#without the white in the hair or the different shades in her face she looks like a whole other character | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafeandonlyrafe · 1 year ago

Text

daddy

words: 8.8k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, smut, stepdad!rafe, pervy!rafe, rafe meets reader when theyre 17 but nothing happens until 18, lots of use of daddy, taboo sex, age gap (rafe is early 30s reader is newly 18) scammer!rafe??, cheating, unprotected p in v sex, breeding, male and female receiving oral, fingering, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, lots of pet names (little one, little baby, baby girl, etc), reader is described as small chested and feels insecure about it, manipulation, power dynamic holy shit thats a lot of warnings

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450

rafe wasn't sure what to expect when he learned his newest mark had a 17 year old daughter.

he had long been cast out by his father, ward keeping him far away from the cameron investments, but he still carried the name.

rafe had found a new way to fortune, one that allowed him to rely on his natural talents, good looks and charm. he flirted with wealthy (usually older) women until they agreed to a date, then had them fall so completely in love that they married rapidly without prenup only for rafe to divorce them later and take a hefty sum away from them.

he already repeated he process three times in a little under five years. he was worried about the reputation he would get, if the rich women of the outer banks and surrounding areas would discover his scheme and he would be out of luck, so when a new divorced mother of one moved in to a sprawling mansion, rafe was quick to greet her and turn he flirt on.

the first time he saw you he was shocked how different you looked from your mother. he pictured her daughter to be a miniature version of herself, bold and chatty, flaunting tacky jewelry and guady animal print.

but you were almost the stark different. sharing the same bouncing head of curly hair was where the similarities seemed to end. it was a ‘family pool party’ where rafe first saw you. it was more of an excuse for your mother to bring her friends around and show off her new younger boy toy who was just head over heels for her.

you greeted rafe with a quiet hello before retreating back into the shade, covered in a pale yellow sundress, but the blue of your bikini straps were peaking out, making rafe hopeful that you would get into the pool, but you spent the entire party under the shade of the balcony while your mother paraded him around.

he found a quiet moment while she was distracted with her margarita to slip away, coming to sit next to you on the soft white jacquard couch, another symbol of your mother's wealth, having such an expensive piece of furniture outside without a care if it dirtied or got ruined my the frequent bad weather.

“hello little one.” rafe says softly, afraid by the look on your face that he would startle you into running and hiding.

“hi rafe.” you whisper, hands twisting in your lap as nerves turn in your stomach. he's the first man your mom has dated since her divorce, and you're glad to see her happy, but rafe is not what you were expecting. your mother told you her new boyfriend was young, but you didn't expect early 30s when your mother is pushing 50. “my mom has told me a lot about you.”

it's not exactly a lie, she has gone on and on when she gets home from dates with rafe, it's just that you've gotten very used to tuning your mother out.

“yeah, she's told me a lot about you too.” rafe leans in closer, “why don't you tell me a bit more?”

“i-i-um.” you stutter over your words, eyes shooting down to your lap after making brief eye contact.

“do i make you nervous, y/n?” rafe asks, practically purring your name out.

you laugh awkwardly, tucking your hair behind your ear as you fein a sudden interest in the partygoers to give you an excuse of something to look at. “everyone makes me nervous.” you whisper. it's not like rafe doesn't already know, you're sure he can tell from your behavior. you have a lot of issues after your dad abandoned you and your mom, and it manifested mostly in anxiety.

“oh, poor baby.” rafe pouts, placing his hand on your chin and turning you to face him, not letting you avoid the eye contact.

“im not a baby.” you say, eyes flickering all over rafes face as you take in the details close up, his powerful cheekbones and shining eyes. “i turn 18 next month.”

“oh yeah?” rafe releases your chin, and you somehow gain the confidence to keep looking at him, drinking in his features. “are you going to invite me to your party?”

“im not going to have a party.” you say, like it's obvious.

rafe goes to push back, starting to argue “but a pretty little thing like yourself-” when your mother cuts him off with a yell of his name, making both of your heads snap to her, where she's waving rafe over to introduce him to a new friend that just entered the backyard.

rafe sighs, slipping his hand onto your lap and giving your thigh a squeeze before standing up. he looks back before he walks away, again maintaining eye contact as he says “it was nice to meet you y/n. ill be seeing you a lot more from now on.”

and rafe keeps true to his word. he continues to swoon your mom, but makes a point to spend time with you as well. your mom sees it as a show of how serious he is about the relationship, she doesn't realize how rafe looks at you.

“your birthday is this weekend?” rafe questions, but it's more of a statement. he takes a strand of your hair and twirls it around your finger, unable to keep his hands away.

“yeah.” you whisper, trying to pay attention to the project you were working on, your sketchbook sat in your lap, angled so rafe couldn't see what you were drawing.

“and you still don't want a party? what do you want to do then little one?” rafe kept using the nickname, even after you pushed back that you are almost a legal adult and not little.

“i don't even have any friends here.” you sigh, almost wishing you were back in high school so you could have a way to meet people your age. “they're all back in california.”

you send out a silent curse to your father, and your mother. your father for leaving you, and your mother for reacting to it by moving across the country to the opposite coast, escaping the pain and embarrassment in favor of you losing all your friends and everything you knew.

“what are you going to do for your birthday then?” rafe asks as you start to draw again, finding it easier to talk when your charcoal pencil is also moving against the page.

“probably nothing. maybe see a movie.” you shrug. you've gotten used to doing things on your own. despite mostly staying in the house, you did occasionally need breaks from the same scenery, and more aptly, your mother. you always hoped you'd meet someone your age, but even when you were out doing things solo and saw other teens, you couldn't bring yourself to speak to them, your shyness winning the battle over wanting friends.

“i'll come with you, little one.” rafe offers. he was close to getting a ring on your moms finger, in record time. the divorce made her not only vulnerable but also needy to replace the husband figure in her life, not realizing that all of rafes money came from running this same scam. he could use hanging out with you on your birthday to his advantage, showing your mother how serious he is about the relationship.

“okay.” you whisper, hand shaking causing you to mess up the drawing, excited and nervous for the weekend. it's not that you dislike spending time with rafe, he just makes you nervous, like any ridiculously good looking man would.

“i’ll see you saturday then.” rafe says, standing up as your mom enters the room, now dressed and primped, ready to go on the date rafe was whisking her away on.

you keep your eyes trained on your sketchbook as rafe greets your mother with a kiss, and you cringe knowing her tacky red lipstick is going to leave a stain on his mouth, but you don't look up to see.

“hi little baby.” rafe greets you after sending your mom out for a spa day, giving you time to go see a movie together. you don't even care that your mom is away on your birthday, you rather spend it this way.

“hi rafe.” you say, not bothering to correct him that you are in fact 18 now and not little or a baby.

rafe surprises you when he wraps his arms around your shoulders, squeezing you into a hug. you freeze up, not used to the intimate contact. your dad never hugged you his way, and your mom was never very affectionate either.

“happy birthday.” rafe purrs into your ear, burying his head in your hair, nuzzling into the curls.

“thanks.” you mumble, keeping your arms flat against your sides as rafe pulls away. you definitely didn't have the confidence to hug him back.

rafe stays quiet as he leads you out the door with a steady hand on your back, making you shiver as goosebumps rise up your arms despite the warm north carolina air. he even gives you a hand to help you up into his truck.

“do you want to get dinner first, pretty baby?” rafe asks you as he starts up the truck and shifts it into gear. you feel your cheeks flame at the name, wriggling your hands together in your lap in nervousness.

“no.” you whisper, and you're surprised rafe can hear you over the sound of his truck. “i, um-” you pause to clear your throat. “i don't want to get full on food and not want popcorn. maybe we can go after.”

“sounds good.” rafe says, even though you don't really want to be spending more time with him. it's not that you don't want your mom to be happy, but it's weird to see her with someone other than your dad.

rafes hand slides across the center console, gripping your thigh through your jeans. you tense your leg in surprise at the contact, expecting him to squeeze and then let go, but rafe keeps his hand on your thigh the entire ride there.

“hold on, i’ll open the door for you, birthday girl.” rafe says after pulling into a parking spot. you wait for rafe to walk around the hood, tugging to door open and giving you a hand out that you graciously accept, willing to put up with the physical contact so you don't risk falling and embarrassing yourself even worse.

rafe leads you into the theatre, and he orders the tickets and popcorn for you, knowing how much you hate talking to others, especially service workers.

“im so excited to see this movie!” you say, taking your seat towards the back of the theatre, rafe setting the popcorn on the armrest in between the two of you. he's surprised to see how genuine your statement is, finally opening up and showing a bit of your emotions.

“if you're excited, then im excited too little one.” rafe says, grabbing a piece of popcorn and sticking it in his mouth.

“y/n i want to ask you something.” rafe calls, stopping your quick ascent up the stairs as you tried to flee before he or his mother stopped you.

“okay.” you mumble, walking back down the couple stairs you had managed to make it up.

“in private.” rafe clarifies, and you glance between him and your mom, but she just nods that it's okay before turning to the kitchen, becoming distracted by finding herself some wine to drink.

“we can talk if your room if it makes you more comfortable.” rafe says, and you blanche at the idea. no one ever goes in your room, not your mom or even the maids.

“how about the study?” you offer instead, your second favorite location in the house, with cherry wood bookshelves covering every one of the walls and two plush couches in the middle providing a comfortable reading area.

rafe places his hand on your back, fingers playing with the material of your sweater as you walk to the study. upon entering, you flick on a lamp and sit down on one of the couches, hoping rafe will take the one across from you, but of course he slides right next to you, pressing your thighs together.

“what is it you want to talk about?” you ask, your heart beat somehow remaining steady. you realize it's because you've become more comfortable around rafe, even if his touches did still send a jolt through your body.

“ive really been enjoying spending time getting to know you, little one.” rafe places a hand on your thigh, just under where your shorts end. he looks down, marveling how soft your skin is and how small your legs are compared to his hand. “your mother as well, of course.” rafe adds, almost like she's an after thought.

“i was hoping that you would want to spend more time with me. i would like to ask your permission to ask your mother to marry me.”

your eyebrows shoot up at the question. rafe has only been dating your mom for around five months now, and marriage this soon after a divorce seems like such a rush decision, but who are you to judge? you've never been married, you've never been in love.

“i-i guess that would be okay.” you see how happy rafe makes your mom, who are you to deny her that happiness?

“thank you.” rafe smiles, hand moving higher until he's tucked in between your thighs, feeling the heat radiating from your core. he strokes over your thigh as you spread your legs ever so slightly, giving him more space to work. your eyes fluttered closed, lost in the pleasure and rafe hasn't even touched over your underwear yet, just focusing on your inner leg.

“gonna be your new daddy.” rafe hums, his voice bringing you out of the trance that his hands put you in.

you stand up suddenly, making rafe frown as you run out of the study and up to your bedroom, slamming the door shut and heading over to your desk, looking at the drawing of rafe that you had just finished. you take the piece of paper and turn it face down, not wanting to think about him at the moment, wondering when he is going to propose to your mother.

“i can dress myself.” you say, looking at the sparkly pink dress hanging on the back of the door, decorated in fabric petals to signify your role as flower girl, even though you told your mom that you were okay not being part of the wedding party, she insisted that you had to participate in her special day.

“your mother specifically asked me to help you get dressed. what kind of future husband would i be if i didn't listen to her?” rafe raises his eyebrows, already dressed in his wedding suit.

“can you turn around then?” you question, gesturing for him to turn, face out the window of the venue your mother had rented for the wedding. the grounds are beautiful, filled with flowers and neatly trimmed bushes.

“what if something happens, baby?” rafe shakes his head. “i can't help you if im turned around.”

“you want me to get undressed in front of you?” you squeal.

“come on, im about to be your dad.” rafe says softly. “besides, im just helping you into your dress. unless you want me to help you take those clothes off too?”

“no!” you shake your head, looking one more time to rafe to see if he's going to look away, but he makes no move to as you pull you unbutton your shirt, careful not to have worn a shirt that required pulling off over the head since your hair and makeup is already done.

you're thankful for the simple bra covering your breasts as you keep your eyes on the floor, tugging your pants off.

rafe stands up straight from his position leaning over he armoire and grabs your dress, lowering it to the ground so you can step in, having already unzipped it in preparation.

you step in quickly, wanting to get covered again as soon as possible, feeling the burn of rafes stare on your scantily clad body, but for your fast movements, rafe is slow, gliding the dress up your body, hands occasionally brushing against your bare skin until the neckline is finally in its proper place.

rafe rounds your body, tugging the zipper up, again letting his finger drag against your skin all the way up.

“you look so beautiful.” rafe ducks his head, kissing your shoulder. you gasp at his lips on you, leaning back into his body as your mind goes dizzy.

“can't wait to be your daddy.” rafe presses another kiss to the space between your shoulder and neck before standing straight, wrapping his hand around yours.

“let me walk you outside, little princess.” rafe is glowing, and you know logically it must be because of his wedding day to your mom, but a large part of you hopes that it's also because he's excited for you as well.

“how does a boat day sound, little one?” rafe asks, tugging on your curl that had fallen in front of your face.

“i thought mom had a facial today?” you question, closing your book after slotting the bookmark to save your page.

“she does, i thought the two of us could go. some daddy daughter bonding time.” rafe says, always making a point to have solo time with you since he got married to your mom two months ago.

“okay, that sounds fun.” you nod, wanting an excuse to lay out and tan, and you've found yourself loving spending time with rafe, especially now that he was officially part of the family. he certainly would never replace your dad, but he's made an effort to make you more comfortable around him.

“let me help you pick out a bikini.” rafe says, and you hop up off the couch as he starts to move towards your room.

“no, rafe, that's okay.” you rush after him, taking the stairs as fast as you can.

“come on, let me see. ive never even been in your room!” rafe says, reaching for your doorknob, but you thrust yourself in front of the door, blocking him.

“i… i have my drawings on the wall. i don't want you to see them.” you bite your lip, hoping rafe doesn't push.

“drawings of me?” rafe asks, touching his fingers to your chin and tilting your head up.

“some of them.” you admit, opening the door and trying to close it before rafe can see, but he grabs the wood and forces his body in before you can slam it behind him.

you press your back into the wall as rafe scans the room. you have an entire wall decorated with your drawings taped up. most are black and white with charcoal but you've colored some in as well. there are a lot of rafe, a lot of your mom, of friends you miss that live back in california. the one rafe walks up to is a nature sketch, of the outer banks beaches that you've come to live just as much as the packed los angeles ones.

“you're so talented.” rafe says earnestly. “how come you don't show people your art?”

“because they're just for me.” you say honestly. you've never had the urge to show your drawings to other people or pursue art further. it just wasn't something that girls in your family did. they were good wives and hostesses. they didn't have time consuming hobbies, especially if they didn't create an instant profit.

“well if you ever decide to sell anything, let me know right away. i’d pay anything to have one of your works hanging in my house.”

you don't mention that his house is now your house, considering he moved in with you right after the wedding. you're too busy blushing over the fact that he likes your art that much, what you deem just quick sketches, he thinks they're good enough to be displayed.

“now where are your bikinis?” rafe questions, moving on from the conversation, knowing you're not bold enough to change the topic yourself.

“um, hold on.” you open up your closet and grab a box out, dumping them all onto your bed. you're not sure why rafe wants to choose your swimsuit, but you don't question it.

rafe hums as he looks through the bikinis, tossing the ones he disapproves of back into the box.

“you dressed pretty slutty back in california, huh?” rafe looks at you, now moved back to your position of being pressed against the wall.

“i-” you begin to explain yourself, but rafe bursts out laughing. “don't look so scared, little one. im not angry. why don't you wear this one?” he tossed your orange bikini at you, probably the skimpiest one you own with the back being just a thong and cups barely big enough to cover your chest.

rafe doesn't say another word, exiting your room and leaving you to take a deep breath. you change into the bikini, looking at yourself in your full length mirror, surprised how much you've filled out the bikini since you last wore it a couple months ago. north carolina has done well for your appetite, filling in your stomach and plumping up your bum. you try to adjust your top to give you the illusion of bigger boobs, but it doesn't work. that's one part of you that didn't fill out at all.

you pull a coverup on over your body before you slip your feet into your sandals. rafe may have seen you in your underwear before but the various employees your mom always has around the house have not.

“ready, pretty baby?” rafe asks when you plop down the stairs, a tote bag in hand that you can see a couple water bottles sticking out of. rafe must be planning on taking the speedboat instead of the yacht, considering your mom insists on keeping it fully stocked despite not really enjoying being on the water, preferring to look at it from afar.

“very ready, d-” you pause when you realize you were about to call rafe daddy. you have just called him by his first name since he got married to your mom, but it almost slipped out anyways, some part of your subconscious associating him with that.

“it's okay, little one, if you want to call me daddy if you want to, or you can just call me rafe.” rafe says, taking your hand as he leads you out towards the dock, looking like your personal marina. you just nod on acknowledgement.

“speedboat today?” you ask as rafe leads you down.

“whatever you want.” he shrugs.

“something with a bed that i can lay and tan on?” you suggest, and rafe steers you towards the smaller of your family yachts.

you take a seat near the front of the ship as rafe goes to the helm to steer you to a secret spot he claims to know of. you pull out your sketchbook and shield it from the wind as you sketch out your view of rafe, a story up behind the dashboard of gears and gages as he drives the boat. you even include the reflection of the sun on the glass.

“here we are.” rafe anchors the boat near a sandbar with clear pale yellow sand, surprisingly devoid of any seaweed or debris.

“it's so pretty.” you say, making a mental note to sketch it before the tide rises. “it must have been so nice to grow up here.”

“mmm.” rafe nods, taking his shirt off. your eyes widen as he reveals his muscles. it's not the first time that you've seen him shirtless, but you've never been this close, and never alone.

“wanna swim before you tan kiddo?” rafe questions.

“um, yeah.” you shrug. you weren't that interested in swimming originally but now that you're at the sandbar you'd definitely like to explore.

“then you'll have to take your cover up off, show me your cute little body.” rafe says, tugging on the strap of your clothing.

“oh, right.” you hum, pulling the dress off over your head. rafe bites his lip, placing a hand on your waist.

“how do you not have a boyfriend? with a gorgeous body like this.” rafe sighs, slowly moving his hand lower, tangling his fingers in the strings of your bikini bottoms.

“shy, remember?” you giggle, letting yourself step closer to rafe as he looks down at you.

“you're too pretty to not be appreciated properly, little baby.” rafe sighs again, like he's actually upset at the thought of you being lonely.

you suddenly remember that rafe isn't some random older guy interested in you, but your step dad. the man your mom is newly married to. you step away and to avoid speaking any more, jump over the side of the boat into the sparkling water.

“so just rafe and i for the next week?” you question your mom, following her around her luxurious master suite as she packs a suitcase.

“it may be two weeks.” your mother says, shoving her clothes in before turning to her wall of heels.

“why isn't rafe going with you?” you question.

“y/n.” your mother sighs, stopping her work to turn to you. “please leave me alone to pack. i have to finish this divorce settlement with your father. as much as i'd like to show rafe off to him, rafe has business he needs to tend to here in the outer banks.”

you go to question what business, considering rafe doesn't seem to do anything other than flaunt after your mother, or sneak away moments with you when she's busy, but your mother gives you a pointed look so you shut your mouth, leaving the room.

“itll be nice to have some alone time with my favorite little girl.” rafe says, throwing his arm around you, pulling you into his side. you lean into him, reminding yourself over and over that your dad used to cuddle like this on the couch with you when you were little.

“don't you have business?” you question, letting your finger trace patterns on rafes jeans, swirling over the rough material.

“nothing that's more important then spending time with you.” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you're glad he can't see your face as it turns pink.

“could we have ice cream tonight?” you ask. you've been allowing yourself more and more to indulge in sweets.

“that sounds good, honey. do you want to choose the movie?” rafe hands you the remote and you turn something on, keeping yourself resting against his warm body.

you're about halfway through the movie when your tummy rumbles. you honestly got so engrossed in the film you forgot you were even leaning up against your step dad.

“is baby girl hungry?” rafe questions. “we can pause the movie and eat some ice cream now.”

you reach for the remote and pause it, mumbling something about wanting strawberry ice cream as rafe follows you into the kitchen, opening up the freezer and pulling out strawberry for you, and vanilla for himself.

“hey kiddo, get us bowls.” rafe asks you as he gets spoons. you have to get on your tiptoes to reach the shelf the bowls are on, cursing your short mother for giving you these genes.

you slide yourself up onto the counter as rafe hands you your now filled bowl. you barely have time to say thank you before putting the spoon in your mouth, letting out a moan as the taste hits your tongue. you've been craving ice cream all day and it's completely hitting the spot. you work quickly through the bowl, letting your satisfaction out in the forms of moans.

“stop moaning like that, baby.” rafe says, making you jump from the sudden and unusual roughness in his voice.

“‘m sorry.” you look down at your bowl of ice cream, setting it on the counter.

“it's okay.” rafe sighs, setting his bowl down as well.

“are you upset with me?” you ask, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

“no, little girl, im not.” rafe frowns, moving between your legs, your face for once the same height as his with you sat up on the counter. he takes your face in his big hands, stroking the rough pad of his thumb over your cheek.

“sorry baby girl. will you forgive me?” rafe tilts your face to keep you looking at him.

“yeah.” you nod, just glad that rafe isn't annoyed with you.

“you have ice cream on your mouth.” rafe says, and you reach up to wipe it off when rafe suddenly leans in, his mouth pressing against yours, tongue flickering out and licking over your lip, tasting the strawberry ice cream as well as a taste that is simply you.

you gasp in surprise, allowing rafe to slip his tongue into your mouth. you're not sure what to do, or how to react. you've kissed before, but never one as passionate or with this much tongue involved.

rafe presses another kiss to your lips before pulling away. your eyes are wide when he doesn't say anything to explain himself, simply looking at you.

“you just kissed me!” you say, as if he's unaware of his actions.

“i did, baby girl. did your dad not give you kisses?” he tilts his head to the side.

“maybe when i was little, and certainly not like that.” you gulp, wondering how your mom would feel if she saw that, but she wasn't home of course.

“well then it sounds like he wasn't a good father. good thing you have daddy rafe in your life now. do you want another kiss?”

“i- i think i do.” you say, licking your lips, not giving your brain any time to become reasonable and back out.

rafe presses his lips against yours again, and you find yourself kissing back. you fist your hands in his shirt, tugging him closer as you moan into his mouth, repeating the same sinful noises from when you were eating your ice cream.

“god, baby, your moans make me so hard.” rafe says against your lips, giving you only a quick second to take a deep breath before he's back to kissing you.

“do you wanna help out your daddy?” rafe asks, moving his lips to your jaw as he kisses there.

“yes.” you answer honestly. rafe has shown you nothing but affection, something you were so severely lacking that you would do anything for him to make up for it.

“want you to suck my cock.” rafe says, making you pull away from the kiss.

“i can't do that!” you say. not to mention that you have no clue how, but you certainly can't do that with your moms husband.

“but you can, baby. it's alright. you trust me, right?” rafe hums, in which you give a little nod.

“then you can help me out. you're so beautiful, baby girl. i can make you feel good too.”

“you can?” you question, tilting your head to the side.

“i can. we can go upstairs to your bedroom if it makes you feel more comfortable. i told you this beautiful little body needed to be appreciated. remember that, kiddo? so let me appreciate you.”

“what about mom?” you question. there's no way she would be okay with this.

“we don't have to tell her. we can just say we had a lot of daddy daughter time and keep it between us. our little secret.”

you're not sure what to say. as much as you want to see what this appreciation rafe is talking about feels like, you're nervous about hurting your mom or taking things too far, after all, rafe is your step dad.

“let me just give you another kiss while you think about it.” rafe says, placing one hand on your cheek and the other on your waist. “just a nice daddy daughter kiss, nothing naughty about it, little one.”

rafe presses his lips against yours, and all thought you have go out the window as you kiss him back, becoming more confident in your movements the longer you go. rafe tugs you closer to the edge of the counter, and you are quick to wrap your arms around his shoulders, trying to copy whatever you've learned from watching movies as well as doing what feels best.

rafe slips his tongue into your mouth again, and you cry out around it when he presses his hips forward, nestling something hard and rigid against your core.

“upstairs, please.” you whisper.

rafe nods, wrapping his arms around your hips and lifting you easily. you don't know how he navigates the house so well while you're still kissing, too engrossed in his lips to even let him see properly to walk faster.

he takes you to your room, your safe space that only he has been in. he sets you down on the bed, and you whine when your lips disconnect.

“shh, baby, im gonna make you feel real good soon. wanna suck daddies cock first?” rafe presses his thumb against your bottom lip, now pink and swollen from the intense make out.

“ive never done it before, i-i don't know how.” you admit, dropping your eyes to rafes crotch, the way his length is straining against his pants.

“ill teach you, baby.” rafe takes his shirt off, and you can't resist reaching out and running your hands over his smooth abs.

“you want to take your shirt off too, honey? let me see your cute little tits.”

you nod, letting rafe help you out of your shirt.

“no bra?” rafe questions, eyes widening when he realized he spent all day with you, not knowing you were bare under your shirt until now.

“its not like i need one.” you blush, going to reach to cover your chest, but rafe stops you.

“don't feel insecure, baby girl. your body is gorgeous. can i touch your chest?” rafe asks. you nod, your nipples jutting out from your skin now that they're exposed to the cold air.

rafe cups your tits, pushing what little is there up. he swipes his thumb over your nipple, making you throw your head back in pleasure. rafe smiles down at you, rubbing over your tits, feeling them with his palms, the way your nipples are hard against them.

“feels so good.” you whine, not even realizing that you had squeezed your eyes hard shut.

“i know, baby.” rafe chuckles, kneeling into the floor between your legs. “let me show you how good my mouth feels too.” rafe pulls you closer to the edge, wrapping his lips around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

“oh my god, daddy!” you shout out, tangling your hands in rafes hair and holding him to your chest, never wanting the feeling to stop.

“mhm.” rafe mumbles against your skin, pressing a kiss to your nipple before gliding his tongue across your chest to the other side. “daddys gonna take real good care of you.”

