Carlos loves to raise an eyebrow, for example. I think these little details can go a long way.

TIP 2: It helps to build in familiar phrases. I love a canon callback (as long as it fits within the scene) and I think they can be super useful in adding extra authenticity. For example, one I used recently was Alex's "cool to see you're not dead or anything." It's a canon line, which can be easily applied to a different context. It just adds that extra flair, because you KNOW that the character would say that. I would just caution you to use them sparingly, so they pack that extra punch.

TIP 3: Read widely in the fandom! I think it helps to get a really good understanding of how characters behave by developing your own sense of what is in character. If you really vibe with how an author is portraying a character, make note of why you feel that way and try and apply it (obviously without plagiarism) in your own way.

TIP 4: Ask for (gentle and constructive) feedback from people you trust, if you feel comfortable enough to do so. I am FOREVER grateful to some of the people I've met in fandom who have been able to guide me with sensing what is/isn't out of character. It doesn't even need to be a full beta read. It could be quite simply: 'hey, do you think X would do this?'. Don't be afraid to reach out! I am so open to helping people with this and I know a lot of other people are too.

TIP 5: This might be a bit weird, but I do this because I am not an American and I write for a lot of American media - I spend a lot of time trying to visualise how a certain character would say something in their accent. It's taken me a long time to learn certain Americanisms and I'm sure I still get a lot of them wrong, but sometimes I literally close my eyes and try and imagine Ronen saying a line I've written, in his accent.

TIP 6: Keep writing the characters!!! The more you do it, the better you will get. I'm even looking back at some writing I did in early 2022 and trying to fix a bit of my characterisation, which just shows how much it has changed even in 1.5 years!

Best of luck and thank you so much for being so kind. I hope these are helpful!

#ask #anon ask #writing things #writing tips #characterisation #911 lone star #911 ls #red white and royal blue #rwrb #lola writes

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the-insouciant-scientist · 1 year ago

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@fallenlondonficswap @uniquezombiedestiny

For the general swap! Listen both our main characters are amnesiacs I had to do Something with that

Down Here Underneath

Maethyl Fallow & Harper Faraday, General Rating, 909 words.

Maethyl dropped back into her seat with a heavy sigh, a cup of steaming hot coffee warming both hands. It had been a hell of a morning, and she was looking forward to finally allowing herself to just sit and relax. She let her head loll backwards against the chair, tentacles curling gently around its wooden edges, when she heard a small cough across from her.

“Ah, hello?” A voice said. She looked up and half-winced when she realized she had not, in fact, found an empty table. How she had missed the pages upon pages of scribbling and scientific notation was beyond her. She squinted at her unexpected table-mate, who gave her an owlish look of surprise in response.

“Sorry, I can move if you want me to. It’s been… a day.” Mae said after a moment. She really didn’t want to move, it was a very comfortable chair and she was tired, but it felt rude not to offer.

The stranger shook their head. “Oh, it’s no issue, really. Sorry about the mess.” They said sheepishly. Mae took a good look at them, from their unruly hair to their neathbow splattered labcoat worn unbuttoned, and came to the conclusion that this was probably as neat as they ever were. She shrugged, and they relaxed by a fraction.

After a moment of uneasy peace as they both tried to acclimate to each others’ unexpected presence, the scientist went back to their writing. Maethyl sipped at her coffee and tried not to stare too obviously.

“So, what is all this?” Mae asked. The stranger looked up near-immediately, alight from the opportunity to talk about their work.

“A collaborative experiment with my spouse, on mordants and fixatives. Some of their Neath-color dyes don’t stay in fabric well. Like gant, especially. Or irrigo.” they rambled, referencing a faded violet-ish stain along the hem of their coat. Mae’s vision slid across it no matter how hard she tried to focus.

“I see that color when I close my eyes, sometimes.” Mae said.

The scientist perked up, rolling a fountain pen between their fingers. “Memory loss?” they asked, almost seeming excited at the prospect. Mae frowned. People always made such a fuss about her amnesia, once they found out.

After a moment she nodded, begrudgingly. “Can’t remember anything before waking up in a New Newgate cell a few months ago.” She took a small sip from her drink to break the tension.

They fluttered their right hand by their side, suddenly, surprise and delight twining in their expression. “It was a few years ago for me, but… I’m the same.” they said, softly. Mae choked on her coffee in surprise for a second, coughing. “Do you remember anything from before? Or just total amnesia.”

“Dunno. If I did remember any details I’d just forget that I did, so how would I know?” She replied. “Do you?”

“Understandable, given the nature of irrigo. Ah, I… Some? But not really. Mostly just snippets, stuff tied to senses. Sometimes I remember the scent of surface flowers, or the texture of a specific lace, or the feeling of sunlight, but… I completely lack context, or any specific details.”

Maethyl hummed in sympathy. “Sounds nice, at least.”

Her conversational partner nodded after a moment, as if lost in thought, before speaking once more. “So, you’re still pretty new to the Neath then, if you only woke up in New Newgate a few months back. How has it been for you so far?”

Mae groaned, setting her coffee cup down and burying her face in her hands. A stray tentacle clung to one of her fingers. “Tried my hand at growing mushrooms and ended up in the middle of a warzone.”

The scientist winced. “That was a doozy. I’d like to say that was an outlier, as summers go, but from my observations it’s more pattern than coincidence. Augusts seem to just have a particular kind of trouble to them. And Thursdays, for that matter, especially at the end of any given month.”

