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grainjew · 10 months ago

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Nikaposting Pt 1: Crypto-Religion

This is the first of a series of posts about Nika & associated religious practice in the One Piece world. As I write and post the rest of the series, I’ll add links to this header.

Pt 2: Symbology & Syncretism | Pt 3: Joyboy was Shandian | Pt 4: Sun God Tropes

Enormous credit to @oriigami for being my discussion partner through all of this and having a substantial influence on the final product. Check out our ao3 series Joyful for a narrative rather than analytical take on the Nika tradition, and definitely go read her OP blog @kaizokuou-ni-naru for meta and translation fun facts.

The Nika Cult is a Crypto-Religion

Terminology note: I will be using cult in these posts in the sense of “cult of worship,” rather than in the modern pejorative sense. Additionally, I tend to use “tradition” rather than “religion” as a general term, because “religion” is a messy and difficult to define concept, while “tradition” is much more inclusive of traditional practices, folk beliefs, and cults of worship that may not be considered religions by Western scholarship.

Raise your hand if you saw Kuma’s church and Bible, concluded “oh, the Nika stuff is basically One Piece Christianity,” and moved on with your life.

It’s an easy assumption to make, and for all I know authorial intent may well stop there. I’m not Oda. I’ll never be able to guess what goes on behind those fish eyes of his. But a second look at the worldbuilding around both Nika and Christianity in One Piece brought me to a very different conclusion: that the Nika cult is a crypto-religion and is, in Kuma’s case, using the outward appearance of Christianity as camouflage.

First of all: We have ample evidence that Christianity (or some variation of it- I’m fascinated by the implied existence of such things as One Piece Jerusalem and the One Piece Council of Nicea) does exist in the One Piece world, and is both fairly widespread and quite legal. Flevance was pretty explicitly Catholic (Law went to church as a kid), Miss Monday and Mother Carmel masqueraded as nuns to imply harmlessness, many if not most of the graves shown in the series are crosses, whatever Usopp was on about with that exorcism equipment, and, yes, Kuma’s church and Bible.

Even mentioning the Nika cult, on the other hand, is grounds for the government to assassinate you with extreme prejudice.

A crypto-religion is what happens when a religion is suppressed to the point that its practice is grounds for exile, torture, and/or execution: Some people will convert. Some people will flee into exile. Some people will die. And some people will outwardly adopt the dominant religion, but will continue to practice their own traditions in secret; ie, they’ll create a crypto-religion.

One of the more famous examples of this is the post-Spanish Inquisition crypto-Jews of Spain and Portugal, who converted to Christianity in public but kept what Jewish traditions and rituals they could in private. To this day, descendants of these conversos whose families have been Catholic for centuries are discovering that their family tradition of lighting two candles on Friday or not eating pork on Saturday are in fact the legacy of a violently suppressed heritage. There are countless other examples of crypto-religions throughout history, both among Jews (my own personal field of knowledge) and among other traditions (for an example that would be known to Oda, the crypto-Christians of Japan).

There’s no way the Nika cult could have survived except in cryptic form. If it ever had physical infrastructure in the form of temples or pilgrimage sites, the government would have sought them out and demolished them long ago if they were not adequately disguised, especially in World Government member states like the Sorbet Kingdom. Likewise, anyone foolish enough to speak publicly about Nika will be summarily assassinated.

In fact, I have doubts that the Nika cult ever existed outside cryptic form, at least in a significant or long-lasting manner. It was specifically introduced as a slave tradition, likely nigh-exclusively oral, practiced in secret either from its inception—if Nika was a figure created by slaves, including the buccaneers—or for a very long time—if it was the cultural or ethnic tradition of the buccaneers, which spread from enslaved buccaneers to non-buccaneer slaves because Nika was a figure that resonated with them. I tend the favor the second option, but either has merit.

As @oriigami said when we were talking about this, Kuma has a church. Kuma has a bible. Kuma worships a god about whom absolutely nothing is written except in the oldest texts.