“i wanna take care of you too.” you say as rafe sucks on your nipple, tugging it between his teeth gently. you hadn't forgotten the original reason you came upstairs, and want to see what you felt pressing against you earlier.

rafe straightens up, taking your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze before placing it over his crotch. you experiment with what makes rafe feel good as you feel him over his jeans, keeping your eyes on his face. you stroke the hard length, focusing on where you're guessing the tip is, and judging from the way rafe is groaning, it feels good.

“wanna see it.” you say, tugging on his waistband. “please.” you add in for good manners.

“oh, my baby girl, you never have to beg me.” rafe says, undoing his pants and pulling them down, stepping out and licking them away. your eyes widen when you realize there's a small wet spot on his underwear where you were focusing on earlier.

“are you ready?” rafe asks, his thumbs nudging under the waistband of his underwear.

“yes.” you nod, taking your eyes off his crotch as he drops the last layer of fabric, blinking up at rafe through fluttering eyelashes. rafe smiles at you, a soft grin reassuring you as he leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your lips.

you let your eyes close, focusing on the kiss as you reach out, exploring with your hands as you grasp his length, gasping into the kiss as you stroke your hand up and down. you don't know much about what you're doing, but you can tell that his cock is long and thick, you're barely able to wrap your small hand around him.

“feels so good, baby girl. making daddy so happy.” rafe says, groaning as you stroke your fingertip over the tip of his cock, collecting some of that wetness that you saw earlier.

rafe pulls away, standing back up straight as you finally look down, feeling a funny feeling in your stomach as you take in his cock, long and hard jutting away from his body, the tip a beautiful pink color that you want to capture with paint some day.

you take your fingertip into your mouth, licking over the wetness, the salty taste spreading over your tongue.

“you can just touch for longer if you're not ready to suck me yet.” rafe says, running a hand over your hair.

you don't respond, leaning forward and taking his tip into your mouth, furrowing your brows as you try to work out what to do, flicking your tongue over the head of his cock.

“that's good, baby girl.” rafe moans, resisting the urge to thrust forward, letting you explore on your own as you pull off to lick down his length, tracing over the vein running along the underside until you get to the base and press kisses as you move back up.

you take his cock back into your mouth, trying to take as much as him as you can, only managing a few inches before you gag and pull off a little. you suck the best you can with him taking up so much space, being aware of where your teeth are and not letting them touch the sensitive skin. you'd never want to hurt rafe.

“feels so good, little one.” rafe groans, pressing his hand to the back of your head, pushing you back down onto his cock, further and further until you sputter and have to pull off with a cough.

“are you okay?” rafe questions, but you just give a quick nod before retaking him in your mouth, closing your eyes and focusing on moving up and down, even though you can't take him all the way, you focus on keeping a rhythm, repeating whatever motion makes rafe moan the loudest.

“you can use your hand too.” rafe says, taking your hand in his and wrapping it around the base of his length. you hum in acknowledgement, pulling off to lick at rafes tip to get more of the salty taste as your hand strokes up and down his cock. you kiss his very tip, almost as a thank you for your step daddy for letting you make him feel good.

“im so proud of you, my little baby.” rafe says, and you glow under his praise, sucking his cock back between your lips as you bob your head, running your tongue over him as well.

“fuck!” rafe suddenly pulls away, making you pout.

“come back daddy.” you try to reach out for them, but rafe reaches down and squeezes his cock tightly by the base, chest heaving.

“you almost made daddy feel too good.” he says, giving his cock a quick stroke like he's unable to resist it.

“were you… going to cum?” you question, quirking your head to the side.

“and what would you know about cumming?” rafe questions, making you blush.

“ive watched movies!” you argue.

“want me to help you learn more? i can make you cum.”

“h-how?” you question. sure, you've seen movies but you haven't exactly studied the details.

“i can use my mouth and fingers to make you feel good, just like you did for me, baby girl.” rafe explains, and you don't hesitate to nod.

“gonna have to take your pants off then, baby.” rafe explains, helping you stand up on slightly shaky legs as you pull your pants down, taking your underwear with it, not wanting to waste time before rafe helps you feel good.

“why don't you lay down?” he asks, running a finger over your cheek. you nod, laying down on your bed, head against your pillows, keeping your legs pressed firmly together, worried about how wet you are in your private area.

rafe climbs onto the bed, hovering his body over yours, admiring his tiny and innocent you look beneath him, despite being completely nude. he presses down, his cock rubbing against your stomach as he captures your mouth, tongue flicking into yours. you relax into the bed, feeling safe again getting kisses from your daddy.

“spread those legs for me.” he emplores you. “let me see your pretty little pussy.”

you part your thighs, rafe moving down your body, pressing kisses to your chest and stomach as he gets closer and closer to where you are craving.

he finally settles in between your legs, hands gripping your thighs. he stares at your glistening pussy, shiny with your wetness.

rafe slowly rubs his finger over your slit before parting your lips, his breath catching when he sees all of you. he leans in tongue falling out as he licks a wide stripe over your cunt.

“oh my god, rafe!” you cry out, back arching, having never experienced such a feeling before.

“you taste delicious, kiddo.” rafe says, burying his face in your cunt as he continues lapping over your cunt, overwhelming you with pleasure.

you whine as he switches to kissing, also giving your inner thighs some attention. he places his hand at the top of your cunt, pulling up to stretch out your skin as he leans in and gives your skin a kiss in a new spot, one that makes you scream, body shaking as you attempt to move away, the pleasure too much for you to take.

“shh, it's okay.” rafe says, moving back to kissing your thighs.

“what was that?” you question, breathing heavily, causing your chest to heave.

“that was your clit, baby. kissing that is like how i felt when you were kissing the tip.” he explains, not judging you for your inexperience. “can i keep going?”

“yes, daddy, please.”

rafe listens, but makes sure to move slowly, getting you used to his mouth in the area as he licks around your clit without directly touching it. you moan out a mix of his name and daddy, blabbing about how good it is when his tongue flicks over your clit, sending another flood of wetness over your cunt.

“good girl.” rafe says quickly, hoping that's all the praise you need to be comfortable, not wanting to take his mouth off of your pussy as he concentrates on your clit, going from holding his tongue flat against it to flicking quickly, showing you all the different types of things he can do to pleasure you.

“st-stop.” you say, trying to shove rafes head away when you feel something building in you, not wanting to topple over the edge. “it's too much!” you shout, but rafe does something new, taking your clit between his lips and sucking it in his mouth.

“im gonna- im gonna-” you sob out some sort of warning, unsure of what is actually going to happen as your sobs shift into a scream, your hips picking up off the bed as you try to squeeze them shut, but rafes hand pushes your thighs to keep them open.

you fall over whatever edge you were on, vision going black as shaking overtakes your body, and controversially to what your were trying to do earlier, you now press your cunt into rafes face as he keeps sucking, working you through your high as he pets your thighs, hoping the bit of soft loving attention helps you through it.

“oh my god, daddy.” you whine, tears streaming down your face as he pulls off, pressing a kiss to your cunt before moving up your body, pulling you against him as he flips, allowing you to rest against his chest.

“it's okay, baby, breathe.” he soothes you, his hand rubbing over your back.

“that was really good.” you tell rafe after a minute of struggling to get your breath back. “thank you daddy.” you lean in and give him a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

“want to keep going? or we can be done for tonight if that's what you need, little baby.” rafe says, wanting to take things at your pace, especially after seeing how explosive your orgasm was.

“more.” you say, slotting your leg over rafes body, pressing your chest into his, rubbing your nipples against his skin as you connect your lips, this time taking control of the kiss.

you rub your cunt against rafes abs, soaking them in your slick.

“baby-” rafe warns as you move down, rubbing your cunt over his cock.

“fuck me, daddy.” you say, wanting to feel good together.

“let me-” rafe tries to get out, but you push his cock against your hole, trying to slide down when your get a flare of pain, shouting and pulling off.

“baby girl, you have to let me finger you first. as much as i want you right now, ive got to open you up since it's your first time.” rafe explains, and you whimper out, nodding.

“come sit on my tummy, come on.” rafe tugs your hips, and you move so you're sat on his abs, leaning back slightly so your cunt is on show.

“let me know if it hurts, okay?” rafe says, his hands rubbing over your inner thighs, admiring how tiny you are even when sat on top of him.

“i will daddy.” you hum as he strokes his pointer finger over your cunt, making sure to get it thoroughly wet. he moves down to your entrance, circling it before pressing the tip of his finger against it, breaking through the tight ring of muscle.

“oh, fuck.” you cry out, reaching behind you to grip rafes hips for stability.

rafe can move easily with one finger because of how wet you are, pushing all the way in with relative ease, but he can feel how you're still squeezing around him.

“gonna add a second, okay.” rafe gives you a warning, not wanting to take too long before he can get inside of you, needing to be buried in your cunt.

rafe pushes a second finger in, making you whine at the sudden stretch. he moves in and out with pace, not letting you focus on the pain as pleasure quickly overtakes you.

“there you go, stay nice and relaxed for me little one.” rafe says, and you make an effort to breathe and keep your legs from going taut as he scissors his fingers, thumb coming to rub over your clit when he sees your face twist in pain.

“i know it hurts, baby, but trust your daddy. gonna make it feel all better.” he says softly, wanting to pull you down into another kiss but knowing you need to focus on staying calm at the moment.

“it's okay, i do trust you daddy.” you say, voice breathy.

“love you so much.” rafe says, flicking over your clit as you cry out, never having heard rafe say the words to you before, but of course he does, he's your step dad after all.

“please, inside me, p-please.” you moan out.

“okay, fuck-” rafe curses out. “okay.” he takes his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth to clean off before flipping so you're on your back on the bed, his body hovering over yours, hips slotted between yours like he was meant to be there.

“im gonna try and go slow.” rafe says, the key word there being try. he knows how hard it's been to resist you this long, it's going to be even harder to control himself once he's inside you.

rafe grabs his cock, rubbing the tip over your messy cunt before lining up with your entrance, sinking forward as he pushes inside of your heat. you cry out, wrapping your arms around rafes shoulders, needing the connection to get through this as his hips press all the way in, his cock lodged deep inside of you.

“breathe through it, baby girl.” rafe says, stroking your hips with his large hands as you take a stuttering breath, adjusting to his length inside you.

you circle your hips, brows furrowed as you get used to the sensation. you press up, then down, moving yourself while he stays still, allowing you to explore.

“i-i gotta move baby.” rafe finally says, and you nod, still keeping him squeezed close to you as his hips move back, his cock sliding almost completely out of you before pushing back in, keeping his self control by moving slowly.

“this is what a good step daddy does?” you ask, rubbing your hand over the back of his head.

“yes, i take care of you, baby.” rafe says, burying his head in your neck, kissing the sensitive skin there.

“i love you daddy.” you tell rafe, clenching your cunt around him when he starts to move faster, rafe letting a grunt out against your skin.

“so good for me, little one. our little secret.” rafe picks up speed, his cock stretching you open, making space for himself.

“can we-” you gasp out when he pushes all the way in, his hips rubbing against your clit. “can we keep doing this? even when mom gets back?” now that you've felt this level of pleasure, you don't want to go back to going without it.

“of course, baby. we just have to be careful.” he says, sucking a light hickey into your neck, one that should heal before your mom gets back.

“is it bad?” you ask, even as you spread your thighs apart more, “is it bad that we are doing this? won't mom be mad if she finds out?”

“baby, don't worry about that.” he sighs, picking his head up to look you in the eye. “just focus on how good you feel. i love you, i don't love your mom like this.”

“you don't?” you question, eyebrows raising up.

“the love a daddy feels for his little girl is different.” rafe says, pressing his cock as deep as he can inside of you, and you swear he's all the way into your stomach.

“you don't fuck her like this?”

“no, only you. my little girl.” rafe kisses you, and you moan into the kiss, moving your legs to wrap around his hips, raising and lowering yourself to meet his thrusts.

“my little baby. my sweet girl.” rafe moans, his cock swelling inside of you. “gonna cum inside you, baby. we are gonna feel so good together.”

he moves one of the hands that's gripping your hip to your cunt, rubbing his fingers right over your clit harshly, needing you to cum at the same time as him.

“daddy-” you gasp, throwing your head back, “daddy, you can't, i'll get pregnant.”

“it's okay, little one.” rafe pants, struggling to hold himself back any longer. “cum for me. don't think about getting pregnant. you'd look so cute for me with your tummy all swelled up. gonna fill you with my cum, put a baby in you.”

“yes, yes!” you cry out, rafes fingers pushing you to the edge as his orgasm finally hits, cumming with a shake as he pumps you full, filling your cunt with all of the cum he has to offer. he keeps pumping despite feeling oversensitive, wanting to make sure he stuffs you.

“fuck, daddy!” you whine, pushing his hand away from your clit when it becomes too much.

“my good girl, shh.” rafe presses your lips together, carefully pulling his cock out of you, looking down as his cum slides out of your hole. he reaches down with one hand, ignoring your whine as he pushes his fingers, and the cum, back into your pussy. rafe smirks to himself as you moan, grasping at him with your little hands, thinking to himself that getting her innocent young daughter pregnant is the perfect way for your mom to ask for a divorce.

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ceilidho · 8 months ago

Text

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 15)

first chapter >> last chapter

Sleep eludes you. You toss and turn that first night, not used to sleeping on your own. Every sound makes you jump. When the sky goes black and the bushes rustle with the breeze, you have to double check the locks on the doors no less than three times, fastening it with the wooden bolt just to be safe.

Without John around, the world is twice as loud; crickets chirp raucous melodies, buzzing so loud that sometimes you swear there must be one on the pillow right beside your head, and, in the distance, an owl hoots at an interval so irregular that each screech tugs you back from the brink of sleep. The house groans as it settles into itself; the first time you hear it, you spring upright in bed, heartbeat erratic, certain that it’s the sound of someone coming up the porch steps.

You collapse back onto the mattress with a huff when you finally recognize the sound for what it is.

You don’t sleep well that night. Dawn finds you awake before its arrival. The songbirds keep you from drifting off back to sleep when the first wispy rays of sunlight creep over the horizon, and you lie in bed until the possibility of sleep is well behind you. That makes you huff, bitter over the loss.

Again, the day is slow to come over you. It seems almost reluctant to really get going, the sunlight clear and the air brisk but the day itself slow moving. An early morning chill forces you to don heavier garments than usual.

After breakfast, you take Buttercup into the paddock to run around, watching her from the edge of the pen, humming to yourself under your breath.

Most of the morning is spent cleaning and doing chores around the house. You muck the stables, feed the horses, scrub the dirty laundry on the washboard before hanging it up on the line, weed the garden, and promise yourself that next week you’ll work up the energy to boil linseed oil to polish and oil the furniture. As it is, you stagger into the kitchen around midday for lunch, sticky with sweat.

Kate comes up the path on horseback not too long after that, a large swooped hat perched precariously on her head. She has to hold it in place by the brim to keep it from flying off. You watch her from the window at first, drying your hands from the quick wash you gave them after finishing your lunch.

“I ought to start making new friends,” you quip when she takes a seat next to you on the porch swing.

“Sick of my company already?” she laughs.

“Well, a girl’s gotta have options.”

She snorts at that, tipping her hat lower on her head to shade her eyes from the sun. It has the effect of cutting a wide shadow across her face, leaving only a swath of white teeth exposed.

Her beauty has always come as an afterthought. Tanned, freckled skin, and hair like golden wheat. But you look now and you see something different than the woman you’re used to seeing, and it dawns on you that what you’re seeing now is a version of Kate divorced from the idea of her that you’d always had in your head. Almost fuller; more robust.

You tear your eyes away only when she catches you staring and cocks an eyebrow.

She coaxes you into saddling Buttercup up and accompanying her on a trail ride. Part of you resists initially, still wounded from your last ride, and when Kate presses you for more information, you reluctantly divulge, recounting the events from the weeks prior with a tremble in your voice. She nods only once while you speak, keeping her comments to herself. That she must have already known doesn’t surprise you; she’d insinuated as much only the other week.

You’d be wise to not keep secrets from Kate in the future, you realize. Best to keep someone as omniscient as her on your side.

After some encouragement, she talks you into a leisurely stroll and even helps you dress Buttercup in the stables. The dizzying spell of apprehension settles over you like a heavy fog up until you blink and realize that the two of you have been riding beside each other in silence for the better part of a half mile.

The fear doesn’t entirely evaporate, however. Any sudden dip in the terrain or unexpected noise from Buttercup makes you start. You take several breaks to breathe and walk around. At the top of a hill, you ask Kate in a voice verging on shrill if you can take a break and dismount before she’s even answered you.

“She can sense if you’re on edge,” Kate reminds you, nodding to where Buttercup grazes in a nearby patch of grass.

“Well, I can’t help that much. I am on edge.”

She tips her head back to look at the sky and sighs before looking back at you. “Sit down for a bit then. It’s not a race.”

And you do, for a spell. You sit and rest with your back against the trunk of a tree that branches high above you, the canopy blotting out any sunlight save for the tendril thin strands that sink through like stones in water.

You’re striking a delicate balance between the needs of the flesh and the needs of the soul. What the soul wants is to push itself beyond the boundaries that formerly enclosed it; after a lifetime of servitude and desires suppressed, even a simple trail ride feels momentous. What the flesh wants, however, is to shade in the shade until the urge to retch wears off.

The walk takes the two of you by a farm with a large, fenced-in enclosure. A couple houses sit around the enclosure. The smell of the livestock is pungent at first and your nose wrinkles as you approach the farm, but you adjust after a time.

Recent weeks so far from home have spoiled you; back in the city, the pungent stench of waste and manure was commonplace, the sour cloak of tobacco stinking up the alehouses and alleyways as much as the parlors and lounges. You’d adjusted to it back then as well.

The grazing cows rumble and low behind the fence. It’s a pleasant bucolic scene, one lifted straight from a painting that you swear you’ve seen before, though the artist’s name escapes you.

Looking out into antediluvian pastures sets your heart at ease. When the farmer wanders out of the barn to greet the two of you, the two of you join him and his wife for coffee in the big house.

For a brief period of time, it’s like stepping out of your body; there’s no impetus to get a move on, and inertia doesn’t set in like a rolling fog leaving you stranded in no man’s land. Nothing like the late evenings lying in bed in your aunt and uncle’s apartment, staring up at the pockmarked ceiling and praying for something to change.

You, simply, have a coffee.

After bidding them farewell, the bulk of the afternoon is spent at Kate’s house, a tiny plot of land just outside of town surrounded by fields of ochre prairie grass. You’re wiped by the end of the ride, sweat running in rivulets down your back. While Kate brings the horses into her little stable to let them rest and eat, you fill up the porcelain bowl in her bathroom with water to wash your face.

It’s quiet. You help with a few affairs around the house and you learn, to your own internal amusement, that Kate hums through her chores. Soap stops by in the early evening to drop off Kate’s mail and stays for supper, glad for the company. You watch bemusedly as he scarfs down three corned beef sandwiches with ease, mildly nauseated by the way he talks with his mouth full.

“Can he even breathe?” you hiss to Kate while Soap is busy shoveling food into his gob.

She nods, unbothered by the display in front of her. “You should see him when he’s actually hungry.”

You pale when he belches, pushing your plate away from you.

“Ye tell yer man when he’s back what a good job I’ve done, Mrs. Price,” he says, licking a leaking trail of sauce off his thumb.

“Won’t the town still standing be sufficient evidence?”

“Aye, but it’s sweeter comin’ from the missus, ye dinnae think?”

Incorrigible boy. You shake your head, acquiescing even if only to get him to shut up. That mollifies him, gets him crowing about the raise he’ll get, or the commendation. You think he’ll start going on about lofty aspirations towards sheriffdom, but he never quite gets to that point. You wonder if the rest of your life will be similarly composed of assumptions that fall flat when you look at them too hard.

He takes you home at the end of the night as a favor to Kate, who watches you from the door until she disappears into the faraway. You only have to yell at Soap twice to slow down when he tries to goad you into a faster gallop.

You sleep better that night, but only just. This time, it’s the empty spot beside you on the bed that bothers you. His pillow is cold when you reach over to touch it. Your hand lingers on the pillow; there’s a passing thought that maybe the warmth of your hand will transfer into the pillow and trick you in sleep. You have another passing thought that maybe somewhere out there, wherever John is, he’ll feel a phantom hand creep across the bed to cup his cheek.

The blooming flower of daylight comes again to wake you up and the cycle starts anew.

The chores never end, but there’s some comfort in routine. Regularity breeds familiarity. Any contempt has long been bled out of you, almost without you even noticing.

The days pass slowly. A horse-drawn carriage. A robin nestled in the branches of a pine tree sings at evening twilight. You look up to find it stark against the dark green needles, the fir’s red heart.

A neighbor comes by with fresh strawberries that you eat from the bowl out in the sun, lying down in the grass by the paddock. You suck the juice out of a big one when you bite into it and it drips messy down your chin. When the achenes fleck off, you wipe them off on your dress.

Though you half expect Kate to come by, she never does. Perhaps she’s busy in town. You remind yourself that the brevity of your friendship can hardly measure up to competing priorities. Minding the shop, for instance, or stopping by to check on other acquaintances.

And then the waiting ends when you see a dark shadow on the horizon that you recognize all at once as a man on horseback headed towards the house.

Elation clambers up your throat. You very nearly shout at the sheer sight of him, but at the last second, you manage to reign it in.

You wave at John from the porch when you can finally make out the face of the man riding up the path. Despite the euphoric wave that washes over you at the sight of him, you feign composure, keeping your butt planted on the porch swing until he dismounts and heads down the path towards you.

There's something striking about watching him from a distance. Like Kate, you see him now from a new angle, an added weight to him. When he lumbers up the porch steps, you don't just see the man that dragged you to the court house and forced you to marry him, but a man in his prime. Square, masculine jaw; thick thighed. Something in your belly stirs when he rolls his shoulders back, accentuating the breadth of them.

When he reaches you, he grips you under the arms to pull you up, but your arms wind around his neck without any coaxing, meeting him halfway. Every inch of your body presses into his, and he smells and feels exactly as you remembered.

“Been missing you like hell, sweetheart,” John rasps into your ear.

“Missed you too,” you mutter, lips smushed into a kiss against his cheek.

And you did, didn’t you? You can say it for once without worrying that you’ll fall apart.

The two of you stumble into the house in a daze. Your hands are already trembling well before you fist them into John’s hair to drag him into a kiss. Desperation claws up your throat, need choking you when you go to tell him how much you missed him. You missed him bone deep.

He pulls away briefly, chuckling when you whine. “Darlin’, can I at least get cleaned up? I’m a mess.”

His beard has grown since you last kissed him, the mutton chops more pronounced now. It scratches your lips and cheeks when you tug him back down for a deeper kiss. He can clean himself later as far as you’re concerned. You’ve gone three days now without your husband and you can’t go a second more.

You can feel his smile when he breaks the kiss again. “Honey—”

“No,” you cut him off, a whine threading your voice. You tighten your arms around his neck, pushing your bosom into his chest. “Please, John, don’t make me wait; I can’t—”

“Alright, alright,” John sighs, and then hunches slightly to fit his hands under your thighs and hike you up his body until your legs wind around his waist. “Poor girl. Never seen you this needy before. You missed me that bad?”

“Yes,” you answer succinctly, already pressing kisses into the sweaty skin of his neck and his cheeks. His arms shake when he laughs.

He nearly trips up the stairs when you suck at the salty skin of his neck.

John smiles amusedly when you whip your dress off, nearly getting tangled in it before letting it pile on the floor by the bed.

In a different time, your eagerness might embarrass you, but you’re well beyond that now. It’s impossible to hear that distant voice in your head shrieking modesty when your husband watches you indulgently and unbuttons his shirt so slowly that you nearly bark at him to hurry it up. And then you actually do when he goes to fold his shirt instead of simply tossing it to the floor.

He laughs; it sends frissons of heat down your spine.

It’s unclear who pursues and who is pursued this time. All you know is that you either push him onto the bed or he pulls you down with him, clothes long since stripped and piled onto the floor. Your hands sink into the meat of his chest when you sit astride his lap, wet folds grinding on the hard shaft jutting up between his legs. John hisses through clenched teeth, already worked up, fit to burst. You wonder if he tended to himself at all on his trip, whether he even had time.

The hands tightening around your waist tell you that, whether or not he did, it’s inconsequential now when faced with the thing he’s been wanting most.

Your instinct is to lift your hips and line his member up with your sopping entrance before sinking down, but John surprises you by shifting up the bed and dragging you with him, not stopping until your pussy is hovering over his mouth.

It’s easy to panic over that, easy to grow skittish. You start when the flat of his tongue runs up the seam of your cunt, the only thing keeping you from tumbling off the bed altogether being the big hands clamped around your hips.

“You try to keep your pussy off my face and I’ll give you a licking you won’t like anywhere near as much,” John warns, and then pulls you down onto his face without further ado.

Your back arches at the first lick, his tongue burrowing into your hole, softened by the slick leaking out of you. His lips and tongue work you over until you’re a shivering, coiled mess on top of his face, hands braced against the wall and toes burrowing into the mattress.

A stiff tongue stabs up into your hole. The groan he lets out at the taste of you vibrates through you, making you clench around his tongue.

You’ve never been much of a drinker, but you feel drunk now, grinding on his mouth. Hands running through his hair. Blissed out, sex leaking, throbbing. Shameful noises pouring out of you unbidden, your inhibitions packed up and long gone by now. His upper lip glistens with your juices and when his eyes blink open, they’re nearly black with desire.

The hands on your bottom holding you over his head grip into you good and tight. He readjusts his hold on you whenever you try to pull off his face, yanking you back down and digging his fingers in harder, the tips wedged between your cheeks. You practically yowl when a finger prods at your back hole, worrying over the puckered flesh.

The time for gentle words is far beyond him. When you glance down between your legs, his hair is matted with sweat and disheveled, a flush high on his cheekbones. Blue eyes peer out through slits, locked on the dripping mess between your thighs. His nose presses hard into your pubic bone when he pulls you down onto his waiting mouth, lips parting and tongue sawing over your clit. That part you can’t see, but you feel the wet slide of his tongue over your slit.

