#the bejeweled captain | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

symbiomancy · 5 months ago

Text

boutique —minotaur

—summary: Your minotaur companion ruined your underwear after your speed date, so he makes good on his promise to replace them.

// AO3 // monster masterlist

—cw: minotaur x reader, smut (p in v sex), creampie, belly bulge, squirting, size difference, mentions of fantasy racism (I tried to stop myself from adding plot obviously I failed ok)

—wc: 2,2k

—a/n: part 2 of this! also I'm switching to shorter smut for a while, I watched the haikyuu movie yesterday and I gotta write sth for my stupid rooster head captain on my main.

You exchanged phone numbers after your little tryst in the bar bathroom.

And you’re content to write it off as a one-off fling until he calls you on Tuesday evening to invite you shopping — because he still has to make up for the pair of panties he ruined (and kept). You cannot contain your grin as you settle on the time and place, and you confirm you’ve received the text with the exact address.

Said address leads you to a fancy boutique. You glance down at your yellow sundress, wipe off the imaginary lint, and ignore the thought of being underdressed to shop in a place like this. You glance at your phone to double-check the address. It’s the correct building.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the front door of the boutique opens with a flourish and your minotaur companion greets you with a wave. Some pedestrians pause and stare, and you duck your head and hurry over to the store door, press past the minotaur’s body to escape into the building.

The interior is nice, fancy even: high, arched ceiling and tall windows, pillar with intricate carvings situated around the store, cream-colored walls with black shelves, black tables displaying merchandise. Sculpted models of bodies are erected onto said tables and shelves, a different monster everywhere you look. One table has a naga statue, a shelf has something with tentacles you can’t make out from the distance, and a third displays a sculpted orc lady. Her tusks are capped with gold.

Other than you, the minotaur, and the display bodies dressed in gorgeous lingerie, the store is void of life.

“Nobody’s here today,” the minotaur says.

“Oh?”

“I take care of the business part of running a business; my sister works with designers to order from. She also arranges models and sculptors for the display models.” He places his hands on his thighs, and runs them up and down once as if he’s nervous. “It’s just us today. I hope that’s okay.”

You nod, and let a small smile curl your lips up. The minotaur motions you along with the sweep of his hand, leading you through the showroom, winding around the displays — they’re gorgeous, obviously not mass-produced — until you arrive at a section with models of familiar build on the tables. Humanoid.

He follows a few steps behind you as you make your way around the tables, stop to pick a garment up to examine it, then carefully place it back. They’re gorgeous: lace-trimmed pieces, bejeweled pieces, crotchless pieces — your face heats up when you pick up a cute pink thong and realize it’s crotchless. The minotaur behind you pointedly looks away.

There’s a plush seat outside the dressing rooms and the minotaur takes a seat, and motions you towards one of the stalls. Though it’s much less like the bathroom stall from your previous encounter and more like a small but spacious room carved into the wall, separated from the store by a curtain.

You stare at the array of lingerie sets on their hangers and reach for the red one, fold your dress, and place it onto the long seat in front of the mirror.

The red… looks good. You twirl in front of the mirror, place your hands on your chest, onto ur thighs, onto ur ass, turn again and again and again. You… look good. It’s comfortable, too; the bra doesn’t dig into your skin and the seams on the panties don’t itch. You reach for the curtain and take a deep breath, then pull it back.

The minotaur looks up from his phone, lets it slide between his thigh and the chair armrest. Heat rushes to your cheeks but it’s way too late to back out, so you give him a slow twirl. He’s silent, staring at you, a closed fist pressing against his mouth. The silence stretches, drags.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You look amazing,” he says then, voice strained. Your entire face explodes in warmth and you nearly trip over your feet as you step back into the dressing room, yanking the curtain between you. “Sorry, I —”

“No, like… I wanted to ask why you approached me at the speed dating event.” You shrug off the red set of lingerie and place it on top of your dress. You slide the white set off its hanger and — oh fuck, the crotch area is just see-through lace.

“You’re gorgeous. I wanted to meet you.”

Your face might melt off at this rate.

“Well, I mean, humans have a… reputation, and attraction to anything non-human is considered sexual deviancy on a fetishistic level — as if anything other than straight vanilla sex isn’t also considered sexual deviancy. High school health classes were miserable enough and they chose to spread the propaganda spiel about how you shouldn’t fuck anything non-human because they’re below us. ‘Humans are the superior race’ or whatever — what a load of crock, how are you smarter than something with three heads and three times the brain?” The white bra is even better, makes your tits pop.

On the other side of the curtain, the minotaur chortles. “The amount of lectures we got about not hooking up with human women…” he huffs. “Sexual deviancy part matches up, though.”

“Oh? Were your reasons more interesting than ours?”

“Well, they liked to say human women specifically would use us for our cocks, then cry about assault and have their males skin and wear us… Men would wage war even if it was consensual because they think we’re below them.” You wince at his words. “History sure isn’t pretty, huh?”

“Yeah.”

You pull the curtain back and step out, do your little twirl for him. He hums appreciatively, motions towards the large mirror next to the dressing room. You step up and angle your body back and forth as he looms behind you, arms crossed over his chest. His biceps bulge through the button-up shirt he’s wearing. His heated breath caresses your bare back.

“Are those two the only ones you picked?”

“No, there’s one more.”

The minotaur nods and steps back to allow you passage into the dressing room.

Inside, you nearly keel over when you realize the last set has crotchless panties. But considering your companion has once already rearranged your guts in objectively worse conditions… You pull the curtain back to stick your head out.

“I’m not coming out in this,” you say and motion him inside with the jerk of your head. He adjusts himself and stands, and oh — you pointedly ignore the bulge in his pants as he slips through the curtain. He doesn’t stray far from you, stands so close you can practically feel the heat rolling off his body. Slowly, you turn to give him the full view of the piece, try and fail to ignore the shape of his cock through his pants, fuck he’s huge, stop when you can look at him head-on in the mirror again.

The minotaur raises a hand, drags his fingertips across your skin, leaves goosebumps in their wake, up your thigh, over the curve of your hip, up your stomach. He pauses at your breast, places his large palm over it, and pinches your nipple between his fingers. You gasp, press back against him. The beast in his pants rests at your lower back.

His other hand finds purchase on your hip, drags over the front of your panties. You slide your legs further apart and his breath hitches when his fingers find your uncovered cunt. They stall on your clit and you try to grind against them, pushing your ass against him even harder.

The minotaur pulls the hand on your clit back and you want to whine as it relocates to your upper back. He pushes you forward. You nearly trip, barely bracing your hands against the plush seat with your dress and discarded items. He undoes his belt buckle with one hand and when he’s pressing against you next, the tip of his cock drags through your folds. You press back, try to grind against him.

“So impatient,” he tuts, pressing against your entrance. You’re almost shaking from excitement — every orgasm you’ve tried to draw out on your own between now and your little bar bathroom rendezvous on Saturday has been okay but not nearly enough to be thoroughly satisfying. Your own fingers are good but there’s something about another participant, one whose actions you cannot control and who could do whatever they want with you has something in your brain short-circuiting. He could use you as his personal fleshlight and you’d thank him just for being full of his cum.

The minotaur slowly pushes in and fuck, you can feel him everywhere. You stifle the moan in your throat as he bottoms into you — fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s so big you swear you can see him in your guts when you look down — and he pauses, exhales slowly. He’s thick, warm, you can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein on his cock pressing against your insides.

He moves, pulls out nearly all the way, and thrusts back in as far as he can. It drives the air from your lungs and with it, a loud gasp. Your face erupts in heat and you look down, away from your reflection in the mirror. He sets a slow pace at first and you push your hips back against him, skin slapping against skin. It echoes in your ears over the roaring blood, lewd and wet the sounds your pussy is making, and you try not to focus on it, yet it permeates through you, bounces around in your skull. He keeps the pace and lets his hands run over your body, petting and groping and tugging. His fingers catch your nipple through the sheer lace of your bra.

You cum right then and there, clench around him with a moan from the back of your throat, arms shaking under your weight. He slows and you frantically shake your head.

“More. More,” you manage between choked breaths, push your ass against his pelvis. He speeds up, hands traveling again, exploring. One rests on your right hip, the other cups the underside of your thigh and raises it, thrusts in and you nearly shout when he hits something so deep in you but it feels so good, so full.

So good and too much. He’s too big, too deep. He picks up the pace, every ridge and curve of his cock dragging against your insides. Your pussy dribbles around him, accommodates for his size even though it feels like he’s about to split you in half but he feels so good, he’s so deep. Every nerve in your body is alight, fingertips buzzing, mind fuzzy. You cannot form a single coherent thought, let alone words, and find yourself babbling nonsense mixed with pleas for more on his huge cock as he pistons in and out of your ruined pussy.

Maybe, maybe, those fuckasses had a point when they claimed human women would line up to be fleshlights for monsters.

Your vision blurs with tears — he’s too much, too much for your sanity, for your sopping cunt, as if he’s rearranging your insides with every thrust to fit himself in and you welcome it, meet his thrusts halfway with erratic hips. His hand moves, your thigh clutched in his palm, dragging your legs even further apart. He’s deep, so deep and his cock touches something and you see white, squirt around his cock as the orgasm hits you. Your body is on fire, heat rolling through your cunt to your torso to your extremities. Your arms are shaking under your weight.

Your fluid splatters over his pants but he doesn’t even react, mutters something under his breath, and picks up to pace to chase his own high in your spasming cunt. His thrusts are brutal, thick fingers digging into your flesh, fuck, you can feel him in the back of your throat. His breathing is loud and labored and even then it’s barely audible over the smacking when your skin meets and the squelch of your pussy as he pistons in and out.

The minotaur grunts, digs his fingers into your flesh so hard you nearly shout, and buries himself deep into your pussy. His cock pulses — fuck, you can feel it pulsing, spasming in your cunt — and cums with a groan. He presses in further, as if he has any room left, cums and cums and cums. There’s so much it seeps out of your pussy, coats your thighs as it traverses the length of your leg as it surrenders to gravity.

Everything aches. Your skin is sticky with sweat and cum, yours and his. Your breathing is erratic, chest heaving to take in oxygen.

He pulls out slowly, stifling a hiss. Pearly cum dribbles out of your pussy, lands in the puddle on the dressing room floor. Your legs give out but he’s there, large, warm, secure hands on your waist to keep you from falling. He picks you up with ease, lowers himself onto the plush seat, and rests you on his lap. You hear his heartbeat thundering under your ear but yours is no better right now.

“Would you…” he begins after a moment, still panting, and pauses to swallow. “Would you like to go out? On a real date, I mean.”

“Even though mingling with humans is the fetishistic kind of sexual deviancy?” You ask. Your minotaur laughs. It’s a pleasant sound, you find.

“Yeah.”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

banners by @/cafekitsune

#monster x reader #monster x human #monster #monster fucker #monster imagine #teratophillia #monster x you #minotaur x human #minotaur x reader #monster boyfriend #minotaur smut

754 notes · View notes

cabinetofquriosities · 2 days ago

Text

Nothing Matters

Agatha x Rio || Warnings: Violence and Smut

Just a note: These are based on actual historical events that happened, which is why I aged Nicky down to 5 when he died in order to fit the dates. They are pretty fascinating events. I encourage anyone reading to fall down the same rabbit holes I did while researching them!