Additionally, I’ll expand on this more in pt 2 of this series, but the pendant Kuma leaves for Bonney, a large circular sapphire surrounded by eight smaller circular sapphires, matches the circular symbol inset into the crosses of his church. Bonney immediately identifies the pendant as a sun even though it really doesn’t look like one, and it can be surmised therefore that it’s a Nika amulet, and the sun with disconnected rays a Nika symbol. Following this read, and especially because this symbol occurs across the world in other contexts (see pt 2 for my thoughts on that), its presence in the church is a very careful bit of architectural sleight of hand on the part of whichever of Kuma’s ancestors built the place- echoing a very common practice of real-world crypto-religion adherents to mark the true nature of their allegiances and houses of worship in ways only those in the know might recognize.

And on a storytelling level, Kuma’s entire presence in the narrative and in the world has been a tragic saga of appearing to be one way until he’s revealed, again and again, to be the opposite. It makes thematic sense for him to be fooling the world about his faith as well!

#nikaposting #sun god nika #gear 5 #opmeta #bartholomew kuma #meta tag #zephflix original #if i hadn't dropped out of college i'd be a religious studies major and this tag is how you know

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juodojimirtis · 2 years ago

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Maybe this one... It's my favorite scene and gif of him. And favorite look I don't get why he ever ditched the Messiah Classic look it's so attractive. Silly #AntichristSuperstar. ⬆️

Or something like this? ⬆️

Eh, No... ⬆️

Or this one? ⬆️

No... ⬆️

Maybe?... ⬆️

It’s a shame there are only the icon and header, no third spot... I want to put Adriel somewhere, but I'm so attached to both Valak and Malthus. Not to menthion they've been in the spot of honour for years.

#warrior nun #thoughts #thought journal #diary pages #humor #icon #header #adriel #ava/adriel #otp #avadriel

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staincastle · 2 years ago

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⠀⠀⠀★ rina's message is here! random headers

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goddammitjosef · 11 months ago

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Napoleonic era dashboard simulator

👑 le-emperor12 Follow

Just crowned myself Emperor. Will have fun restoring this country. Hello all.

🎨 daviddraws Follow

Love ur face

🥐 soft-fuzzy-french Follow

welcome to the throne slut <3

🎨 daviddraws Follow

Hey thats our Emperor like?? Plz have some more respect

🥐 soft-fuzzy-french Follow

im not french

12.5k Notes

Gals-Glitter-Glory-deacivated82725184

Marguerite Georges call out post ♡

I've been seeing a lot of fans of the Agrippina opera on my dash and it disappoints me that you still will support such an awful and vile woman. Georges is known to br the opposite of a "girls girl". She conflicts with all but herself. Not to mention her VARIOUS affairs with the tsar of Russia AND Napoleon, AND her lies of sleeping with the Duke of Wellington. For shame. Go unfolllow. Agrippina fans DNI.

🍑 mgeorges-offical Follow

saying i should be cancelled for not being a "girls girl" then slut shaming me is crazy tbh

🍑 mgeorges-offical Follow

SHE DEACTIVATED 😭😭

4,900 Notes

🇫🇷 best-french69 Follow

🥐 soft-fuzzy-french Follow

LETS GO SLUTS

67 Notes

🌹LaureJ Follow

Sometimes I feel like my husband doesnt love me... He writes to me like I was a nun, not a wife!

👑 le-emperor12 Follow

Lol look what he writes me

#ᵗᵃˡˡᵉʳʸʳᵃ��ᵈ ⁱᵍⁿᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ

424 Notes

🇬🇧 DukeOf-Wellington Follow

New header!

👑 le-emperor12 Follow

YOU THIBK UR SO GREAT CUZ YOU HABE BAOATS

🇬🇧 DukeOf-Wellington Follow

Dude... respect the DNI

6 Notes

✒️ Propaganda-Booty-Art Follow

JHSJSJS DONE WITH A NEW PIECE

✒️ Propaganda-Booty-Art Follow

hey guys. Why did alexander like and unlike this

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🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

so my dad just got killed um

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

fml im gonna run away and become a potato farmer

DO NOT REBLOG

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

i miss my grandma

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

God doesnt hear me when i pray

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

every hoe on my dick

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

DO NOT FUCKIGN INTERACT RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

WHO THE FUCK RESTORED THE BOURBON MONARCHY I TOLD YOU TTO CROWN NAPOLEON'S SON OHMYGOD

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

im sick lol

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

Hello, this is Nicholas, please ignore the posts before this, that was my brother, hes dead.