“Eugh. Noted.” She replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. The scientist offered a wry smile, before it abruptly shifted into dawning realization.

“Oh.” They breathed. “That was your first time ever seeing the sun, then.”

Mae instinctively hunched up her shoulders. “Yeah. Yours too. What did you think? I thought it was a bit shit. Bloody hurt, too. I’ll be ecstatic if I never have to feel that again.”

“Bright. Warm. Absolutely painful, yes. But… I don’t know. As I crashed up there, burning in sunlight, all I could think of was that it was breathtakingly beautiful. But that very well could have been the adrenaline talking.” The scientist said, fidgeting with their cosmogone-lensed spectacles.

“Can’t say I agree, but to each their own.” She said with a half-smile. They both let their gazes wander over the rest of the coffeeshop, deep in thought.

“I wonder, though, how many others there are out there like us. Whose lives basically began in prison, not even remembering what they did or didn’t do. Maybe we should start a club.” They said with a dry laugh.

“Neathy amnesiacs anonymous. Anonymous because all of us have a shitty memory, that is.” Mae joked. The scientist paused for a second, seemingly having trouble parsing the humor, before they smiled too.

“Neathy amnesiacs anonymous.” They echoed. Mae picked up her coffee cup in a mock-toast and drained the last of it.

#fallen london fic swap #the scientist scribbles #they are amnesiacs for different reasons! but it is still neat to meet someone like you #c: harper faraday #others ocs #maethyl fallow #also jeez i have been writing a Lot. insomnia last night did not help. anyways i hope you enjoy this!#also the neathy amnesiacs anonymous joke is courtesy of the-dye-stained-socialite yippee #a copy of your bazaarine tale

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bromcommie · 5 months ago

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for the ask game: 💕 📚 🎨 !

Hi hii, thanks for the ask! :) 💕 - I answered this bad boy here!

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?

Oooh, there are...so many. Right now I will take any chance to praise @dharmasharks for her beautifully vivid, painfully tender (I know I keep saying that, but I really have no other word for how it makes me feel) historical AU fics which I'm enjoying so, so much as I go through them (If by any chance you see this—hopefully that doesn't sound too stalker-y, and if it does— apologies. It is entirely the fault of your compelling writing.) I'm not going to go into too much detail with individual commentary right now because my brain is at its limit + I've already yelled incoherently about Till there were no more wolves in the West on here and I've still yet to finish it (I'm so close! And it, like several of the other non-AU ones that I ended up reading ~on accident~, deserves a well-thought out response!), but I really, really recommend literally anything she writes. Maybe I'm biased on account of how all of the fics I've read hit just my preferred mix of characterization, angst, humor, historical detail and commentary and well-backed, well-worn history between Blorbos #1 and #2, replete with gentleness and conflict and truly electric dynamics (I mean that in every sense of the word. The sex is amazingly written, too.) but they are also just objectively wonderful. A+ on all counts.

Two other fics that I read somewhat recently: #1: The Name in the Mouth by Rave, which took me out at the fucking knees. Mindblowingly woven nonlinear narrative that very beautifully (and very, very painfully) examines Bucky's state post-CATWS, his trajectory from the helicarrier to Bucharest both physically and mentally, and his relationship to his Jewish identity. The voice felt so distinct, and everything from the storytelling structure and epistolary segments and contrasting bits of memory and present-day observations with both horror and a bit of humor scattered throughout to the dialogue and OCs and historical background (down to the sources referenced for real-life events) was absolutely pitch-perfect and often felt like an extremely well-timed and executed punch to the gut.

Fuck me. I'm gonna be thinking about this one for a long, long while.

2#: The Old Words by kvikindi, which, funnily enough, is another introspective, sprawling character study—this time of (predominantly TFATWS era-focused) Zemo. And look, it's not something I ever thought I would be all that into, however: this fic absolutely blew me away with its brutal introspection, the characters' dynamics (that somehow still feel true to canon whle being infinitely more thought out), and the near-intimidating level of care and detail paid to constructing both Zemo's personal (often horrifying) history and voice as well as a Sokovian history and culture, told in an almost mythical way and feeling as much like its own living, breathing thing as it does an omage to several Balkan countries. All in all, an impeccable, unexpected gem. 100% canon to me now, because it's exactly what I would've wanted to see if I'd told someone, "Hey, can you please rewrite the entirety of the shitshow that is the MCU's Sokovia to not be an insensitive, fumbling parody of something that is clearly based on a real country?"

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Uh, any? Honestly if anything I'd written ever made someone want to make fanart, I'd be honored. It'd knock me on my ass. But if I were to pick from the stuff I've posted on AO3, I'd have to say the bar dream scene from Orpheus between fresh off the helicarrier Bucky and dream!Steve. Or maybe something with the Howlies from See What the Boys In the Backroom Will Have, because that'd just be very fun.

#ask game #asks #possuminabathtub

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seasidesapphix · 2 years ago

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At Long Last, the Hugo Best Review (spoilers)

_-🦢-_

On the 31st of January, I finished Erin Somers’ Stay Up with Hugo Best. I initially found myself at a bit of a loss for whether I actually liked it or not.

It’s a book that didn’t live up to the hype for me, but I still think there’s something really special about it. Hugo Best is a fascinating book, with some excellent subtle character writing and tension, some genuinely great comedic timing, but in the end, it feels like a long joke with a bad punchline. Let’s discuss it.