You come with a finger lodged knuckle deep in your ass and his tongue rolling over your clit, coaxing it from you. Your whole body pulses and shivers. Chuckling to himself when you go dumb during it, slumped over him and panting hard. Tears dripping down your cheeks that John cleans up himself with his tongue when he drags you back down his chest and rolls the two of you over.

“God, you look so pretty like this, honey,” he coos when he’s got you under him, pinching your cheeks between his fingers until your lips go plump and pursed.

When he drags you into a kiss, his tongue still tastes of you.

He takes you on your back after that, knees over his shoulders and bending you in ways you didn’t think possible. Whatever control he had before is gone now. He thrusts in to the hilt the second he gets you flat on your back, taking three days of frustration out on you, near punching your cervix with the head of his cock.

“There we go— fuck—” John growls. “C’mon, squeeze me tight, honey; make me come in your pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

You feel like a creature turned inside of itself. All high yips, sharp pangs of pleasure, an ache in your hips that you know instinctively will worsen by morning, and a deep seated, unquenchable need. He mates you like a beast in heat, jaw clenched and brows furrowed; when your eyelids slip shut, he growls at you to keep them open, and you do only to find him staring down at you with that indelible, maddening intensity of his.

“Nngh, John—John—” you gasp.

“Just a little, darlin’—shh, c’mon, just take it. Like that, yes—that’s it.”

A dark urge flutters under your skin, blinking its eyes open. You stare up at him through half lidded eyes. “Gonna come in me and give me a baby, John?”

His eyes go black. “I’m gonna fill this tight cunt right up, you keep talking like that.”

You reach up to rake your hands through his hair. "Please give me a baby, John. Give me it, please."

His hips snap forward, knocking the breath out of you. He pounds into you with renewed vigor, lost in it, your nipples tagging his chest with every thrust.

If you could peel back your skin and tuck him into your ribcage, you would. He’s already in you anyway; everywhere it counts. Leathery musk wafting under your nose, sweat-slicked skin, his spend deep in your cunt and leaking out around his throbbing cock, the heat steaming off him and warming you from the outside in and inside out. His come spurts into you hot and viscous, so deep that you swear you can taste it at the back of your throat.

In the aftermath, you curl up against his chest and he traces a finger lazily up and down your spine.

“You’ve been so patient with me.” You don’t know what prompts you to say that, but you know it’s been sitting in your chest and waiting for you to put it to words.

His fingers pause in their ministrations, his hand resting flat on your back. “Patient?”

“Don’t play dumb, John. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Got some nerve accusing me of playing dumb,” he chuckles softly, leaning down to butt his forehead against yours.

You nearly go cross eyed. Doe eyed. Treacle tart soft in your chest. You wonder if you’ll look back on this someday in fear and awe, and think that is the very moment when you finally let him in.

This is how love suffuses into the girl: you wake up gasping to find it staring down at you.

You’re brave enough now to ask what it is that you need. The world flashes briefly before you: in it, you see every possible version of a girl, how she goes from animal skin to teeth glinting in the night. She is perforated and vibrating; lacunae as the voice drips back into the sea, papyrus crackling hot in the fire.

Maybe new love flounders again against the rhythms of the old, the song of you now sleeping beneath an alder tree, thickening with lemon and honey.

“I’m going to…—you know I’ll tell you. I just need time.”

“Darlin’, I know. There’s no use for rushing things. It happens when it happens,” John murmurs. He drops a bristly kiss on your forehead.

“…And if it doesn’t happen?”

He shrugs. “Then it doesn’t happen.”

It’s a shock when love finds you because you don’t expect it. You’d open the door to anything else in a heartbeat, but it’s love that finds you cowering under the stairs.

Love is not something you’ve ever touched, not even grazed. You recognize the insidious rot of lust or the gnarled grip of possession, but love? That has yet evaded your attempts on it. Not that you’ve ever given it a good go.

But now, when you think of it, it looks at you through blue eyes.

You sleep on it. You don’t contemplate when it’ll happen only because you know it’s inevitable. Your lips have already grown loose. When he eats you out in the early morning hours after a good night’s sleep for once since John left, you have to swallow back the wails of I love you, I love you, tell me you love me, please, please.

Your lips part, lax. Only sinking your mouth down over his turgid length after he’s made you come keeps you from accidentally saying the words. The soft, grunted fuck he lets out at that empties out any thought in your head.

Desperate times, desperate measures.

If John knows, he jealously guards your secret. Would take it to his grave you think. Just for him and you to know. Any temerity from the night before is squashed in the light of day, and you sit across from him at the table during breakfast wishing that he could hear the words in your head, if only so you didn’t have to say it out loud.

God bites the lip when you want it most to part. Isn’t that just the nature of life?

John leaves you off at the general store as always, dropping a peck to your lips before heading out on his way, but when you wander inside, you find Miles behind the counter instead of Kate. That dims the excitement in your chest a tad. It’s no fault of his, but you’d hoped to regale Kate with the revelation you’d had the night previous, omitting some of the lewder details. Instead you’ll be forced to wait until she’s back in town. When you ask Miles when abouts that’ll be, he shrugs, unable to give you a definite answer.

“Visiting a friend, she said,” he tells you, and you blink like you don’t know exactly what that means.

Her absence leaves you in a lurch though, little else to do but wander around the store. You’d leave entirely and try to find something else to occupy your time, but you feel a bit foolish coming in just to leave right away, though you’re sure Miles wouldn’t care either way. Still, you tell yourself you’ll linger for a few minutes before heading out to the library or down the road for a coffee at the inn.

The bell over the door jingles, but you pay it no mind.

You linger in the aisle with the fruit preserves and canned fish, gazing into the bottles. Tins with hand-drawn labels, branded packaging. On another shelf, you find oyster crackers, National Biscuit Company on the label. Nabisco. If Kate were minding the shop, you’d pop your head around the aisle to ask her what corned beef brand she used the other day.

The sound of spurs jangling from behind you makes you frown and turn your head.

A hand clamps down over your mouth, muffling the yelp that leaps instinctively from your throat, and you go shock cold when the blunt muzzle of a pistol wedges against the small of your back.

“Bet you thought you were clever gettin’ me out of town, didn’t you, girl?”

Your eyes widen.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #price/reader #john price/reader #captain john price

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xshadowdelta · 6 months ago

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Natty x Male Reader x Soyeon (3.8K Length)

Tags: Rough sex, anal, titfucking, blowjob, facial, choking, nipple play, creampie, dirty talk

You were lying on the sofa of your apartment, overwhelmed, jaded, and abhorred due to the suffocating heat. According to the weather girl on the news, you were experiencing one of the worst heat waves in history, and she wasn’t wrong. The fan wasn’t nearly enough to combat this sunny attack on your person.

You zapped through the different TV channels searching for something to distract your mind, if you didn’t think about the heat it would disappear for sure, delusional.

You found out that on one of the channels they were playing the Olympic Games, which was definitely a good distraction. You kept watching the sports for a while, at that precise moment of the day, the swimming competition was taking place.

Within a couple of hours, the day’s competition had ended with Katie Ledecky winning, what? her 20th gold medal? That woman is the goat of swimming, was your thought.

However, that made a bulb light appear above your head, giving you an interesting idea. Maybe going out and spending some time in the public pool, soaking to cover yourself from the heat, could make you enjoy this day. You didn’t think twice and in just minutes, you had everything ready with your pool bag, towel and swimsuit.

You took your car and drove to the pool area, and as you first guessed, there were a lot of other people affected by this infernal heat.

You managed to visualize a free spot in the grassy zone, and although there wasn’t much shade, it was the best you had found, so you placed your pool bag and towel on it, smeared some sunscreen on your arms and shoulders, and walked towards the pool.

The freshness sensation when your body came in contact with the water was simply unbeatable, you were sure you could stay here until you were forced to leave to close. You approached one of the corners of the pool, resting your arms on either side of the edge as you looked around.

There was a little bit of everything at that hour of the day, children fluttering around playing with balls and water guns, their parents running after them trying to scold them, people like you enjoying a refreshing break, others taking the opportunity to do some exercise and swim, and a bunch of crazy people lying on the hammocks sunbathing, masochists.

Your eyes focused on an extravagant orange hair in the distance, which captured your attention immediately. It was a girl who was wearing a fairly short jeans and a small white tank top that left her belly visible, where you could read “Lifeguard”.

She was small, but, being honest, she commanded respect. You knew it by the way she was scolding grumpily at everyone who tried to exceed her pool’s rules, but on the other hand, with the kids, she always offered a beautiful smile.

That girl had a nice body proportions, maybe not too voluptuous on her chest, but her butt shined incredibly, especially with those tight jeans, it was hard to look away. She was certainly sexy, and…

“Looks like Soyeon caught your attention.”

A voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you noticed a feminine figure standing just to your right. How did she get so close to you without you realizing it?

“Excuse me?”

Smiling, she pointed with her head at the girl whom, until recently you were devouring with your gaze.

“Soyeon, the lifeguard, everyone will think you are a stalker or something if you keep looking at her like that.” She pointed, laughing loudly. Your face turned all red, and your body again felt so hot, not because of the heat now but because of shame.

Then you focused for the first time on that strange girl with black hair and tanned skin. She was wearing sunglasses on her forehead and a white one-piece swimsuit with different color details. She seemed like a very smiling girl, her smile seemed to never disappear, and her laugh could be heard in every corner of the pool.

“Oh no, I was just observing distractedly, I have no weird intentions, was looking to deal with this damn heat.” You explained with a little smile.

“Really? Too bad.” She pouted. “I’m sure she would give you a blowjob in the locker room if you ask her.”

“W-W-What?” Your confusion and nervousness ripped another laugh out of her.

“Yeah, she looks so rude now, but she is a slut who loves cocks.”

That little conversation was making you so hot that it seemed like the surrounding water was boiling. Then the girl moved closer to you, standing in front of you, blocking any other view you might have but hers. Her hand moved underwater to touch your penis, which had acquired a considerable size.

“And me too.” Your body tensed at her touch, and you looked nervously to each side without stopping. You never experienced something like this before in view of everyone, afraid that anyone or even worse, that lifeguard would find out what was going on.

“What are you doing? Anyone could catch us.” With her other hand she placed her index finger over your lips to shut you up.

"Shhh, trust in me." She put her whole hand into your swimsuit to grab your cock, masturbating you with slow movements.

"My name is Natty by the way. Nice to meet you." Her smile was cute, but at the same time, you can see in her that she was enjoying so much watching how you react to every step she took.

"Same here." You replied slowly and haltingly to avoid letting out a moan due to her fantastic touch.

She got even closer and caught your lips in a soft kiss, which you really enjoyed until you noticed how she used her thumb to play with your tip. She gave you a smirk and another kiss, masturbating you again, this time increasing the speed. You bit your lip, refusing to emit a moan as you grabbed her hips to help her use her body as a shield so that no one would notice that situation.

The palm of her hand was playing again with your tip, rubbing with fast movements, making you grab her hips harder. She playfully smiled at you for that. But she suddenly stopped, took his hand out of your swimsuit, and stepped away from you a little, still smiling. You looked at her with a clearly disappointed face.

“If you cum here in the water, we will have some problems, you should cum in another appropriate place, my face, for example.” She couldn’t say that kind of thing with a big smile and laughing, she was crazy.

“I will wait for you in the locker room, don’t make me wait, yes?” She came back to you to whisper in your ear. “I’m so fucking horny…” You hard swallowed saliva.

You saw her get out of the pool and head toward the changing rooms, she was totally fucking crazy, and the worst part is that you were following that crazy girl.

You waited until your erection subsided and became less noticeable for the rest of the people there before you could leave as well. You followed Natty way to the locker room, looking one last time at the lifeguard girl now sitting on her chair. She was looking directly at you too, and it gave you goosebumps.

As soon as you entered the locker room, Natty cornered you against one of the walls, looking at you with lust. She smiled playfully, going back into your swimsuit to make your cock hard again.

Now you didn't control yourself, and you let out a couple of moans that were quickly silenced by Natty's lips, who desperately searched for your tongue. Your hands traveled to her cheeks, fighting fiercely in that kiss but keeping enjoying her masturbation.

You placed your hands on her shoulders, and with a quick twisting motion, she was now the one pinned against the wall.

She left your penis for a moment to take her huge boobs out of her swimsuit. You salivated when you saw them free, and you threw yourself on them to put them in your mouth.

Natty moaned non-stop, enjoying how you licked and sucked her tits, imprisoning her even more against the wall, making her rise a little so that she could surround your waist with her legs.

"It seems I have unleashed the tiger." She smiled, burying your head further into her breasts, rubbing them over your face, and in response, licking and playing with her nipples.

You stopped then, taking some air, breathing heavily, taking her hands and taking her to the other end of the locker room, telling her with a nod to sit on the bench. She did so, and before she could blink, you guided your cock towards her boobs. She understood your intentions instantly and laughed at this.

She put her hands on either side of her tits, trapping your cock in the middle of them, moving them at a frenetic pace, making you moan non-stop.

"You like my titfuck right? I'm an expert."

"I fucking love it, so good." You said, slapping one of her tits, drawing a moan from her.

In response, her tongue began to lick your tip as her tits continued to be dragged along your entire length. Your cock sank between her tits and reappeared again and again, making everything start to get wet.

"More." She moaned, but you didn't know what she meant. "Spank my fucking tits harder, fuck." She asked desperately, and you wouldn’t say no to that.

You slapped her tits again, this time continuously, the sound of your palms hitting her meat echoing through the place, now joined by her screams.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, YEEEEEES." She screamed without holding back in the slightest.

She stopped her titfuck and then grabbed your cock, using it to slap her own tits and even rub your tip against her now hard nipples.

She stood up and, still holding your penis in her hand she dragged you to one of the bathrooms, closing the door.

"Sit down." She ordered, pointing to the toilet, and you obeyed immediately.

She pushed aside the part of her swimsuit that connected to her pussy, giving you a perfect view of it, dripping intensely. You started to masturbate yourself admiring her.

"Look what you've done, I hope you're proud." She said, stroking herself a little bit.

"I am." You responded in a mocking tone.

You kept your cock erect as you watched her approach you, straddling you, connecting your cock with her pussy and slowly starting to lower yourself, taking it all in.

"So big." She whispered, caressing your chest.

"So tight." You responded in kind, moving your hands to her butt.

And so Natty began to ride you, raising her hips until she left only the tip of your cock inside her pussy and then lowering herself abruptly, obtaining it whole.

Your cock hit Natty's depths again and again, and your moans were drowned in insatiable kisses that were continually cut by the pleasure you felt.

On one of those times when your lips separated, you took the opportunity to catch one of her boobs that was bouncing non-stop, with your mouth, sucking hard and biting her nipple.

Feeling uninhibited by the pleasure, she increased the pace with which she rode you, while with your hands now on her hips, you helped the movements become more ferocious.

"I'm fucking cumming! I'm cumming!" Natty moaned without stopping her pace until she finally stood over on top of you, cumming.

With hardly any time to waste, she got off of you, kneeling on the floor in front of you, masturbating your cock quickly, and sticking out her tongue.

A few threads of semen were shot straight from your cock towards her face, staining it completely.

"Fuck." You gasped, tiredly watching her try to collect most of the cum from her face with her hands, bringing her fingers to her mouth and licking them.

At that moment, the bathroom door opened with a loud slam. You both turned around startled, looking at the little orange-haired lifeguard who was looking at you very angry.

Your pulse stopped for a moment, you could see how she looked at you, at the pitiful appearance you had at that moment lying naked and exhausted on the bathroom.

"Really Natty? That's the third time this week." She commented, looking at the girl on the floor, who was smiling nervously.

"Sorry, Soyeon, I couldn't resist."

"I've told you, I have no problem with you doing these things, but not on days like this, with so many people, what happens if they catch you?"

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry." She apologized continuously, putting all his clothes back on properly.

"I'll make it up to you, okay? I will invite you to dinner tonight, okay? Okay, bye!" She said, running out of there, fearing her friend's anger.

You took advantage of that moment to stand up and try to leave the bathroom in search of your clothes, but Soyeon's arm prevented you.

"Where do you think you're going? I'm not done with you."

With a little push from her, you backed away and fell back onto the toilet. You noticed how she was still glaring at you.

She switched her gaze to your cock, you tried to cover yourself with your hands, but a slap from her made you move them away again in pain.

"Ouch!"

"Shut up," she said, closing the bathroom door behind her. She kneeled where Natty had been minutes before and grabbed your limp cock, still covered in cum.

"What a waste." She whispered, starting to lick your entire cock from top to bottom, cleaning it.

It wasn't something you had expected, and that made you horny again, fattening your cock until it regained its full state again.

Soyeon lifted your cock and captured one of your testicles with her mouth, holding it there for a few seconds and repeating the action with the other one.

"You better have saved something more." She threatened, still angry.

"I can get an extra special load for you." You said, making her look at you.

Without saying anything, she opened her mouth wide and inserted the entirety of your penis into it. You gasped and by reflex you brought your hands to the back of her head, burying it on your cock.

Soyeon didn’t protest about it, on the contrary, she began to move her head uncontrollably, making a lot of erotic sounds during the blowjob.

"Shouldn't you be alert for someone drowning?” You asked curiously.

She let your cock escape from her mouth, completely covered in saliva, and spit on it.

"It's Yuqi's turn, now the only one who's going to choke is me on this damn cock, so shut up and show me why Natty was screaming like a whore."

She resumed the blowjob, using her hands to play with your balls at the same time.

You brought your hands to her head, grabbing a fistful of orange pigtail hair in your fist to help her swallow your cock.

She continued sucking you with just her mouth, taking off her lifeguard top with her hands, and you took the opportunity to touch her small tits.

“They aren’t as big as Natty, but I will treat them the same.” You squeezed her nipples with your fingers, surprising her and making her gag on your cock.

You took advantage of that sign of weakness, and using your fingers, you started to stretch her nipples a little bit. She closed her eyes while she kept taking your cock. As she didn’t stop you, you kept stretching her nipples more and more, they were turning really hard and red under your fingers.

Soyeon reached her pain limit and caught your wrists with her hands, stopping the process going. She lifted her head to look at you with her mouth filled with your cock. After a few seconds, she lowered her head back to the base of your cock and released your hands that were still gripping her nipples, giving you permission to continue, and you did, applying a new wave of pressure to her nipples.

She tried to resist the pain combining with the pleasure she was having sucking your cock, making your dick reach deeper in her throat, in an attempt to silence her screams.

Her nipples were released from the pressure, telling her to stand up, and when she did, you pulled her towards you, sitting her on your lap. Her lips were swollen from the treatment she had given to your cock, and a trail of saliva came out of her mouth.

You touched her tits again, caressing her sensitive nipples that reacted under your palms. Soyeon made a small moan, they were so red and itchy that even the slightest touch bothered her.

Once again, her nipples were your objective, this time licking with your tongue one of them while the other one was being pinched by your fingers. Your mouth started to suck her nipple. You looked at her, but her face didn’t change at all during this time. She was still looking angry at you, so you decided to bite her nipple, making her scream.

Your hands grabbed her nipples in a quick move, but she reacted fast and stopped you again. Both of you were looking at each other, the challenge was being sent, and she had to make a decision.

“Motherfucker.”

She removed her hands, accepting the challenge, and you smiled, raising your hands with her nipples held. Her arms surrounded your neck, and at the same time, she began to rub herself on your cock, masturbating you.

The higher you raised her nipples, the faster she moved, and you could notice how her pants couldn't retain the liquid that was beginning to drip from her pussy.

You gave her nipples one last thrust, digging your thumbs into them as if they were a button. Her movement stopped instantly. She opened her mouth, but there was no sound. You got as close to her as possible without letting go.

“Slut.” You were smiling, she was furious.

Soyeon got off your lap and turned around, you thought she was going to leave the bathroom, but no, she bent over to show you her impressive ass and gave herself a spank on the cheek before taking off her jeans.

"Really?" You asked excitedly. She looked at you over her shoulder, supporting her hands on the bathroom door and raising her butt for you.

You stood up from the toilet holding your cock to bring it closer to her ass, when Soyeon felt the touch of your cock she began to move her hips, twerking with her ass.

You massaged her ass, giving her a couple of kisses followed by a hard spank on her butt cheek, making her grunt, a grunt that gave way to moans as your tongue began to delve into her rear hole.

You savored every corner of Soyeon's ass while she continued to move it on your face. You separated her ass cheeks with your hands, being able to see perfectly how her small hole contracted uncontrollably.

You slowly approached your cock towards her ass, first rubbing it and then playing with it until finally you slowly entered his hole. Soyeon let out a little scream when she felt the entirety of your penis delve into her small hole, feeling a little dizzy as it continued to grow inside her, stretching her ass.

You grabbed her wide hips to start thrusting into her, Soyeon clung harder to the door, moaning uncontrollably, and with each thrust, your hand collided with her cheeks, making her clench her teeth.

She grabbed your hands from her hips and brought them to her breasts, in a clear sign that she wanted more. Without hesitation, you squeezed her nipples again.

“Destroy these little nipples.” She moaned, provoking you to give her a harder treatment.

Your cock went in and out of Soyeon's ass without rest, everything felt so good that it was even difficult to maintain composure and balance. You leaned on her back, completely cornering her against the bathroom door with your body, placing your hands on either side of her head.

Without warning, you took a few steps away and put one of your arms around her stomach and the other one around her neck, pulling her towards you, something that made your cock move even further into her ass, causing true fear in Soyeon.

"What the hell are you doing!?" She protested annoyingly, holding on with both hands to the arm around her neck.

You noticed how she tried to free herself from your grip, however she was clearly smaller than you, so you had her completely dominated under your arms. Your hips continued to move, and ramming her without stopping, you lowered your head to whisper in her ear.

"Be a good slut for me." You said, applying a little force to your grip, and in reaction to that, she couldn't help but scream a loud moan, curling her body under your arms, cumming intensely.

"Fuck, what was that?" You asked, surprised by the puddle that had formed at your feet, loosening your grip on her as she couldn't stay upright and fell to her knees on the floor.

"I didn't think you were that weak, I guess it was all a facade." You fell silent when you saw her, still on the floor, she placed her own hands on her ass, opening it for you, inviting you to enter again.

You didn't hesitate for a second to crouch down next to her and reinsert your cock inside her, making her scream again.

"FUCK, YES, PLEASE, FUCK MY ASS HARDER." Soyeon begged, totally vulnerable.

"That's right, Soyeon, you're being a good slut." You said, ramming her from behind with all your strength, that she automatically bounced her ass against your cock again.

"Yes! I'm a slut, please use me!" She screamed as a result of your thrusts and spanks on his completely reddened asscheeks.

You continued pounding herself that hard for a few minutes until you unloaded a new shot of cum directly into her ass, driving her completely crazy.

You kissed her shoulder without her being able to stop panting with her tongue hanging out, you took your cock out of her ass that was now dripping with your cum.

You left the bathroom to get dressed in your swimsuit again and looked back one last time to see a new stream of fluids coming out of Soyeon's ass uncontrollably, unable to get up from the floor.

"I have to visit more times this pool.”

#kpop smut #male reader #smut #kiss of life smut #natty smut #gidle smut #soyeon smut

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hopelesshaidys · 6 months ago

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imagine iida x reader (crushing stage) where someone makes the reader laugh so hard they snort and tenya doesn’t say anything but it’s like the cutest thing in the world to him

love love love love love love love love love love love love love lo-

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

‧₊˚♡pairing: Iida Tenya x gn! reader

‧₊˚♡tags: just so much fluff yall tenya is so cutie but unfortunately no beta i probably need someone to look over my work before i post oh well :D

‧₊˚♡a/n: i got a little carried away oopsies, but also i wanted iida to say smth abt it bc i am a tenya blabbermouth BELIEVER ✊

‧₊˚♡masterlist

inbox is open! hit me up with ur ideas ;)

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

It was a beautiful day out at UA.

Class 1A had all gathered outside for a mass picnic, teenagers buzzing with excitement with how much food and deserts were being passed around the outdoor area. They had been planning this picnic for some time now, and after three occasions causing them to cancel, they could finally have their day in the sun.

The weather was just warm enough to sit and sunbathe in for hours without getting uncomfortable as there was a slight breeze constantly blowing through to keep things cool. The skies were a gorgeous blue, littered with big white fluffy clouds and birds flying overhead. There were various flowers blooming all around the class, along with different shades of greens. It was truly a sight to take in, but Tenya couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

Ever since he had met you, Tenya truly felt as if you were a one in a million. Everything about you was so enticing to the teen, making him feel things that he had never felt before. To Tenya, this feeling was more than a mere crush, but pure admiration. He loves how motivated and strong you are, how effortlessly beautiful you can be. You were incredibly smart and seemed to always have a solution to any problem thrown your way. You were kind, but had boundaries that everyone knew not to cross. The way you talked always captivated him, and your laugh? Iida Tenya was completely and utterly whipped, and he had no idea what to do about it.

It had gotten to the point where it was so painfully obvious that the whole class wanted to see him confess to you, but Tenya didn’t want to trouble you with his feelings. The logical side of him said that you didn’t like him romantically, and even if you did you needed to focus fully on your future. Tenya refused to cause you turmoil, and as long as he was able to watch you succeed in life he was happy.

Except on days like these.

When Tenya saw you, out of the corner of his eyes, glowing in the sunlight. You looked like you just ascended down from the heavens, blessing all who are around you with your presence. The way your hair framed your face, and your eyes glimmered making him want to look into them every second of the day. Kaminari started saying nonsense that Tenya didn’t even try to understand, but he watched you light up at his words giggling and continuing the string of nonsense. Somehow, he felt an overwhelming urge to learn about whatever niche pop culture reference the two of you were talking about just so he could make you smile like that, with a big carefree grin.

“You should go over to them,” Ochako’s voice whispered in the boy’s ear. He tore his focus away from you to his friend, who was smiling with a knowing look on her face. The two of them were collecting drinks and ice to put them into coolers, a task that Tenya thought was going to distract him but of course your aura was too strong of a distraction for him.