(Listen along while reading)

——————————————————

1755 - Lisbon

Classical music filled the stuffy air of a palace in Lisbon as nobles danced with one another. The rich were flirting, feeding, and forgetting the world beyond their gilded walls. Outside, families were celebrating All Saint’s Day on the first of November. Children ran from door to door, collecting treats from their neighbors. Little did they know, the shadow of death was amongst them.

Agatha Harkness was still marked by grief only six months after losing Nicholas. She had killed and drained enough witches to fill a town, but Death still hid from her. After the hell she had been plunged into, Agatha yearned to pull her former love down with her. So, she had something planned that Rio would not be able to ignore.

1872 - Boston

Summer Street was packed with people who were going through the motions of a frigid November day. Men walked arm in arm with their wives. Teenagers blushed as they wooed one another. Merchants had their doors open to the cold in hopes of welcoming passerby’s.

In the thick of the crowd was Agatha Harkness. She wore a scarlet two piece silk dress with a lace lined jacket and bustle at the back of the skirt. Her hair was pinned up with banana curls spilling down the back of her neck. Her hands were snug in a fur hand muff.

Her power felt completely renewed. She went on a bit of a bender with killing witches. She had been betrayed by her own emotions as Rio showed up in every dream for the last few years. She was used to one here and there, but not every night. She needed to get that beast out of her system. So, she killed and stole power in hopes of summoning her. The two were still diametrically opposed to one another, still “separated” or estranged spouses for lack of a better term, but could never stay away for too long. Every so often, Agatha would find a way to see her and the two would reunite for a night at most in a tangle of bodies and limbs. It had been over a decade this time around.

1912 - The Atlantic Ocean

The gentle sway of the ocean rocked the passengers to sleep as their destroyer treaded the boards overhead. Her heels clicked as she walked over the deck.

“Ma’am?” the captain called.

Agatha turned, her curls falling loose around her shoulders and still wearing a long, sheer bejeweled dress from dinner. After all, she had to dress for her Lady.

“Yes?”

“It’s too cold to be taking a walk out here.”

“It is,” she said with a smirk.

1755 - Lisbon

Death always had a sense of when a seismic event was coming. Whenever a wave of death was about to strike, she would feel the pull of it. Rio had tried to avoid revealing herself by waiting longer after a witch would die to claim her soul. This, though, this was so far away from Massachusetts. She incorrectly assumed that Agatha wouldn’t be traveling overseas.

She couldn’t show up late to an event of this size. With how massive the event promised to be, she figured it was a natural phenomenon rather than anything that could be caused by Agatha. So, she donned an elegant dress, her hair pinned in curls, and appeared at the epicenter.

Agatha heard the music shift to a Minuet. Couples made their way to the ballroom floor to dance. She stood and saw the woman who had been just out of reach for the past several months. She strode over and swiftly took her by the hand before Rio even had a chance to register it was her. Agatha whirled her into a spin before stepping back, giving a deep bow with the rest of the ladies in the dance.

Rio looked like a trapped animal, her eyes betraying the panic she felt at being so thoroughly tricked. She went along with the dance, one that was playful in nature and felt so inappropriate for their situation. Agatha straightened up and raised her hand, pressing her forearm against Rio’s as they walked around one another, their gazes locked.

“Did you really think you could run from me?” Agatha hissed.

1872 - Boston

Rio knew there was a likelihood of Agatha being close to this given its location, but knew she had to arrive for this. While it wasn’t the same bodycount as a natural disaster, the violence and discord she could sense coming required her presence.

She walked down the cobblestone road. A little boy accidentally ran into her. She grabbed him by the shoulders to keep him from falling. He looked up at her with wide eyes, feeling the aura of decay around her. Those eyes looked too familiar to ones she had seen before. This one wasn’t meant to be lost today. There was no need for him to witness it at all. She led him into an alleyway before the child knew what was happening and swirled her fingers. A small door appeared on the side of the building. She opened it, motioning for the five year old to walk through. He did, not noticing he was on a street in a nearby town until the door shut behind him.

“Special treatment, I see,” a voice said behind Rio.

“He wasn’t meant to die today,” Rio said.

She turned around.

“Agatha.”

1912 - The Atlantic Ocean

“Do you need an escort back to your cabin?” the captain asked the wandering passenger.

“Oh, no need,” Agatha said, redirecting her gaze to the stars above, “My love will be here soon.”

“Okay, well, please be careful,” he said, “And stay away from the edge of the ship. The ocean is deadly at night.”

“That it is,” she said, nodding at him.

A dapper young man wearing a suit crossed his path before making his way to the Agatha. The captain noticed how feminine the man’s features were. He felt unnerved by the interaction, feeling something of a chill down his spine as if Death had brushed past him.

“Your love?” Rio asked, Adjusting her top hat.

She turned around to face Rio with a cruel smile.

“It would have sounded suspicious if I said my enemy.”

1755 - Lisbon

“I wasn’t running,” Rio said as they danced.

“You were hiding,” Agatha said.

“I don’t always show myself to others every time I collect.”

“You used to with me,” Agatha said.

“I didn’t think you wanted to see me after-“

“DON’T… say his name. You do not get to ever say it again,” Agatha snapped before resuming their dance.

“I just thought you needed time.”

“Time…” Agatha said with a bitter laugh, “Well, you never give much of that, now do you?”

Rio stopped in her tracks, ignoring the music filling the room. Her eyes darkened. Could she really be that willfully ignorant of the situation? Human emotions always twisted the reality of things into absurd shapes.

“I gave everything I could,” she said, her voice dropped low.

“Then you fall far short of expectations. You are the original Green Witch. Lady Death. And all you could manage was five years.”

“You have no idea how much those years shifted the balance of the universe. I would have given him all the time that existed if I could.”

“But you didn’t,” Agatha seethed.

“I couldn’t,” Rio said with a defeated sigh.

She looked around, feeling an electricity in the air around them. Whatever was about to happen was coming closer.

“I cannot have this conversation right now. Something terrible is about to happen. You should leave while you can,” Rio said with an edge of urgency.

“Oh, I am very aware.”

Rio tried to resolve the enormity of the event with being caused by a single person. This event would affect a third of the Earth. She looked at her with genuine shock and amazement.

“Agatha… what did you do?”

1872 - Boston

“Rio,” Agatha said with a sly smile, “Long time, no see.”

“Well, our meeting in New York didn’t exactly make me want to come running back.”

“Oh, please,” Agatha said, stalking towards her with a pout, “You love it when I’m cruel.”

Rio arched a brow before shaking her head with a bemused smile. She hated how right she was. It was a rare treat for Death to have someone who did not fear or revere her. Agatha gave her the gift of the unexpected in the endless cycle of nature.

“You are the one behind what is about to happen, then?”

Agatha looked downright giddy as she said, “It’s already begun.”

Agatha took Rio’s hand, running her up the stairs of the nearest building they could find to the roof. Agatha beamed at the view like a kid showing an adult the drawing they had made. Rio looked at the skyline of Boston, not noticing anything out of place at first. A few moments passed and then, she saw the smoke.

1912 - The Atlantic Ocean

“Your enemy,” Rio echoed, “Is that where we still are?”

Agatha looked at her with a flash of vulnerability before throwing her mask back on.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” she said, lifting her chin.

“For someone who hates me, it seems like you’re pretty determined to see me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was bored.”

“Really?” she said, nodding, “Sure. Let’s just say that if it makes you feel better.”

Agatha scowled before walking to the edge of the deck, hanging onto the railing. Rio followed behind, never allowing Agatha to be too far away in a deadly situation. She knew it wasn’t her time, but it was usually because Rio was there to protect her. If Agatha had gotten sick or killed by another witch, then she couldn’t do anything but take her to the other side. She couldn’t cure illness. She couldn’t interfere in an attack that she was not present for. However, if she was a source of protection while present, it would not upset the sacred balance. People were taken before their time far too often and she could do things to prevent that. If it actually was their time due to something fated and intrinsic like an illness, it was not preventable. It was how she saved Agatha time and time again, but also why she couldn’t save Nicky.

“What are we looking at?” Rio asked.

“That,” Agatha said as an iceberg appeared in the distance.

1755 - Lisbon

“It is not what I did. It is what I am about to do,” Agatha said.

She took Rio’s hand, pulling her outside to the courtyard where couples strolled with one another beneath the moonlight. She knelt down, putting her hand on the ground. She closed her eyes and began to whisper an incantation.

Purple light pulsed under her palm. The ground started to shake. The earth broke apart at her hand, cracks emerging and spreading with purple glowing from them. People screamed and fled. Buildings collapsed and the cracks opened up. Men and women sprinted blindly in a panic, falling in and being swallowed up whole. Agatha’s smile widened as she felt the energy of every witch in Lisbon reverberating back to her. Rio simply took it all in with a sense of awe at Agatha’s power of destruction.

She stood and turned to face her. The destruction was unfolding around them as Agatha’s eyes burned into Rio’s. Her gaze reflected rage, sadness, and misdirected hatred. Intertwined throughout those elements was a strong desire that had always bonded them together. Both of them suddenly took three long strides and met in a wild kiss.

1872 - Boston

“One fire?” Rio said with an arched brow, “A bit sophomoric for you.”

“Oh, hush,” Agatha sniped, “Keep watching.”

A minute passed before the building was engulfed, the flames climbing and building with every inch of wood and dried goods. There were no people in the storage house, but that didn’t matter as Agatha worked her magic. She swirled her hand flicked it out in the fire’s direction. A gust of wind whipped from her fingers over the city. The flames jumped to neighboring roofs, burning them quickly with how close and flammable they were. The city was architecturally tight and created with wood as the primary material.

Rio’s eyes went wide and she smiled at the sight of the growing inferno. She reached over, threading her fingers through Agatha’s. Agatha reached up and cupped her cheek with her free hand. She knew their dynamic was too fraught to work in the long term, but these pauses in their rivalry were something she needed. Or, rather, the transformation of their rivalry into something more primal and intimate.

Rio leaned into her touch with a soft look. Agatha moved in, catching her lips with hers. The kiss was tender for all of forty seconds before Rio’s teeth sank into Agatha’s lip, drawing blood. Agatha sucked in a shocked gasp. She pulled back, her look indignant.

Agatha gripped Rio by the throat, shoving her down onto the floor of the flat roof. She looked down and found that Rio had rid them both of their clothing with a wave of her hand. She crawled over her, grabbing her neck again. Rio laughed between coughs as she was choked.

1912 - The Atlantic Ocean

“Oh. Interesting,” Rio said with a curious tilt of her head.

Agatha looked at her, peeking out of the corner of her eye. Rio looked beautiful and handsome all at once in the fancy tuxedo and top hat.

“You look good,” Agatha said quietly.

The corner of Rio’s lip turned upwards at the compliment. Any crumb of kindness from Agatha felt like the gifting of a rose.