I would generally consider the main thesis of Hugo Best to be "meet your heroes, but don’t meet their asshole friends." Or perhaps more simply, "don’t meet your heroes, please." In any case, the central concern is that of the social implications of celebrity. Our protagonist June is a great choice for such a story, as she is both religiously obsessed with the details of Hugo’s career, as well as being a disillusioned comedian herself who regularly parodies and crucifies Hugo internally.

The one issue I have with June is one I saw mentioned by another reviewer, Juli Weiner: she’s so BAD at being a comedian. There’s a bit where she cracks a joke ("baseball is about as comprehensible to me as particle physics") and another comedian flatly says she isn’t funny. And he’s completely right, what we do see of her stand-up is totally dull and the jokes she makes in dialogue are god-awful observational comedy. We're meant to sympathise with June but like. The joke was a total stinker, and all her jokes are like that. And yet, June’s internal narration is great! Her narration is packed with wit and genuinely fun to read, but it doesn’t carry over. I figured it was to show that she struggles to communicate? In that case, I feel like it might’ve been worth making her external attempts at jokes slightly more entertaining, considering how much of the book is made up of them.

Hugo, on the other hand, is an interesting case. Somers completely sold him to me as a celebrity, with the descriptions of his previous TV shows and controversies standing out as totally convincing, but he still felt undercooked as a person. I never really got the sense he was more than he first appeared, and perhaps it was a clever subversion of expectations: June’s roommate immediately suspects in the first chapter he has some horrible secret when he invites her to his home for the weekend but… He doesn’t. Hugo’s exactly as he appears. He’s a retired TV show host who doesn’t understand his teenage son, resents his younger replacement, and only dates his own fans. The best (I’m afraid the puns are unavoidable with this one) scene with Hugo is on the second night, when June comes into his room. I think it was more for the fact that at this point, I was so invested in their relationship as the first two days had been so promising, but the rising romantic tension just kinda… falters.

This bit is AMAZING. I loved it so much when I read it for the first time, and if the novel was a short story, it could've ended right there and I'd be happy. It's this excellent blend of unexpected intimacy and forcing down the words they want to say. The back-and-forth chemistry in the first two days between them is actually fantastic.

Unfortunately, it all goes a bit sour.

(This narration's actually great but also. This is directly following three pages of old people fighting)

I'm not exactly sure where Hugo Best loses its way but the story starts stagnating hard. The first two days are great, both fun to read and thoughtful about the ideas of celebrity and ambition, but on the morning of the third day, it basically overstays its welcome. The jokes are still good but the day after June meets Roman (Hugo's obnoxious, racist comedian friend), which is genuinely well-written and interesting, the story doesn't do much of anything afterwards. There's the big party that Hugo's been planning but oops, the rain was so bad, it ends up being cancelled.

(free my man comrade julian)

June and Hugo go to a bar in the evening, Hugo does his last ever comedy routine, and he shoots down her idea to promote new comedians from minority backgrounds, because he considers it to be "making ammends" for his past, rather than just. yknow. a good thing to do.

THEN the next day, in an interview about his retirement, he repeats June's idea verbatim and presents it as his own. It's a pretty good way to make his character feel scummy but I wish June had actually confronted him. She immediately notes it's her words he's saying, but never pursues it. I think that would've been a great scene, because leaving it as is without any follow-up just makes it feel like a very on-the-nose way of saying "Hugo's not all that great". In the climax of the back, June and Hugo have some incredibly tense and awkward sex on his boat (earlier scenes of their flirt-banter had more chemistry), and June leaves the mansion. The two never meet again, as Hugo dies not long after. This actually caught me by surprise when I read it, and this bit did admittedly make me cry.

It's so unflatteringly realistic, and it did actually hurt. I ended up not liking Hugo all too much, and I liked the decision to effectively have him die without achieving much of anything he wanted to do in his retirement. It's not cruel for the sake of being cruel, considering what we'd seen of Hugo, he wasn't likely to keep his promises, but it still works surprisingly well at making you feel miserable. June goes to his funeral, and tells the story of their weekend together to her colleagues, where it becomes nothing more than "a three-minute anecdote". The final paragraph is also actually great: on her way home, June looks at the constellations of the ceiling of Grand Central and says this:

I love this ending. It's smart and punchy, and I like how it is entirely based on a pun. It's fitting! I think that the ending is remarkably strong, but it just doesn't make up for the weakness of the story's middle and climax. It's an interesting case where the story does stick the landing, but the actual flight was boring and seemed to be going around in circles. This ending works incredibly well as a culmination of the story's themes, but after such a tedious climax, it feels like it's out of place. Hugo's death is a great idea, but it's dropped on the third last page, after far too much time being spent on boring bickering in the story's middle.

In conclusion, I think Hugo Best has some great moments and excellent commentary on celebrity. However, it loses its way half-way in - the pacing grinds almost to a halt, and it loses the breezy pace it originally had. It's still got good moments here and there, the ending being a highlight, but lacks the punch of the beginning. The romance, similarly, starts great, with June constantly reminding herself that the dynamic feels exploitative considering he was her boss and a celebrity but still finding genuine connection with Hugo - until the penny drops and it just feels like someone with no ideas creatively exploiting their partner. The sexual climax of the relationship just feels mechanical. They're literally just acting out the motions before it ends. That in of itself is interesting, but it lacks the emotional spark it should have had. I think most readers will root for them to get together, but the disappointment of that idea doesn't feel as disappointing as it could have. The relationship was always going to fail, but I wish it had been more explosive. In the end, Hugo Best feels... somewhat lifeless in what should be its most dramatic moments.