Stubbornly, he pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked down at the drinks shaking his head. “That would be rude of me to interrupt their conversation.”

Tenya didn’t even have to look up to see Ocakos pout, as he heard her audible “hmph” she says when she becomes frustrated.

“You wouldn’t be interrupting! They would be thrilled to hang out with you, like they always are.” Though the brunette continued to do her job, he felt her brown eyes glare into his face as if she had a mind controlling quirk. Tenya just sighed, wishing what his friend said was true. You always looked so much more happier with people other than him. As much as he loves to see you shine, he wishes he could be the one to make you like that.

Soon the two teens were done with the coolers and began to bring them over. The rest of the class noticed and started to cheer for the cool refreshments, many people calling out their names. Tenya and Ochako put the drinks down next to the tables full of food and suddenly the class lined up and filled their plates with food.

Soon enough everyone found their areas to settle in, and Tenya ever so stubborn, refused to make a plate until everyone was finished. He wanted to make sure everyone was satisfied with the system set up along with watching people (mainly the boys) to make sure they don’t take strenuous amounts of food.

“You didn’t have to do all of that you know,” a voice said causing Tenya to rip his attention away from Sero and Kaminari’s giggling. You were standing close to him, a plate in hand and ready to sit down and join the rest of the group. Tenya scanned your face, as you had your eyebrows raised and your hand on your hip.

Trying not to become flustered at such a quick interaction, Tenya crossed his arms.

“You’re absolutely right i don’t have to do this, but I want to.” He said as he looked back at the area now full of teens sitting on picnic blankets. Your laughter echoed, then your warm hand was placed on his shoulder making his heart flutter.

“Come on, let’s get a plate.”

As if he was put under a spell, Tenya followed behind you and complied to your request. You made small talk about the food, making jokes which he appreciated greatly. He always seemed to lose his ability to talk when around you. Eventually he found his words again and began to create a comfortable conversation with you. However, the moment ended soon and when you reached the end of the line of food Tenya found himself deflate knowing the two of you would separate soon.

That was until you spun around on your heels with a big grin on your face.

“Come sit with me.”

Tenya, caught off guard, felt his face warm up as he sputtered out a response. “Yes-yes of course!”

Somehow your grin widened and you grabbed his free hand dragging him over to an open spot on the picnic blanket. Immediately the two of you were welcomed to the area, but Tenya still felt frazzled by your recent actions. However he settled down quickly with your newfound closeness, always feeling a sort of peace around you. His shoulders and neck automatically relaxed and he’s even gotten comments about how “laid back” he seems to be whenever you’re next to him. Tenya was able to sit and not over analyze or worry as much when he was around you, and for that he is forever grateful. Especially on days like these.

The blue haired boy found himself chuckling along with his classmates and eating without concern, feeling like a true teenager. He liked to peer at you as well, especially with how close the two of you were sitting. There were times he caught you smiling at him, and instead of feeling embarrassed you just kept on looking at him with a gentle look in your eyes. Tenya on the other hand would immediately react, and never quite knew what to do with himself.

It wasn’t until everyone was finished and laid out on the ground that there was a sense of peace over the group of teens. Tenya was listening to Ochako tell a childhood story when he heard a squeal coming from his left.

Now alerted, Tenya whipped his head over and to his surprise he saw you, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina all looking at your phone. He watched as each one of the group started to break away to laugh and make unusual sounds and faces. Then, his eyes shifted to you (always shifting to you) and he watched as your head was thrown back due to laughter.

The sun was setting, the soft glow of sunshine lit your face perfectly. You’re eyes were more alive, and your skin seemed to shine. He watched as you let out an uncontrollable laugh, and when you put your head back you snorted.

Almost immediately, Tenya pipped up as he saw you throw your hand to your face in surprise as your friends laughed even harder at your accidental snort. But Tenya just watched, face as red as a tomato as he realized that everything you did was going to make him feel like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Oh my god!” You coughed out, eyes watery and cheeks red from laughing so hard. To his surprise, you faced Tenya with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” you were still giggling but he could tell there was a shade of embarrassment on your face. He felt confused as to why you turned to him specifically and apologized for such an adorable laugh you let out. He loved watching you laugh, anything that made you happy made him happy.

“Why? It was cute.”

Suddenly it was Tenya’s turn to be embarrassed, because he didn’t even realize he said that out loud until he watched your face blossom into a deeper blush. As soon as Tenya started to sputter out apologies you just smiled, watching the boy furiously try to cover up the compliment he blurted out.

“You think I’m cute?” As soon as you said that he paused, and everyone around watched in silence because surely Tenya was going to start steaming with how red his face was.

Instead, you just laughed at the embarrassed boy, and he was able to get lost in your beauty once again. Maybe one day he’ll be the reason you laugh so hard you snort, and maybe he’ll get to kiss your cute lips. But for now, he’ll just watch your beautiful laughter unfold underneath the sunlight.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

hi loves!! sorry bout the procrastination i am working on my inbox shit and my own ideas-especially for other fandoms hehe

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spitdrunken · 2 months ago

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Adami (Homicipher MC) x Reader, vaguely implied Scarletella x Reader (but don’t read it for that, lol, it’s very minor), lore and ending spoilers. Notes: Headcanon-heavy, post-maingame story, canon-typical horror themes, temporary character death, implied gore.

The Other World takes after its master.

That doesn’t mean their temperament becomes law in the ever-changing maze of rooms and hallways. It’s only a suggestion, a push that will transform certain inclinations into preferences. If one has desires strong enough in an opposite direction, they can still do whatever they want. But while Mr. Scarletella ruled and influenced the Other World, consent was a surprisingly important factor in the world’s dealings. Being told ‘no’ was enough to send away a good chunk of its inhabitants, though they might turn pushy or become disgruntled.

All of this related to the way Mr. Scarletella himself functioned as an apparition. He could only take someone’s soul, could only hurt someone, if they gave him their name. Agreement was key and this rippled into other aspects of the Other World.

But now, Adami is the one who, after having turned Mr. Scarletella into her servant, is the one most in control of the realm. The changes aren’t as noticeable at first. However, as she loses more and more of her humanity, more and more of her memories, she begins to act solely bashed on her whims, her violent impulses shining through on more than one occasion. She’s not violent all the time. There are moments, though, flashes of utter loss of contact with the world around her where she destroys everything in her path. All the while, her crimson companion only aids her.

In turn, the inhabitants of the Other World grow more volatile, too. They’ve gained the capacity to lie and a stronger inclination towards direct violence. Simply taking what they want becomes the norm, although it doesn’t mean that everyone acts in this manner. Mr. Crawling, who frequently accompanies Adami as well, is someone who remains mild-mannered in the vast majority of situations. Where they’d once been terrifying and unfamiliar to her, the monsters there now either listen to or avoid her like the plague. She never has to fear, can walk around without ever needing to hide. The Other World, once dangerous at every turn, has become her home.

To you, an unsuspecting human dragged in by her grief, all of these machinations and baselines of the past are of no consequence. When you first encounter Adami (Or ‘Ms. Crowbar’, as you call her) does not seem all that different from the other monsters you’ve encountered. She’s unnerving, but not exactly scary.

Ms. Crowbar wears a simple raincoat, suspiciously clean, with strands of silver hair poking past the hood pulled over her head. Gloves hide her hands, though her legs are blotchy in colour like one giant dark-tinged bruise. Her face is as white as the raincoat she’s wearing, an entirely unnatural shade. Her eyes are slightly too big for her face, her lips practically melting into the white of her face. More than anything, her appearance veers into the uncanny valley. And, of course, she’s always carrying her crowbar around with her, either held upright or dragged carelessly behind her, metal scraping over concrete and banging into every loose rock it can find.

During your first meetings, it’s perhaps Mr. Scarletella who puts you more on edge. His aura is definitely the more imposing one of the two. He towers over you, the deadest gaze you’ve ever seen pinning you into place. Absentmindedly, he smiles at nothing at all. That isn’t even mentioning the way he colours the whole world around him. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before down here. The natural conclusion is that he must be someone especially powerful, a monster to look out for. But, as you quickly discover, he’s always looking at Ms. Crowbar. His eyes only move when she moves, his feet only take another step as soon as she does. He never reaches out without her command. Whether by choice or through force, he is entirely her puppet. She is the one you need to look out for.

As for how that first meeting went… Perhaps you’d been chased by something. What exactly it had been, you’d had no idea. It would’ve been too large of a risk to look over your shoulder when you were certainly running for your life. One moment, you had been in a quiet room. The next, the quick pounding of footsteps was catching up to you, and you’d dashed through door after door on pure survival instinct. With burning lungs and aching muscles, you’d slammed a door and shoved a lock into place. Resting your sweaty back against it, you slid down to your knees. If this isn’t enough to stop them, you’d be as good as dead. You can’t run anymore. You squeeze your eyes shut, cupping your hands over your mouth to muffle the noises of your desperate gasps for air. You await the worst, but nothing happens.

When you finally do open your eyes, that’s when you see the pair of them. Ms. Crowbar looks at you with an unreadable expression and a slight tilt of her head. Her crimson pupils seem to glow in the dark. Besides her, Mr. Scarletella, still and unmoving as a corpse. You have no idea what to think. She takes a step towards you. The first one is slow, though she speeds up afterwards. The woman leans forward and holds out her hand for you to take.

Maybe… She’s actually nice? Or, maybe, she’ll just bash your skull in with the crowbar she’s holding in her other hand. Either way, something about the whole situation makes your skin crawl. Her eyes narrow at your hesitation. She is already retracting her hand when you make up your mind, and grab it while forcing a wobbly smile on your features. You mumble out a ‘thank you’ with your parched throat. Her cold fingers intertwine with yours.

Ms. Crowbar pulls you up with a truly surprising amount of strength for her small stature. You’re yanked to your feet with such force that you’re practically lifted off the ground and barrel into her, eliciting a yelp from the woman. Without thinking, and in order to prevent yourself from falling, you wrap both of your arms around her, one of your legs hooked around hers. It’s like you’re clinging on to her for dear life. Well, not like. You are. Mr. Scarletella’s eyes are burning holes into the side of your head. The hairs at the back of your neck as static, rapidly increasing in volume, creeps at the edges of your hearing.

As you loosen your grip and move to pull away, sputtering out a long string of apologies in every language you can think of, she laughs. It’s a high-pitched giggle, the kind that’s straight out of a horror movie. Her crowbar falls to the ground with a clatter. In a flash, you’re pulled against her even tighter as she pulls you against her body, returning your ‘hug’. You swear you can hear your ribs creaking. Your eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of your head, and you can hardly breathe. The static quiets down. Even after patting her back a couple of times, she holds on for a good few seconds longer. You don’t know whether you should be uncomfortable or entirely relieved.

When she releases her grip on you, you drop back down to the floor. She’d held you so tightly your feet hadn’t been touching concrete anymore. Ms. Crowbar is still smiling. Her entire body sways slightly back and forth. The crowbar is back in her hand.

“Human cute,” she says, though you don’t have the knowledge to understand her garbled language yet. To you, it sounds like nonsense noise. “Me teach you language. Not lots. Little.” She’d grow bored and lose track of things before managing to teach you a lot, anyway.

Much like others had once done for her, she teaches you some basic vocabulary. To be completely honest, she lists everything slightly too fast for you to remember all of it once. Regardless, she teaches you the words for ‘you’ and ‘human’ and ‘me’, as well as pointing at the walls and the floor. After that, she plops down next to you and makes Mr. Scarletella act as, essentially, a mannequin for the next segment. In accordance with her commands, he’ll lower her his head, stick out an arm or a leg, or spread his fingers, all in order to teach you more of the language. His face contorts into all different kinds of expressions, too. The look in his eyes does not once change and he follows all of her instructions without any hesitation. Rather than just focusing on Ms. Crowbar, his eyes occasionally dart to you too as you copy and sound out the words.

It ends as quickly as it all started. She decided to help you on impulse, and it’s also on impulse that she leaves. Your head is left spinning with the new amount of knowledge you’ve been taught, though the prospect of wandering treacherous halls alone after having found some company is even worse. …You’ll try to look for an exit. What else can you do? Being able to make yourself understandable, limited as your means might be, is at least an improvement. You don’t see Ms. Crowbar often. Occasionally, she’ll pop up and you exchange a few words. You’re eager to show your improvement in the language, thanks to some others who did not immediately try to kill you.

(One time, you’d cracked open a door and peered in. Every entrance requires a degree of caution, you think. Ms. Crowbar and Mr. Scarletella had been there, their backs turned towards you. Her crowbar had been raised. Then, she lowered it and hit the crumpled mass on the floor in front of her again, and again, and again, and again. The sickening crunch of every impact made bile rise in your throat. Just as you’d let the door fall shut as quietly as possible, Mr. Scarletella had turned to face you. But they hadn’t followed.)

It takes a while for you to see her again, after that. Bit by bit you make progress through the confusing world, though sheer luck doesn’t seem capable of protecting you much longer. Eventually, you’re cornered, already mentally speaking your last words, when a familiar crimson sheen falls over the world around you. Ms. Crowbar’s weapon connects with the monster’s skull, and it falls to the side. Though the sound isn’t any less disgusting, you can’t help the relief that floods your body.

For a moment, she simply stares at you, red eyes slightly too wide and crowbar raised. The moment passes and she relaxes. She lowers the blood-stained weapon. “Hello,” she says, smiling at you once again. “Other attack. Me kill. Not attack me… Lots time.”

If there are any words in the Other World’s language you know how to say, it’s these. “Thank you!” You exclaim. The smile on your face is nowhere near as forced as when you’d first encountered her. Ms. Crowbar is unnerving. She’s violent, too, clearly. But that isn’t all she is. She’s never been anything but nice to you.

She opens her arms. It takes you second to register that she probably wants a hug. On still-trembling legs, you do exactly that. Ms. Crowbar hums happily before her crowbar taps on your back then drags down along your spine, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. You move to let her go, but she takes hold of your wrist.

“Me teach you language. Me teach you attack.” She turns her head around to look at Mr. Scarletella, ever the silent observer around you, and they exchange a wordless look. Then, she releases you.

A weapon materialises in your hands, appearing out of thin air. You don’t know what to call it. It’s long and blade-liked, allowing you to keep your distance while still being able to attack. Slowly, painfully slowly, Ms. Crowbar lifts her crowbar above her head and lowers it in your general direction. It clicks. As soon as you lift your blade up and block the movement with a dull clang, she grins. The words that pass her lips, although you don’t know what they mean, are spoken in a cloying, slightly demeaning, tone that indicates praise.

Rinse and repeat. Her movements grow faster and more varied as she tries to surprise you. It doesn’t take long before you can’t keep up at all anymore, though you’re eager to learn how to defend yourself even a little. You grow used to the weight of the weapon in your hand. Although you definitely have a few bruises blossoming on your skin, you don’t think you’re completely helpless, either.

(You don’t think either of them agree, though. You’re a cute little plaything to them, perhaps. At some point, Ms. Crowbar had pointed at Mr. Scarletella and ordered you to attack. You’d hesitated. His smile had widened, just a little. He’d disappeared and reappeared right in front of you. A clear invitation. …You hadn’t expected your blade to slice clean through him. The force of your swing sends you nearly topping to the ground and her laughter rings out in the empty room. Your face burns with embarrassment. The only thing that had prevented you from falling flat on your face had been Mr. Scarletella’s umbrella, its inflexible form hooking around you.)

Eventually, Ms. Crowbar grows bored of your training. While you’re panting, she isn’t winded at all. In front of your face, she holds up three fingers.

“Me attack. You run.” She tells you. But you haven’t been taught the word for ‘run’. Why would you assume that this would be any different than what you’ve been doing for a while now? Maybe she’s just telling you to prepare for a particularly strong blow. You ready yourself. When she’s only holding up a single finger, she smiles in a way that exposes teeth. “You want attack? I see. Funny.”

You didn’t stand a chance. You didn’t even see her hand drop to her side before her crowbar had effortlessly smashed into your skull, the world around you exploding into a maddening array of pure agony. Your body flies halfway across the room. Vaguely, you wonder how you’re still breathing. You can’t see anything out of your right eye. Something wet and warm slides down your neck. Ms. Crowbar stands over you, weapon raised. Static fills your ears as your vision flickers out.

As soon as you regain consciousness, you wish you’d never come to again. Your head is pounding, your vision is blurry. Your lips are cracked and your tongue is sticking to the roof of your mouth. Your arms ache. Dried blood covers the side of your face and neck. Your eyes are struggling to focus and, as soon as you get up, you nearly fall right back down again. Your skin looks blotchy. To put it simply, you feel and look like shit. You can’t even remember how you’ve ended up like this. But you grab your weapon, try to remember and trudge onwards. You can’t remember what you are moving towards.

It takes you a little while to stumble across Ms. Crowbar again, though you have no idea how long it’s exactly taken. Everything has become so… Difficult. You hate being here, hate being alone. You don’t know what’s going on anymore. You can hardly recall your own name, much less why seeing her is tying your stomach up in knots. Hasn’t she always been nice to you? When she opens her arms for you, as she usually does, your arms tremble when you return the hug and tears drip down your face. Over shoulder, you make eye-contact with Mr. Scarletella.

“Sad?” He asks, voice too even to sound truly concerned. But you don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak before. Ms. Crowbar wriggles against you, staring at your face for a moment as she catches sight of your tears. She extends her arm, hand dropping on the top of your head as she pets your hair. A little too roughly, for your liking. She leans forward, lips brushing against yours in a quick peck. With a short burst of static, Mr. Scarletella is leaning over the both of you, too. When he reaches out, you feel nothing touching you except for a vague tingling sensation.

“You weak. You cute.” Ms. Crowbar says, every word clearly and slowly enunciated as if she’s speaking to a child. You sniffle. “Me help you. You not worry.” Her cold hand closes around your wrist. “Go with, go with.” She tugs you along, deeper into the maze, her companion walking right besides you. You have no idea where you’re going. But, you suppose, when you were walking alone, you hadn’t either.

#homicipher #homicipher x reader #homicipher mc x reader #homicipher mc #adami adashino x reader #mr scarletella x reader

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writingwithcolor · 1 year ago

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Black woman’s skin turns blue from powers; is this whitewashing/erasure?

Anonymous asked:

I have a character in a comic I'm hoping to write one day. She's a light skinned black woman(she's half white if that helps!) living in New York City during an 80s themed post nuclear apocalypse. The comic's main characters are all rock stars, so a lot of the character design elements revolve around the different rock genres. The character in question is in a glam rock band, so there's lots of bright, saturated, crazy colors involved in her design. The problem I'm having involves this one story beat where she gets mutant superpowers that give her electricity and sound based abilities. Her skin turns cotton candy blue as a result of the mutation. I'm hung up on whether or not this might fall under some kind of skin lightening or white-washing trope since it's a fairly light shade of blue. I designed her mutant look before her human look, so this was well before I'd even figured out what race she was, and I simply thought the shade of blue would compliment both the electricity powers and the fact that her hair is dyed pink. Is there a way I could still make this work? Or am I worrying about nothing?

Ideally, it would be nice to keep her brown skin tone. There’s a common comic and supernatural trend where Black people’s skin is covered up by a suit or Black-coded characters are an unnatural color (blue, green, purple, etc).

This is more of an issue when:

There are no other Black characters of those identities besides the covered up/ ones with unnatural skin colors.

The creator adds this change to make them "special" because they do not believe Black characters, with features commonly associated with Black people like dark hair, skin and eyes, are acceptable enough for the character to stand on their own.

The supernatural special Black people are treated well by the story. The "non-special" Black people have unhappy stories and misfortune.

Other races of characters do not get their skin covered up or changed. Only the Black ones and/or BIPOC in general.

I think a quick fix for this would be for her skin to turn blue when she’s actively using her powers, at random, or other specific times, besides constantly. If she needs to be more consistently “mutant looking” Are there other ways she could change without her skin color changing or changing completely?

People with glitter on skin, light surrounding their face, and blue braids. Images from pexels.

More ideas that keep her skin brown

Hair

Her hair color changes blue or your color of choice (which could include body hair too, which would give her a more “otherworldly” appearance).

Note: If her hair is curly or natural, please keep it so! At least, the powers shouldn't change it straight.

Eyes

Her eyes glowing brighter or colorfully during power-use.

Note: If they're usually brown, they could stay brown when powers not in use, like Marvel's Storm in some versions.

Storm by Marvel Entertainment//20th Century Studios.

Skin and body

Blue patterns appear on her skin.

Blue glow or sheen to her skin without fully changing the color.

Her skin projects color and light.

New growths or changes to body, such as ear shape, wings, etc.

No matter what you decide, please make clear in your tale that she’s a Black mixed race woman. And have fun!

More reading:

How Special is Too Special? The Politics and Characterization of Stacking Special/Abnormal Traits on Mixed Race Characters

~Colette

#Black women #skin color #supernatural #superheroes #description #asks

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satorhime · 2 years ago

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recess + gojo satoru ── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content : dad!gojo, f!reader, fluff, comfort, reader ‘n’ gojo r not the best parents but they just wanna comfort their sweet baby girl, reader is referred to as ‘mrs’, ‘mama’, school fights, light discussion of insecurities, bullying + discrimination･｡･ w.c. 2.2k

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis : you, satoru, and your daughter’s first trip to the principle’s office.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ notes : i am in the fluffiest mood ever for my dear heart so i present u another one of my dad!gojo fics. this one tugged at my heart strings tho :( not proofread!

the school calls and says that your five-year-old daughter got into a fight with another student during recess, and the first thing satoru asks is “did she win?”

an hour later, the two of you are sitting in the middle of the principle’s office on a worn, brown leather couch while an aide fetches your little girl from lunch. the differences in your respective reactions is stark, a contrast of color that can be seen throughout your relationship.

while you are respectful of authority, nodding along and gasping in horror with your hand clutching your necklace as the principle explains that your daughter was seen punching a little boy in the sandbox, satoru has his legs kicked up on the principle’s big oak desk, his head thrown back in full blown laughter. you have to lash out, smacking his chest with your fist just to get him to quiet down— only for him to retaliate with a pinch to the side of your thigh.

“i believe i see where the violence comes from,” the principle clicks her tongue over the melodramatics of satoru coughing and spitting after your hit, her lip curled in disapproval. she has a severe look about her, like the suffocatingly conservative elders in satoru’s clan. “mister and missus gojo, you must know this behavior is highly inappropriate.”

“we’re sor-”

“you never answered my question you know,” satoru cuts you off before you can apologize like a good little student yourself, sitting up straight and cocking his head to the side. even though you can’t see his eyes, covered by his dark shades, you can almost taste his amusement in the air. he is not taking any of this seriously, and why would he?

he was the one who taught her how to throw a punch.

“and what question would that be, mister gojo?”

“if she won the fight or not, of course!” he says, punctuating each word with a wag of his finger. with his million dollar grin all wide on his face. some things never change no matter how old you get because you can tell that he enjoys challenging authority. that he decided the principle was just another one of the higher ups who abused their power and looked down their nose at the youth after one glimpse of her personality and leadership.

the principle opens her mouth, likely to scold him, but then the door opens and your little one steps through with the aide carrying her backpack. her head is hung low, her chin tucked against her chest and her fists are bunched in the hem of her uniform skirt as she walks in— the very picture of guilt.

“you can ask her instead,” the principle concludes, and you become a little closer to seeing gojo’s approach to things. you don’t like the way she looks at your baby, ready to toss the key away for a kindergartner who can barely speak properly without even knowing if she initiated the fight or not. you grit your teeth, though. you’re trying to be civil, for crying out loud.

after all, your child doesn’t need two maniacs for parents.

“miss gojo,” the principle calls, addressing your kindergartener directly. when she raises her chin, she has a defiant look in her big, glacier blue eyes that rival’s her father’s own. there’s a fleck of rice stuck cutely to the side of her mouth, no doubt from the onigiri you packed in her bento this morning. her little white plaits are in disarray, the colorful barrettes you accessorized her hair with lost and nowhere to be found, and when your eyes drop down to her hands, you can tell that she’s hiding her bruised knuckles in her skirt. “do tell us what happened, and absolutely no fibs or tall tales, please.”

“uhm…” her eyes roam the room, intimidated by the adults watching her with expectation. she earns a patient nod and smile from you, and a cheeky wink from satoru over the rim of his glasses. taking a deep breath, she mumbles, “uhm. i was playing in the big box and sōta-kun started saying mean stuff so i punched him real hard.”

“and do you think that was an appropriate approach to someone saying something you don’t like, miss gojo? our school does not condone violence or bullies. we teach kindness and communication.”

“i thought he would dodge! dada always dodges my hits when we train,” she huffs in defense, blowing air into her cheeks. you shrink in your chair, placing a hand over your face in embarrassment because you know exactly what she’s about to say next. “aaaand, dada told me that whenever i don’t like something someone say, i can just blast them off the face of the earth when i get strong!”

“i do recall telling her that,” satoru takes credit proudly, his grin turning mischievous.

“satoru,” you warn, sighing. “really not the time.”

“i’m seen but silent.” he spreads his palms in surrender, mocking what you always tell your daughter to be when she makes too much racket in public. “and pretty.”

“it seems that neither one of you are concerned with your child’s concerning behavior. you make quips while her fellow student had to be sent to the infirmary because of her actions,” the woman’s voice is grave and authoritative, cutting through the lackadaisical attitude swirling around satoru. his posture never changes, but you can see the moment his spine straightens. “the child’s parents are demanding she be expelled.”

“what’s ‘expelled’?”

“i’ll explain it to you later, my love,” you whisper.

“sheesh, these old geezers are all the same,” he whistles, rolling his eyes.

“excuse me?” she demands, turning red.