#napoleonic shitpost #napoleonic era #napoleonic wars #napoleon bonaparte #alexander i of russia

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bittersweet-kelly · 1 year ago

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The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe Malfunction

Summery: You and Henry had been dating for a few awhile now. Both of you had been invited to his friend's costume themed birthday party. Which you mistook for an early Halloween party. While dancing with Henry, you hear something ripping.

Rating: Explict. 18+. Minors do not interact.

Pairing: Henry Cavill X Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, size kink, big cock, big balls, hyperspermia, crying, alcohol, descriptive sex, spanking, biting, bulges, alcohol, unprotected sex (Wrap it up), spit, pet names, name calling, female c-word, ripping of clothes, pop culture references.

Word Count: 3,462 (Sorry)

Disclaimer: I do not own Henry or have any connections to Henry. This story was made by me and my own filthy mind from the wanting of henry to ruin me in more ways than one. This is my first fanfiction that I've written and published. I'm usually a role-player on MMOs and online games. Although my first language is English, I have dyslexia so expect grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes and sometimes sentences that could seem confusing. Not beta'd or proof read. Header made by me using pictures on the internet.

*****

Why, oh, why have you left it to the last minute to try and find a costume for a party you’ve known about for at least two weeks! You spent all day looking around town for something to wear. It’s Halloween how hard could it be to find a costume? As you found out, unless you fit in children's costumes... It was very hard. Heading home you finally remembered you had costumes back from your time in college.

Rummaging at the back of your closet you fished out a plastic storage box that was rammed with old costumes you wore during your party days. Pulling out the costumes. A flapper, a sexy nurse, a sexy nun. Scoffing at your younger self for the costume choices. You sat on the floor humming and ahhing trying to figure out what to wear. Your thought process was interrupted when your phone buzzed. Reaching for your phone a smile forms across your lips as you read the name that popped up. Opening the message, it reads

‘Hey baby, can’t wait to see you tonight. 🦁’ Seeing his messages always send your butterflies fluttering. You sat there for a good minute holding the phone to your chest. As the feeling fades and your mind comes crashing back down to reality your face is left with a furrowed brow. Looking back at your phone you typed a message back.

‘Can’t wait to see you Hen-bear. What you wearing tonight??!’ You waited for an answer that would never arrive. Shrugging your shoulders, you grabbed the Witch outfit. It was Halloween after all, can never go wrong with a Witch.

After showering and getting yourself ready you get a call from Henry.

“Hey [your f/n], car will be picking you up in about 10 minutes. Then it will come to mine and we’ll arrive together. See you in a bit, baby." He finished his sentence with a roar, which made you chuckle slightly albeit slightly confused and taken back by it.

“Okay see you then sweetie." The call ended, and you had 10 minutes to make sure you looked good and presentable. Standing in front of the mirror you look over yourself. Making sure the make-up was right and not too clowny. You wanted to look good after all. Your main concern was the outfit that was a couple of years old... It fitted okay when you were standing still and breathing in slightly... In the years since putting on the witch costume you’d become more of a woman to love. You weren’t fat by any means, but your body was softer and there was more to grab. The black lace and crushed velvet dress hugged your body in all the right places, looking more like Morticia, from the Addams family, than the wicked witch of the west.

Hearing the car pull up, you make a quick dash for your small handbag. “Housekeys? Check. Lipstick? Check. Aaannndddd... Phone. Three for three.” You gave yourself a small victory cheer before shutting the door and getting in the car. While sitting in the car you do the most English thing anyone does in a taxi or an Uber. “Are you having a nice evening? On for long? Have you got many jobs after this one?" You and the driver small talked for about 30 minutes by the time it took you to get to Henry’s place. While Henry walked down the driver to the car, you were able to ogle at him. He wore a crocheted lion hat that had a tasselled mane that came down to his broad shoulders. A tight Muscletech tee that hugged his muscular frame. The tee looked stretched over his bloated biceps and stuck tightly to his pecs, almost giving the illusion of support. Could his shorts be any shorter, you thought to yourself. A slutty 4-inch seam on the inside showing off his powerful legs.