To sum it all up, I'd treat Stay Up with Hugo Best like a party: leave when you're having the most fun, before it goes dead.

Thank you for reading! 🦢

#stay up with hugo best #bookblr #🎏#🔖

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lunarubra · 2 months ago

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First, I think you deserve a statue for how you portrayed delitto d’onore and matrimonio riparatore in your story. As someone who grew up in Italy, I’m still shocked at how far behind we are in terms of gender equality—whether in schools, workplaces, or other social aspects. Your writing sheds light on these important issues, and I really appreciate that.

Wow, I just finished this chapter, and my heart is so full! Every scene was captivating, and I’m totally invested in Nina and Tommy’s slow burn. You have this incredible way of building up their chemistry without rushing anything—it feels so natural. I caught myself holding my breath during their little moments, like when their hands brushed or when Tommy quietly observed Nina. It’s like every interaction is charged, but in the softest, most subtle way.

Winston absolutely stole my heart in this chapter! The image of him curled up on Tommy was adorable—such an unexpected but perfect detail. Their banter about Winston was spot-on, too. You’ve really nailed that lightheartedness between them, which makes their deeper conversations even more meaningful. I just love how they’re getting closer, step by step.

Also, the scene at the beach? Stunning! The way you described the atmosphere made me feel like I was right there with them. Tommy wanting to go to the beach with Nina was so sweet, and I loved the way he opened up about his past. It feels like Nina is the only person who can make him relax and share pieces of himself, and that’s such a beautiful thing to see. Their relationship feels real, like something that’s naturally growing with time, and I’m living for it.

I said it already, but the conversation about Italian laws at the time was heavy but so important. I appreciate how you weave these difficult topics into the story—it adds so much depth and makes Nina’s character even stronger. She’s clearly ahead of her time, and her frustration with the unfairness of it all was so raw and relatable. You handled that part with such care, and it really struck me.

The chapter’s quiet moments were just as powerful as the big ones. The final lines had me grinning—Tommy and Nina are just perfect together. I can’t wait to see where their story goes next! Please keep me on the edge of my seat, I’m absolutely hooked.

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby X OC

PART IV

Summary: after their late-night conversation, something has changed between Nina and Tommy. Now Tommy’s slowly coming to understand that they might be more similar than they thought.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, addressing the topics of rape and murder, English is not my first language.

A/N: This is more like a passage chapter with little to no action, but it’s fundamental for the development of Tommy and Nina’s relationship. But be ready, cause there’s a storm coming!

Important information for the context: In this chapter, Nina explains the delitto d’onore (honour killing) and the matrimonio riparatore (rehabilitating marriage), two practices which were recognised by the Criminal Code and were only abolished in Italy in 1981. In Italy, r*pe went from being a crime against the moral to being a crime against the person only in 1996.

PREVIOUS PART

SERIES MASTERLIST

CHAPTER’S MOODBOARD

Dividers credits

Sipping lemonade at the kitchen table, with the birds chirping outside and a slight breeze coming through the open window, Nina relished the first moments of peace in weeks. With the women of the family busy with the tradition of making tons of tomato sauce to preserve for the winter at Aunt Rita’s house and the men out for business, she could finally enjoy a day all for herself. She might even go to the sea, stay there to watch the sunset.

Glancing out the window, a curious sight caught her attention. Tommy Shelby was lounging in a chair, his head leaning back, his eyes closed. He had abandoned his formal attire, he wasn’t wearing a jacket nor a tie, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing his forearms. There was something captivating in his disheveled appearance, and in the way - despite his apparently vulnerable position - he still seemed to be fully aware of his surroundings. There was a clear tension in his shoulders and his eyelids fluttered, from time to time.

After their late-night conversation, it didn’t take long for Tommy and Nina to go back to their old ways. That morning, while they sat at the breakfast table, they mostly ignored each other, and the few words they exchanged during the day were mere courtesies. It was almost as if last night never happened. Almost. Because it had happened, and something had changed between them. But it was such a small change that neither of them were actually aware of it. Maybe that change was the reason Nina took pity on him and walked out to approach him.

However, as soon as his stern blue eyes rested on her, an unfamiliar nervousness took over her, and she suddenly felt stupid, regretting her impulsive decision. It wasn’t like they were close, after all. But he was there, and he was looking at her, and it was too late to go back. She had to find something to say before that situation became even more awkward.

Before she could speak, something she hadn’t noticed before caught her eye. A black fur-ball was curled up in Tommy’s lap, hidden by the shadow of the table. Nina watched in shock as Winston purred and stretched his little paws, enjoying the man’s scratches behind his ear. How the hell did he manage to touch Winston without losing a finger?

The gangster’s eyes shifted between Nina and the cat, and his lips curved into an taunting grin. “Your cat likes me. That should be a good sign.”

“Quite the contrary.” She retorted, recovering from her astonishment. “Winston’s a devil. If he likes you, there’s clearly something wrong with you.” She teased him, feeling the previous embarrassment slowly fade away.

“But he likes you.” He squinted his eyes, pointing at her.