“what my heart means to say,” you hiss through clenched teeth, cutting a glare so dark at him that his grin falters. though you’ll have no control over it later, it’s no secret the path you want for your little girl. you have not mistaken the abnormal luminescence in her eyes for anything but what it is, what it will develop into. she inherited her father’s powers, and it’s important that you give her even the tiniest semblance of a normal life. going to a good school with children on the outside, at least at first, is the first step to that. “is that surely, this can be handled with leniency? we still do not know what was said to cause her to react this way and-”

“it does not matter what was said,” the principle barks. “our academy has no need for violence, nor… a peculiar like her who-”

“if i were you, i would be careful with your words,” satoru’s voice lowers and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “it’s her first offense, ain’t it? she’s five. just let her apologize to the kid and suspend her for a couple of days, if you gotta.”

“if not,” he drawls, standing up and stretching his arms casually. you know it’s time to leave when satoru starts threatening people— you hold out your hand to your daughter so that she can take it before grasping onto satoru’s sleeve and hauling him towards the door, too. “i may suddenly become interested in a transfer and a promotion.”

you almost roll your eyes because he doesn’t even have a real license to teach.

“you are over the line, sir. you must know that threats-”

“think about it!”

and then, he grins one last time at the gobsmacked principle as you begin hauling your two troublemakers out of the office.

each of your daughter’s tiny pinky fingers are curled around one of you and satoru’s as you all walk home afterwards, linked together. she still looks so crestfallen, so guilty it almost makes gojo chuckle, but he settles for an amused grin cocked to one side of his glossy lips. she keeps sighing exaggeratedly, and there is never any denying whose daughter she is.

“soooo,” satoru is the one to ask, surprisingly. he usually lets you play the villain in the storybook before bedtime. “what did the brat say that made you knock him out with a right hook, princess? hitting without a reaaaally good reason is bad. i think i forgot to add that in my lesson last time.”

it’s the question that’s been brewing in the back of your mind as well— why did your gentle baby girl get into a playground brawl with another student? has she been displaying this behavior at school all along? you knew that satoru training her before she could even read a book properly was a horrible idea, but you had wanted to compromise with him since you had decided she would be raised away from sorcerers during her childhood.

“the left one,” she mumbles the correction, sniffling dejectedly. “i already- i already said him kept saying mean stuff.”

“like what, baby?” you encourage softly, reaching down to swipe a stray tear that rolls down her cheek. you bite your lip, trying to figure out how to approach the beginning of a lesson on how to direct her negative emotions away from lashing out, and into something more rational. “you can tell me and dada, if you’re comfortable with it.”

“yep! we’re perfect at keeping secrets too.”

“him said that mama wasn’t my real one because i look like a fweak and mama and dada does too. ‘cause i got these stupid dumb blue eyes and stupid dumb white hair that nobody else got. ‘s what they allllll say. ‘cause i’m ugly.”

oh.

satoru’s head lifts a little, and the two of you share a look over her head. anger courses through your veins like liquid fire, ending in hot tears bubbling up in your eyes, and suddenly you aren’t interested in reprimanding your child for defending herself. satoru’s fist clenches until his knuckles turn white, hidden in the pocket of his slacks.

you aren’t idiots— you knew that she would be treated differently, in any school. with you being a foreigner, and satoru having unnatural looks himself, there’s no denying that she sticks out like a sore thumb amongst other children in her class with her snowy white hair and her tiny tinted, prescription goggles that people ask questions about, because while she has the six eyes, she doesn’t know how to use it properly yet and her eyesight is bad because of it.

still, the thought of you missing something is heart wrenching. your baby girl is always cheerful when you or satoru or both pick her up from school at the end of the day, chatting animatedly and showing off her creations from class, but maybe … maybe that was because she was relieved to be home again, surrounded by her favorite things and her loving parents, rather than spending hours a day with people who treated her like she was less than human.

“c’mere, princess,” satoru says, bending at the waist to hoist her off the ground. he perches her up on his arm, letting his shades slide down so that she can look into his eyes. you step a little closer after that, placing a hand on her back for support but you’ll speak to her later when the two of you have a little gossip before bed like you do each night, girl to girl. but right now, satoru is just what she needs. “favorite things that are blue like your eyes? shoot.”

“squirtle!”

“good job, princess. what else?”

she takes great care in huffing, her lower lip stuffing out into a pout, lifting a finger to tap the lens of gojo’s shades, “your eyes.” and then she points to the wedding ring on your finger, with a delicate aquamarine stone set in the middle. she always loved playing with it as a baby. “and mama’s ring.” she thinks for another moment. “and the sky!”

“good job. favorite things that are white like your hair? go!”

a little smile plays on the corners of your lips as you listen to them. satoru is eerily good at parenting when he wants to be, and already she’s swinging and humming because he introduced her to a game of listing her favorite things that looks like her.

“oh-! ice cream, and… and, megumi-nii’s ps5, and.. and.. your hair, dada!” she cheers, her little voice full of excitement as she bounces up and down.

“you’re so good at this. all those things look different from you, don’t they? but they’re pretty to you anyway, right?”

“yep!”

“so… come on here, help your old man out,” he prompts. “what does that make you?”

“i’m pretty too?”

“that’s right. you got a buy one get one free, you know! you got your mama’s beauty and you got six eyes, when most kids only have two! they’re just jealous.” he insists. “they all are.”

“i have six?” she asks in wonder, and just like that she’s on board, her eyes going round and wide behind her goggles. he nods, reaching up to ruffle her little plaits with a grin. then he glances over at you, switching your daughter over to hold with his other arm so that he can pull you close, loop a long arm protectively around your shoulders as you walk and just like that, he’s holding both of his favorite girls.

“yep, and they’re the prettiest eyes ever, this much prettier than your dada’s,” you singsong, cracking a grin and spreading your arms out as a makeshift measurement.

“ouch,” satoru whines, playfully offended. “unfortunately, she’s right.”

“i’m prettier than you, dada!” she giggles, and it means the world to see her spirits lifted once more.

“you’re the prettiest in the world, jellybean. never let anyone tell you otherwise.” you pinch her cheek, earning one of those sweet giggles from her. “our pretty, special baby girl.”

later on tonight, you’ll have a more serious conversation with her about how though the world will sneer and treat her differently because she doesn’t look like society expects her to, she is beautiful despite it all. that she is a product of love, of the most ardent kind. and heart, and happiness. that she is the best thing in the world and you would not trade her for anybody else.

tomorrow, you’ll be raising hell against that school for letting children bully your daughter, for a child having to defend herself against discrimination. but right now, the last thing you say after the school calls and says that your five-year-old got into a fight with another student during recess is “let’s get you ice cream that looks like you to celebrate causing your first black eye!”

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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elixirina · 3 months ago

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Can I request a Jason Todd X Wondergirl!Reader where shes Wonder woman's daughter and side kick?

They were super close and started dating b4 be died as Robin, and they reunite after his revival.

The JL and Young Justice shipped them like crazy, Bruce looked at her like a daughter, and she was also close with Dick and Tim.

Similar to how Dick had Donna, Tim has Cassie, Jason has Reader 💓

It can be smut, fluff, angst, or a combination, I really don't mind, I love all of your work it's addictive 💕💕💕

If you don't mind, you can ignore this aspect if you want, but could WonderGirl reader have long voluminous ginger curly hair? Similar to how Greek Girls in renaissance paintings have? Idk it's just super cute for me.

Anyways, take care and keep doing what your doing 🫶🫶🫶

hello my beautiful anon! i really loved this idea, i incorporated most of what you said, minus the ginger hair (mainly because i want the reader to remain ambiguous)! however, i hope you like it, as i liked it very very much!

# definition of love — jason todd

synopsis — jason is found dead shortly after you began dating. it hit you like a train, and after a few years, you figured you had moved on. guess you’re proven wrong when you spot a figure who looks just like your boy.

warnings — nothing much, a timeline of events kind of, reader is diana’s daughter and sidekick. angst with a happy ending, reader literally having a mental breakdown twice, typical gf losing bf situation maybe a bit worse, reader has some amazonian features, reader's wondergirl suit is like diana's only the colors are like swapped so the top half is blue instead of red and the skirt is red, but the gold remains the same, as does the headband. this was proofread, but i probably overlooked a spelling mistake like always. i don't think there’s anything else

please please please reblog and like 🤍

seredipity (n.) finding something good without looking for it.

being wondergirl was like a dream come true. you couldn't lie that there were times you wanted to bash your head into a rock because of how stressful it was, but it gave you an excuse to spend time with your mother 24/7.

you were only 13, but your mother had started training you young. she claimed it was for your own protection, but you weren't necessarily sure that was the reason. nevertheless, you obliged and to be honest, it was fun.

getting to spend time with your mother and fight crime? hell yeah! plus, that meant you got to meet the justice league. the idea of it had always flown over your head, but when your mother finally came to you with the idea, you beamed.

luckily for you, that day had arrived as quickly as you had hoped. you were nervous to the point where you were shaking. you had met the young justice before and they were the nicest people you'd ever interacted with, given how close they were to your age. yet, this, this was different.

it seemed way more professional than when you met the young justice.

you stood beside your mother, as she showed you around the justice league headquarters. natural light streamed in through large, arched skylights and tall windows. the sun blared in your face, and it made you feel warm.

could this go any faster?

jason walked in beside bruce in his robin suit. he figured he looked stupid, but he always did when he put on the suit. when bruce had brought up the idea of meeting the justice league, he expected a much cooler headquarters. the hall of justice looked so...bland.

the walls were shade of cream, and a massive, glowing emblem of a shield stood in the main hall. the pair walked on the white marble floor.

in jason's eyes, he looked like a big ball of color surrounded by white. the boy had completely zoned out as bruce walked him through the establishment, talking and talking away.

he had completely forgot where he was when he spotted your flowing hair. he watched as you methodically fiddled with your red skirt. the blue and white on your bodice matched the skirt of the woman next to you. a woman he'd only assumed to be wonder woman.

bruce, unbeknownst to jason's staring, had led the latter over you and your mother, with plans of introducing you and jason.

your mother took notice of bruce's presence quickly, stopping her conversation with you. you watched as the two adults greeted each other with a smile.

bruce averted his gaze to you, looking down at your figure. "you must be y/n. i'm bruce. diana speaks highly of you." his words made your cheeks go warm and you smiled sheepishly.

"i would hope so." you rubbed your bare bicep, your nervousness coming back to you.

the man let out a chuckle, before turning over to the boy next to him. the boy you hadn't even noticed until now. and the minute you did, you felt everything stop. it felt weird, this had never happened before. whenever you met new people your age, you smiled and said hi, but you couldn't bring yourself to do any of that.

his presence hit you like the first bloom of spring after a long, harsh winter.

"this is my son, jason." bruce simply said, and jason's eyes widened, mainly because bruce called him his son, but also because this meant he had to say hi to you and he didn't even know if he could still speak.

you shook off everything you felt and gave the boy in front of you a smile. the three primary colors on his suit and the contrast between his and bruce's almost made you giggle.

the air seemed charged with something electric; tangible yet invisible. you gave him a wave which he very quickly returned. he quickly looked down at the marble floor and you watched him.

you couldn't stop thinking about that the entire day. and to be honest, it made you less nervous about meeting the justice league members. they were incredibly nice, but you just couldn't keep your eye off of jason.

you sure hoped you'd see boy wonder again.

best friend (n.) someone who will stand up for you in the times you need it most. keep your secrets close, and someone you trust with your life.

you were now 14. maybe you had a little crush on jason, but nevertheless, he was your best friend, so that didn't matter to you. what mattered was that you were with him, and he was with you; you sure as hell did not want to lose him.

the two of you sat on a rooftop, your feet dangling in the air. your gold headband held your hair back to the best of its ability as the warm summer wind began to pick up. the sun had set, making the sky a beautiful dark blue and the clock was nearing twelve.

you and jason had always spent your time on this rooftop. it gave you a perfect view of gotham and it was a perfect place for the two of you to escape your parents.

you got lost in conversation on this day, like always. hearing his laugh sent a shiver down your spine like always. you could never get used to it; it was like music to your ears.

in all those moments you'd spent on that rooftop, time slowed, stretching into something so ethereal. it made it so memorable.

talking to him was just so easy, one of the reasons you became friends. he just understood and so did you. he was like a piece of your puzzle you didn't know you were missing. and you loved it. you loved-

"if stars could talk, what do you think they'd say about us?" jason broke the short silence between the two of you. the random question made you chuckle.

you turned your head to face him with a smile, "what?" you tilt your head and jason swears it might just be the cutest thing he's ever seen.

jason grins like a cheshire cat, "i mean like, do you think they laugh at our problems and shit?" he always loved conversations like this. he only ever said stupid stuff to see you smile. every time you smiled, it felt like his heart was blossoming flowers.

"language. and you are so weird." you laughed, your hands gripped the concrete edge of the roof top.

"i am not weird. i just have a big imagination." he quickly defended, throwing his right hand in the air. his left hand, which sat on the concrete edge was lingering closer to your hand; none of you noticed.

you let out a snicker before sitting in a comfortable silence, staring at the sky. only a few stars were visible in the sky, mainly due to the amount of light.

you looked down at your left wrist subtly, a gold watch around it. it was a watch your mother had given you for your 12th birthday. you couldn't recall why you rarely ever took it off, but you were grateful you had it at that moment.

you averted your gaze to the boy next to you who was looking down at his lap with a smile on his face.

"happy birthday, jace."

he looked over, the wind blowing a strand of hair in his face. his eyebrows furrowed for a second before he realized it must've been the next day.

you smiled at him, laying your head on his shoulder. he couldn't keep his gaze off of you, and most of all, he couldn't believe you remembered.

god, he loved this.

lover (n.) 1. a person who is in love with another. 2. a person who has a strong enjoyment or liking for something. 3. a person who loves, especially a person who has or shows a warm and general affectionate regard for others.

"ow. ow. ow." the word became a mantra, a rhythmic complaint that escaped your lips as you lay sprawled on jason’s bed in the manor. the sharp sting in your thigh was unrelenting, a painful reminder of your ill-fated encounter with a kitchen knife and a tray of horribly cut brownies.

the room smelled strongly of antiseptic from the first aid kit jason had torn into moments earlier, the tangy scent mingling with the woodsy warmth of his cologne. that was one smell you could never forget. a crimson gash marred your right thigh, the jagged line oozing blood in slow paths that tickled even as they burned.

jason sat beside you, his expression torn between concern and mild exasperation as he worked quickly to stop the bleeding. the soft rustle of gauze and the metallic clink of scissors filled the otherwise quiet room, broken only by your repeated "ow"s and his hushed apologies.

"sorry, sorry," jason muttered, his voice low and sincere, though his hands remained steady. his jaw clenched as he pressed a clean cloth against your skin, the pressure sharp enough to make you wince.

"remind me to never put you in a kitchen again," he quipped, glancing up briefly with the hint of a smirk.

you rolled your eyes, propping yourself up on your elbows despite the dull ache spreading through your leg. "it was an accident," you retorted, a touch defensive. "i am perfectly capable of knifework."

he raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching as if to suppress a laugh. "yeah, sure. because slicing your own leg is totally a pro move."

"very funny," you deadpanned, though your lips quirked in a reluctant smile. okay, maybe you weren’t the most graceful person when it came to handling sharp objects. blades weren’t exactly in your forte, and your mom was usually the one wielding kitchen utensils with precision.

jason snickered, the sound soft and melodic but undeniably amused, as he leaned closer to inspect the wound. his focus was intense, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his dark lashes framed his eyes or the small scar that laid on his jawline.

the bandaging took longer than it should have—partly because he was extremely meticulous, and partly because he kept stealing glances at you, his gaze lingering a second too long. his fingers brushed against your skin, the contact feather-light yet electric, sending a shiver up your spine.

he tied the bandage in place with a precise knot, tapping your thigh gently to signal he was done. the touch was brief but warm, leaving a faint heat in its wake.

"there," he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "all better."

"thanks," you mumbled, sitting up fully and letting your weight settle into the mattress. your hand rested on top of your freshly bandaged thigh, as if testing the sturdiness of his work.

jason scooted closer, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. his presence felt larger than life, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in, a quiet tension settling between you. you could feel the air shift—charged, unspoken—but neither of you moved to break it.

he tilted his head, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before snapping back to your face. "so… do i need to keep you on knife probation, or are you gonna behave?"

you rolled your eyes again, though your smile this time was genuine. "depends. are you volunteering to cook for me forever?"

his laugh was soft, a little breathless. "if it means you don’t bleed all over my bed again? sure."

despite jason’s earlier declaration, the two of you found yourselves in the manor’s sprawling kitchen. you’d insisted on redeeming yourself, though he stood watch like a hawk, his arms crossed and an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“alright prince,” he teased, leaning against the counter. “show me what you’ve got. just… keep the knives far, far away.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, grabbing a whisk with exaggerated confidence. “watch and learn, todd.”

the two of you fell into a rhythm, the kitchen filling with the comforting clatter of bowls and utensils. jason couldn’t resist stepping in every now and then, fixing your grip on a spatula or adding a pinch of seasoning to your mixture.

“bossy much?” you quipped as he reached around you to adjust the temperature on the oven

“Just trying to save b’s kitchen from a second massacre,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

at some point, the two of you devolved into playful chaos. A light dusting of flour ended up on jason’s shirt—your doing, of course. he retaliated with a swipe of chocolate from the batter bowl, smearing it on your cheek with a triumphant grin.

“truce!” you laughed, holding your hands up in surrender.

jason smirked, stepping closer. his eyes softened as he reached out with a damp cloth, gently wiping away the smear. “you’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

your breath caught as his hand lingered near your face. the playful energy between you shifted, the air thickening with something unspoken. his thumb brushed your cheek, the touch feather-light, but enough to send a jolt through you.

“jason,” you whispered, his name barely audible.

he hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, his forehead grazing yours as his eyes searched your face. “i’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a breath.

then, without another word, his lips found yours. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing the waters. but it didn’t take long for it to deepen, his hand cupping your jaw while the other found its place at your waist.

the world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

when you finally pulled apart, his eyes sparkled with a mix of relief and mischief. “you know,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk, “you’re even worse at baking than I thought.”

you laughed, your forehead resting against his. “we just made out and the first thing you do afterwards is insult me?”

“i wouldn’t call it an insult, just a mere fact.” he replied, brushing a stray hair from your face.

you shook your head, closing the distance between your lips once more.

grief (n.) deep sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death.

jason was missing. at least, that’s what it seemed like. the last time you saw him was two days ago. to say you were worried would be an understatement.

you’d even gone to the manor, desperate to find him, but neither he nor bruce were there. alfred, usually a source of calm and clarity, had only said, “i’m afraid i can’t explain,” before retreating into the quiet dignity he always carried. those words lingered in your mind, growing heavier with each repetition.

now, two days had passed. two painfully slow, gut-wrenching days where time seemed to drag its feet. sleep had become an impossibility, your bed feeling cold and empty. food felt like an afterthought—how could you eat when every thought spiraled back to jason? was he hurt? was he in trouble? was he…?

you didn’t dare finish that thought.

sitting at the kitchen island, you tapped your fingers against the cool marble countertop in a restless rhythm. the sound filled the silence of the house, a constant reminder of your unease. diana stood across from you, pouring hot chocolate into two mugs, her presence steady yet unable to dispel the dark cloud hanging over you.

she glanced up, her eyes soft with understanding. “it’ll be okay,” she said, though her voice wavered ever so slightly.

you didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the swirls of the marble as though the patterns might hold the answers you so desperately needed.

when diana moved to the refrigerator for the whipped cream, a soft knock echoed through the house. it was almost hesitant, as though the person on the other side knew the weight of what they carried.

your head snapped up, and diana caught your movement, raising a hand. “i’ll get it,” she said gently.

you watched as she walked to the entrance hall, her back straight but her steps slower than usual, as if she sensed what was coming. she opened the door, and the chill of the evening air rushed in, making the hairs on your arms rise.

there stood bruce, dressed sharply in a suit and tie, his presence commanding as always. but tonight, his usual stoicism was cracked, a melancholic look etched into his face.

diana froze, her hand still gripping the door. “bruce?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “what’s wrong?”

he didn’t answer right away. his jaw clenched, and he bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes avoiding hers. for a man who had faced countless battles and tragedies, this moment seemed to unravel him. his silence spoke volumes.

diana swallowed hard, her grip on the door tightening. she didn’t press him, though every second of quiet stretched unbearably. finally, bruce exhaled shakily, breaking the silence.

“jason is dead.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and final.

diana’s breath hitched audibly, and she let out a small gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. she reached out, pulling bruce into a hug. he stiffened at first, his shoulders rigid under the weight of his grief, but then he let himself lean into her, if only for a moment.

when she pulled back, her hands lingered on his arms. “what am i going to tell y/n?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

bruce didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the ground.

how does one tell their daughter her boyfriend is dead?

how does one tell their son's girlfriend he's dead?

your voice cut through the air, startling them both. you stood a few feet behind diana, your brow furrowed with confusion. the cold wind from the open door brushed past you, sending a shiver down your spine.

bruce turned to look at you, and for a moment, the man who was always so unshakable seemed small. his lips parted, but no sound came.

“bruce!” you said, your voice rising slightly as panic crept in. “is… is jason here?” you tilted your head, your fingers fidgeting against your palm.

the way his jaw tightened, the way diana avoided your gaze—it was enough to send your heart racing.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, forcing a shaky laugh. “why are you both looking at me like that?”

diana finally raised her head, tears brimming in her eyes. she stepped closer to you, her movements slow and deliberate.

“mom?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

she reached out, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. her touch was warm, grounding, but the look in her eyes made your stomach twist.

“he’s gone,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “jason’s dead.”

the world seemed to tilt, the weight of her words crashing into you like a tidal wave. for a moment, everything blurred—the sound of the wind, the warmth of her hand, even the beating of your own heart.

“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “no, he’s not.”

"y/n.." diana began.

you backed away, letting her hand fall awkwardly. "no. no. you're lying," you looked over at bruce who was staring at the ground with such remorse. "you're lying, right?"

his silence was enough to make you sob.

after that day, nothing was the same. the world felt muted, like someone had dialed down the color and sound until everything was a dull, lifeless gray. days and nights blurred together, each one dragging on endlessly but offering no relief.

sleep was an elusive stranger. you spent most nights tossing and turning, tangling yourself in the sheets in a futile attempt to find a position where the ache in your chest didn’t feel so unbearable. when you did manage to drift off, it never lasted long.

the nightmares always came—flashes of his face, his laugh, his touch, and then, nothing. you’d wake up gasping, tears already streaming down your cheeks before you were fully conscious. the pillow beneath you was damp most mornings, a stark reminder of the storm you couldn’t escape.

the days weren’t any easier. you locked yourself in your room, the blinds drawn tight to keep the light out. sunlight felt wrong, almost offensive. how could the sun rise and set when your world had stopped?

your phone buzzed occasionally with concerned texts from dick and artemis, but the effort it took to type a single reply felt monumental. ‘okay.’ that was all you could manage, even though it was far from the truth.

your chest felt hollow, as though someone had reached inside and carved out every piece of you that mattered, leaving behind only a raw, jagged void. every breath was a battle—a sharp, painful reminder that you were still here, and he wasn’t.

the leather jacket he left at your house hung in your closet, untouched except for that one night when the grief was too heavy to bear. you’d pulled it down, burying your face in the worn material, desperately searching for the scent of him, the smallest piece of him that you could still hold onto.

at first, the faint smell of his cologne brought a flicker of comfort, but it was fleeting. the memories came rushing in, one after another, relentless and unforgiving. you crumpled to the floor, clutching the jacket to your chest as sobs wracked your body.

even now, the jacket remained where you’d left it—folded on the floor, too painful to look at yet impossible to put away. It was a symbol of him, of everything you’d lost, and it seemed to radiate its own grief, mirroring yours.

the hours crept by, each one heavier than the last. you existed in a haze of sorrow, your body moving through the motions of life while your mind remained stuck in the past, replaying moments with him like a scratched record. every laugh, every glance, every touch—they were all there, vivid and cruel reminders of what you’d never have again.

a year went by. then two. hen three. the grief hadn’t left, not really—it had just learned to settle in the cracks of your soul. you’d found ways to cope, ways to live. for the most part, anyway. the ache was still there, but it no longer kept you locked inside your house, staring at the ceiling, waiting for answers that would never come.

you started spending a lot of more time with dick. he had been a quiet but steady presence in the aftermath, his support unspoken yet deeply felt. he never pushed you to talk, but he always seemed to know when you needed someone to sit with you in the silence. with him, the weight felt a little lighter, the memories a little less suffocating.

about a year after jason's death, you’d met tim. the new robin. It had been a shock at first—seeing someone else in that uniform, someone who wasn’t him. but tim was different. he wasn’t trying to fill jason’s shoes; he was carving his own path, and over time, you grew close to him. he became another thread in the fragile net that kept you grounded, kept you moving forward.

life continued, in its strange, fractured way. then, one afternoon, everything shifted.

you had decided to take a walk downtown—a simple attempt to clear your head. the streets were bustling, the noise of cars and chatter filling the air. you ducked into a quiet bookstore for a while, thumbing through a few titles before stepping back out onto the pavement. you hadn't been in this particular bookstore in years. the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city.

and that’s when you saw him.

at first, it was just a figure in the crowd. but something about the way he moved caught your eye. the familiar stride. the way his head turned slightly as though he’d caught someone’s attention. your breath hitched in your throat, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

it couldn’t be. it couldn’t be.

but it looked so much like him. too much like him.

you froze on the spot, your body rooted to the ground as the figure walked away, blending into the crowd. you wanted to move, to call out, but your legs wouldn’t listen. your hands trembled as they clutched your bag, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes.

you stumbled back into the nearest alley, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. leaning against the cold brick wall, you tried to steady yourself, but the world was spinning. you clenched your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms against them as though you could will the image away.

it wasn’t him. it could not be him.

but the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was growing, fast and wild, threatening to overtake your rationality.

by the time you made it home, you were shaking. the moment the door closed behind you; the dam broke. you collapsed onto the floor, the sobs tearing through you with a force that felt almost violent.