As he got in the car, he filled most of the back seat with his mass and might. His legs spread out in different area-codes. “Hey babe." He leaned over pressing his lips to your cheek for a quick kiss before putting his seat belt on. “Looking great." He winked at you, making your toes curl and your fanny to flutter. He then spoke in the voice he uses for when he’s being Geralt of Rivia. “Hmm. Fuck. I do like sorceresses." He then laughed, lightly slapping his massive hand down on your thigh to comfort you. Either your face must have been embarrassed or looking like you’ll pounce on him in the car. Not that the two of you have fooled around in a car before...

“What’s with the costume?" You ask him, casting your eyes over him once more. Taking in all the mountain of man beside you. Your eyes fell on the large mound at his crotch. Henry was a big guy all over, and sometimes had a hard time hiding his bulge. You quickly butt in before he answers your first question. “Shorts so short, your boxer briefs are sticking out passed them." You chuckle, playfully nudging him with a hand of yours only for said hand to be engulfed by his mitts as he held yours. Using his thumb to stroke over the back of your soft hands.

“First of all... I’m a football mascot for England. One of the three Lions." With his free hand he pointed to the Lion hat. “Lion. And football gear." Using his index finger and thumb he plucked at the tight fabric, letting it snap back into place against his body. “Secondly... I’m not wearing boxer briefs. Just briefs... Which." He looked at you with a knowing look. “There’s a lot to fit in them. Can’t wait to take them off." With the same breath he leaned into you again to whisper. “I hope you’re not wearing –any-.” Feeling his stubble tickle the side of your face made you squirm in your seat. The warmth of his breath in your ear. Heavens. You sat there hoping you hadn’t left a wet spot on the seat. Henry’s wish wouldn’t have been hard as you didn’t wear any. The undies you had created the line around your waist and butt cheeks.

“I didn’t realize football mascots were for Halloween.” You smirked over at him, your eyes drinking in the sight of your lover. Henry’s eyes widened in realization.

“Fuck!” He threw his head back into the headrest and covered his eyes with his free hand. “I forgot to tell you... It’s not a Halloween party. Derek’s Birthday is close to Halloween and he’s ended up hating it. So when he has a party, it’s things other than Halloween." You started to panic. The last thing you wanted to do was to look out of place. It would be like the scene in Mean Girls where Lindsay Lohan turns up as a ghoul and everyone else looks hot. Cavill laughed to put your mind at ease. “Just say you’re Morticia. That’s from a movie, doesn’t need to be Halloween." He let go of your hand and slipped it behind the small of your back to hold you from a seat away.

Once the both of you get to the location of the party, you toss aside the witches hat you were going to wear. Aren’t a witch no more! Joined at Henry’s hip, due to his hand on your ass, the two of you do the rounds greeting the people and his friends. Usually, your head came to Henry’s chest, something you loved; those furry pillows to rest your head against when he was shirtless. With the heels you wore, you came up to his shoulder. Admittedly both of you liked the size difference.

After a while you let Henry do his thing. You’ve met his friends a few times, but you weren’t in with the crowd. You find yourself at the bar, just chit chatting to the other girlfriends, all while doing shots and drinking vodka lemonades. Henry comes up to the bar to get a refill on his pint of lager, stealing a kiss every time. Which makes everyone ‘aww’ and giggle at you.

As the night continued and the more drunk you got, the music started to sound better and better. Plus the kids had all gone to bed, so the real dance floor fillers were coming on. Being drunk enough you wandered on over to Henry when he was speaking to his friends. You grabbed his hand and another gripped his bicep. “’Cuse me, I’m going to steal my boyfriend." Playfully you tugged on Henry’s arm. “I wanna dance with you." You felt Henry’s disapproval. Henry never danced unless he was getting paid to and had choreographed the dance beforehand like his fight scenes. “Please?" You begged, looking up and him with doe eyes. Pleading to him. He scoffed.