“Yes, because I feed him.”

Something moved in the grass, causing Winston to raise his head and stare at a specific point. It took him only a few seconds to spot a lizard, and he jumped from Tommy’s lap to catch the poor animal. Traitor, she thought to herself, watching as the cat ran away with his loot.

Once Winston had disappeared, she remembered the reason why she had walked up to him in the first place. “I’m going to the sea for a while.” She said, shifting her weight from one feet to the other. “If you need something, everybody’s over there.” She nodded her head at Agnese’s house.

Tommy stayed silent for a few seconds, pondering, almost hesitating. “Would you mind if I came with you?”

There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, which surprised Nina even more than his question. One thing that she had learned in the short time she had known him was that he never wavered. Yet, only for an instant, his firm and unmovable facade seemed to falter.

Truth was, Tommy didn’t even remember the last time he went to the beach. He was still a kid, Finn probably wasn’t even born yet. He had almost forgotten how it felt, and for the first time in a long time, he longed for a feeling that seemed to belong to another life. But Nina didn’t particularly like him, and perhaps he was overstepping by asking to go with her. Moreover, if her family found out, chances were that they would get the wrong idea.

“No.” Nina shook her head, recollecting herself. “No, I don’t mind.”

She took both Tommy and herself aback with her answer. Up until a few days earlier she would’ve said a sharp “no” without thinking about it twice, but now, as much as she hated to admit it, his company wasn’t so unpleasant anymore. Quite the contrary. And their bickering surely was a way of escaping the boredom of the small village.

So they found themselves walking down the dirt road outside the big gates of the houses, in the opposite direction from where Tommy had arrived a little over a week ago. It stretched in front of them as far as the eye could see, and its left side was surrounded by nothing but trees, whereas the right side overlooked the sea below. In the silence, he could already hear the sound of the waves and breathe the salty air, and the comfort it brought him almost made up for the burning sensation of the sun on his face. He wasn’t prepared for the warmth of the Italian summer, so radically different from Birmingham’s gloomy weather.

Eventually, they approached some narrow stone stairs, which led down to a small beach.

“Careful.” Nina told him, starting to walk down the high steps with surprising ease. “It’s slippery.”

Tommy followed behind her, paying close attention both to where he placed his feet and where she placed hers. She was going a bit too fast for his liking, and although her movements were agile and graceful, he had the impression she might slip at any moment.

Little did he know, she had walked down those steps hundreds of times. It was a spot she had discovered a few years prior, hidden from prying eyes and unknown to most people. It wasn’t even a proper beach, rather a small sandy space surrounded by rocks. It was her refuge, the place that sheltered her when she needed to be alone. Sometimes she would sit on a rock and watch the hypnotising motion of the waves rolling in, other times she took off her shoes and stood at the sea’s edge, lulled by the feeling of the cold water around her feet. She could pretend that nothing existed except for her and the sea, that she was free of the suffocating weight of judgement and injustice. And she could breathe.

“Nice place.” Tommy’s hoarse voice came to her ears as she went to sit on a rock. She watched as he looked around, an unreadable expression on his face. Another thing she had learned about Tommy Shelby was that it was impossible to tell what was going on inside his head. He was so good at hiding his feelings that Nina figured it must be an ability he had mastered over the years. There was nothing left of the glimpse of humanity he had revealed the previous night, and she wondered whether her mind had just made it up.

With his back to her, he stood in front of the sea, observing the slow motion of the waves. “How’s your cousin? I haven’t seen her today.”

Unlike the previous days, that day no big lunch was organised in the shared garden, and Tommy had eaten with Nina, her parents and her two brothers in their dining room. Since he had officially started the courting the day before, the family’s agitation had quieted down, and big gatherings were not necessary anymore, unless something important happened, like a proposal. But it was too soon for that. So that day everything went back to normal, just like Nina had predicted the day he had arrived.

“She’s busy. She and my cousins are helping my mum and aunt Rita.” She informed him. “Summer means conserve. They’re making tomato sauce and preserving it. It’s a tradition.”

“You didn’t join them?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not this year.”

Tommy took her short answer as a sign not to inquire further. He wasn’t blind, he had noticed she was a bit of an outcast in her own family. He had seen how her aunts and cousins looked at her, how they whispered among themselves when she said or did something they considered unacceptable, how her own mother lowered her head in embarrassment on those occasions. It hadn’t taken him long to understand how things worked in Sicily: women had to be meek, agreeable and marriage-minded. It was no wonder Nina’s temperament clashed with that state of things.

“Anyway, Agnese’s happy.” She continued. “Just like everyone.” Although she was trying to keep her tone neutral, she couldn’t hide a hint of bitterness in her voice.

“But you’re not.” He stated matter-of-factly, turning to face her.

“I’m happy that she’s happy. What I’m not happy about…” she left her sentence hanging, thinking about her next words. “Is this whole sale thing. Because you can call it whatever you want, it doesn’t change what it really is.”

There it was, the rage she tried so hard to contain. It never completely reveal itself, it only shone through cracks and fractures, like in that moment. But Tommy had seen it since the very beginning, for anger recognises anger, and he was angry too. He had been angry since he was a boy.

He sat next to her, keeping his eyes on the calm sea in front of them. “You’re right.” He nodded, knowing there was no point in denying what was in front of everyone’s eyes. “But it’s necessary. I’m selling myself too, you know. Before all of this I didn’t think I’d ever get married.”