“Thank you. You look breathtaking,” Rio said, turning her head to look at her directly.

Agatha unwillingly blushed in a way that reminded Rio of when they were a new couple. Agatha had never been in love before, nor did she know any affection from loved ones. The young witch would melt at any kind words given to her. Moments like this reminded Rio that every stage in Agatha’s development as a person was nested within her like Russian dolls. It was such a strange thing about humans that Rio never noticed until she was devoted to one over a matter of centuries.

Agatha raised her hands up, beams of purple shooting from both palms. They wrapped around the massive iceberg. The ropes of energy held onto the ship. Agatha used the ship’s momentum to drag it into a collision. Rio threw her arms around her from behind, holding her to keep her steady as the impact spread across the Titanic.

1755 - Lisbon

The estranged, grieving couple found themselves in a tangle of dangerous emotions. Agatha backed her against an oversized cedar tree. She pinned Rio by the wrists, making a point to dig the back of her hands into the jagged surface. She sucked and bit at her lips, letting her wrists go to start yanking at her bustier, doing everything she could to strip her from the ridiculous layers of clothing that were used to lock the female form in.

Rio reached down to tangle her fingers in Agatha’s hair, but was met with the sting of a slap. Then another. Although Death could shut down sensations to the body, she chose not to. She wanted to feel whatever contact Agatha would give, no matter the type.

Agatha slapped her two more times, leaning in to bite painfully into her shoulder, pulling back with a few drops of blood decorating her snarl. She raked her nails down her arms, leaving angry red marks. Rio let out grunts and gasps with every hit. Tears welled in Agatha’s eyes, her jaw clenched in anger. Rio wanted her to take it all out on her.

Agatha pulled back enough to look at the marks she left behind. Maroon handprints on her cheeks, a bleeding imprint of teeth on her shoulder, and scarlet trails blazing down to her wrists.

Agatha looked shocked at her own violence toward a woman who she never cared to hurt this way before. Just as she was about to pull away and leave, Rio spoke with a shaking voice.

“Keep going. Do everything you have wanted,” she breathed.

Agatha wanted to punish.

Rio wanted to hurt.

“Everything I have wanted?” She hissed.

Agatha shoved her back against the tree, pressing her hips against her. She used her magic to tear Rio’s layers down, leaving her nude. She pinched and twisted her nipples. Rio hissed through her teeth, arching her back. The roots of the tree, sliding up Agatha’s body. They ripped her dress apart, leaving her in scraps of fabric, her body revealed.

Agatha’s violent affection grew as she slapped her cunt and pulled her head back by the hair with her other hand. Rio’s gaze held Agatha’s, refusing to look away.

1872 - Boston

Agatha’s grip around her throat loosened just enough to turn it from aggressive to playful. She smiled down at her, able to look at her with more affection than hatred. She hadn’t forgiven her, but she at least intellectually knew that Rio had no choice but to take Nicky, even if she couldn’t emotionally accept it. Rio felt the lightness in Agatha. As long as she didn’t call attention to it, it would continue.

Rio knew that the moment she acknowledged the connection between them, Agatha would throw her walls back up the way they did in New York years ago. Back then, Rio slipped up and said she loved her. Agatha’s expression hardened. Her eyes went dead and she abruptly left her, waiting far too long to summon her again. Rio wouldn’t make that mistake again. She would keep it light and safe.

Rio smirked and rolled them over, grabbing and pinning her wrists. Agatha leaned up, trying to struggle against her hold. Rio bit her lip and narrowed her eyes. She worked her leg between Agatha’s and pressed her thigh against her sex. Agatha gasped and rolled her hips at the contact. Rio smiled devilishly down at her.

“Such a greedy girl. Fuck yourself on me.”

1912 - The Atlantic Ocean

The ship had cracked in two. The lights turned off throughout, plunging the vessel into darkness. Shrieks emanated from the cabins.

Agatha turned in Rio’s arms, holding onto the railing behind her while the two halves of the ship tilted toward the middle. Rio pressed her fingers under her chin and guided her up into a kiss under the stars.

Agatha let go of the railing, wrapping her arms around Rio’s neck as they tipped and slid towards the wall of the pilothouse. Agatha cushioned the impact of their bodies crashing against it with a shield of purple mist.

People emptied out of the cabins, running in a panic to find an exit. Men tried to push past mothers and children to save their own hides while the rich locked the poor passengers under the deck when they realized there were barely any lifeboats.

This level of cruelty towards one another was the very reason that Agatha used to justify her murderous acts. If this is who they were at their cores, what would they possibly have to give to the world? The rich especially angered her. Regardless of having every advantage, they were the most selfish beings on earth. If she hadn’t been completely wrapped up in Rio, she would have saved the lower class passengers while dispatching the richest. However, she was locked into an embrace with her love and the water had already rushed into those cabins.

Agatha kissed along Rio’s neck, running her hands over her suit. She took care to leave as many clothes on as possible. It was not only cold, but Rio also looked amazing in a tuxedo. She slid her hand into the suit pants. Rio gasped and smiled. She rocked her hips over her hand, feeling Agatha’s hand wandering. Agatha’s fingers parted her folds and pushed up the hood of her clit, using a fingertip to lightly play with it. The pleasure shot through her in short spurts that felt like being electrocuted. She gripped Agatha’s upper arms to steady herself, already trembling. The rush of death surrounding them was as intoxicating to her as Agatha was. It didn’t feel like euphoria the way draining magic felt to Agatha. It was more of a flood of adrenaline that activated her instincts as the reaper. It made every sensation that much more extreme.

Agatha, meanwhile, felt the energy of a handful of witches aboard. It spiked her arousal and made her hungrier for her love. She sped her finger, purposely overwhelming Rio with shocks of pleasure. Rio cried out, her hands tightening on her biceps. Agatha watched her closely, taking in every detail, every twitch of her lip, the fluttering of her lashes.

Before Agatha could continue, Rio abruptly turned the tables. She spun Agatha onto her back, shoving her dress up to her waist. She looked down at her bare cunt, tilting her head.

“No undergarments? Looks like you had a plan,” Rio said.

“You know me,” Agatha purred, “Always prepared.”

Rio dove down between her thighs, plunging her tongue into her. Agatha arched her back off of the wall that had tilted with the boat, effectively becoming more of a floor.

People panicked and scrambled around them, not even noticing what was unfolding between the two women. It was always the most delicious thing about the disasters Agatha created. The chaos around them allowed them to have the most depraved experiences in public.

Rio’s dark eyes were fixed on Agatha’s face. She fucked her slowly at first, grinding her tongue against the most sensitive spot inside of her. Agatha’s eyes shot open, her hips flying up. Rio pinned them back down as she moved faster, nudging at her clit with her nose.

Agatha’s hand shot down and tangled her hand in her hair, knocking her hat off. She rolled her hips, trying to fuck her back before Rio laid an arm across them to keep her still. Agatha whined in a rare show of weakness, one that only her wife could draw from her.

“Fuck… Rio!” She moaned as Rio pulled her in closer by her waist.

Rio groaned in reply, the vibration shivering against Agatha. Agatha’s jaw fell as her pleasure crested, crashing over her like a heavy wave. Rio coaxed aftershocks from her while cleaning her arousal. Whimpers left her lips, making Rio look up at her again, taking in the breathtaking sight of her wife gasping against the back of her hand. She turned her head and sucked on the skin, leaving a dark welt on her inner thigh.

Rio emerged from between her legs. She crawled over Agatha, looking down into her blue eyes. She gently moved her hand from her lips and captured them herself.

“Mi amor,” Rio whispered.

“Mi corazón,” Agatha replied, “I love you.”

1755 - Lisbon

“I hate you…” Agatha hissed.

Her fingers were inside of Rio. Two, then three, then four. Rio let out a sharp scream as Agatha stretched her to her limit, tucking her thumb inside. Rio’s face was a portrait of pain, but her arousal only grew. Agatha smiled sadistically as she made a fist inside of her. Rio’s breath caught, her walls strangling her hand. Her arousal squirted from her, the agony burning into pleasure.

Agatha roughly yanked her hand from her, leaving Rio empty. She screamed out from the violent move, clinging to the trunk of the tree behind her in an attempt to keep herself upright.

Agatha gripped her shoulder and pushed down until the weak-kneed woman was on the ground. She swung her leg over, straddling Rio’s face. She lowered herself, using her like a toy. Rio worked with a desperation, needing to give Agatha everything she could while still knowing it would never be enough.

Agatha panted as she fucked her face. Rio thrusted her tongue inside of her, tasting the flavor she craved more than anything. She watched Agatha move like a woman possessed. Her hair was wild and her expression feral. In the distance, the shore was attacked by a massive tidal wave powered by Agatha’s fury.

The churches filled with people celebrating All Saints’ Day collapsed, taking thousands with it. The city of Lisbon was crumbling around them. The impact of the earthquake reverberated as far as the Caribbean from Portugal. Even North Africa was hit. Tsunamis were birthed from the epicenter. From Agatha.

The sheer volume of death left Rio’s head spinning. Nearly one hundred thousand dead. Of that body count, thousands of witches perished, their magic moving in flashes, traveling over several countries, endowing Agatha with power.

The violet glow surrounding her was blinding, the magic of the dying witches proving to be almost too much for Agatha. She shook violently as she kept moving over Rio. She leaned forward on her knees and pressed her palms against the tree. She screamed as her overpowered body unraveled for the very woman she was trying to dominate. She crawled back so that she was eye to eye with Rio, glaring down at her with irises swimming in a deep purple as magic pulsed through every cell of her body.

The dark eyes looking back at her welled with tears that were all too human for an entity like Death. Rio had witnessed the pure rage of grief when she had taken others. She knew it was only born from pain. However, that didn’t take the pain of being loathed by the love of her life.

“He was my son too,” she whispered out, unable to stop the words.

Agatha’s eyes ignited before she shoved her to the ground. Her hands gripped her throat, squeezing as hard as she could. Rio struggled. Her vision blurred, but they both knew that Death could never die. Her windpipe would never collapse. She still wanted her to struggle for breath.

“Some mother you were,” Agatha growled through clenched teeth, “You killed your own son…”

Rio wheezed as she whispered, “He was already gone.”

Agatha strangled her another minute before letting go. Rio gasped and coughed violently. Agatha looked at her with nothing short of pure disgust.

“You could have saved him.”

“I did. Every day for five years. You don’t know how difficult it was to squeeze time from nothing.”

“And you don’t know how it was to wake up to him that morning.”

“You’re right,” Rio admitted, “I don’t.”

Agatha looked down at her, momentarily allowing her to look at her the way she used to. As the ancient witch who only showed true humanity for her.

“I wish I could have done more,” Rio sobbed out, looking stunned by her own display of emotion, “I am so sorry…”

Agatha had no words that were enough, nothing that would solve the grief between two parents. She only had a question.

“Do you see him when you bring others over?”

“Not fully,” she said, “Only shadows. Only whispers… For me to be too close would disturb the balance. His mothers are not fated to be with him yet. I cannot force when that reunion will be. But… He leaves me flowers. He leaves us flowers.”