“Fine." He groaned. “But on the way home we’re stopping off for a kebab!" Both of you laughed while making your way over to the floor where people were dancing. Henry mostly stood on the spot, tapping a foot on the ground and throwing a hand up in the air to pump it. Sensing his awkwardness you grabbed both of his hands and then began to dance with him... For him. Feeling flirty, your hands trailed along his torso, every now and then groping his pec muscles to give them a squeeze. It’s only fair, he comes up behind you and reaches around and puts his hands all over yours. Your hands glide down his torso while you lower yourself in front of him, your face now greeting by his crotch as you were crouched in front of him. He simply shook his head while chuckling at your antics. To stand back up, you slowly rose pushing your hips back to make your ass stick out. You then turn around to have your back to him. With your back resting against his front, you slide down his body until you’re crouching again, you turn your head to the side to be knocked by Henry’s bulge in his shorts. How his shorts managed to hold back the mammoth of a cock he had between his legs was a miracle. The fabric was stronger than your mental health.

You hummed with a smirk across your lips while looking up at him. His eyes filled with lust. If you weren’t surrounded by people, he could have pulled his cock out to slap it against your face. You felt a hand grip your armpit and with his assistance you were standing up straight. “I love how big you are." You whispered loudly due to the music, all while chewing on your bottom lip.

“I’m glad I wore underwear, otherwise my cock would be sticking out of the bottom of my shorts. And you’ll have to deal with the consequences.” He stared you down; unsure if he was angry with you or trying to keep cool. You shrugged his grip off; you were too drunk to really care about the consequences. Turning back around to face him. The song then called for a ‘drop low’ which you were more than happy to oblige to. Hoping your knees wouldn’t give out as you quickly dropped to the floor in the sophisticated dance move called the ‘Slut Drop’. Over the music you heard this loud ripping noise. Shooting straight back up to stand, your hands reached around behind your back.

" I think my dress ripped. How bad is it?" You asked Henry to look. He shook his head while laughing.

“That’s karma." His eyes then fell onto your rather large split. “...”His eyes widened. “It’s barely noticeable." His voice raised an octave. You knew he was lying and it must have been bad! In a panic you rushed off to the toilets, luckily this place had individual unisex toilets that the door could be locked. Once inside you look in the mirror, having your back facing it and your head peering over your shoulder. Henry’s words rung in your ears. ‘It’s barely noticeable...’Your bare ass was on show!!! You cursed yourself! Why did you go to commando? Foolish! The rip started at the midpoint of your lower back and went down all the way to your thighs. Someone tried to open the door. “Honey you in here?" Henry asked. You unlocked the door only to swing it open. Grabbing Henry with both hands to pull him in with you; only to relock it.

“It’s barely noticeable?! BARELY?!” You confronted him. Henry raised his hands defensively.

“It’s dark out there... Plus I had strobe lights in my eyes." He deflected. “And here’s you thinking my shorts would be the ones to rip." He tilted his head back to laugh. While you stood at the mirror trying to see how you could salvage the outfit. While your ass was out in the open Henry took the opportunity to slap his hand against your cheek. Leaving a red handprint on it. You let out a yelp as it stung and took you by surprise. "I should sign it like the Walk of Fame." He moved to stand behind you, his hands now on your hips. His grip pulled your hips back so the top of your ass was pressed against his crotch. “Think you can tease me in front of my friends?" He growled in your ear. “Should have fucked you there and then on the floor. Show everyone how much of a slut you are for me.” He lowered his head, feeling his breath against the nape of your neck. “Show ‘em how well you take my big cock.” His stubble rubbed against your soft skin before feeling his lips press against your skin in lust filled kisses.