Nina glanced at him, furrowing her brows. “You never thought about marriage?”

“I did.” He admitted, his mind wandering to moments that seemed so distant yet so close at the same time. “There was a woman I wanted to marry. Grace.” He explained, having to force himself to say her name. After a whole year, that name still stung on his tongue.

“What happened with her?” She asked curiously.

“Turns out she was a spy, working for an Irish cop who was investigating on some stolen guns.” Reality crashed back on him as he said those words, the memory of how he had been played by the woman he loved hitting him like a bucket of cold water. “He thought we had them.”

“Did you?”

A smirk made its way on Tommy’s face at her innocent question. He turned to look at her with raised eyebrows, slightly leaning towards her. “How do you think a backstreet razor gang managed to take control of the city without the police intervening?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it right away, shaking her head with an impressed look on her face. For once, she was at a loss for words.

“Anyway,” he straightened his back, becoming serious again. “She ratted us all out, and then she left.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s in the past.”

It’s in the past. Tommy had lost count of all the times he had said that to himself. Maybe if he repeated it long enough, it would eventually become true. And maybe it was happening, because that was the first time he thought about her in days. Yet, it still hurt. He thought they were the same, that he found her, and she found him. He was wrong.

After a while, Nina broke the silence that had fallen between them. “At least you’re not some old man.”

Her sudden statement caused a chuckle to escape his lips, and even though she had tried to keep a straight face, she soon followed him. Tommy realised that he had never actually heard her laugh before. A few times she had chuckled, but until then she had never let out a real laugh. It was infectious, and he found himself laughing for the first time in God knew how long.

Soon the laughter died down, and Tommy was left with question that had been burning in his mind for a while. “Why don’t you want to get married?”

There was no judgment in his voice, just plain curiosity. He didn’t find it strange, but he couldn’t help but wonder what made her so adamant about the matter.

She took her time to answer, as if she was ordering the words in her mind, and he couldn’t tell whether she was translating her thoughts or finding the way to address a subject that was clearly a sore point. She was so fluent in English that sometimes he forgot it wasn’t her first language. Then her accent came through, or she mispronounced a word, and he was reminded that it probably hadn’t been easy for her to master a language without living in the place it was spoken. It was quite impressive.

“Because if I got married,” she started, bringing his attention back to the topic. “I’d be completely subordinated to my husband. I couldn’t make financial or even employment decisions. If we had children, they wouldn’t really be mine, I’d have no right over them. In the eyes of the law, my husband would have absolute power over us.”

Tommy attentively listened, not daring to interrupt her, afraid that she would close herself off again.

“Best case scenario, I’d end up being a wife and a mother, nothing more, nothing less. Worst case scenario, I’d end up like one of my mother’s friends, who was killed by her husband because he thought she had cheated on him. And he got a sentence reduction. Because it was a honour killing.” She spat out, her voice full of scorn. She frowned, as she did every time she didn’t agree on something.

“Honour killing?” Tommy raised his eyebrows. He had heard about it, of course, but there was something grotesque in the fact that it was somehow recognised by the law.

“If a woman brings dishonour in any way to the family, and one of her family members were to kill her, they would get a sentence reduction. It’s called delitto d’onore. Honour killing.” She explained, and he could tell she was trying not to let emotions take the best of her. Her gaze rested on him, and he figured his expression let his thoughts slip through, because she nodded. “You think that’s fucked up? Wait until you hear about the rehabilitating marriage.”

“What about it?”

“If a man rapes a woman, he can escape his sentence by marrying her. It’s in the Criminal Code, just like the honour killing. And the woman must marry the man to save both her honour and her family. Otherwise she’ll be identified as a shameless woman.” Her dark eyes blazed with outrage as she stared at some point in front of her, and Tommy found himself sharing the same disdain. Maybe it was the part of him who had never tolerated injustice, a side of him he had pushed back a long time ago, but that stubbornly came to the surface whenever something unfair occurred, or maybe her rage was so strong that it was able to infect those who were close to her.

“It’s not that uncommon that a man kidnaps a woman so that she will be forced to marry him.” She shook her head, her voice lowering. “It’s not right. Sometimes I sit here and it’s all I can think about. It’s not right. And no one seems to be angry about it. Most people even agree with it. It’s just how things are. It’s normal. It shouldn’t be.”

Tommy knew that feeling, the frustration that came with helplessness. It plagued him when he was a boy, when he was treated differently because of who he was, of where he came from. When his mother couldn’t afford to put on the table anything but lard. When aunt Polly’s children were taken from her. It was that feeling that pushed him to make sure people feared the Shelby name, so that no one would dare treat them like scum ever again.

“I’m not saying that I wouldn’t like to have a family of my own. But it’s not worth the risk of becoming no one. I don’t want to obliterate myself. I don’t want to depend on a man who might be cruel to me. I want something that’s mine. Because right now, I have nothing. And I know that I finished school, and that’s way more than what most boys get, let alone girls. But it’s not enough.” Her voice cracked, but there was no trace of tears on her face. “Is it so bad to want something more?”

No, Tommy wanted to say. No, it’s not. But couldn’t bring himself to speak, because he knew that there were no words that could make it better.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, pulling herself together. “I got carried away and I talked too much.”

“No.” He said quickly. “You didn’t. I asked you a question and you answered it.”