Agatha simply cried then, unable to contain it any longer. The fact that Rio had glimpses of him while she had nothing should have angered her more, but it only led to another question that was more important than her rage.

“Is h… Is he happy?” The

“Yes,” Rio said without a second thought, “Someone with earth magic… Nicky can only make roses when he is happy. He leaves roses everywhere he goes.”

Agatha’s tears fell directly from her eyelashes to Rio’s cheeks. When Rio tried to cup Agatha’s cheek, the other woman wrenched her face away. She closed her eyes, trying to force her mask to hide her from someone who knew her completely. She opened them, but still revealed her own adoration and passion for the woman in front of her, despite her anger. That look would fuel Rio in the centuries to come. They would remind her that their bond had withstood the worst tragedy possible. Emotion would crash against it like the water crashing against the sand miles away, but that bond would always hold.

Agatha came to the same conclusion internally, beneath the storm of trauma and misery. She was cursed and blessed to be forever bonded to Death. Her lips collided with hers with a painful impact. Purple flowed from her to Rio, tying them together in that moment. She was there one second and pulling away the next. Rio sat up as Agatha left, walking into the clouds of destruction left in her wake.

For years and centuries later, Rio would leave Nicky’s roses by Agatha’s bed as she slept to give her comfort. She would keep half for her and give half of the blooms to his other mother.

Agatha, for her part, would pretend to be asleep when she would hear the familiar footsteps. Death could come like a thief in the night, but Agatha occasionally felt it just before. She would savor the kiss laid upon her forehead, the light touch of her fingers as they brushed stray hairs from her face. She savored Rio in a way she could handle during those first few decades following Lisbon before calling upon her time and time again with unprecedented disasters throughout time.

1872 - Boston

Agatha’s back bent like a bow as pleasure wound itself tightly in the pit of her. She rutted herself against Rio’s thigh as the other woman wolfishly grinned down at her. She sucked in a gasp as her hips stuttered. Rio suddenly moved down her form in a flash, grabbing her thighs and bending her in half. She leaned down and ran her tongue along her soaking cunt. She drank her in as the air around them heated up as the crowds below them ran from the flames.

Agatha wanted to watch the destruction, but Rio was far more captivating. She tangled her hands in her own hair, her body quaking with pleasure. Rio sucked on the little bundle of nerves that made her scream while thrusting two fingers into her.

Agatha’s brows bunched together as her walls strangled them, already overstimulated. As she came again, she pulled Rio out from between her legs and into a kiss. She hummed against her lips with her arms wrapped around her. Agatha slid her hand down between them, teasing Rio. Rio shook her head and took her hand.

“But…” Agatha started.

“This is about you,” Rio replied, bringing her hand to her lips, kissing it with a, “Milady.”

Half the city was reduced to ashes as the flames licked up the building below them. Fire surrounded them as they shared one last kiss. Rio pulled back and smiled as frenzied cries came from the adjoining buildings.

“That’s my cue,” Rio said.

As Agatha pushed the fire away from her with tendrils of purple magic. Vines grew from Rio’s feet, crawling up her body and forming into a tight, form fitting outfit. She stood on the ledge, turning to face Agatha. She waved at her with a smile before jumping off of the roof.

Agatha waited until she was out of earshot to say, “Always a pleasure, My love.”

1912 - The Atlantic Ocean

People plummeted from the ship, trampled one another, froze in the water. As the sounds of pain and anguish surrounded them, the band continued to play. In the middle of the mayhem were a small collection of those who chose to meet death with grace. Being around them was a comfort to Rio. Unlike the fear and terror she was typically shown, these people were more focused on finding peace in remaining moments.

The ship began to sink further in. Jewelry, furs, and other meaningless things that lost all worth in the larger picture of life plunged into the depths of the Atlantic, disappearing into the places where sunlight refused to follow. The lifeboats were full and floating away. Some were filled with vulnerable people who were rightfully saved while others were filled by the ruthless people who pushed their way to the front of the crowds. Their morality didn’t matter to their fates on Earth. That would catch up to them years later when Rio came for them. The people left behind held each other and sobbed in the realization that there was no way to escape their demise.

The musicians played to calm the passengers, the transcendent sound of strings flowing through the screams. Agatha held a hand out to Rio, who took it in hers. She pulled her in, pressing her cheek to Agatha’s as they danced. Rio hummed their song into her ear. The stars shone down on them with a beauty that stood in opposition to the tragedy unfolding beneath.

Next to them sat an elderly married couple who chose to stay. The wife had refused to leave him behind when offered a seat on the lifeboat. She wouldn’t take someone else’s place when hers was with her love. He tried to convince her to leave, but she shook her head. They held hands, listening to the music while gazing at the moon.

Agatha looked at them over Rio’s shoulder and saw the devotion that she and her own wife shared. The words the woman spoke to him earlier were some of the most romantic she had heard. “Isidor we have been together for all these years. Where you go, I go.”

She realized that the same applied to her and the woman in her embrace. Regardless of what happened, of what they did, of how they tried to resist, they were each other’s home. Although she wasn’t yet ready to fully welcome Rio back into her life, she knew that she would be sooner rather than later. Like the couple beside them, they would walk through life together.

The old man kissed the back of his wife’s hand, earning a youthful blush from her. Rio could feel their acceptance. The two would greet Death as they would an old friend.

This story was based on the Lisbon Earthquake of 1755, the Great Boston Fire of 1872, and the sinking of the Titanic in 1912.

If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment and reblog it! Also, check out my other playlist fics!

Thank you for reading ♥️

80 notes · View notes

the-californicationist · 9 months ago

Text

Good Fences (Fluffuary #13)

FEB13: Night Out

“Did she book out the whole place, then?” John asked, pulling his pearl buttons through their starched holes as he dressed into his shirt.

“Yep, very fancy,” you told him, fixing his tie and feeling the silk slip through your manicured fingers.

Your best friend, Cana, had just graduated from her master’s program, and she had invited you to her graduation party. When you mentioned that you were housing three additional British soldiers, she had extended the invitation to include them most enthusiastically.

The boys had dressed up nice. Cana had indeed booked out an entire rooftop bar, and as a woman who liked to party, she was really pulling out all the stops tonight.

She was dressed all in black, surrounded by her classmates and a few of your mutual friends, but when she saw you coming through the doors with your literal army squad, she made a bee-line straight for you. Her bejeweled arms were spread wide, her perfectly set curls bounced as she ran, flinging herself into your arms and squealing her hellos.

“Cana!” You laughed, holding her as she spun around you with glee, “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you.”

“Goddamn, babe. Me too,” she huffed, exasperated and sarcastically funny.

You watched her roll her eyes and smile,

“Thank fuck grad school is done. Now, introduce me! You brought dinner, I see.”

“Oh, God, Cana. You can’t say that!” You protested.

But, Kyle heard her comment and brushed you aside, reaching for her hand and taking it in his,

“Let the woman speak, babes. She looks hungry.”

Cana giggled, high pitched and joyful, letting Kyle lead her back to her table. You looked at John and mouthed an apology.

“Dinnae fash, bonnie. Gaz is in his own version of heaven,” Johnny chuckled, “He never could turn down a curvy lass.”

“She’s a wild one, but I love her,” you explained, trying to dismiss your friend’s audacious behavior.

“She’s grand, love. Let me buy you a drink,” John wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you in to his body. His soft clothes crumpled against your side, and you noticed John’s palm sliding lower and lower down your back.

“Speaking of blokes in heaven,” Simon quipped, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He cast a long gaze at his captain, and you thought you saw the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Aye,” John puffed up a little, defensively, “And what of it?”

“Heaven looks good on you, Cap’n,” Johnny clapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the bar, “You were sayin’ somethin’ about a wee drink?”

You talked and drank and laughed all night with John and his friends. Cana couldn’t keep her hands off of Kyle, and he seemed to be loving every moment of it. By the end of the evening, your feet were aching, but you had heard story after story of John being the hero and even more stories of him being the victim of his men’s pranks. They seemed to have an incredible bond together that made you admire John even more.

“Are you havin’ fun tonight, love?” John asked, whispering in your ear, letting the whiskers of his beard tickle your neck and sensitive lobe as he did.

You turned your head to him, smiling, whispering just as low,

“Yes, I am. But, I can’t stop staring at you in that suit.”

“And you in that dress. Mmm…” John ran a long finger up your thigh, pushing the dress’s hem higher and higher until it was truly scandalous.

“Maybe you should take me home,” you suggested, your eyes full of lust, “So, you can take it off.”

“Grab your purse. Now.”

Check out the schedule here.

AO3 Link

#the californicationist does fluff #fluffuary 2024 #fluffuary #john price fluff #john price #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod #cod fanfiction #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod mwii

154 notes · View notes

my-my-my · 11 months ago

Note

may i request a scenario of aizen seducing his s/o 😳 thank you 💕

Sure! It's been a while since I wrote something remotely NSFW, so I feel a bit rusty. Timeline is vague, but it's female reader and Captain Aizen (and I miss him!).

The song that was the inspiration for this little drabble was Jupiter - Elliot Uppercut (Mr. Gonzo Remix).

Tags: @stygianoir

TW: NSFW: fingering. Relationship between reader and Aizen can be interpreted to an abuse-of-power situation, but I left it vague on what position reader is.

Every couple of decades, Lieutenants Sasakibe and Matsumoto liked to host a grand party in the world of the living as a celebration during peacetime. Their reasoning was that it was a “great learning experience” to see what mortals were doing, and not everyone liked to “celebrate” with a Japanese tea ceremony (that Captains Yamamoto and Unohana enjoyed planning). You chalked up that for Lieutenant Sasakibe, it was true that he wanted to know more about the mortals and what was considered “modern”, but you knew for Lieutenant Matsumoto, it was just an excuse to have fun and party. She didn’t need the reason of peacetime to throw one.

Every party differed depending on the whatever trends those in the living were experiencing. This was your second party, and you knew it was already different from the first. You remembered wearing a delicate kitsuke with floral motifs.

This time… you couldn’t believe your appearance. You were told to close your eyes as Lieutenant Matsumoto insisted on styling you for tonight’s party. Apparently, Lieutenant Ichimaru and her were in secrecy over something, but you weren’t sure of what.

You inched closer to the mirror, inspecting your face and you outfit. You had never, in your centuries as a Shinigami, worn anything like this. Lieutenant Matsumoto highlighted your eyes with glittery eyeshadow, while your lashes were accented with mascara, while a gold, sequin-covered mini dress hugged your body, with the final touches of bejewelled, black satin heels, adorning your feet. Your accessories were minimal, your hair styled in a way you weren’t familiar with, but you couldn’t help but blush – you looked good.

Lieutenant Matsumoto was also dressed in a similar fashion, her curvaceous figure being accented in her glittery mini dress. As Matsumoto inspected her appearance for any last-minute touch-ups, she grabbed your arm and chanting a quick spell to transport you both to the venue.

Bright, colourful lights, a ball covered in silver (was this what Lieutenant Matsumoto called a “disco ball”?), followed by pounding music.