You couldn’t help but moan softly at his touch and kisses. His words made your legs go weak. You felt Henry’s mouth at the beginning of the rip, his lips peppering your skin. His beard tickled against your lower back which sent shivers up your spin. Just as you were in the moment of heaven you felt Henry sink his teeth into your butt cheek. You turned your head over your shoulder to look down at him, you playfully swatted at his head. “Oi." Henry looked up at you with a smirk, his hands reaching for the rip and extending it, so it reached the end hem of the dress making it one big split in the back. He stood back up, his hands on your shoulders to force you to lean over the sink. Using a foot, he kicked your legs to spread them further. His hand moved to his face, licking his three middle fingers to get them wet. You soon felt his fingers rubbing against your labia and his middle finger dipping inside of you. His finger felt so good inside of you. When you first started dating, one finger was enough to send you over the edge. Now you’re more accustomed to Henry and his size, you’ve upgraded to 2 fingers.

Henry laughed. “Someone’s eager. Fucking wet already." He brought his hand up to his mouth to taste you. He hummed. “If only my cock wasn’t begging for a release, could eat you out. But someone wanted to tease the kraken." Keeping one hand on your shoulder to keep you in place, leaning over the sink. Your hands gripping the sides of the basin. His free hand wiggled his shorts and briefs down far enough for his cock to spring forth. Due to the size and weight of it, even when Henry was hard his cock fought a hard game with gravity, making his member bow down to the ground. His hand gripped his cock at the base of his shaft, his little finger sinking into his ball sac, to position himself. At first he glided his cock between your lower lips, getting his dick all greased up using your juices. Soon you felt his tip push against your body. You look back at Henry in shock.

“We usually use lube." You pointed out to Henry. “You’ve never gone in dry before." Henry raised the left side of his brow at you.

“With how wet you are, there’s nothing dry here.” He retorted only to pull his hips back to see his own cock. He drew spit from his mouth to aim it at his member, then used a hand to massage the spit into the head of his cock. Realigning his cock with your pussy, his hand and hips aided his dick to enter. Both of you let out a moan as your body finally accepted his appendage. “You feel great." He reassured you. The hand that helped his cock moved to join his other hand around your waist. His thumbs dig into the dimples on your back. Slowly he begins to grind his hips back in forth, allowing you to adjust to his size. Doesn’t matter how many times you have sex, he always felt huge and your felt tight to him.

Sensual moans escaped your mouth, you were trying to be quiet knowing you were in a bathroom and on the other side of the door there were people who could listen. “Your cock is huge." Henry chuckled at your quip. His grind turned evolved more into a thrust. Forcing more of his fat inches into your body.

“Get ready." Henry warned you as his thrusts become stronger and faster, feeding your body more of his member. His balls swung back and forth slapping at your labia, and clit while swinging back to hit his thighs as his hip crashed into the cushions of your ass. With ever thrust you felt yourself colliding with the ceramics of the sink. Moving your hands from the basin you reached out and planted your palms against the mirror. Your moans got louder and more uncontrollable. “That’s it...” He growled into your ear. “Make everyone hear you being fucked by me.” With every forceful move of his, you felt your legs get weaker at the knees and joints. You feel his hands move from the sides of your hips to the front, giving you support. All your weight was lifted by his strength. Your feet dangled in the air, even with heels on. Henry was lost in lust. Your moans and cries did nothing but spear him on. His cock acted as a piston, steaming in and out of your stretched cunt. You were at the mercy of him, nothing but a toy for his cock to erupt in.

You felt tears roll down your cheek as Henry ploughed into you from behind. His grunts echoed around the room, along with your moans. Your body felt a mixture of pleasure and pain. His cock was scratching at all your points due to its size, driving you crazy. The girth stretched out your velvet tunnel while the length of it always pressed against your cervix. You often thank the gods for making you hardy. With how powerful his thrusts were, the tip of his cock slammed and knocked against your cervix, causing you pain and the reason why your face was wet with tears.