For some reason, Tommy didn’t want Nina to think that her talking bothered him, that she had to hold her tongue with him. He liked hearing her talk. She was smart, she had thoughts of her own, and she challenged him. She didn’t agree with everything he said - or pretended to - just to please him, she didn’t make herself smaller like everyone else did in his presence. That was somehow refreshing.

There was silence again, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. They were both meditating on the words they had said and heard, and the gap between them didn’t seem so wide, now. As the sun started to set, the sky took on shades of pink and orange, and a warm light illuminated the beach.

Tommy took advantage of Nina’s distraction to look at her. The last rays of sun lit up her eyes with a golden hue, giving them a colour which resembled honey. Her tan skin seemed to gleam, and her cheeks had taken on a tinge of red. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time, and he realised - she was beautiful. He had already noticed her interesting, sharp beauty, but now it felt as if it had intensified. A light gust of wind rose up, and her long raven hair tickled his cheek, sending a shiver down his spine. When the scent of lavender filled his nostrils, he couldn’t restrain himself from closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

Nina shifted her position, causing their hands to accidentally brush.

He didn’t flinch away this time. She didn’t either.

NEXT PART

Heart, Body and Soul tag list: @zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms @call-sign-shark @kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @gaslysainz

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

#heart body and soul #tommy shelby x oc

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abigailzimmer · 11 months ago

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Favorite Reads of 2023

As a reader, I think of myself as slow to turn toward fiction, but this year started off with stunning story after stunning story, thanks to writers like Emily St. John Mandel, Rivka Galchen, Amal El-Mohtar, and Max Gladstone. Miriam Toews' Fight Night made me weep on a train from Edinburgh to Glasgow; Josephine Tey's mysteries made me chuckle from Glasgow to Edinburgh. I wandered slowly but steadily with Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell throughout the year and I read Timothy Moore's short stories in one sitting and then started them over the next week. Grateful for these writers who move me in so many ways, and of course I have some poetry and nonfiction favorites!

1. Timothy Moore's exciting debut short story collection, I Will Teach You Retribution, is perfection. Its humor and absurdism and poignancy remind me a bit of George Saunders (CivilWarLand in Bad Decline), a bit of Aoka Matsuda (Where the Wild Ladies Are), and excitingly and obviously of Tim. If you aren't moved by the plight of a people-eating giant's quest for justice against himself, or a side character/ex-lover's desire to have her own transformative character arc, or a girl's use of social media to be popular, even though dead—or at least by the empathetic way Tim writes these characters and the wonderful crafting of his sentences—your heart may have stopped. An unexpected love-at-first-paragraph. Ten out of ten best use of exclamation points.

2. In Scared Violent Like Horses, John McCarthy writes about childhood in rural Illinois, absent parents, fistfights with friends, and flyover states, but mostly he writes of people in a way that sees their empathy and value. I read this while feeling a little lost and heartsick, and these poems wrapped around me and reminded me of what I love best. This is not to say that I saw my journey reflected back at me, but that lyric can offer the comfort of a song, that poetry lets you sit in a space of experience not answers, and that you can endure so much hardship and still emerge with tenderness. John’s writing is thoughtful and vivid, graceful and grace-giving. “But I’m not sure why we would expect dreams to make sense, when our waking lives so often fail to observe narrative convention,” he writes. And later: “No place is sad if you stay long enough.”

3. How to Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone is an abundantly written book, composed of letters between Red and Blue, two agents on opposite sides of a time war, one side more organic and one more tech-driven. It’s surprising and inventive in its world building and sweet on the act of letter writing. A love story that gushes to the beloved, overflowing without feeling cheesy. I read this on a beach in Mexico, against the bluest backdrop with the reddest sunrises.

“I want to tell you something about myself. Something true, or nothing at all.”

4. Emily St. John Mandel’s Sea of Tranquility was satisfying and unexpected, even up to the last line. As in her other books, she weaves together stories of multiple characters, gently nudging them more and more into each other’s orbits as the book draws to a close. This book feels higher stakes or maybe has more imaginary elements than The Glass Hotel, which I thought was nice but forgettable—I prefer the bigger “what ifs” in my fiction. But her writing always feels like a gliding, with these lovely details that linger. Here, there's an untouched forest in Canada and a shabby moon colony with a river reflecting the darkness of space. A writer of post-apocalyptic fiction, now a mother and turned off her own ideas. (It’s interesting to hear from an author who wrote a wildly successful novel about a global pandemic, then lived through one, and wrote a second pandemic-related novel in which much happens very differently.) The question of simulation a backdrop, the difference between knowing something in the abstract and the experience of it, how we come to the knowledge we have and the gestures we know we must make. All of it so well done and a pleasure to read.

5. The overarching frame of On Dreams by Maureen Thorson is the author's diagnosis of a rare eye disease that causes blind spots and some of Aristotle's absurd theories, such as how a mirror turns red when a menstruating woman looks into it. From there, in essays composed of short, aphoristic lines, Thorson explores what is reality and truth, how we know what we know, the illusion we have of control, and why we turn to writing and narrative. It's funny and smart, weaving in notes from her broad reading, and poignant in the leaps and turns it takes from line to line.