The floor with the other party goers was changing colours to the beat of the music, as they danced their worries away. You recognized some captains and lieutenants at the bar, their outfits seemingly fitting with their personality.

Before you could ask Matsumoto what you should do, she ran off with Lieutenant Ichimaru. Sighing, you made your way to the edge of the dancefloor, watching your fellow colleagues dance away.

You couldn’t help yourself but hum to the song, gently swaying and moving to the rhythm. It was then you were tapped on your bare shoulder, startling you out of your reverie.

“I’m sorry to startle you – you looked like you should be on the floor and not on the sidelines” the man smiled. His brown hair slightly pushed back, a deep navy blue shirt that wasn’t buttoned fully all the way – leaving his bare chest exposed, tucked into black pants secured with a black belt with a gold buckle.

You stood there, blinking as to who it was, but as he smiled – you immediately recognized,

“Oh! Captain Aizen! I barely recognized you.” You answered. “I’m not used to seeing you without your glasses.”

“Yes – and it’s a first for me as well.” Aizen responded sheepishly. “I’m wearing what’s called ‘contact lenses’? They’re fairly new to the Realm of the Living and Sereitei.”

You hummed in acknowledgement as you stared his face. Without his glasses, his eyes were sharp and intense, completely opposite to the gentle and kind voice he had.

“But back to my earlier comment – you should be on the dancefloor. You shouldn’t deny yourself from having fun, especially with how much time Lieutenant Matsumoto spent to throw this event.” Captain Aizen remarked as he looked over your body.

“I will if you will, Captain Aizen!” You laughed, as you pulled him with you.

The song changed to a more upbeat one and you felt your hips sway again, your body moving on its own to the rhythm. You smiled as your body moved to the music, closing your eyes as you let go. It was when you opened your eyes, when you noticed Captain Aizen smiling, but not moving.

You grabbed his hands again encouraged him to move his legs, motioning him to move them as you were. Once he followed the rhythm, you guided his arms. “You got this Captain Aizen!” You cheered as you danced along with him.

Soon the song shifted to a slower tempo, but you were too lost to the rhythm to notice. It was when you felt strong arms grip your waist, and a hard, warm body behind you, you stopped moving.

You jolted as you felt Captain Aizen’s breath near your ear, with him whispering, “keep going, you look divine tonight.” His deep voice flowing through your brain as if in a trance, and you picked up your pace again. You moved your body against him, as he started pulling you off dancefloor.

While the music was still as loud, you realized you were in a more secluded are of the venue. It was then Captain Aizen spun you around, pushing you softly to the wall. You both were panting, a thin layer of sweat between you two.

Captain Aizen’s cheeks were flushed, and you knew your face was no better.

“Do you know how many people were watching you tonight?” Captain Aizen asked you, closing the gap between both your bodies. “You’re a divine vision amongst these mere mortals.” He murmured, tracing your face with a finger.

“A beautiful goddess in all her glory” Aizen commented, as you felt your cheeks grow hot again. You weren’t used to such compliments, but you felt emboldened.

“What are you trying to say, Captain Aizen?” You asked, grabbing his silk shirt, bringing you face-to-face with him. You swallowed hard as you stared at his intense brown eyes, as they narrowed down to look at you again.

“Would a goddess give a private dance to a humble man?” Aizen asked, pushing his face to your neck, giving you a soft nip as his lips made their way to your ear. You gasped as he began to nibble at your lobe, while his arms traveled along your body, with gentle squeezes.

Aizen’s hands started to drift lower as your dress rose higher. You relaxed your body as his warm fingers gently massaged your inner thighs, slowly creeping to your dampening panties. You were getting slick from his ministrations, as began to kiss you. You fervently kissed him back, throwing your arms across his neck and widening your legs.

You felt one of Aizen’s fingers push the measly cloth of your underwear aside as he inserted one finger inside. You winced at the intrusion, but began to moan as Aizen thumbed your clit, rubbing it softly. You clenched his shirt as he began to push more fingers inside you, as you writhed and moaned against the wall.

Aizen smirked at the sight as you became undone by just his fingers – how would you feel around his cock if you were this tight around his fingers, he thought to himself. He pumped his fingers in you, as he pushed the straps of your dress down – nipping and biting your bare chest.

He could hear and feel you getting close – prompting him to pull away from you.

“What – please don’t stop!” You began to plead, as Aizen watched you with amusement in his eyes.

“My goddess, why don’t we go somewhere private – you did promise a humble man for a night of privacy.” Aizen grinned at your disheveled state – lips slightly swollen from his kisses, hardened nipples and thighs covered in your own slick. You nodded your headed eagerly, as you held on to his arm – leading you to a night of more feverish “dancing”.

Dress I was imagining for reader was this Pac Rabanne piece, paired with Manolo Blahnik's Hangisi 70 heels.

#bleach #aizen sousuke #aizen sosuke #aizen x reader #aizen sosuke x reader #aizen x y/n #aizen x you #bleach writings #aizen writings #aizen smut #sousuke aizen #sosuke aizen #aizen sosuke x you #aizen sosuke x y/n #a writes

164 notes · View notes

mad-voidling · 2 months ago

Text

First time writing a fic like this,,, enjoy,,,

A Dream About Familiar Things

#dropping this and scittering away into the darkness. very nervous about posting this lol #writing #my writing #the bejeweled captain #the viric-glazed assassin #< characters in the fic

0 notes

ohmyeyesmyeyes · 1 year ago

Text

take 2

nico hischier x actress!f!reader

fc: sophie turner

warnings: swearing

liked by treaclychild, landonorris and 840,971 others

ynofficial: i heart nj

view all comments

claudiasulewski: first

maya_henry: mother is mothering

user1: WHO IS COWBOY

ynofficial: you mean you haven't heard 'cowboy like me'?

user2: what of nico?????

user3: DID HE SLIDE INTO UR DMS

taylorswift: i heart u

liked by ynofficial

user4: POV you came from deuxmoi's blind item 👀

user5: oui

ayoedebiri: ur pretty

jackhughes: yo

user6: no

user7: this is the wrong nj player commenting, i forbit it

user8: jack baby snap out of it

user9: only y/n could get the captain to wink at her and the social media heartthrob to comment on her ig

user10: ✨✨✨ BEST BELIEVE I'M STILL BEJEWELED ✨✨✨

liked by ynoffocial

liked by user11 and 78,186 others

deuxmoi: there were a few blind items submitted relating to the same A lister and athlete, and others also hinted at said sports star's respected status in the city, and his private nature, thus the lack of photos from the night

view all comments

user11: LOVING HIM WAS REDDDDD

user12: no bc i ship it so hard

user13: there's absolutely zero way that they're not talking about y/n and nico 😭

user14: in y/n's recent post she was wearing a sparkly star dress too

user15: me bc nico won't be protected from all the y/n girlies anymore: 😢😢

user16: THEY MOVE FAST IF THIS IS TRUE

user17: okay but my thinking is that they knew each other prior to the hockey game???

user18: RIGHT???

user19: THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT THE WAY HE KNEW WHERE SHE WAS SITTING THERE'S NO WAY A HOCKEY PLAYER CAN PINPOINT SOMEONE'S SEAT THAT QUICK UNLESS THEY ALREADY KNEW WHERE THEY WERE SITTING

nicohischier posted to their story...

liked by 138,017 others

hockeygossip: LATE ARRIVAL FOR Y/N L/N TO NASHVILLE HOCKEY AWARDS 2023. PICTURED WITH DEVILS HOCKEY CAPTAIN NICO HISCHIER MOMENTS AFTER HER LATE ARRIVAL.

comments for this post are turned off

liked by nicohischier, joejonas and 1,004,013 others

ynofficial: because the first launch failed ☺️

📸: nicohischier ❤️

view all comments

user21: IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING EVERYBODY STAY CALM

user22: [tyres screech] [distant crash] [sirens] [crying] [heartbeat monitor]

user23: AHHHAH AHHAA HAHA *faints*

user24: he's taking a photo of her 😭

user25: the way she's looking at him and his concentration 😭

user26: your honour they're in love

user27: YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THE GAME THING WAS THE INITIAL HARD LAUNCH BUT WE ALL MISINTERPRETED IT???

ynofficial: ...yes

user28: WE'RE DUMB WE APOLOGISE

jackhughes: this is cute

nicohischier: can i get your number?

ynofficial: sure, it's #13

nicohischier: 😲😲

user29: you know it's SERIOUS bc she's never been ig official before

user30: fr she didn't even post callum mf turner, if i was her i'd have been yelling from the rooftops

user31: SHE SAID ALL THAT ABOUT HIM IN AN INTERVIEW OH MY GOD I'M DYING

user33: 'he's patient, kind, intelligent, calm, and just a really beautiful soul' I BELIEVED IN YOU NICO ALL THIS TIME

user34: nico fans are really winning here

user35: SHE MADE IT FOR THE END OF THE AWARDS

user36: but that pap photo from instagram? the way they were looking at each other has me in my own puddle of tears in a nest of already used tissues bc they're adorable

user37: that photo single-handedly instilled in me the belief that love does exist

user38: they're my 'don't take risks on dangerous roads' couple now

liked by ynofficial, jesperbratt and 519,195 others

nicohischier: it's come to my attention that there's been a lot of talk about my relationship lately, and i just wanted to come on here and confirm that i am batshit crazy for this woman, and pathetically in love with her. so, yes, the rumours are true 😊

ps i have the dad seal of approval

view all comments

jackhughes: first

john.marino97: whipped

nicohischier: yep 💪

jackhughes: why are you ignoring me

nicohischier: because you haven't said anything worth commenting on

ynofficial: i'm a sports watcher for you

nicohischier: appreciate it, thanks

ynofficial: you're welcome

user39: i think i love this awkward conversing

user40: it's my aspiration in life to have that

lhughes_06: happy for you, cap 😁

jackhughes: *cough* suck up *cough*

tmeier96: ABOUT DAMN TIME 👏👏

ynofficial: you can rip that NDA up now

tmeier96: i might frame it for sentimental purposes

ynofficial: really?

nicohischier: that's suspicious

siegenthaler34: in my defence i did try my best with the jumbotron incident

nicohischier: and we're very thankful for that

ynofficial: if anything it helped thicken the plot 😂

siegenthaler34: it was pretty funny

user41: THE y/n l/n being the captain's wag wasn't on my bingo card for this year

nicohischier: you and me both

ynofficial: please, i was a goner from the very SECOND you smiled

nicohischier: the very second? 😏

ynofficial: stfu and bring the coffee

nicohischier: as you wish

+ BONUS: Spittin Chiclets Podcast

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier oneshot #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier social media au #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

327 notes · View notes

cherienymphe · 1 year ago

Text

Bejeweled (Stephen Bonnet x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: Your journey to America is turned on its head when the captain of the ship wants both your mistress' jewels...and her handmaiden, snatching both in a single night.

The large ship gently bobbed and flowed with the smooth movements of the sea. Your mistress was fast asleep, something you envied night after night. You did not get sea sick. No, never that, and you did not even detest the sea. In fact, this was your third time to travel across water, and each time prior, you had loved it. This third passage, however, included something the others had not.