“jason,” you whispered, his name a prayer and a curse all at once.

the pain you’d worked so hard to manage came crashing back, sharper than ever. you cried until your throat was raw, until your body ached from the force of it. the walls of your apartment seemed to close in on you, suffocating and unforgiving. you didn’t care.

the image of the figure haunted you, replaying in your mind over and over. you wanted to believe it was him. you wanted to believe that somehow, against all odds, he was alive. but you couldn’t let yourself hope. hope was dangerous.

two days passed before you felt steady enough to leave the house. dick had invited you to the manor for dinner, saying bruce wanted to discuss something. you agreed reluctantly, still shaken from what you’d seen, but knowing you couldn’t keep isolating yourself.

seated in the dining room, you looked between bruce and dick, their expressions unusually grim.

“why do I feel like this isn’t just dinner?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

bruce sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “we’ve been tracking a new vigilante in gotham,” he said finally. “calls himself the red hood.”

the name sent a chill down your spine, but you kept your expression neutral. “and?”

dick hesitated, glancing at bruce before speaking. “he’s... unconventional. brutal. we’ve crossed paths with him a few times now, and his methods are extreme.”

“extreme how?” you pressed, your stomach knotting with unease.

“he’s not afraid to kill,” bruce said flatly. “he goes after criminals with precision and rage. he knows things about us, about gotham, that no one outside the family should know.”

the knot in your stomach tightened. “what are you trying to say?”

dick leaned forward, his voice softer now. “we think he might have a connection to jason.”

your breath hitched, and you gripped the armrest of the chair. “what kind of connection?”

bruce’s jaw tightened. “we don’t know yet. but his tactics, his targets... there are too many similarities to ignore.”

the room fell silent as you processed their words. the figure in the crowd flashed in your mind again. could it really be him?

but no, it couldn’t. jason was gone.

and yet, for the first time in three years, the possibility lingered.

love (n.) an intense emotion of affection, warmth, fondness, and regard towards a person or thing.

you couldn't bring yourself to stop thinking about that day in the bookstore and the dinner at the manor. it hit you like a train. you had truly thought you were over it.

you believed that no reminder of him was going to make you break down ever again. that melancholy and remorse? you thought it was gone. why did it have to be back?

why couldn't you be normal about it? what made this so damn difficult?

of course, you still loved him. you would never stop. you knew that for a fact. but no one told you that grief was so hard.

it felt suffocating. the weight on your shoulders came back and suddenly, you weren't so grounded anymore. god, you wanted to believe he was alive. just to make everything easier. you just wanted the cure to all of this.

your mother noticed something was off when she came to visit you, but you immediately turned her comfort down, saying it was just stress.

she knew that wasn't the case.

nevertheless, she left you alone and later that night, you found yourself in your suit on that very rooftop you and jason loved so much.

your feet dangled off of the concrete edge, staring into the night sky. the sky above was an inky black, its darkness punctuated by a few stubborn stars that managed to shine through the haze of city lights. the hum of the city rose faintly from below, but up here, it felt like the world had paused, leaving only you and the endless night.

from the rooftop, the city stretched out in every direction, its neon signs and glowing windows casting a faint orange haze over the horizon. above it all, the moon hung pale and solitary, its light soft and distant, as though reluctant to reach the ground.

it reminded you so much of him. the ability to talk to him and never know when to stop. he never failed to make you smile or laugh. god, you missed his laugh. you missed his smile and you longed for his smell.

you closed your eyes, and his face came to you, unbidden. his crooked smile, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. the way he used to look at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. god, you missed him. you missed everything about him.

he was so good to you, and he was gone.

your chest tightened, the hollow ache inside you growing unbearable. you leaned forward slightly, your arms wrapping around yourself as though you could hold yourself together. the rooftop had always been your sanctuary, but tonight, it felt like a prison.

you leaned back just in time to hear a rather modulated voice come from behind you.

"i thought you would've stopped coming here."

you jumped at the voice, immediately standing up. you gripped onto your lasso which laid attached to your red skirt. the rooftop was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights below. shadows stretched across the concrete, and the figure in front of you emerged from one of them like something out of a nightmare.

fortunately, the red helmet that covered his head gave it away and ultimately, you knew who you were facing. red hood.

"what do you want?" you simply questioned, straightening your back.

he made an effort to step towards you but stopped when you put your hand up as a way to stop him. he sighed, though it was barely audible. "i'm not gonna hurt you. i would ne-" he cut himself off, looking down at the ground.

you raised your eyebrows, letting your hand make its way back to your side. your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as your eyes locked onto the tall figure before you. you eyed him up and down.

he left no room for questioning when you heard a clank. you looked down at the ground and say that same red helmet that was just on his head, lying on the ground.

you looked up at him and your shoulders slumped. the grip on your lasso loosened and your breath hitched.

oh god, were you dreaming? surely, this couldn't be real.

standing before you was jason todd. your jason. your boy. he had certainly grown, standing at a little over 6'0, 6'1? you could see how toned he was through his suit. his hair was longer than before, and there were faint scars on his still beautiful face.

"baby..." he uttered out, biting the inside of his cheek.

how does one tell their girlfriend that they came back from the dead?

you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around him. you needed to touch him, to feel him. this was your chance. this was the cure. you felt him stiffen a bit under you before completely melting into your touch, wrapping his arms around you securely. it almost felt like he was scared to let you.

"i thought i-" your voice broke as you pulled your head back a bit to look at him. "i missed you, jace." the way his name rolled off your tongue so easily sent a chill down his spine. he missed this. he missed you.

his throat tightened as he looked down at you, guilt and regret written across his face. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but it filled your ears like a soft melody. you had missed hearing it—hearing him. just hearing him speak to you like this, like he still cared, made everything else feel less heavy.

you tilted your head, your eyebrows furrowed with confusion. god, he missed that. "why?"

he swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving your face. “i didn’t look for you first. i should’ve. and then… i did things. horrible things. i mean, i killed people, y/n. so many people. and i—i don’t expect you to forgive me. i don’t even know if you can.” he paused, running a shaky hand through his hair. “but, but i can change. for you, i can. i just wanted you to know that. i… i just wanted to tell you that i’m still me. i’m still your jason.”

"then, that's all that matters." you stated, placing a hand on his cheek. it felt so much better to touch him. "i can't leave you. not when i just got you back." you sniffled.

you smiled for the first time, and he felt himself turn into jelly. he missed you and he missed that damn smile.

a shaky breath escaped him as his hands cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheek softly. “fuck, i don’t deserve you,” he said hoarsely.

you shook your head, smiling through the tears that were now falling freely down your face. “you don’t have to deserve me, jason,” you whispered. “you already have me. also, language.”

he shook his head as he pulled you in close, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss, as though afraid to push too far. but you kissed him back with all the love and longing you had kept hidden for so long. when you pulled away, both of you breathless, jason rested his forehead against yours.

“i always thought you looked good in red. i could get used to this.” you remarked, referring to the red helmet that was still laying on the red.

he smiled softly, placing a hand on the fabric of your crimson skirt. “got it from you.”

god, you loved this man.

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sparklingblu · 9 months ago

Text

Parádeisos

Miyeon X Male Reader

(Wrote this one based on the tale of Calypso in the Odyssey, bear with my obsession of mythologies)

People call Helen of Troy the face that launched a thousand ships.

That's because they have never seen Miyeon.

Not like you have any idea what Helen looks like. But if a hundred thousand people go to war for her, she must have been a pretty big deal. You would do the same thing for Miyeon. But there isn't anyone who will steal her to start a war or rather, no one can't. That's her problem.

As you stared at her amidst the lush grass under the shade of the trees, you couldn't help but admire how she looked so ethereal, almost inhuman. The way her hair fluttered in the breeze, the delicate fabric of her dress hugging her frame, her eyes that reflected the color of the summer sky. All seemed perfectly orchestrated to capture your attention like a snare and pulled you in deeper like a vortex.

She plucked a flower with her slender fingers and a faint smile crept across her face. You were glad because she rarely smiled, always foreboding with a mysterious expression with her brows furrowed. You wanted to help her except that when you tried to talk to her, she became silent. A few words here, a few words there. Never enough to make a conversation. At this point, you are certain she hated you.

As if to prove your point, she met your gaze with a scowl and tured her attention back towards another organism that wouldn't bother her unlike you. You sighed, shifting your body to turn towards the wide blue sea that seemed to stretch endlessly. The occasional waves rising and falling, sweeping away the white sand of the beach, glittering in the sunlight like diamonds. The crest of the hill surrounding the slopy geography of the island on either sides slithered down smoothly to encircle the beach at either sides.

It's an absolutely panoramic view and you could stare at it for hours. But that's what you had been doing for god knows how long. "Time flows differently here" Miyeon had said. For the love of god, you could have been stranded on this island for a millennia. Everyone in the outside world you know gone forever.

Considering, they even remember you exist. You have never been much of a social type. You were sitting in a corner at prom, sipping on coke when others danced around with their dates. That doesn't mean you are a nerd either. Sure, you studied and your grades weren't bad but not enough to be considered a geek.

You grew up, graduated with a major in Classics and through highs and lows became a professor at a relatively young age. Things were starting to look good when you got a call from a University in another city, telling you you have been chosen. You got on a plane a week later, headed to a new start. Nothing could go wrong, right?

Except that everything did. The first thing you remember is the way the plane suddenly jerked. Then came the sound of the air hostess on the intercom and the flashing emergency lights. You held on to your oxygen mask and prayed to whatever god is out there as the jet spiralled to a free fall. Your internal organs felt like they were on fire.

The sound of the aircraft colliding to a surface of water is the last thing on your mind before you passed out.

Dead would have been a luxury compared to the agonizing pain that accompanied your wake. The first thing on your mind, of course, I'm alive. Then you opened your eyes and started doubting.

The warm glow of the fire in the hearth and the crackling firewood sent a wave of relief over your psyche. You were lying in a bed so fluffy it could have been a cloud. Pulling down the sheets, you sat up.

The faint smell of a stew brewing greets your nostrils, churning your stomach. How long have you been out without food or water? You were clueless.

The rest of the room is circular, the walls solid rock. Countless little crystals the size of your fist glowing like fireflies were embedded in the ceiling, casting an eerie gloom over the cave, making the shadows dance. You have watched in a tv show that Heaven is where you stay in your happiest moments forever. This was not so far from it.

You have always imagined living in a little house by the ocean, free from the hustle of the outside world. Just reading a good book and basking under the sun everyday. Is that it? Have you achieved that?

Out of the corner of your eyes, a shadow slithered across the wall, making you jerk your head to the other side.

And god, you finally believed you are in Heaven. Because there was an angel.

Near the foot of your bed stood a girl. Her doe eyes slowly studying you like an interesting specimen. She blinked and her eyelids flattered gracefully. The smell of the stew got stronger and you realized she is holding a tray with a bowl in it, which, no doubt, contained the stew. She held it far enough not to stain her white column dress, which accentuated her curves in the most elegant way possible. Her long blonde hair was swept to one side of her shoulder, up to her collar bones. Her rosy lips unfolded.

"You are awake"

Just three words but melodic enough to pull you back into reality.

"Yeah...where am I?" You uttered, hoping the answer is Heaven.

"Ogygia" she mused.

"Ogygia? Like the one where Odysseus..?"

"Yes" she nodded.

"But it's not real" You protested.

"It is" she retorted with an expression like she was offended. "You are at the heart of it"

"So...that means you are...?"

"Enough questions" she snapped, placing a bow on a low stool that had somehow magically appeared.

"Have some. It will heal you" she said, though her tone didn't sound so enthusiastic. "I will check on you later" And just like that she walked out from an opening at the corner.

You might as well have been dreaming. You are in Ogygia? That's impossible. It doesn't really exist. Or does it?

The story from the Odyssey, an extremely long poem by Homer that you learned back in university rushed back to you. So basically, there's a hero name Odysseus and he went on quests and all. Then at some point, he got stranded on an island called Ogygia where he met a nymph named Calypso, who was punished by the gods for a reason(it will be too long to explain so let's just skip it) and damned to stay there forever. Immortal but unable to leave.

Calypso kept Odysseus on the island for seven years, trying to win his heart but he was either faithful to his wife or just in general hate nymphs. He rejected her everytime until he was finally able to leave the island.

A tragic tale. But that's all to it. It's a tale. If this island is Ogygia, does it mean the girl is Calypso? She doesn't look much like a nymph but god, she is beautiful. Maybe Odysseus was stupid enough to turn down such a beauty.

But that's a matter to deal with later. Currently, your stomach was growling like a wild beast and the smell of the stew is the only thing on your mind. You picked up the bowl and took a spoonful. A warm feeling spread through your core, easing the pain earlier. It tasted a bit like chicken but you couldn't be sure. You dug in, until the bowl left no evidence of the stew and your hunger was qenched.

Calypso or whoever the girl is didn't seem too happy with your arrival but you felt thankful. She took you in afterall, though you were not sure how you ended up here in the first place. You doubt you were worthy like Odysseus to be saved by the gods.

The stew seemed to be working its magic because you started to feel drowsy. Your eyelids felt weighted down by hundred pounds of iron. You set the bowl back on the stool and submerged yourself back in the warm embrace of the sheets.

You didn't know how long you slept but when you open your eyes again, the fire in the hearth had been put out and the crystals in the ceiling have sheathed their glow. A ray of sunlight poured through a hatch in the ceiling.

All your fatigue had been replaced by a new kind of energy. You felt like you could outrun a stallion. (Well, not literally) You got up and stretched. To your surprise, you were wearing the same clothes before your plane crashed. They looked no different from before, cleaner even.

Maybe the girl have washed them? A tinge of excitement ran through your spine. But it quickly disappeared when you remembered she didn't even seem to want to be near you, much less took off your clothes.

You walked through the opening through which the girl had went out before you fell asleep. It opened up into another part of the cave. This one much wider.

A small bed almost identical to the one you slept in lied on one side and a loom on the other. On its side laid stacks of fabrics of different textures and colors. So she's a weaver, you thought.

There was an opening at the end of the cave, giving way to an endless plane of green. You emerged, and the view left you breathless.

As far as your eyes could see, the ocean stretched all around the island. The cave was on a hill, which descended to another hill then to a beach of sparkling white sand.

The most intriguing of all, however, was the garden which stood atop a nearby hill. Filled with vegtation, orchards and endless variety of flowers you had never seen before, it looked like something straight out a fairytale.

You walked down the hill, breathing in the fresh breeze blowing from the sea. You were thinking things couldn't get any better when your eyes caught sight of a slice of heaven.

The girl was on the beach, laying on a blanket, her eyes closed. The two piece swimsuit woven of velvet hugged her body perfectly, outlining every trace of her curves. Her bosoms rised and fell with each breath she took, her flawless skin glowing luminously in the sunlight.

Did she weave that swimsuit herself? You would never know. But you are enjoying the view too much to care. Each breath of hers seemed to fuel your impulse just to walk to her, rip off that swimsuit and-

"Men are all the same"

The words snapped you out of your fantasies. She sat up and turned her head slowly to you, her brows creased.

"Stop staring" she snapped.

"Ehh....I wasn't..."

"Save it" she cut you off. "You slept like a baby"

Was that a compliment? You doubted it.

"Yeah..thanks for you know...saving me"

"I didn't have a choice" her expression turned gloomy. "Sometimes, I don't understand the gods"

"Eh...yes..." you muttered, suddenly remembering the question that has been on your mind. "So you are Calypso..?" you finally dropped it.

She scowled. "God...they still called me that" she picked up a seashell from the sand and twisted it in her fingers. "I grew tired of that name long ago"

"What should I call you then?"

"Miyeon" she answered, throwing the seashell away into the waves. "And you?"

"Gabriel" you answered. "Well, my friends call me Gabie though"

"Gabriel it is then" Miyeon said. A drop of sweat rolled down her temple and god you just wanted to-

"How do you know about me?" Miyeon asked again, crossing her legs smooth as silk.

"Someone named Homer wrote this really long poem and you are featured, you are pretty popular"

"Popular?" she scoffed. "Not for good reasons, I'm sure"

"You did keep Odysseus all to yourself for like seven years so-"

"Oh, shut up" her expression darkened on the mention of her old flame and you knew you had hit a sore spot. "That was like....three thousand years ago, I'm amazed people still talk about it"

"Well, actually I studied all about it"

Her eyebrows raised, like your words made no sense.

"You are a fool" she said. "And a pervert"

"What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Look, I know you have been staring at me, just because my eyes are closed doesn't mean I can't sense you"

"Can you blame me?" you asked, and now you did sound like a pervert.

She let out a chuckle. "You do have your way with words, Gabriel. However, I won't yield" She stood up, brushing off the sand from her thighs. "I guess you are stuck here with me, feel free to explore this dump. If you are hungry, there's something I made" She pointed to a wooden table in the garden. As she bent over to pick up her blanket, you were blessed with the sight of her toned ass.

"So, I can't leave....?" you asked.

"Well, you might...but it's never sure" she replied. "Enjoy doing nothing everyday"

As she walked back up the hill, your mind was left in a state of disbelief and awe.

So, your days on the island of Ogygia begun. And just like Miyeon said, you did almost nothing. Well, it's hard to do anything else except nothing when you were stranded on an island with no electricity or internet. If you were Miyeon, you would have died of boredom long ago even if you were immortal.

Your daily routine consisted primarily of naps and more naps. Whenever you went to your room in the cave to sleep, you never saw Miyeon in her bed. Even when it's nighttime. When you woke up in the morning, she's already in the garden or sometimes at the loom, weaving different dresses of every color. You had to admit her handiwork was impressive but you wondered what's the point of making such dresses if there's no one to show it off to. Well, there's you but it's highly unlikely.

You didn't need to worry about food. They were always on the table in the garden when you needed them. Or you could pluck a fruit from the orchard. Miyeon didn't mind.

You had gone around the island in circles. Mostly, it's hills, trees and grasses. There's a small forest at the east end but you didn't explore it just in case something dangerous lurk there. You have never been much of a fan of dark, secluded places anyway.

That left you with only one option. The beach. You would either sunbathe or just walk around idly, picking up seashells sometimes (which you threw away back into the sand later). The ocean is not bad either. The water is always the right temperature, not too hot or cold. But even swimming, one of your hobbies, become another another gruesome task to get the day by when you did it every single day.

The only silver lining is the ocassional views you get of Miyeon. When she was either sunbathing or swimming, you would sit in a shade and watched her like a film. Maybe she didn't know or she just didn't care because she never gave you a single glance.

Once, the wind blew strong, lifting her skirt up just enough for you to see her cheeks and you praised the gods.

But that's it. You just get to watch. Until now, you had never realized how internet porn is one of the greatest inventions made by humans. Jerking off to your thoughts all the time isn't really doing the job.Thankfully, you have an active imagination. Sometimes, you imagined Miyeon, riding you, sucking you off.

That lead you to wonder, does Miyeon have those urges too? Probably, seeing how she was head over heels for that Odysseus dude. So maybe, she did find a way to relieve them.

You didn't know if someone who have been imprisoned since the dawn of time knew how to masturbuate. Maybe you could teach her. If she didn't turn you into guinea pig first.

You try ticking a mark on a tree nearby with a gardening knife for each day that pass but it got hard when you sometimes fell asleep on the sand under the morning sun and woke up to be greeted by the same warm rays, feeling like you had been out for at least a week.

All this time, Miyeon and you barely interacted. You tried to start conversations, asking her if she needs help in the garden or trying to get her to teach you weaving. But of course, she simply shaked her head, not bothering to waste a word on you.

Apart from being in the middle of nowhere, you thought being ignored by the only person accompanying you is bad enough. Until the events of one night changed it all.

- × - × - ×-

The wind whistled in your ears. The pressure of the air so strong you felt like you are gonna be crashed flat. Darkness ruled every corner of your vision. You were falling, deeper and deeper into the eternal abyss. The growls of beasts echoed from the depths.

You thought you would never stop falling, until something sharp speared your chest.

You woke up with a start. You were sweating like crazy despite the breeze blowing through the hatch in the ceiling. The first dream you had had since you were here. Or rather, the first nightmare.

Feeling thirsty, you looked around for water but had no luck. Usually, Miyeon left a jug on the bedisde table but there wasn't one that night. So you got out of the bed, wiping away the sweat on your forehead.

You found your way out of the room from the glow casted by the crystals. As usual, Miyeon wasn't in bed. You looked around. No water here either. As if to mock you, an unfinished shawl in the loom depicted the shapes of blue waves.

You walked out of the cave, maybe there was some on the garden table. The night was quiet other than the chirps of cicadas. The full moon shone brilliantly on the canvas of the night sky.

Was the moon always full here? You couldn't remember. The distant sound of waves crashing and falling pierced the night.

You headed towards the garden, which beauty never ceased to amaze you. Certain types of flowers bloomed and glowed silver and gold along the path that lead straight across the place. Trees that don't exist in the outer world cast shadows across the shorter plants. It would always be a mystery how Miyeon managed to took care of all of them without fail. You were near the vineyard when you heard a faint sound from the center of the garden.

Beneath the willow tree in the heart of the garden sat a humanoid figure. Your heart skipped a beat. The fear that the nightmare earlier gave birth to still clouded your mind. You never believed such absurdities like ghosts exist but if Ogygia is real, what else could be?

Taking careful steps, you slowly approached to the source of the sound. The moonlight casted a faint glow and the scene in front of you unfolded clearly.

The person beneath the willow tree was no other than Miyeon. But a different version you have never seen before. She sat there, laying against the trunk of the old tree. Her whole body bare. Her legs spread out so obscenely yet so ethereal. The depths of her pink cavern being sown by her middle and ring fingers. She lets out a moan as equally melodic as a sonata with each thrust of fingers into her pussy. Her tits rock hard and heaving with each breath. Those doe eyes of hers that were filled with elegance were now rolled back with pure lust. Her fingers that brought life to her loom now became nothing but a mere tool for her pleasure.

As if under a spell, your gaze was rooted to the scene before you, your heart racing faster with each passing second. If someone came and make you and offer to trade immortality for this moment, you would have rejected it.

Miyeon's body started to shake violently, her toes curling and uncurling. The dripping juice from her pussy start forming a puddle on the grass. Finally, her body jerked, spraying her sweet nectar all over the green plane. She panted softly, sweat trickling down her temple, her blonde hair a messy nest.

That was when you knew you were fucked. Even if you tried to turn now, you would be in her range of sight. If you tried to hide, she could sense you. So you just stood there like a statue, not daring to breath.

Miyeon's eyes slowly opened then focused on you. An expression of pure awe formed on her face which quickly turned into one of disgust and fury.

"You!" she yelled, her voice still hoarse from the moaning earlier. "How long have you been here?"

"Don't get me wrong! I was just trying to-"

"You fucking pervert" she yelled, trying to cover up her assets with her hands. Her brows furrowed and If looks could kill, you would have been dead a thousand times.

"It was an accident, ok? I'm not trying to peek on you. I was justrying to get some water"

"That's your excuse!?" she shriek, her tone no longer mellow. "I should have left you to die on the beach if I have known you are a creep"

"Look, Miyeon. I swear I wasn't trying to-"

"Oh, then what's that?" she pointed below your waist.

You looked down and notice the bulge. Your cock so hard it feels like it's gonna pierce your trousers. You shouldn't have but you blushed.

"Look, I can explain"

"You don't need to explain, get out of here. Leave my island!"

"Wait but how-"

"Leave me alone!" she yelled so loud you thought the ground is going to crack open.

"Fine fine" you replied in a rush and walked out of the garden as swift as you could.

However, the scene you witnessed was embedded in your memory for as long as you live. The way the moonlight showered on her skin, the pure baloney of the hidden side of Miyeon that you never knew exist. The way she reacted was totally opposite from her graceful and tranquil manner. She looked like she was about to kill you and you believed she could.

The silver lining? You knew she did masturbuate now, which meaned she has sexual urges just like anyone. This would have made you hopeful but after what happened, it didn't seem to matter. She hated you now. If you were to wake up as a guinea pig the next day, it wouldn't be a surprise.

With a heavy burden on your mind, you sighed and headed back to the cave.

- × - × - ×-

Your train of thoughts were cut off by a melody that graced your ears. Miyeon was singing. You had heard her sweet voice many times but it never failed to grip your heart. It was just the perfect balance of harmony and rhythm. Most of the times, you don't understand a word she is singing. But you can swear you heard her sang Love Story by Taylor Swift once. You have no clue how she even knew the song.

Miyeon continued her song while she picked flowers of various colors from the garden. A tulip here, a lily there. And another one you don't know the name of. Regardless, her movement were as poised as ever, which brought back the memory of that night.

Since the day of the incident, Miyeon have not uttered a single word to you. She still made you food and occasionally weaved new clothes for you but whenever your gazes met, she would either avert her eyes or scowled.

As the time went on, the silence became unbearable. Sure, she didn't speak to you much before. But it wasn't total silence. Now, you felt like she had ignored your existence which she probably did. It's true that you had been staring but it wasn't intentional (though it was a nice surprise). She was too consumed with rage to hear you out. At least she didn't burn you or turn you into an animal.

You thought of attempting to clear the air between you but you are worried it would push her away even further. You sometimes felt homesick, wanting to return back into the human world. But no one could help you with that, not even Miyeon. According to the myth, the gods had saved Odysseus from this island by sending Hermes, the messenger god, asking Calypso(or Miyeon, whatever) to free him. But Miyeon isn't obsessed with you like she was with Odysseus to even keep you captive. So, there isn't a need to free you. Maybe you can try building a raft and sail away. But staying here seems better instead of dying of hunger and thirst in the middle of the ocean. This island was made by the gods themselves and it can't be escaped in an ordinary way.

You are not so happy with the idea that this island made its inhabitants immortal. What's the join of being immortal if all you do is sleep, eat and swim everyday? You are stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Miyeon's singing had stopped and now her gazes were back on yours. She scowled again but this time her eyes didn't waver. She beckon you with her hand to the cave. A jolt of excitement run through your body. Is she finally forgiving you? Or she's planning to kill you in the cave.

Nevertheless, you sat up and followed her across the hills, her shapely hips swaying with every step. You entered the cave after Miyeon and found her sitting on her bed. The expression in her eyes was unreadablele.