6. Border Vista by Anni Liu is composed of these lovely memory poems—atmospheric. She writes about emigrating to the US while young and being separated from her dad and grandparents with uncertain status, about relationships and home and dreaming in her nonnative language. The poems read almost memoir-like, back to back. The settings simple: a walk in the woods or market, hearing a piece of news or sitting in a movie theater, with some startling insight dropped upon the reader, the reader unaware even that she was building toward something. The lines below have echoed in my head the whole year, naming a longing so ingrained I didn't even know it was there:

“Crossing a deer-shaped patch of earth, I come back to the edge of an ancient sadness of being just one thing”

7. I really enjoyed diving into the oeuvre of Josephine Tey this year, and in particular I don’t think I’ve read anything quite like her Daughter of Time, a unique take on both the histories and mysteries genres. Her Inspector Grant, laid up in a hospital and bored, takes on an academic investigation of the slander against Richard III, infamous for killing his two nephews—the Princes in the Tower—to remove any rivals to the throne. Despite the fact that Grant is initially driven into this mystery because Richard’s face just "looks" more like a judge’s than a criminal’s (classic Tey ridiculousness), Tey makes a compelling case for his innocence. Grant and his “looker-upper” (researcher) friend take a policeman’s approach to the unresolved mystery, looking at the whereabouts and motivations of the people involved instead of what they say, and keeping an eye out for any breaks in the patterns that suggest foul play. For a book whose main action is two men talking about historical accounts, it’s surprisingly gripping and convincing (although my own knowledge of British history is spottier than a spotted dick pudding!).

"Give me research. After all, the truth of anything at all doesn't lie in someone's account of it. It lies in all the small facts of the time. An advertisement in a paper. The sale of a house. The price of a ring."

8. When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities by Chen Chen is a book that “wants to believe it’s always possible / to love bigger & madder” and a poet whose “job is to trick adults / into knowing they have / hearts.” There's so much unbounded joy in these poems, even when writing of the sadness of having sadness or of the painful rejection by his mom for being gay or by fellow Americans for being Chinese. He writes rooted in a strong sense of self, which means his poems overflow with brightness, humor, and triumph.

Some possibilities:

“I want to be the Anti-Sisyphus, in love / with repetition, in love, in love. Foolish repetition, / wise repetition. I want more hours. I want insomnia, I want / to replace the clock tick with tambourines.”

“I am … an elegy that has felt light, the early morning light falling / on your lovely someone’s / lovable bare feet as he walks across the wood floor to sit by the window”

“Let’s put our briefcases on our heads, in the sudden rain, // & continue meeting as if we’ve just been given our names.”

9. Serendipitously, I read Rivka Galchen’s Everyone Knows Your Mother Is a Witch just after reading Maria Popova’s marvelous storytelling about Johannes Kepler’s defense of his mother’s witch trial in Figuring. It’s a fascinating story in that Kepler felt responsible for fueling the accusations against her due to an allegorical sci-fi story he wrote about moon people holding onto outdated beliefs despite evidence otherwise, and—small detail—the narrator got to the moon thanks to his magical mother. Kepler eventually cleared his mother’s name of charges and spent years annotating his own manuscript so that no one could misunderstand his intentions again.

Rivka’s book is a fictional telling more focused on the accused, Katherine Kepler, and reminded me of the narrative style of Miriam Toews' Woman Talking with a literate third party roped in to make a record and with the reader being told about the events conversationally vs. reading them. Around the same time, I watched the movie The Wonder (which has some tough tw content but was excellently done) which also resonates in theme, about the stories we believe and shape our lives around, and how the efficacy of religion and science is all wrapped up in story.

This was an excellent story based on fascinating history, and Rivka’s writing is both dryly funny (“A hummingbird once rested near my shoulder. It was a very ill omen. For one who isn't a flower.”) and thoughtful (“I had to say what was in my heart, which is knowledge.”).

10. I really enjoyed This Party's Dead, in which British journalist Erica Buist, to cope with her grief at the loss of her father-in-law-to-be, travels to seven death festivals around the world to learn how people in other cultures grieve.

“Whenever anyone suggests the dead are in attendance, gifts and sugar always seems to follow.”

The journey's question broadens from "how do we grapple with the reality of mortality" to the more meaningful exploration of "in what ways do we continue to have a relationship with 'our dead'"? Because we do have one, even if our culture doesn't know what to do with that relationship or provide us with outlets for remembering in community. (There's a lovely line in which someone refers to their ancestors as "my" dead.)

Some of the festivals she visits involve meals in graveyards, others take place when it's time to bury a body--sometimes months or even years after a death, and others involve exhuming bodies so that living family members can rewrap them or visit quite literally with their bones before reburying. As part of a western tradition that sees very little of and so fears dead bodies, Erica asks celebrants how they feel about the corpse of their loved one. She often assumes incorrectly a reason why something is done (perfume over the body not to hide the smell of decay for us but to show the loved one they are still cared for) and observes: “Time and again, I see fear [as a cause for a ritual] where there is only love.”

It's a moving book, written with humor and openness, and I'm very drawn to the rituals of communally remembering our dead. I wish we had something like this beyond a funeral to help us transition from having a living loved one to a dead loved one: a reason to come together often with food and sharing and to invite our dead back home, even if for a little while.

As one festival celebrant tells her, “We think about dead people all the time. We pray for all the ancestors, even the ones we don’t remember; we have a huge celebration for them every six months. They’re not lost.”

(Book buddies: Mexico's beaches and Scotland's train views.)

#endofyearlists #favorite books #2023 reads

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