The Gloriana was as beautiful a ship as any other, and you supposed that your lodgings and environment could be so much worse. There was no shortage of food, the ship was cleanly, and thus far, neither you nor your mistress had dealt with any…unscrupulous behavior. None that could be reprimanded, anyway. That thought forced you to bring your legs up onto the bed, wrapping your arms around your knees.

Captain Bonnet was an uncompromising man. He ran a tight ship, and as effective as his methods seemed to be, his authoritarian manner triggered something negative in you. It was reminiscent of your father, an equally intimidating man that would no doubt have killed you had your mistress not offered to take you under her wing as her handmaiden.

Offered was too gentle of a word, you supposed.

You looked at the other woman who was sound asleep, recalling the desperation on her face that day as she had practically begged your father to let her take you off of his hands. You had been clutching your face the entire time, eyes tearful as you fought to ignore the sting in your face. The whole ordeal had shocked you, even more so when your father finally relented. The decision brought out conflicting emotions within you.

The man was abusive, and there was no love lost there, but still. Something in you—some last shred of hope and grace—had wanted your father to hesitate, had wanted him to fight for you. You did not know why, maybe it was for the simple fact that he was your father and he should have, but your disappointment had been heavy on your body. With that being said though, you had not been able to ignore the light feeling in your chest with the reality that you would be free of him.

Of course, there had been a possibility of going into an even worse situation. You did not know your mistress then as well as you did, now, and all manner of things could have befallen you at her hand, this was true, but you had felt no fear. You remembered thinking that you could not face anything worse than you already had.

That was a truth you always held…until some days ago.

Until the day your mistress had secured passage for you both on The Gloriana.

His eyes reminded you of the sea. That was the first thought you recalled having about Captain Bonnet. They were a blue that was nothing at all like the sky, nothing calming or soft about them. They instead reminded you of the sea, of the rough waters that carried men from land to land while also taking the lives of as many as it wanted to claim. A deep blue that was meant to be feared, approached with caution.

“Just the two of ye then?”

It was not a strange question, and the question itself did not even make you uneasy. It was not even the way he said it, tone even and voice deep. It was his hyper focused gaze, the way it settled on your mistress for far too long, as if he were sizing her up. Such a look was not uncommon to see, her beauty something that anyone would take note of. However, it was the glint in his blue stare that forced you to step closer to her.

The movement had grabbed his attention, freezing you in place, and the small curve of his pink lips did not settle you. The man did not appear to be any kind of ashamed at having been caught, returning his gaze back to her. Or…more notably, her chest. You decided then that you did not like the man, and when your mistress pulled you along by the hand, turning to say something to you, the sun glinted off of the impressive jewel she always wore around her neck.

The expensive gift was eye catching, always had been, and it was then you decided that you really did not like that man.

You urged her to hide it after that, something she thankfully agreed with. Captain Bonnet struck you as an opportunistic man, and he seemed the type to not resist temptation once it was in his path. He liked pretty and shiny things, and your mistress had much of that. It was why sleep could not find you as it should while aboard the ship. America’s shores could not come fast enough, night after night witness to your lack of sleep.

“You shall be dead on your feet by the time we arrive,” the other woman said early the next morning over breakfast.

“Maybe so,” you played along with a small smile. “…but at least then I will be able to rest soundly.”

She touched your cheek at that, and as she leaned in some with the action…

You saw it.

It was a small rash, just there where her shoulder and neck met, and your heart sank at the sight. You knew it was only due to the heat in your quarters, something your mistress often dealt with when overheated, but you knew many would not see it that way. You knew of one in particular who would definitely not see it that way.

It was only a day or so ago that Captain Bonnet had thoroughly inspected anyone for any sign of smallpox. You and your mistress had been cleared, but you did not turn a blind eye to the passengers that were here one minute…and gone the next. You did not want to imagine the worst, but fear and desperation drove people to do heinous things. A ship wrought with the pox was enough to drive any man mad.

Your mistress caught sight of your own line of sight before reaching up to her neck with a small smile.

“Tis only from the heat.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “I am aware, but…”

Your words died in the air, and she caught on to what you were getting at. A brief look of discomfort colored her features before she proceeded to wrap her shawl around herself. The smile that she sent you was meant to be reassuring, you were sure, but it did not quell the worry in your heart. You thickly swallowed as she continued to eat.

“Let me go,” you suggested to her hours later when came time for your ration of water. “If Captain Bonnet catches sight of that…”

You gestured to her neck. She had looked ready to protest, but at your reminder, she slowly deflated. With a sharp nod, she allowed you to leave, and you made haste. You did not enjoy walking about the ship without her, severely uncomfortable the few times you had to, but at the moment, you were left with no choice. You could not risk your mistress being seen with that rash, no doubt in your mind as to what would become of her.

One of the Captain’s crewmen was distributing the water, the blond man observing from the side. However, when it was your turn, you were met with the sight of blue eyes instead of brown. You paused only briefly, eyeing him a bit as he fixed you with a smile. It was wrought with amusement, as if your mere presence made him laugh, and you watched him fill the pail.

“So far without your mistress?” he asked you, voice almost soft in nature.

Some of his long hair had escaped his hat, pieces falling into his face as he leaned in, and you paid mind to lean away a bit. This did not go unnoticed by Captain Bonnet, and you clutched the pail as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“She is only just in our quarters,” you told him. “Resting.”

He held your gaze, searching your eyes. For what, you did not know. You were aware that you were not alone with the man, but it certainly felt that way. Or, more importantly, he made you feel that way. Captain Bonnet seemed a bold man the way he swaggered about the ship, and the way he talked to people. He did not seem the type to be deterred by witnesses once he set his mind to do something.

…and that was what scared you.

His smile suddenly grew, the smile bleeding into his eyes a bit as they crinkled.

“Resting,” he repeated. “How very good for her.”

He pressed his hand against the bucket of water lightly, forcing you to take a small step back.

“Use it wisely,” he advised, fingers lingering on it just a tad before you finally turned away.

You did not tell your mistress of the strange encounter with Captain Bonnet when you returned. She was reading when you shut the door, setting the bucket down, and your response remained sparse when she inquired as to how it went. You checked her neck again, and she allowed you, rolling her eyes when you huffed.

“It has not gone yet,” you murmured.

“Tis only due to the heat,” she said. “It will pass in a day or two, and even then, by then we shall be at our destination.”

She sounded so sure, so optimistic, but you could not share in her enthusiasm.

Your own pleas were all that kept her holed away in your quarters, small huffs leaving her each time you reminded her she must stay until the rash was gone. There was only so much reading she could do, this you knew, but you would rather your mistress drive herself crazy with boredom than to be thrown overboard for fear of having the pox.

“Resting.”

That was what you said for the third day in a row. This time, it was to one of the crewmen instead of the captain himself. You never elaborated, feeling no need to. After all, you were her handmaiden, and it was not uncommon for someone of your status to be worked so much. That was never her way, but they did not need to know the benevolent nature of your relationship.

It worked for a time.

Until you woke up to the sound of commotion and yelling.

You were up and at the door before your mistress, keeping yourself covered as you looked down the hall with wide eyes. You could see some of the crewmen, but more importantly, you could see the tall captain among them. The sight of him made your heart skip a beat, and bile turned in your gut as you realized what they were doing.

One of the passengers stood in his doorway, compliant as Captain Bonnet carefully inspected the man, turning his head which way and that. You sharply inhaled, and you were quick to retreat back into your quarters and shut the door. Your hands shook, and you could hear your mistress inquiring from behind you.

“They are inspecting passengers,” you slowly told her, heart picking up speed in your chest.

You only had another day until you reached the Americas. Why now? When you faced her, there was a bit of concern on her face, but not nearly enough. You loved her dearly, but sometimes your mistress could be very naïve about a lot of things. She softly assured you that things would be fine as you inspected her neck, noting that the cluster of bumps had diminished some, but not as much as you would have preferred.

It was just so hot on this damn ship.

You felt panicked, so unsure of how to navigate this when a knock sounded on the door.

You both froze for half a second before you urged her to lie down. She seemed reluctant, but otherwise listened to you, allowing you to pull the sheet over her body. You flinched at the sound of another knock, chest twisting painfully when you heard Captain Bonnet’s voice from the other side.

“Just a moment,” you called, rubbing your hands along the fabric of your gown.

You barely got the door open good before Captain Bonnet was attempting to force his way in. He looked equally amused and impressed as you stood your ground, jutting your chin out. One hand remained on the door, the other on the wall as you held his gaze. His pink lips were curved into the faintest of smirks, and one of his own hands joined yours on the door, fingers just shy of brushing your own.

“Captain Bonnet,” you greeted, sounding a lot surer of yourself than you felt.

He looked past you, gaze roaming over your quarters before his blue eyes met yours again. He tilted his head to the side, and you noticed then that he was without his hat, dark blond hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. The way he sized you up was almost enough to make you falter, but you merely clenched your jaw.

“Poor lass this morning had the pox,” he started, making your heart sink. “Infected about three others with her.”

He did not take his eyes off of yours as he said this.

“We got rid of ‘em quick enough.”

The confirmation of your earlier suspicions only made you feel ill, ignoring the sting behind your eyes as he continued.

“…but now we’ve got to inspect the whole ship, ye see.”

He looked as if it was such a heavy burden on his heart, but you knew better. He may have seen it as a necessary evil, but there was a part of him that reveled in having less mouths to feed. Maybe even a part of him that reveled in throwing innocent people overboard. You just knew it.

“I have no problem with that,” you finally breathed. “…but…my mistress though. The journey has been tiresome for her, and since I know her to be fine, I think it is best you let her rest.”

Captain Bonnet’s gaze was heavy, and he appeared almost impossibly still as he stood before you. He blinked, slowly looking around you, and you moved slightly to keep yourself in his line of vision.

“I shall be the judge of that-.”

“Please, Captain Bonnet, she tires easily and…”

Your words died in your throat as he stepped closer, too close, and when his fingers brushed against yours, you were quick to pull them away. So eager to be as far away from him as possible, the absence of your hand allowed for no resistance as he pushed on the door, shoving past you in the process.

“No, she is sleeping!”

You reached for his sleeve, but it was too late. Your mistress was startled by the feel of the sheet being yanked off of her, and when she sat up to face the blond man, her hair fell behind her shoulders. The reddened and raised skin was plain as day on her neck, and you felt as if you would be sick.

“No, it is merely from the heat,” you defended, attempting to get in between them. “She’s not sick!”

He was a lot stronger than he looked, a lot stronger than you, and your grip was tight on her arm as he forced her out of the cabin. Her screams of protest were loud in the corridor, almost drowning out the sound of your own pleas.

“Captain Bonnet, please,” you begged, trying in vain to force him to let her go.

With a swift jerk of his head, one of his crewmen had you by the arm, the other hand clenched painfully on the back of your neck. You gasped in pain, but it was nothing in comparison to the pain you felt at watching your mistress be dragged away. You might as well not have put up a fight, at all, with the good it was doing you. Your own name bounced off of the walls as she screamed it, your own voice mixing in as you tried to convince them that she was not sick.