"Look" she spoke the first words in a long time. "Maybe I overreacted"

You wanted to say "Of course, you did" but you forgot about it. "Yeah, I'm sorry too" you apologized, though a part of you didn't want to.

"I was just...you know..." A faint blush appeared on her cheeks. "Trying to...eh..."

"I get it" you said. "That's a very normal thing, humans do it too"

"I know.." she said in a low tone. "But being seemed by someone else, it's embarrassing....and..." she paused and bit her lower lips.

"And?" you asked. You expected another word of resentment but what she said surprise you.

"Hot" she replied and looked down.

You can't believe your ears. She thinks being watched is hot? Her mask of innocence was starting to unravel slowly.

"Hot...?" you mused. "So you like me watching you?"

"In a way, yes" her fingers ran along the bedsheets. "You don't know how it feels to be alone for so long without anyone. Anyone who can satisfy my urges. I try to do it myself but I'm never satisfied. I need something else.....I need...."

'A cock' you thought. All these times, she had never been anything but a cockhungry slut. You shouldn't have been intimidated by her right from the start. Afterall, you are the only one who can give her what she needs.

"I know what you need" you said. "And I have it, don't I?"

Miyeon swallowed and nodded. You had never seen her so vulnerable it give you a sense of superiority. The tables have turned.

"Look, I'm desperate. I'm sorry for the way I acted. But I can't help thinking about your....cock. Since I saw that bulge, I have been in heat" As those filthy words left her mouth, her face turns so red it could have been a tomato. "So, you know, can you...?"

"Eh....I see..." you said with a hint of mockery. "I thought you think I'm a pervert"

"That was long ago!" she quickly retorted. She's that desperate, huh? "And I apologize for it, so if you can just give me...your cock..."

"It's not something that I can just give easily. I have my pride too, you know" That's bullshit. You were just as desperate as her. But you masked it better.

"Please, I will do anything" she begged again.

"Anything?" you started imagining scenarios.

"Yes"

"Like what?"

"I...I can suck you off..." she murmured quietly.

"What was that, Miyeon?"

"I will give you a blowjob" she said, much louder this time.

The corners of your mouth twitched into a wicked smile.

"Hmm, I don't know....is it really worth it?" you pushed her even farther.

"Please, I will make sure you are satisfied. You can cum wherever you want"

The idea of her perfect body covered in cum finally lead you to your decision.

"Alright but I will leave if you are not good"

"I promise!"

"Fine..."

"Please lay on the bed" she said, gesturing towards her bed.

You follow her orders, sinking into the feather bed. Miyeon slowly crawled up your legs until she reached your crotch area. She traced her fingers along your already bulging cock like it's something delicate.

"Finally..." she murmured dreamily as she slowly pulled down your pants and it sprung up to hit her in the nose.

"This smell..." she brushed her nose against the underside of your shaft. Then she pressed it to her cheeks, making her head look so much smaller. "So big..."

Finally, she started planting wet kisses along the side of your cock, sending a jolt to your spine each time. Those rosy lips of hers brushing against your unholiest place. After she pestered your shaft with kisses, she moved to the tip, where she trailed her tongue slowly across the sensitive slit then swirling her tongue.

"God, Miyeon, don't stop..." you tried not to sound desperate but it gets harder with each dance of her tongue.

She slowly started to take your tip into the warm embrace of her mouth, moving her head in a constant pace. Her fingers stroke from the base to her lips, then back again. The way her fingers move is just as masterful as the time she weaved, tracing every pulsing vein.

Her lips opened up to take more of your cock, half of it now being licked and gobbled in her warm cavern. Her pace increased, matching the rhythm of her fingers. The sound of spit squelching echo around the room. Each time your cock disappeared into her mouth, she would hum, sending vibrations across your shaft.

With each twirl and twist of her tongue, her pace increased even more. She had swallowed most of your cock now and her hands were on your thigh, holding on for support.

"Mmmphh" she mewled as your whole manhood disappeared into her mouth and her nose pressed right against your pelvis. She held you in her throat for a moment before she comes up for air, gagging and spilling spit. After a second of rest, she went down again, swallowing you like a vulture. Her blonde hair bobbed with each movement of her head. You realize her mouth does more than just sing. Her tongue is no less masterful as it traced along the underside and dance on your tip.

You fetl like your body is floating. The pleasure of her mouth made you yearn for it more and more. You didn't want this feeling of pure bliss to stop.

Her cheeks hollowed, sucking the life right out of you as her tongue greedily lapped up your precum. You were not a virgin and you had had your fair share of experience but the way her mouth worked is out of this world. (It literally is) She came up for air again, her chin dripping with her spit mixed with your precum.

"Ugh......so... juicy....." she panted s she looked at you with eyes full of ecstasy. And that look reminded you, you need her mouth back on your cock right now.

Without warning, you grabbed her hair and impale her mouth on your cock, stuffing her throat with your length. She struggled at first then calms down, as you hold her there, your fingers tangled in her locks. Her throat pulsed against your own pulsing cock, squeezing your tip.

"You don't stop unless I tell you to, ok?" you demanded.

She nodded furiously, feeling the lack of air as your cock blocks all her pathways of oxygen. You jerked her head up from her hair, look at her ruined face, then pressed it onto your cock again. You repeated the motion rapidly, using her like a fleshlight.

As he throat constricted around your mamba, you started feeling the familiar sensation of the finale approaching to this act. There's so many ways to fill Miyeon up or paint her. Then an idea came to your mind.

You stop thrusting Miyeon's mouth on your cock and let go of her hair. Her head tilted ninety degrees, gagging loudly then coughing.

"Miyeon. lay on the bed sideways but hang your head off the sides" you ordered as you get off the bed and Miyeon complied, shifting her position so that her head now hanged loosely from the side of the bed.

"Good slut" you praised as you take your position in front of her, gripping her throat and shoving your dick all the way in. Your balls slapped her nose and her eyes widened but then relaxed. You started thrusting your cock into her wet vulgar hole, admiring how her thraot bulged from the foreign object entering it.

Miyeon let you use her hole without complaint, lying there still as you get closer to nirvana with each thrust. You pulled your cock out all the way then back in with so much force, Miyeon's body jerked.

"Miyeon. I'm gonna..."

Your flood gates broke open. You shoot load after load of thick cum into Miyeon's throat, which she gulped down eagerly. But it must have been too much, because she started to cough, which is hard to do with a cock in her throat. She could drown in your cum, she asked for it. You kept thrusting until you finally came down from your euphoric high.

You pulled out your cock and the mixture of spit and cum flowed down from her mouth to every part of her angelic face. She murmurs in a ragged voice. "Thanks..."

"You are welcome" you said, admiring the beauitful mess, which is Miyeon. Her chest heaving and her mouth gaped open like a fish. Her face covered in spit.

She started to get up from her position, her hands pressed against the bed for support, but you had other ideas. As she was just getting off the bed, you pushed her head back down into the mattress, her lower body dangling from the side of the bed.

You pushed her head deeper into the mattress muffling her scream. With the other hand, you pulled up her white dress from the hem, exposing her round ass.

"Gosh, you are already so wet"

You saidbas you collected the juice within her folds with your middle finger and shoved it into her asshole, which clenched it down in a vice grip. You pull your finger free from her grasp then shoved it into her ass again.

As you finger her asshole, her pussy dripped even more, flowing steadily down to her bedsheet, staning it with her juice.

"Are you turning on from getting your ass fingered?" you asked. She replied in something that sounded like "Mmmf....umff".

"You must be desperate, huh? How long has it been since these holes are filled?"

You pull out your finger and slaped er ass, making her cheeks jiggle. You groped her ass some more, before you shove two fingers into her wet folds, extracting another inaudible sound from Miyeon.

You started pumping your fingers, gliding them in and out of her cavern. It clenchednon you tight like it's worried your fingers will stop thrusting. But she didn't need to worry because you were not going to leave the wet goodness of her hole anytime soon.

Miyeon let out more muffled moans and her body writhed like she was being tasered. But that's not so far from the truth because your fingers are sending shockwave after shockwave of pleasure through her.

With your free hand, you slapped her ass again, the way it wriggle almost hypnotic. The white backdrop of her skin marked with your handprints. You brought your palm down again and again, until her ass becomes nothing but a crimson plane.

"Look how much you are dripping. Do you like being spanked that much? No wonder Odysseus ignored you. You are such a whore"

Miyeon is no longer protesting, not even muffled sounds escaped her mouth anymore. She just lays there, face down ass up and let you toy with her body. The movement of your fingers became swifter, spraying juice each time they collide with Miyeon's depths.

Her pussy squelched happily each time your fingers enter, as if showing its gratitude. And it should. Miyeon had called you a pervert twice. Maybe she's right. But that pervert is the only one who can save her from her eternal damnation of the denial of pleasure. She should be thankful.Her legs started to quiver and you realized she was close. But you wouldn't be too hasty in giving her release.

You stopped, pulling out your fingers. You pulled up Miyeon's head and turned it a 180 degree, looking down at her eyes, far gone.

"Why..why do you..?"

Her protested are quickly cut out by your tongue which entered her mouth, swirling and tasting every inch of her another hole, which you just filled up with your cum a while ago. But you didn't care. Her lips feel velvety, just like all those fabrics she weaves. The tenderness of it got you asking for more. Miyeon returns the action by wrapping her own tongue around yours. It took two to tango after all.

Your other hand reached for her clothed boobs, pushing out from the textile of her dress. Miyeon's bosom is not one you can call big but they are not tiny either. It's just perfect enough for you to grope and pinch her nipples, already rock hard from the stimulation.

You pulled back, a trail of saliva glistening between her lips and yours. She looked at you with those needy eyes of hers, begging you to give her the release she desperately needs.

"Please...I....I need to cum..." she mummuredm She looked so pathetic you almost felt sorry. But after the treatment she had given you all those time, why should you be?

"Look at you, begging to me" you mocked. "Miyeon, you are nothing but a cockhungry whore, admit it"

Her face flared up. Then she tried to hide it and fails.

"I'm not a whore....I just need..."

"If you keep lying to yourself, you will never get the reward you seek from me"

"But I'm not a whore..."

You chuckled. "Aren't you the one who asked me for my cock? Beg me to taste it. Hell, you have been a whore since the beginning of time, falling for every man who ends up here"

Her expression turned confused, like she's debating with herself on your words. Finally, she spoke again.

"I.....I'm not falling for you. I don't even like you"

Oh, now she wanted to play it rough.

"Is that so? Then I guess you don't need me"

You turned to leave, which is all a trap to lure Miyeon to your dungeon of lust. And she fell right into it.

"Wait!" she called. "Don't leave"

You turn your head and raised an eyebrow. She was sitting on the bed now, her fingers fidgeting nervously.

"I....I will say what you want me to, so please don't leave"

"And what will you say?"

"I...I'm a....whore" Her voice reduced to a whisper at the last word. She looked own, her face burning with shame.

"I can't quite hear you from here"

"I'm a...whore" she said again, a bit louder than the last time. But you were not satisfied.

"Still can't hear you"

"I'm a whore!" she shrieked much to your surprise. "I need your cock so please use me"

You had done something that no one had ever achieved. You had ripped Miyeon of whatever remnanta she left of her pride, dginity and grace she had feigned all this time. Now she's no different from a typical whore who will let you use her for money. In Miyeon's case, she didn't need money. She needed your cock.

"That's more like it, no need to be shy" You walked up to her and hold her chin between your thumb and index fingers, admiring the angleic features of her face, from her aquiline nose to her sharp chin. A drop of cum from earlier still hanged on one of her eyebrows.

"Show me that ass" you ordered and she doesn't complain, getting on all fours and raising her ass for your eyes, her dress becoming nothing but an added luxury for you to feast on.

You got behind her and hiked up her dress to her waist, giving you full access to her ass. You dug a finger into her pussy, retractedband licked her juice off it. Maybe it's a nymph thing or you are just overwhelmed with desire but it's the sweetest thing you have ever tasted.

"Please, I need your cock inside me" Miyeon whined again, no longer hiding her desperation.

"Patience, slut" That came out so lame you promise yourself not to say that ever again.

You lined up the tip of your cock to her pussy, which was already convulsing with anticipation. In the beginning, you just pushed in your tip, testing the waters. Her pussy was wet enough you don't need to put any extra effort. You don't know if she is a virgin with the way her walls hugged you and gripped you like they are familiar with the alien object entering it but that's a question for another time. For now, you only have a single task to complete, filling her up.

"More..." Miyeon pleaded. That breathy voice of her with a hint of melancholy is what ignited the flame inside you.

With no further words, you pushed you whole length into her opening and she letbout a guttural moan. The way her walls swallowed your manhood leaves you struggling not to make a sound.

"Fuck, Miyeon, you are so tight..."

"Yes, fuck my tight pussy, I need your cock pounding me"

With each vulgar word that left her mouth, Miyeon push her hips back, trying to fuck herself on your cock. But you were going to be the one in charge. You held her tiny waist, stopping her from going further.

"I'm gonna fuck you, not the opposite, remember?"

"Yes..yes, sorry. I just need it...Hhng!"

Her apology was cut short when you start bucking your hips slowly, getting your cock accustomed to her wet cavern. Each thrust left you feeling breathless, the friction against her slick walls like no other feeling you have experienced. At this moment, you feel like you are the luckiest (and only) person on Ogygia.

Miyeon's moans grew louder with each pump of your cock, occassionally begging you for more. But she didn't need to because you are going to give her your all, satisfying the needs of her pussy that haven't been fucked properly for eternity.

So you picked up the tempo, waves rippling across her ass each time you thrusted into her. If her pussy was wet before, now it's a river, juice flying everywhere with each thrust you gave her. And she tool it like a champ. You think you eere going fast enough but she kept begging for more, to ruin her, to pound her into oblivion.

And who are you not to comply when you were held captive in the most heavenly place of the most beautiful woman(or nymph, whatever) you have ever seen. You channeledbevery single ounce of energy into pounding Miyeon's pussy and the effort started heating your body up, your hair slick with sweat.

Miyeon's not so different. Her dress is sticking to her skin with her own bodily fluid while she closed her eyes, drinking up the ecstasy only your cock could give her.

You wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled her back against your chest, tracing your tongue across her ear while the rhythm of your cock remained unwavering. She tilted her neck to one side, beckoning you to taste her even more and you obliged, licking across her jaw up to her temple.

"Mhmm....yes, just like that....god, don't stop.."

You helpee her pull off her dress completely to have full access to her goddess like body. You cup your hands on her boobs, which are so soft they can melt from your touch. You squeezed and kneaded, adding a side dish of pleasure to the main course of your cock against her pussy.

You let a hand travel down between her legs and there you attacked her weak spot, rubbing her clit. Miyeon's eyes widened at your ambush and her body start to shake violently. You pinched her nipple and she lets out the most euphonius of squirms, which graced your ears like a melody. Miyeon was so overcome with pleasure, she no longer seem to be aware of her own actions. She bucked her hips back each time you pull back your cock, wanting to be filled up at every millisecond. Her milky white was now glistening from all the sweat dripping down from the heat of the moment.

The deadly combination of your fingers and cock finally let her to her orgasm. She moaned at the top of her lungs, juice spilling out of her holes like a dam breaking open. Through her high, you keep fucking her, bringing you closer and closer to your own climax.

"Yes, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me"

Miyeon cries as your cock kept burying into her to the hilt and back even after she had cummed. Her body twitched and writhed with each thrust her now sensitive pussy took. You were not so far from following Miyeon, the clench of her walls driving you to the finish line until...

"God, yes, fill me up. Cum inside me. Fill your slut with cum"

Miyeon screams as you finally deposited your load into her cunt, sending shots after shots of thick white liquid into her. Your hips bucked wildy, filling her up with each movement. The bliss that you felt is phenomenal, out of this world. Arcs of pleasure coursed through your veins like electricity. You finally come to a halt, panting. You slapped her ass one last time and pull out.

"Oh, god....." Miyeon panted as she lays there on the bed like a broken doll, her face that of pure satisfaction. Her pussy leaked a steady stream of your cum down to her sheets, which were already filthy enough with her spit and juice. But that's what she wanted. She's a slut afterall.

"You are welcome" you said as your body suddenly grew tired from the intense session you went through. You sat down at the foot of the bed, closing your eyes, steadying your breathing. Your mind was still in a state of bliss, imagining what to do with Miyeon next after you recharged again. But for now, you needed rest and you were too tired to walk back to your own bedroom. So, you rested your back against the bed, dozing off.

- × - × - ×-

"Mister?" a female voice rings in your ears.

You open your eyes, an air hostess is looking at you like a pest, unwanted.

"What..what?" you mutter drowsily.

Her eyes glitter with amusement when you yawn.

"We have landed, we have been trying to wake you for fifteen minutes. We thought something happened to you. We have even called the medics"

"Fifteen minutes?" you looked around the empty aircraft, deprived of passengers.

"And you were mummuring some words like... Ogygia and Calypso?"

Your face flushed and look down at the book on your lap, half opened. "The Odyssey" said the cover. "Odysseus and the island of Ogygia" said the title of the chapter on the right page.

It was all a dream. A product of your arousal and obsession. It felt so real, however, you start thinking maybe you really have been to Ogygia and Miyeon have somehow returned you back here.

But that's a fantasy. Just like the photos of Miyeon that filled your gallery, your obsession. Despite the madness, you grin and the air hostess stares at you, her mouth gape open.

"Sorry" you apologize, stading up. Your phone chimes and you look down, only to be greeted by your wallpaper of Miyeon, your own version of Calypso.

This is going to be a long day.

-x-x-x-

(Wrote this a bit longer than I intended to. Thanks for reading as always~)

#miyeon smut #kpop smut #gidle smut #girl group smut #male reader

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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (2)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: kissing, angst, arranged engagement, violence, swearing, bullying, chauvinism, mention of injury ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She had always felt that she lacked something – mostly when she looked in the mirror and saw instead of beautiful white hair her dark curls falling over her shoulders, which she hated with all her heart. Her eyes also had no shade of the gods, no shade of the Targaryens − her brothers laughed that her facial expressions made her look like a hamster.

She once tried, in an act of desperation, to cut her hair completely, hoping that what would grow back would be in a different shade; fortunately one of her mother's servants who brought her afternoon meal snatched the scissors out of her hand, horrified, and told her mother all about it.

That evening the future queen explained to her that there was also a Baratheon line running in Targaryen blood through her grandparents, that her cousin, Princess Rhaenys, also had dark hair.

This explanation reassured her a little, but she still felt that the gods had deprived them of something, robbing them of the looks that would prove who they were.

Fortunately, they had dragons.

Her dragoness, Larax, had beautiful silver-blue scales and shimmered wonderfully in the sunlight. She was still small and was just learning to breathe fire on command, but she was doing well and was her pride.

She visited her when she sought comfort.

She watched from the sidelines the only person among them who did not have a dragon of his own, namely her uncle, Aemond, only two years older than her. She could see that although he kept up appearances under a stony face, his suffering and disappointment was far greater than hers caused by the colour of her hair.

A Targaryen with a dragon was still a Targaryen.

But what was a Targaryen without it?

When Jace bragged to her about what they had done together with Aegon and Luke, that they had given him a pig with a wings as a joke, she said they were cruel.

She couldn't believe they thought it was funny.

At first she just wanted to see how he was doing, so knowing that he spent his days alone among the books she decided to visit him.

However, it turned out that his aloof nature was due to his caution and insecurity, his readiness to defend himself, although she had never intended to attack him. When he realised that her presence had no undertone he relaxed, even allowing her to exchange opinions with himself.

"I would like to be like Rhaenys in the future." She said softly, thinking dreamily that she was described as a woman of beauty, wisdom and dignity, able to solve many things with her shrewdness, wits, care and compassion.

She heard him snort under his breath, looking at her in disbelief, as if she had said something silly.

"Rhaenys? What's interesting about her? Visenya could fight with a sword and she rode the largest dragon still alive in this world. If I had a choice, I would marry her." He said lowly, as usual pretending to be older than he was. There was pathos in his posture and in his voice – he sat upright, comfortably sprawled in his chair, creating a semblance of confidence.

She raised an eyebrow at his words, unable to hide a smile of amusement. She saw the expression of displeasure on his face, as he clearly thought she was mocking him.

"Aegon the Conqueror thought otherwise. Out of ten nights, nine he spent with Rhaenys." She said with a wince and saw that he pressed his lips together, rolling his eyes, impatient with her remark, and shrugged his shoulders, returning to his reading.

She was really fond of him.

As a very young girl, she had given a lot of her thoughts to her future husband, knowing that as the daughter of a princess she would have her tasks, one of which would be to strengthen their lineage through marriage.

The thought that she would have to marry some boring old man by whose side she would die of despair, and with whom she would have to have many children, kept her awake at night; she wished her husband was someone closer to her in age, someone who shared her values and passions.

She wondered if it wouldn't have been better if her parents had married her to Jace − she knew him and, as his sister, loved him, so it would certainly have been easier − but on the other hand, something rejected her at the thought, she felt some kind of discomfort when she imagined their future children.

This was what she was contemplating when her mother walked into her chamber, wanting to ask her her opinion on the King's decision.

She and Aemond were betrothed.

"You may refuse, my love." Said Rhaenyra, kneeling beside her on the stone floor, taking her hands in her own, fearing apparently that this information would frighten her.

For some reason, however, she was pleased.

Although she did not have beautiful white hair, her future husband did.

She ran out of her chamber, rushing into the library like a storm, the pale face of her uncle expressing shock and fear as she approached him.

"Is it true?" She asked in a trembling voice and saw that he swallowed hard as he nodded, looking at her with wide open eyes.

She covered her face with her hand, a happy giggle escaping from her lips, her heart pounding like mad.

"I'm so happy."

To her relief, it looked as if her uncle himself had no great objections to the king's decision. He began to speak to her more, introducing her to his world, even explaining what he did during his trainings, apparently recognising that as his wife she should know what his life consisted of.

She absorbed everything he said, feeling her heart flutter with joy when he was by her side.

Though she knew it was unacceptable, she dared to ask him to let her kiss him, and after he experienced the taste of her lips, he wanted her to do it more often, though he never said it out loud.

Their kisses were innocent, short, warm and wet, on the forehead, cheek or lips. Every time she pulled away from him he smiled lazily, embarrassed – she knew he liked the feeling.

They both felt so mature then.

At his request she snuck into his chamber at night − they would lie then for hours holding hands, discussing about their future, about their children.

"When I become a rider of one of the dragons living in the caves beyond the sea, we will fly to Essos, to see the temples of Old Valyria." He said with confidence and calmness, stroking her hair in a soft, slow motion that her eyelids closed from; she loved it when he did that.

He had never tried to touch her naked body, put his hand under her nightgown or do anything else that Aegon had proudly told her about, but which she did not comprehend.

She furrowed her brow at his words, worried.

"Dragons in caves?" She asked quietly, and he nodded, swallowing loudly; she knew this topic was incredibly important to him, and he hoped to gain her support on the matter.

"Yes. Once I have a dragon, everything will be as it was meant to be. We will marry in the tradition of Old Valyria, beget our heirs, and then explore the world." He said with assurance, as if he had already planned and thought it all out carefully.

She felt warm in her heart at the thought that he had included her in everything about his life, that he saw her at his side as his companion and wife.

And then it happened.

Laena's death, her funeral and the great tragedy that followed.

That night she was roused from her sleep by the shouting of guards running down the corridor – she heard their words that the prince was injured, that he needed to be taken to the maester immediately, that there had been a fight.

With a pounding heart she put on her robe over her nightgown and ran after them semi-conscious, relieved to see her brothers, all bruised but without any wounds.

She then looked at the chair and screamed, covering her mouth, wanting to somehow silence how loud the sound was − she felt someone embrace her, her mother pulled her close, stroking her head.

"He called us bastards, mother, and he stole Vhagar!" Luke whined.

Alicent shouted to Viserys that she demanded justice for her son, but the King shook his head, looking at her uncle.

His wound was all swollen and red, a scar running across his entire left cheek, his gaze directed straight at her, dulled surely by the poppy milk to ease his pain after his eye had been taken out.

She was unable to say anything, her whole body was shaking.

"Who told you such a disgusting lie?" The King asked him, and only then did he look away from her, staring at him; she could see that he hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting.

"Aegon."

Her mother wouldn't let her approach him despite her despair − she lied that she would be able to speak to him later, but it never happened.

They never spoke a word to each other again.

She wrote to him a letter in desperation, crying over it, having to pause several times, not knowing how she would convey to him what she was feeling, her childish mind unable to properly put into words what she was experiencing.

My dearest Prince,

know that my heart is torn by despair and disbelief. I pray for you and your health every day. I hope that as soon as you feel better we can meet. I am sending you books that I thought might interest you.

Your Rhaenys

She wrote this, not comprehending that the last thing on his mind now that he had lost his eye was to read, that he had torn up her letter as soon as he had read it, a lack of response from him made her feel even worse.

She felt he was blaming her and didn't know what to do, how to apologise to him so he would forgive her.

It turned out that there was no way she could do this, and the letters she sent to him in the months that followed were not met with a response.

The guards, on his mother's orders, would not allow anyone from their family to enter his chamber, guarded by Criston Cole himself, who, looking at her indifferently, informed her each time that the prince was unwell, needed to rest and would not receive visitors.

In addition to what had happened, she was heartbroken by what Luke had found out, what Jace had known for months, and what had been shouted in their faces that night.

They were bastards.

She felt even more defiant than ever before.

She had felt little when they moved to Dragonstone, when her mother had married her uncle, whom she had clearly loved forever, when Baela and Rhaena had joined their family.

They were sweet, kind and wise, taking her on long walks among the seaside cliffs, however, she was unable to bond with them.

Although officially their betrothal was never called off, it was clear that the King's resolve was no longer in force, the Queen suggested that any of Lord Baratheon's daughters would be a better candidate for her son, and this marriage would strengthen the royal army.

Instead, her mother thought that she, on the other hand, should marry one of her cousins of House Arryn, to secure their influence in the North and seal Eyrie's support for her cause once she was to become queen.

She was unable to find herself in this new reality, experiencing fulfilment and joy only during her solitary flights on her Larax, over the sea and high between the clouds.