Henry’s grip around your waist tightened and you felt his fingers dig deeper into your skin. With one more forceful slam, his hips buried his cock deep inside of you. Your pussy felt his cock throb, pushing against your already stretched walls. He tilted his head back while his cock unloaded its load. At first it oozed out before gaining momentum and shooting forth a powerful shot. It felt like minutes for Henry, standing in bliss while his balls unloaded his cum deep inside of you. He cummed a lot. Which made sense with the size of his family jewels. You swore it felt like he made you bloated whenever he came. As his climax weakened, as did he. Letting go of your hips, his torso laid on top of yours. “...Fuck.” He huffed out, only for his cock to slip out, while it softened, from your gaping pussy.

He stepped back, looking down at you while you flopped over the sink with your Bambi legs. His semen seeped out of your body, dripping down your thighs. “Let's get you home and in bed.” Stuffing his cock back into his briefs and shorts. At least now he fitted inside them a bit better after blowing off some steam. He picked you up, as you weighed nothing to him, carrying you in the bridal carry. He unlocked the door and stepped out. Naturally there were people standing close to the door. “She had a moment." Henry confessed before walking out of the building and putting you in a taxi to take you home.

#henry cavil x y/n #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #smut #size difference #fanfiction #henry cavill x female reader #size k!nk

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withonly-sweetheart · 3 months ago

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Skin Out of Stone

He frees you from the confines of the Earth you were born, yet your feet grace the same ground that his does. He pays you an homage, and doesn't expect your reaction to be so... grateful.

a/n: so erm... this was supposed to come out a long long time ago but i couldnt find my rb of @chesue00 's art (middle image in header) in my fic ideas tag and thats bc i never rbed it.

kmsing rn. but erm YES SCULPTOR LEON HAS ME THINK A WHOLE WHOLE LOT BC UR BRAIN IS SO SCRUMPDIDLYUMPTIOUS SO YES THIS IS SOMEWHAT LIKE TO KEEP AN ANGEL I THINK ITS SET IN THE SAME TONE? idfk take this and gn 🫡🫡

tw: mentions of sex, nsfw, nun too bad i think, ig implied stalking but its all in good faith trust 🙏🙏

wc: 1.3k

All he’s ever wanted to do is capture you, a moment in time, in that block of concrete delivered to him the moment you had appeared into his life, a sequence of events he knew he was tumbling far too fast towards, yet unable to stop it anyway. The curve of your hip, where he braces his palm, flattens it against the clay that so easily succumbs to his touch, unable to think on its own. It serves his purpose to adapt to his thoughts, molding to his vision.

The vision of you, standing in the golden afterglow of mysterious sunlight, dappling you in unthinkable shadows, how you would be melting honey dripping between his fingers if you would just give him a chance. But your worlds, however you might begin to appear in the stone in front of him, will never collide.

Secretly, one part of him hopes that you might see it one day, appear at his doorstep, perched over his shoulder like a songbird waiting to serenade his work, his devotion to you. But your eyes will only ever be directed at him through the vivid ink in magazines, or the pixelated photos posted of you.

He feels disgusted with the people who breach your privacy for their shameful desires, for their aching heart, but he knows that he is doing the exact same thing. But how can he help himself, when your lips are the identity of his statue, days and days of work uncovering the perfect angle.

The chisel breaks off chunks of your body, carving you from the rough edges, smoothing you like unblemished paper, the divine goddess you are. In a way, he feels just like that; a worshiper to a deity who will never know of his existence. But he reluctantly accepts his fate, in his quiet, cozy studio, and he brings you to life.

Under his fingers, under his guidance, you emerge from the stone with each tap, each chink, revealing yourself draped in shadows, ones he has never seen. He plays a torturous game with himself, itching to get back to his work when the sun rises, the furrow in his brow deepening every day he is away from his idea of you.

He grasps your chin, wishing there was living, moving flesh underneath him, but alas there is no movement. Only the tilt of your eyes glancing downwards, destined to never drag your gaze over his body, raking him with unseen flames.

Without another moment of hesitation, he inches closer, thinking if he squeezes his eyes hard enough, you’ll materialize in an ethereal manner, bringing his fantasies to life. But his nose only brushes the rough peak of yours, smooth yet never in the way skin would be.