Your face felt tight from all of your tears, fresh ones replacing the old ones as you were led up to the captain’s quarters. After being shoved back into your own room, you waited and waited. Hours you waited, and when your mistress never returned, you were forced to accept the horrible truth. The tears came first…and then the agonizing pain.

You had grown to love her and care for her much since you crossed paths. She had saved you, after all, and now… Now she had been swallowed up by the rough waves of the sea, disappearing into that deep, endless blue. The knowledge left a heavy feeling in your chest, a feeling that made you curl into yourself. She was gone…

…and you were alone.

What would become of you when you got to America? How would you look after yourself? Find work? Her absence left you vulnerable in so many ways, and your uncertain future was enough to make your knees weak, forcing you to practically be dragged to the captain’s cabin.

Once inside, you did not even flinch when the door was tightly shut behind you. You stared ahead at the window behind his desk, unable to focus on any presence that was not your own. You could only think about how frightened your mistress must have been, and you closed your eyes at the unwelcome visions of what her last moments had to have been like.

“It was quick.”

Your eyes slowly opened at the sound of his voice.

“…if that should bring ye any comfort.”

It did not.

“I did what must be done,” he sounded closer, now. “Rather the deaths of a few than of this entire ship, aye?”

He took his time walking by you, arm brushing your own.

“Come now,” he said in a low voice, tone meant to be comforting but it only came off as mocking. “I’m sure you will find a new mistress in no time.”

Your gaze found the floor, eyes remaining there as you felt his own gaze on you.

“Or…some other means of making your livelihood.”

You heard him take a deep breath.

“Provided you show no signs of illness, that is…”

At that, you finally lifted your gaze, tearful eyes resting on him as he leaned against the table behind him. His legs were crossed at the ankle as his hands rested on the wood at his sides, and despite the mirth in his blue eyes, his countenance was dark and serious. He tilted his head, drinking you in.

“I never did inspect ye earlier…and it sure would be a shame to get rid of a bonnie lass such as yourself.”

Both his tone and his words made you uneasy, and you pressed your trembling lips together. It was only moments ago that you felt yourself growing numb with your mistress’ absence, entertaining the thought that you did not care what happened to you. Now, however…

You were very much aware of your isolation with the captain who turned out to be worse than you initially thought.

“I…”

You struggled to say something.

“The two of you were sharing a room, after all. In such close quarters like that…it would be best to be as thorough as possible,” he told you, straightening up.

You took a step back, swallowing.

“I was already inspected by one of your men,” you argued.

It was not a lie. The man’s hands had been rough as he turned your head to inspect your face and neck, but Captain Bonnet only chuckled at your words, moving towards you. You watched him effortlessly remove his hat, smoothing his hair back with a small smile.

“Yes, well, you know what they say, lass. If you want somethin’ done right…”

He trailed off with a wave of his hand, appearing proud of himself as he moved closer. Even if this man had not murdered your mistress and friend under the guise of protecting the rest of the crew and passengers, something in you would still revolt at being so near to him with no one else around. It was as if he could see the decision in your eyes, quick to lunge for you the moment you tried to run for the door.

You winced when your back roughly met the wall.

“Not so fast, darlin’,” he quietly told you. “What kinda captain would I be if I simply let you…walk out of here, mm?”

One of his hands was tight on your neck, fingers pressing into your throat as you stared past him.

“I will rest easy knowing I ‘ave seen your unblemished skin for myself.”

You trembled when his other hand came up to gently trail down the side of your face, and a glint of the light caught your eye, drawing your attention to his pinky finger…and the familiar ring it sported. All of your breath left you as you stared at the familiar piece of jewelry, recalling that your mistress never took it off. The sight of it on his hand reminded you of that first day when he had been eyeing the necklace she wore, and you realized that he lacked the last shred of decency you thought remained.

“You knew she was not sick,” you tearfully murmured, fresh tears escaping.

He lifted his gaze at that, pulling his eyes away from the top of your chest where it had lingered. His blue eyes glinted with mischief, a small smirk dancing along his pink lips as he mulled over your accusation. A low hum left him, and your throat tightened at the feel of his free hand on your waist.

“What a vile accusation,” he mused, that same hand sliding upwards over your chest. “I am simply a cautious captain.”

His expression did not match his words, the smile on his lips sickening, and you shook between him and the wall as he traced his fingers over your neck. Your gaze lifted towards the ceiling, just waiting for this to be over as he touched you in ways that were most inappropriate.

“It is unfortunate indeed what happened to your mistress, but better her than ye, aye?”

You shook your head at such a statement, jerking when his fingers danced along your leg, your gown lifting with them. When you finally had enough, reaching up to slap his hand away and push at his chest, the brief disapproval you saw in his eyes made you shrink. You pressed your back into the wall.

“Lively, you are,” he murmured, and there was almost excitement in his eyes, now. “Brave some might say…stupid, others would say…”

You were unprepared for the feel of his hand fisting into your hair, forcing you to your knees.

“…but lively is what I say.”

You gasped in pain when your forehead hit the floor. An attempt to crawl away was unsuccessful, vision blurring from tears when you felt his hand on your ankle, roughly dragging you back. You knew there was no use in screaming. The ship—and crew—belonged to him, after all. They were loyal to him, and what crewman would risk his life to come to the aid of a lowly handmaiden all alone in the world without her mistress?

Your gown tore with ease, flinching at both the sound and feel of the fabric pulling harshly against your skin before finally releasing. You could feel his callous fingers kneading into your skin as he pulled you back, the man crawling over you to trap you beneath his frame. Your feet banged against the floor as you flailed and fought to get away from him, but one swift slap subdued you enough.

Your head felt both light and heavy at the same time, the room swaying some, and you could not hold back your sobs. You felt as if it were all too much, too many overwhelming events one after the other. You tasted blood on your tongue when it touched your lip, and you shakily reached up to confirm it.

Captain Bonnet’s entry was nothing short of painful, feeling as if you were being ripped in half by the mere feel of his cock. He was rough, no hint of gentleness in his actions, at all, and your back scraped against the wood with every thrust. With no other choice, you pressed your nails into his arm, needing something—anything—to anchor yourself to.

His loud grunts filled the cabin, only rivaled by the sound of your sobs. It was impossible to focus on anything other than the feel of his thrusts, every plunge of his cock as his hips connected with yours. Each one was more painful than the last, your nails drawing blood, now, you were sure. Long strands of blond hair had escaped with the force of his movements, some of them falling down and kissing your face as he hovered above you.

You could feel your mistress’ ring cool against your skin as he held you down. The cool metal made you close your eyes, trying to push the feel of it out of your mind, but it was either focus on that or the rough actions of the man on top of you.

“Where is that lively spirit you had only moments ago, aye?”

The sound of his voice, the feel of his lips at your ear made you shudder, and you wanted him away from you. Your hands futilely pushed against his chest and arm, and when a deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, you realized that was what he wanted. Still, that did not prevent you from trying to get him off by any means necessary. You were desperate and afraid and in pain.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Put up a good fight.”

If you did not, you felt as if you were letting him win, but in doing so, you were giving him just what he wanted…and still letting hm win. You felt his teeth sink into your neck and chest, and you cried out in protest. At some point, you turned your face away completely, staring at the wall as tears cooled your face. You wanted this to be over…and quickly.

…because the sooner it was…the sooner you could put it behind you.

But Captain Stephen Bonnet was not a man content to remain in the past.

“I consider myself a fair man,” he purred into your skin. “I pay for my pleasures.”

You closed your eyes at that, feeling as if you would be sick. You just knew that even after he was done, the scent and feel of him would linger.

“A lone lass such as yourself would get eaten alive out there.”

He hummed against your skin, and you shuddered.

“Consider yourself fortunate I got my hands on you before someone else did.”

#stephen bonnet #stephen bonnet x reader #outlander fanfic #outlander imagine

353 notes · View notes

wildkrattsvillainsvlog · 1 month ago

Note

How would you react if I told you merpeople existed and live in plain sight?

This is Nori, art by @bejeweled-wahlberg, she’s a mermaid with the ability to control water. Her family and extended family are also merpeople with water related powers. And also her twin brother is in an indie band and her dad and uncle and honorary uncles are in a pretty well known band called Switchfoot. She’s also the stage manager for @bejeweled-wahlberg’s Kids on the New Block.

Thought you’d like to meet her. Oh and also her soulmate is Harry Hook the son of Captain Hook from the world of Disney Descendants.

If you want to learn more about Nori, feel free to check out Under The Violet Waves on Wattpad and Ao3, a story by me and @jokerislandgirl32 and also Of Hooks and Tails, a oneshot series by me about Harry and Nori.

Zach: Wait. So merfolk are real?!

Donita: Oh, I've read that story. I turned it into an audio book to help me sleep.

Dabio: Ooh, she's pretty.

Gourmand: Is it legal to cook a mermaid?

Paisley: You gotta be joking.

Rex: *holds up the Dr. Pepper needle* Leave the mermaid alone!

#wild kratts #rex wild kratts #paisley paver #donita donata #zach varmitech #dabio wild kratts #gaston gourmand

12 notes · View notes

thescribeoflostmemories · 1 year ago

Note

Type: My vows to you/ Yandere

Pairing: Pantalone x Fallen Deity! Reader

Ahhh am I doing this correctly?? I’m a big fan of “I’m Just Doing You a Favor” so can I pls request them for this event?? Thanks for giving us smth to look forward to in the future :>

The Fancy Fiance and The Bejeweled Bride

(Yan! Pantalone x Fallen-Deity! Reader)

"Remembering; is forgetting” - Scribe

Redid some mistakes. ~ P

Disclaimer: Yandere stuff, crazy cryptic bs going on around here. No beta, we die like that guy in the story.

" Please, help me find her!"

The strange stranger couldn't help but laugh at the notion, and merely glance at the soup of tears in his hand. Seeing the hardened reflection of your perflex-ion, “You are certainly [lucky] that the lady of compassion has blessed me to tell you, dear hale and hearty friend.”

The strange stranger revealed a beguiled smile, knowing the person will arrive upon their destination at the last light of day, a road that winds in an almost serpentine like suggestion. And the journey brings them to such tenuous and disarray terrain of the ophidian's keep.

♡¥~~~~~~~¥♡

Face nearly pressed up and against the glass pane. Showing the snow gently cascades down on the ground and dim lights from the distance is the city where the event would be held.

You couldn’t wait for it, ever since your first day of devotion, today is the day of vows.

“Doll, what's wrong?” You hear Pantalone called out to you from the door, you didn’t hear him enter.

“Dearest, It is nothing to worry about, though the thought of going to the festival of vows tomorrow..” Frail hands cupped your own cheeks, feeling the warmth emitting from it while your face hid behind the veil, sighing lovingly.

Practically you could hear his merriment when you mention your excitement for tomorrow.

You felt incredibly lucky that a person like Sir Pantalone, or at least that is what he liked to be called, would take you in and share a cup between you two.

Despite him telling that your face looked fine, but the hideousness of your own preface is what made you wear the thin curtain. You never forget the day you woke up upon these lavish beddings and claimed to be yours.

“It is a good thing I came in prepared for you, come here.” Before you stand are dresses, each more lavish than the last.

One; it was a simple white ball gown like wedding dress, each embedded pearls from white gold to the darkest black jewelry. Gaudy yet somehow simple in his eyes.

Next would be a rather cute color of cold blue admiration, one with simplified accessories and the like. Wonderful ribbons that criss cross across your skin.

The last is a rather foreign red silky robe, with simple gold prints and an odd headdress. It felt so familiar, like seeing an old friend.

“When did you have the time for this?” You smiled going closer and touched the third dress, eyes twinkling in joy. Hands playing with the intricate hidden laces of the outfit.

“No need to worry about it, doll. By the morrow, I swear it will be a happy day for us."

You couldn’t help but smile and hug him tight, “Thank you! Thank you!”

Feeling his gloved hands petting your head, “It is no problem, my lovely. All that matters is that you’re here and I’m here, right my sweet?” The roll of his 's' would make anyone weak in the knees.

Everything feels like a distant past somehow, yet there’s nothing better than what is in front of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon the day of Vows, you wore the red exotic robes and donned the veil that sweetly hid your well kept secret.

"Pantalone, look, snow!" Small gestures made seemingly fragile steps into the cold, that made the Regrator held onto you tightly so as to not slip and slide.

“Be careful, my dearest. I do not want you to get hurt.” Concern is clearly conveyed on his visage and voice. Despite him not being as muscular as the rumored Captain of the Fatui, you feel oddly safe especially with the umbrella he possesses and carries everywhere he goes.

“I know, you do not have to worry about me.” Your heart skipped a beat as he continued to hold you closer.

“I’m just scared that you’ll leave,” That made you smile and cupped his face.

“I will not just up and disappear, silly.” Embracing him as well. Seeing the warmth smile upon his face never felt so endearing until now.

“Shall we?” His gloved hands gestured to the event where it is being held, you could hear laughter and cheers from there.

“We shall.” Hand in hand, the pair of love-locked couples made their way to the busy area.

Women, men and occasionally children dressed in their finest and spent time with their beloved ones. You had to sit out one of the main events due to you not being able to fight for the bouquet of flowers, so you had to settle for a slow dance with your beloved Pantalone at the dance floor.

“Thank you for inviting me, it really means a lot to me, Pantalone.” A dreamy sigh escaped your rozen lips.

One-two-three, one-two-three, The dance isn’t well suited for one that wears garbs like yours. Often or not, you’d trip on your own clothing and Pantalone had to catch you. Embarrassing as it may be, though the time spent together. The smile that could go on for miles, stretching outward into the ocean.

During the ruckus caused by the bouquet hunting spree, you and Pantalone got separated. Participants armed with various weapons. Giant spoons, arrows of love, knives that are the size of an adult.

Amongst the throes of people, your feet had guided you to a frozen lake with snow covered trees that arched over the pool.

Alone were you with tender courage, “Charity is such a pretty word, oh, but where oh, [where] did it go?" A robust voice could be heard.

A strange stranger in tattered frightening mora colored garbs, a rather keen entity of sorts appeared by the corner of the eye briefly. It was only a jest of the light, you explain to yourself.

Loud shrieks escaped your small lips, turning around to face a blurry visage of non, who had their hand on your shoulder.

“Miss? Are you alright? You were staring for a while at nothing.” Accent low similar to yours, soft spoken yet refined. They dressed in fine physician-like robes, calm watered jade color.

“Yes, quite so, just merely strayed a little from the event,” You took a step back to give some space. This man, he speaks in bells. None could ever ring such things other than your fiance.

With a light spangle of the red veil cast still-ly shade, "I, I am sorry but can you help me find my fiance? I am not that well acquainted with the curvatures of the road ahead.” Gentle voice of yours made his lips curved up a bit.

“Of course,” Even with the blurriness of his image. You could faintly make out him nodding at the notion of helping. “I just so happen to be in search of my sister, she is deathly ill,” voice rang with rye worry you couldn’t help but try to aid him in his quest.

“I am sure my fiance could help you after all you are assisting me back to him.” The bellow of the wind was cast.

"Thank you, kind spirit." He seemed to smile.

"What is her name?" Curious who was the lucky girl who had such a loving brother.

"[*]" Was the name he told, another set of bell-like that tolled and odd enough it made one see a weasel in the horizon.

“[I] see– Ah! Pantalone!” You felt a smile on your lips the moment you heard a familiar voice behind the stranger.

“Doll.” The raven hair man chuckled as he embraced you tightly. His own smile did not fade yet it seemed affixed to his own visage. “Did (he harm you)?” Asking softly in your ear.

Shaking your head no, to assure him you were fine. And quietly explain to him you were lost and he kept you company. Adding to the mix is your request to find his sister.

“Hmm, Oh, how could I (deny) you, doll.” Kissing the top of your head before he turned his attention to the searching brother with an unknown facial expression.

Holding you still so closely, “You do not have to worry, I once lost someone as well, I will do my best to help.” Yet, why does it displease you so?

The brother’s voice said in glee, “Thank you, thank you, kind sir!”

“I will be with you in a moment, so please stay at home for a while.” Pantalone says as he ushered you to the care of his employees. The gentleness of his tone can be heard as he commanded the others to escort you to your shared abode for now.

Looking back at the two figures left alone in the winter snow.

"[Don't look away…]" You could have sworn a feminine voice whispered into your ear.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three hours have passed since the guards took you to your room. All alone with your thoughts that seemingly eat away at your mind.

Every time you try to remember, the distance widens with each time a headache is a force to be reckoned with.

Your own eyes darted around your chambers, a room painted in luxury filled with exotic items. A sigh only escaped from your lips as you sat on your bed to try and recollect. Even with these items, it doesn't seem enough…

It all just feels fuzzy. Some of the items in your room are already here when you have awoken. He claimed that it was his relative's and he'll be glad to give it to you.

A knock on the door can be heard. "Pardon my intrusion, My Lady." It was Pael your appointed handmaid. Still even until now, you were uneased whenever she tried to help you in dressing up.

"My Lady, I know Lord Pantalone has not come back yet. But, do you want some soup? It is rather cold even in the supposed summer month." in her hand is a tray with a bowl of soup.

The scent of jade knowledge wafts through the room, the herbs and spices reminded you of a star.

"On the table, please. I will eat it soon." Replying to her, though curiosity beckoned on to you from its peak.

"Understood, my lady." The single eyed maid placed the tray upon the intricately carved mahogany wood.

The one eyed maid chuckled, "Fancied [you]rself [look]ing [back]?" She smiled

"Pael, When or how did Pantalone find me?" You say, sitting down on the chair next to the warm bowl of soul.

"You could say that, Pael." There is something that even you cannot explain. But the terrible dread of something amiss is about.

"Well, it was really snowy at the time, you were white as a ghost. If you weren't [taken] in by the young master, the harsh winter would have let you a sweet and peaceful [faux] warmth." Stitched is her smile that was presented to you, her lips stretch a bit wider after a while of awkward staring between you and her.

"My Lady, it's rather cruel to think of what good you used to have. I better suggest to [look forward into] the future instead of [dream]ing of something that barely grows with [time]." Gentle push of her gloved hand to nudge the intimate style bowl holding a hydro colored jade soup.

"A childish, imaginative mind will [turn] into a noble ambition. Young admiration can turn into the most passionate of bonds." With that, Pael offered a silver spoon [for] you to consume the reflective, -though opaque, pool of jaded clarity.

"Perhaps, you are right. Though, I cannot [help] but wonder." Something about her words seem to wound you, yet none to spill.

"Wonder all you like my lady, but, no," Pael stops herself then lets out a soft chortle. "Nothing, it was just (me) humoring myself." she bowed before leaving.

Peering down at the bowl, another sigh left your lips. The scent and the warmth enticing you to take even a little sip.

Pushing all shadows away, your dainty hands scoop a portion of it to your lips. A moment to cool it down before taking a faint lick.

The silence halted as you started to cough violently, trying to force it out of your system along with dropping the spoon down to grip on the table.

Soreness of your throat is evident, the gentle voice turned hoarse and crass. Mind-numbing delight has stained your tongue, as the sound of blood pumps unevenly in your ears. Accompanied with blank staring at your fingers that grasp at the wood, feeling every grain on it.

"…!… Doll. Are you okay?" It was Pantalone, holding you in his arms. You don't remember falling, nor holding on to his gloved hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything felt heavy, nauseating to the point of puking into a corner. Your heartbeat pumps slowly making you almost aware of its sounds.

"J[us]t… woo…" You could see his mouth moving, though you couldn't hear a word he said.

Soon the other maids came rushing in with a large arm bag.

"Pan- Pan?" It felt like crystals forming in your throat causing you to tear up yet nothing fell. Hand grip tightly onto his for a moment before letting go.

That was the last you had recalled when you woke up. The room is covered in red and blue luxuries. Sweat drips down your forehead, "P-pael?" Your grainy voice tried to call out to the one eyed maid.

"Doll." Another voice called out next to you, causing you to yelp from surprise. "Doll, calm down." It was Pantalone, holding both of your wrists that attempted to hit him.

Appalled by your own actions you looked away from him and laxed your movements, "Dearest! Forgive me! I got scared and that drink, what was that? Where is Pael?" So many questions tumbled through, yet only the batman could only manage to.

For a moment, his face has a foreign expression. It didn't seem like he wanted to hear that. "There's no need to worry about her, she tried to poison you." He hissed, gripping on your wrists tighter then pulled you into a protective hug. "She's all taken care of."

Shaky frail hands grasp firmly on his back as he dips his head between your neck. "Pantalone… I'm fine…"

He didn't seem convinced as he let out a soft puff of air. Despite the room being warm, the chills of the winter glade seeps through. "If you say so, though. I will have a doctor to examine you okay?"

Knowing him he would only persist, "Very well." You nodded.

Then another thought entered your mind. "What happened?" he then replied with a curious hum back.

"That strange man, he rings bells." You tried to put into words what you could describe of him.

"You usually think of other people," The word of annoyance is riddled on his evermore smile.

He then opened his eyes ever so slightly, it was of spectacular color that looked at you so teary gaze. "Don't let go of my hand, please."

Confused, your only reply is "What?"

"Don't you know how much I worried when I found you laying on the ground?" He muttered as he protectively hugged you, your face pressed to his chest.

"Face pale as the snow itself, spasming, gasping for air, and yet you cared for the stranger rather than yourself." His heart beat is almost like music with how slow it is.

"But that's what is so special about you. (Your love for others could cost you everything), you know?" Woe written all over his tone, he kissed your forehead.

"I could give you everything you want. Just tell me. Name it and it's yours. In exchange…" Odd that he stopped himself any further, "No, that's not right…"

He pulled back and looked at you, his face "Exchange is a strong word, I prefer to refer to it as returning the feelings. Just looking or even listening to me is enough for me, dearest."

"I'm an honest person, all I want for you is to [run] into the future."

#reader insert #fatui x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #my vow to you #yandere pantalone #Deity!Reader #yandere fatui

94 notes · View notes