And under the lamplight, he envisions that he is still uncovering parts of you, secret to the world, save for you and him. An empathy felt only for him, only his fingers prying away your barriers.

Your blood runs gray and stony, cold to the touch, where he runs his fingers down what he assumes to be the shape of your body, hidden in the pictures he uses as references. He thinks, a time ago, he disdained the people who did the very thing he’s guilty of at this moment.

Strange, though, his frenzy only grows with every new discovery he creates, mapping your body with the landmarks, the dips of your crescent shaped thighs, admiring how beautiful you look when you’re just… simply his.

But there comes a time when his work must end, when his brush and tools must be swept aside, so he can marvel in your glory. And where he expects to feel immense pride, he only feels guilt.

Disgust that churns his stomach, turning him inside out, skin green with envy. His references were all locally sourced, but how could he have foreseen any of this? It was a simple thing, the sweet girl who lived next door, too innocent to know the power her beauty held over him.

So his only choice of action is to come clean, to hand over the hammer that could easily destroy weeks, even months of hard, untainted work. A single blow would be all it takes, and when the hammer falls limp in your hands, he is more than confused.

He watches your lips separate, the same way he had imagined all your fluid motions, your eyebrows raised, knocking against one another as you turn to him, setting his skin on fire. And unlike you, his skin is not of stone.

“You… did this?” you ask, skeptically, as if you are doubting him. The only reason that leads him to further reveal his mishaps.

“You were too beautiful to resist,” he admits, lowering his gaze in shame. Anger thrums with his heartbeat, if only he had just asked for your permission!

But to his surprise, you turn back to yourself, a mirror image of you set in one singular moment, with your gaze pondering the floor, barraging it with your thoughtful questions, and the corner of your lip quirks upward, he hopes.

“This is a strange way to ask someone out,” you murmur, voice as soft as he had imagined those words leaving your lips. Exactly how he had envisioned it, although in his dreams, you were saying more than just that.

“Sorry?” He’s blanked out on other excuses, words to fill in the silence he wishes wouldn’t be so awkward. Majoring in art left no room for any friends, unless you counted the ones online, only known in their identity overseas.

“It’s lovely,” you settle for after a second of readjusting your thoughts. He can almost see them clicking together like a jigsaw puzzle before your silky hair casts a protective sheen around it.

He wants nothing more than to pry them back apart, inspect how your mind works, to finally see the inside of your morals, how far you’d be willing to traverse with him by your side.

“Lovely?” he asks, tentatively.

<><><><>

Truthfully, in all aspects, the conversation had seemed drawn out, bland if he might venture to share his true opinion. But when you're gliding down his skin, all his rationality buries itself into an impenetrable box and refuses to come back.

“Oh, fuck, yes, just like that,” he stammers into your ear, attempting for praise but sounding weaker than he had planned.

There's an astonished look on your face, curving your lips and sweeping the lilt of your cheekbones to the side as you pant into his neck, thighs trembling around him.

And your reluctance speaks volumes to him, so he presses back for once, speaks up to keep the one thing that's grounded him to art, keeping you sane in his presence. Or somewhat the other way around.

This time, he finds what he's looking for. With every gentle stroke, every deep thrust, he breaks you even further, exposing you to his hungry eyes. He drinks up every last bit of your vulnerable form, savoring the sounds that tear themselves from your tired throat.

He cradles you, long after you've drifted off. He knows there is no use in dreaming when he's living it right now, experiencing what it feels like to be content with just rubbing your skin, soothing the reddening patches with his cool touch.

You shift to face him, and the moonlight filters through the window to illuminate your radiating, peaceful expression, as serene as it was the day he caught you sleeping in the library. He's always wanted to see that face in his bed, facing him, with your skin pressed tightly together, slick and smooth, miles of what feels like one being.

He finally reaches out, and for a moment, he fears you will turn to stone under his touch. So he squeezes his eyes shut and waits for it to happen, for the inevitable to crash down onto him.

But it never does. In fact, all that meets him is warmth, rigid from the chill that creeps in through the walls. And he realizes something.

Your skin is not of stone, it never was.

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