To her surprise, her greatest support in her suffering turned out to be Daemon.

He saw her silent agony, he saw her emptiness, he saw her grief and he was able to reason with her, unlike her mother.

His mischievous, mocking nature reminded her in some ways of her uncle – as they walked for hours along the shore without any purpose and conversed, she felt she had regained at least part of her old life.

She liked him because he didn't treat her like a child, because he spoke to her about serious matters and didn't hide anything from her.

"Viserys is weak. He always has been. Your mother is making his mistakes, trying to hide Jace and Luke under her dress. She's trying to protect them from the inevitable." He said more to himself than to her, walking at her side with his hands entwined behind his back, looking off into the distance, his eyebrows arched in disapproval as they always did when he was frustrated.

She sighed heavily, agreeing with him in spirit, knowing what he meant.

Her mother was trying to protect them at all costs, her beloved boys, though the tension between Dragonstone and the Red Keep was greater than ever.

Something hung in the air and everyone felt it.

"And that bastard, that fucking traitor Hightower sits on the Iron Throne in his name and rules the kingdom, just as he always dreamed of doing." He hissed through clenched teeth, rage and disappointment beating from him, from which she felt her heart squeeze.

It shocked her how direct he was.

He was like a living, burning fire.

"When there's no cat, the mice scamper. Or maybe a better term would be rats." She said dryly, and he laughed out loud, glancing at her, his lips curving into a grin, a kind of contentment and pride in his eyes.

"You're like quiet water on the outside, but there's a great storm brewing inside you. I have heard that your would-be husband has become a fearsome warrior despite the lack of one eye. I fear that once you meet, heaven and earth will shake." He said with amusement and she swallowed loudly at his words, knowing he was mocking her.

"I have no grudge against him. Only he can have one towards me." She said lowly, pressing her lips together, feeling a tightness in her throat, thinking about how she had cried enough nights because of this event.

She felt him looking at her intently, a light summer breeze and the sound of the sea all around them, grey, gloomy clouds above them.

"You still haven't come to terms with it." He stated more than asked, and she swallowed loudly, feeling tears under her eyelids, shaking her head, unable to get anything else out.

"Sometimes it's better to rip your heart out than to let yourself be humiliated, to lose your dignity. Do you understand?" He asked, stopping, looking at her expectantly, with a kind of determination from which she felt discomfort in her stomach.

She stared at him with wide eyes, trying to behave as she should, trying not to break, but she burst into sobs as he pulled her close and embraced her, letting her pour out the grief that had been flowing inside her for years, which she didn't want to share with her mother or anyone else.

"– gods – I still love him –" She whined out breathing hard, clasping her hands on his thick tunic, his hand stroking her back comfortingly.

"The boy you loved no longer exists." He said lowly and she felt her heart stop.

A cold shiver went through her body, a wave of disappointment and the realisation that he was right.

When Vaemond Velaryon challenged Luke's right to inherit Driftmark it turned out, to her horror, that they had to appear in the Red Keep to discuss the matter before the King himself. Her mother wanted them all to travel there, as a whole family meant to support her younger brother.

She didn't have the strength for this reunion – she hadn't slept or eaten, thinking about flying on Larax at night and just running away.

But where to?

She thought in moments like this about how her uncle had said he would take her to Essos one day, to the kingdom of their ancestors, and she burst out sobbing again, hiding her face in her hands, listening to the sound of the rain falling outside her window.

The journey to King's Landing had been long and tiring for her − she landed on Larax alongside her foster sisters and brothers, her hair tied up in a long braid, a leather travelling attire on her body, more comfortable and giving her more freedom of movement.

They arrived in the Red Keep using the royal carriages; when she stepped outside she was struck by how smaller and tighter everything seemed to her.

She felt tense and looked uncertainly around, fearing she would see him somewhere, but that did not happen.

They were greeted by one of her grandfather's lords, the Queen not honouring them with her presence; they were informed where they would be sleeping and she shuddered when she heard she would be spending the night in her old chamber, feeling the cold sweat on the back of her neck.

Walking through the corridors of the fortress she was hit by memories from everywhere and even though this was her home, she had never felt so foreign before.

She changed with the help of servants into a more appropriate attire – her two-tone gown had bare shoulders, her long to the ground, wide sleeves were red, and the material wrapping tightly around her breasts and hips was navy blue – the colours of the Targaryens and Arryns, her expression that she supported her mother.

She wondered if she should go outside or if it would be better to stay in the chamber, but in the end she decided that she would not be a coward, that she would not allow herself to be intimidated in her own home.

Therefore, she moved alone through the familiar corridors of the Red Keep, skirting the entrance to the library, feeling her heart beating wildly.

She heard the sound of blades crossing, saw, standing in the cloisters, crowds of people surrounding a pair of warriors apparently practising hand-to-hand combat, heard applause and sounds of admiration, recognised the faces of her brothers among them.

And then she saw him, first his white hair and then his eye patch − she felt her whole body freeze, her throat squeezed so tightly that she felt like she was going to suffocate.

He was so tall that she could see his silhouette perfectly, she couldn't believe how much the man could have changed over the years.

She saw that he had said something to Luke and Jace, the sight of their horror made him grin broadly, but it was a frightening smile, a sneer that didn't reach his healthy eye, his gaze cold, amused.

It seemed to her that she saw more animal than human traits in him, his way of moving, his gait was defiant, agile.

He looked like a predator prowling around his prey.

She thought with pain that he was terrifying.

Their attention was distracted by the sound of trumpets; the gates leading into the courtyard opened and Vaemond Velaryon appeared in it, walking at the head of his retinue. She swallowed loudly as she saw his chin raised high, as if he was sure of victory in his cause even though his brother was still alive.

She saw her uncle turn towards her and walk up to one of the servants, reaching out to him impatiently, wanting him to hand him another shield and then their gazes met.

She saw the surprise and disbelief in his healthy eye; he froze and although he took what he wanted he did not turn to face Criston.

Even from a distance she could see his nostrils moving restlessly with each of his deep breaths, as if he was trying to calm himself, his jaw clenched tightly.

She didn't know why, despite the fact that he frightened her so much, despite the fact that he never answered any of her letters, she felt like throwing herself into his arms and crying, simply to say that she missed him, that she prayed every day that she would see him again.

However, before she had time to do anything under the influence of emotion he turned and nodded at Criston, immediately attacking him with his sword which swished loudly in the air, as if he wanted to take it out on him for what he had just seen.

She decided to return to her chamber, and it was only behind the door that she burst into sobs, realising what had terrified and torn her heart the most.

Daemon was right.

The boy she loved no longer exists.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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silenzahra · 3 months ago

Text

🌜 Super Mario Odyssey: post-ending headcanons 🌛

Today marks seven years since the release of my FAVORITE 3D Mario game:

🌜 Super Mario Odyssey 🌛

This game really means EVERYTHING to me, so I wanted to make a little something to commemorate this date. I have to admit I didn't have any ideas at first, but then I remembered what @pepperycar commented on this post... and was suddenly inspired 🤭 Thank you so much, my friend! I owe you this one 💖

So, here I bring you a few ideas that I had on what could have happened after the end of Super Mario Odyssey. There will be Mareach, brotherly love, and SPOILERS, so if you haven't finished this game yet: beware!! ⚠

(And please go play it because it's AWESOME.)

@vulpixfairy1985 @bberetd @megamagimugi @peaches2217 @keakruiser

@itsavee4117 @roscolate @smokszyvverstar @wahooitsamee @kelbreyworshipper I thought perhaps you might be interested, so I hope it's okay that I tag you 🥰 Of course, no worries if you're not! Feel free to ignore this post and please forgive me for bothering you 😅

Also, I took a bit of inspo from this adorable post that I remember reblogging from my old account. Please have a look if you haven't yet because it's absolutely CUTE 🥹

Without further ado... Let's-a go! ❤️

👑 Peach's wardrobe 👑

Princess Peach has a large and varied wardrobe. So far, Mario only remembers seeing her wearing her signature pink dresses, her favorite. She has several that are very similar to each other, with only a few small differences between them, such as puffed sleeves that her summer dress does not have, or an older design in which almost the entire skirt is a darker shade of pink. Peach always appears before him and his subjects wearing one of these outfits as pink is her favorite color, and one that, in Mario's opinion, suits her very well.

Recently, however, Mario has found that his beloved princess has a wide variety of outfits and has decided to start wearing them to visit the various kingdoms that Bowser has taken her to during her kidnapping, now that she finally has the freedom to choose where, when, and with whom to go.

And Mario loves to dress to match her.

The first time they did it, Mario ran into Peach and her friend Tiara almost by accident as she, as brave as ever, explored the lonely Forgotten Isle in an outfit worthy of Indiana Jones himself. Shorts, a backpack on her back, boots prepared for the earthy soil of the place... and her hair in a bun that was hidden under her explorer's cap.

Mario didn't take half a second to run back to his Odyssey ship and put on his own explorer's outfit to join her and continue exploring the island together.

When he met her in New Donk City, Peach was wearing one of Mario's favorite outfits of all the ones he had seen her in so far: a long pink flying skirt that, unlike her dresses, left her feet exposed; a gorgeous white blouse with a scarf around her neck, in a pastel pink shade that matched her pristine skin; and a wide hat over her abundant blonde hair. She looked beautiful and very comfortable, and the best part: she loved the black suit with matching fedora that Mario put on to go with Peach’s outfit. She told him he looked very elegant, and Mario thought his smile would overflow on both sides of his face since his cheeks hurt so much.

To him, on the other hand, the one who looked tremendously stylish and graceful was Peach when he met her in Bonneton. Her attire was dark, composed of a grayish coat, black stockings and gloves of the same color, which she combined with a beret that adorned her long hair. Mario kept watching her for a while, unable to help it, and he did the same thing when he met her in Shiveria, since the black and gold of her figure stood out among so much blinding white.

On that occasion, Mario felt that he’d never measure up to her with his orange, quilted coat, as opposed to Bonneton, where he was able to look at least a bit elegant with his black tuxedo, his red bow tie and a top hat that gave him the look of a magician. Or, at least, that's what she told him, while letting out a giggle that made Mario think of the softest and sweetest crystal bells.

Another one of his favorite outfits for the princess was her farmer attire, which was the one she chose to wear to visit the Luncheon Kingdom. Mario wasn’t surprised to find her picking turnips to help the locals prepare their famous soup, as it wasn’t the first time he’d seen her pulling vegetables from the ground. When she saw him dressed in his chef's outfit, she immediately applauded him and prepared to hand over the vegetables to him, thus naming him the official in charge of preparing the delicious best dish of the kingdom.

As for the last three outfits the princess has worn, Mario is unable to choose, as all three have provoked various sensations in him that made him wish he could stare at her forever, without having any other worries or mission to carry out. The Yukata with the fire flower pattern was, without a shadow of a doubt, one of them, a beautiful and lovely vision that gave him back some vitality and joy when he ran into Peach in Bowser's Kingdom. He, as bold as brass, put on his samurai outfit, ready to defend her from any evil, and she, always so demure, covered her face with her hand-held fan to hide a soft giggle. Still, watching her hair pulled back in a ponytail and the Boo-shaped buckle adorning her head, Mario knew he’d never measure up to her.

And he felt the same way when, while strolling along Bubblaine Beach and enjoying the coolness of the water with his doggy friend, he found her there, wearing that pretty white sarong adorned with pink power moons, the sunglasses on her blonde head... and that bikini that exposed more porcelain skin than Mario had ever seen. He felt completely ridiculous in his red swimsuit with white polka dots and wanted to sink to the depths of the crystal-clear waters of the kingdom just to prevent her from seeing him like that.

However, that couldn't overcome how stupid and embarrassed Mario felt when, just after rescuing her from Bowser's clutches, he got caught up in an absurd competition with the king of the Koopas to try to get Peach to agree to marry him. They may have both been wearing the perfect outfits, Peach in her beautiful white dress that made her look like an angel and him in his tuxedo of the same color and matching hat.

But Mario realized too late that this was not the right moment.

Still, he is content to have had the opportunity, albeit brief, to stand next to Peach while they both wore what would possibly be their wedding outfits. Mario knows that this will never happen again, that it’ll never come true, because the idea of trying to propose again wouldn’t even cross his mind. It took him a long time to forgive himself for his huge blunder, even though it took Peach only a few minutes to do so, and he’d never be able to be at peace with himself if he bothered her again.

Peach's friendship is very precious to Mario. He loves to meet her on his travels and share a few moments with her, full of fun and trust, which he wishes he could extend in time forever. In addition, on more than one occasion, Peach has asked him to accompany her to Lake Lemonade to make a new dress, and sometimes she has also invited Toad and Luigi. The people there are experts in haute couture, and Mario is always spellbound as he watches Peach pose for the seamstresses, who, in a matter of minutes, are able to create a new dress for her, each one more beautiful than the last.

And, on each occasion, Peach always turns on herself so that the dress can be appreciated in all its splendor, making her look more dazzling than a star and more radiant than the sun itself.

🎈 Balloon Brothers🎈

Shortly after he saved Peach, Mario made two decisions when he continued to travel the kingdoms on his Odyssey ship. The first one was to adopt his loyal doggy friend, the clever Shiba that has helped him find so many power moons during his adventure. He named her Hattie, as she adores wearing a hat on her head no matter where they travel to, and also because her favorite game is chasing after Mario's cap and bring it back to him.

And the second one, as soon as he ran into Luigi for the first time, was that he'd always play Balloon World with him.

Every world he travels to, whatever his purpose or the mission that takes him there, Mario always has time for his little brother and loves to play Balloon World with him. He adores seeing his sibling so cheerful and excited, and the way he claps and cheers him on always causes Mario’s unstoppable energy to soar and his heart to melt with tenderness.

In Fossil Falls, Luigi was so scared of the T-Rex that organizing the game for Mario served as a distraction and a way for him to release some stress, something Mario was extremely relieved about. In Forgotten Isle, the same bird that had captured Cappy was threatening to pop the balloons that kept Luigi in the air and that were an essential part of his outfit as the game organizer, which only motivated Mario to chase the darned bird with the help of his loyal Hattie, until, at last, and to the relief of both brothers and Cappy, he managed to scare it away.

However, as soon as Mario ran into Luigi in the Snow Kingdom, shivering with cold in his shirtsleeves, but still smiling at his brother and inviting him to play while hugging himself, Mario did not hesitate for a moment: he hurried to get rid of his orange coat and, ignoring Luigi's faint protests, threw it over his twin, taking care not to accidentally pop his balloons. Despite his initial reluctance, Luigi couldn't help but close his eyes as he snuggled into the garment, trying to get warm, and Mario, his heart shrinking, hugged him with all his might as he gently rubbed his arms and back. Luigi cuddled up to him and Mario stroked his hair gently, his mind flooded with memories of when they were both little and Luigi would run to hide in his bed because he thought there was a monster under his bed. Sighing as he held his sibling in his arms, trying to shield him from the cold and icy drafts, Mario didn't agree to play until after he had taken Luigi inside his ship to wrap him in a blanket and offer him a hot drink to warm up inside.

Nevertheless, the opposite thing happened in Tostarena: Luigi, always determined to stay true to his original outfit as the game's creator, was too warm for the scorching desert heat. Before playing Balloon World, Mario decided that his little brother needed a change to feel more comfortable. So he grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into the shop. Luigi had to bend down so that his balloons could go in with him, and Mario immediately tried to convince him to, like him, put on a typical costume of the land, poncho and wide hat included, to feel comfier while they played there. His twin resisted a little, always wanting to maintain the elegance a game show host should always display, but when Mario assured him that he could keep his green bow tie, Luigi finally gave in. And, seeing them both in matching outfits, Mario also managed to convince his brother to play Balloon World together, to which Luigi agreed only after gifting him one of his balloons for Mario to wear on his wrist.

And they've done it many more times since then: in Peronza Plaza, in Bonneton, in New Donk City... even on the Moon! Also, whenever they play in the Mushroom Kingdom, the Toads join them and Luigi ends up giving them as many balloons as possible so they can have fun playing on their own, being the kind-hearted person he is.

Of course, Mario is well aware that his sibling knows the locations of the balloons, being the organizer of Balloon World, but he equally enjoys touring the various worlds with his little brother by the hand, dragging him along while Luigi floats after him and simply lets himself go. Mario’s heart sings for joy with every laugh that escapes his twin’s throat, especially when Hattie also joins the fun and runs with them in search for the balloon, only to pop it as soon as they do. Mario also loves the way Luigi guides him, or often misleads him, to make his search for the balloon easier or more complicated. Mario likes to be challenged by the game and Luigi knows it, so he appreciates it when his brother tries to trick him to divert him from his initial goal. This lengthens the game, as well as the time the brothers spend together, thus increasing the fun.

However, when it's time to say goodbye, Mario can read in his brother's face that he’s just as reluctant to part with him as Mario himself. His complicated missions through the kingdoms and, also, the longing to be reunited with Peach and spend some time with her as well have caused Mario to have to leave his brother's side without really wanting to, his soul screaming in the depths of his being that he should not do so, that he should turn back and return to Luigi's side.

When the same thing happens to him in the Moon Kingdom, Mario finally stops before entering his ship and turns on his heels. He sees Luigi raise his head, confused to see him turn around, and the surprise on his face only grows when Mario starts running towards him, although a little slower than he’d like due to the moon's gravity. A smile breaks out on Mario's face as he speeds up as fast as he can, and he stretches out his arms as he approaches his little brother. Luigi barely has time to open his arms as well before Mario pounces on him.

Luigi's gasp causes Mario to burst out laughing as he spins around with his brother in his arms, holding him tightly. It takes him a few seconds to realize that both of them are now floating in the air, propelled not only by Luigi's balloons, but also by the lack of gravity prevailing on the moon. His sibling clings to him as he laughs shyly, and Mario pulls away from him a second before his feet touch down again.

Holding Luigi's hands tightly and energetically, Mario offers him to board his Odyssey ship and accompany him on his travels, so that they can continue playing Balloon World together as his adventure progresses. And, perhaps, Luigi could also help him during their missions, just like in the old days, when they visited faraway realms, such as Pi’illo Island or the Beanbean Kingdom, and even became partners in time.

As he speaks, Mario is very aware that his eyes are shining, full of excitement. His whole face must be, in fact, as euphoria bubbles up inside him like a river of unstoppable lava. He’s unable to keep completely still, so he inadvertently shakes his hands and, with them, those of his brother, as he explains his idea to him. And his enthusiasm undoubtedly rubs off on his twin, as Mario can read in Luigi's blue eyes, identical to his own, which are filling with a special glow that can only mean he shares Mario's eagerness.

And so it was that the brothers began to travel together.

✨ The Golden Trio ✨

In some of their first trips together, when the brothers are about to play Balloon World, Peach meets them and becomes a spectator of their games. Luigi welcomes her with open arms and quickly explains to her what Mario has to do, and while his brother is searching, Luigi reveals in whispers to the princess where the balloon his twin is looking for is hidden.

Although, at first, Mario is a little embarrassed that Peach is going to watch him while he searches, he quickly decides that he must do everything he can to impress her, so he puts more effort into finding the balloon quickly and on his own, despite Hattie's attempts to help him. Whenever he succeeds, Luigi praises him enthusiastically and gives him a big hug, which Mario reciprocates joyfully and heartily. Peach, after applauding him a little more demurely, leans over to place a kiss on his nose, causing Mario's whole face to light up until it looks redder than his shirt. This always happens under the watchful eye of Luigi, who doesn't miss the chance to give his sibling a playful nudge while trying to silence his giggles, causing Mario's blush to increase.

However, the third time Peach meets the brothers, Luigi has the idea of inviting her to participate in the game, which he eagerly puts to her. Both she and Mario are delighted, and Luigi immediately rearranges the game so that Mario and Peach can play in competition against each other.

Of course, respect and friendship prevail in the game. Mario continues to play as usual, but Peach often beats him, as she’s quick and smart, and he can only admire her more and more every time this happens. In fact, he’d say that he enjoys the occasions when the princess beats him the most, as he loves to see her so happy and enjoying herself when playing with him. Needless to say, even though Luigi is a most enthusiastic audience, Mario is the one who always applauds Peach the most, which makes her blush, something that doesn't happen to her when she thanks Luigi's compliments.

When the game is preparing to take place for the fifth time since Mario and Peach started playing together, Mario can't help but notice the way his brother is wringing his hands and fiddling with his fingers as he watches them. The game is about to begin, but he can't take his eyes off Luigi. He can read his face like an open book, something that has happened practically since they were born... and he doesn't like what he sees.

It's not that Luigi is sad. He's happy to be with them and eager to see them play Balloon World again. He's ready to cheer them both on and shower them with praise, as always, for, after all, his little brother is one of the sweetest and gentlest people he knows.

However, Mario can see in his gestures, in the way he bites his lower lip, in the way he fiddles with his own hands, in the way his eyes sparkle, that Luigi misses being able to join the game despite knowing the location of the balloons beforehand.

So even though Luigi gives the start command just a second later, Mario doesn't move.

And it pleases him greatly to realize that Peach, next to him, hasn't moved either.

When he turns his face towards her, Peach does the same. Mario barely needs a few seconds to realize that the princess, always as perceptive and as concerned about Luigi as he is, almost as if she were some sort of big sister to him, has also noticed the longing that shines in his little brother's eyes.

The two hold each other's gaze for a moment before smiling determinedly and giving one another a mutual nod. In unison, the two turn to Luigi, who looks from one to the other, his face the spitting image of bewilderment. As he and Peach start walking towards the game organizer, Mario can't help but let out a laugh in anticipation of what's about to happen, and he hears Peach let out a small giggle next to him that only makes his heart swell.

Decisively, they both hold Luigi, each with one hand, and Mario puts his other arm around Luigi's shoulders while Peach wraps her free arm around the younger plumber’s back. Luigi doesn't understand anything, but he doesn't resist, since, of course, he trusts them completely. Peach and Mario start walking while dragging him along, and the princess proclaims that, by royal order, Luigi must play Balloon World with them. This finally gets Luigi to relax and even laugh, and Mario feels his little brother squeeze his hand as he and the princess laugh together.

For a moment, Mario simply watches them. His heart fills with joy whenever he sees them getting along so well. He loves that Luigi has found in Peach a friend he can trust and be himself with, and he loves that the princess, in each of their interactions, shows that she truly cares about Luigi's well-being and wants only the best for him.

And he just loves them both so much that his heart could burst.

He couldn’t live without either of them.

When the game concludes, shortly before the brothers return to the Odyssey ship, Mario summons the courage to offer Peach to join them. That way, the three of them could travel together, keep each other company and help one another in their adventures, and they’ll always have the chance to play Balloon World together.

As he speaks, however, it occurs to Mario that perhaps he should have consulted Luigi before inviting Peach, so he throws a sidelong glance at his brother to try to apologize to him without words.

But Luigi, ever so sweet and kind, ever the man with the purest heart, is nodding eagerly as he hears his brother speak, and as soon as Mario concludes, Luigi turns to Peach and takes her hands while expressing how much he’d love for her to join them. Mario can't and won't hold back the look of intense love and adoration he gives his twin as he talks to the princess. Who, of course, gladly accepts.

Thus, Mario, Luigi and Peach, accompanied by the inseparable and always loyal Hattie, Cappy and Tiara, embark on the Odyssey to a new world. And, as they travel, the three of them look out the window, Mario and Luigi with their hands on the glass and looking at the clouds with excitement, and the princess, with a hand resting on the shoulder of each of the brothers as she joins in their excitement at the sight they are contemplating.

Their adventure has only just begun.

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lemonlimestar · 6 months ago

Note

i absolutely adore your designs! id love to hear about your process for making characters who look similar in canon have unique and identifiable features!!

tysm :,) i’ve always been really into character design so it’s fun to translate that into characters i love.

as for making similar looking characters look different i drew up a little lineup.

this is gonna be a long one sjhdjsjs

cassie, steph, and mia are all beloved white, blonde, *skinny, teenage girls with roughly the same appearance so i decided to focus in on them.

(*they’re usually portrayed as being muscular/fit but nowhere near in same fashion as their male counterparts)

i wish there was a fancier way to put it, but honestly i just play around with shape language until i get a design i like. i try to lean into motifs/commonalities. (ex: the robins have larger noses to be sort of bird-like, cissie has a heart face to tie into the connection between archery & cupid, the house of el s-curl, cassie’s pigtails are shaped like stars) overall, doing lineups like these are really helpful when trying to make characters look different because it shows you a side-by-side of all the similarities & differences in how i draw the characters.

especially when they interact a lot (ex: wally & roy, kon & tim, cissie & greta) i don’t want them looking like siblings or to repeat the same features between characters who already look similar. unless i’m playing into that (dick & donna <3)

when changing race or body types, i try to factor in the actual character & their backstory. i tend to draw cassie stockier because of her more brawler-like fighting style + her being one of shorter yj kids. but also, i made greta chubby both because i thought it worked well with her shape language and i simply wanted to. the world is my oyster.

as for race, i’m a lot more careful about thinking about how being non-white would affect a character. i have to know a decent amount about a character before hitting them with The Self-Indulgence Beam. making a character black, brown, or asian shouldn’t be slapped on like a sticker without any care put into it. i feel like it’s a well-known point, but it’s worth mentioning especially because i’m black & i make so many characters non-white when i draw them.

back to canon portrayals, they’re some unique features given to them (ex: steph’s freckles aren’t always drawn but they do get featured a few times) so i try to make things like that a permanent physical feature. the curls were simply inspired by some other stephs i’ve seen :) i typically hc that she straightens & crimps them when she’s a teenager but i drew her with them for this example. i got very self-indulgent with my steph design because she’s my girl, but i also tried to keep in mind how she complements the people she interacts with the most (cass, tim, babs).

although i’ve enjoyed what i’ve read with her, i know the least about mia. so, i just gave her features i’d like to see more on teenage characters like acne. i pulled from some panels for the shape of her nose and adjusted the shade of her hair about a million times. i debated on giving her piercings, but ended up going against it because she doesn’t have invulnerability nor a full face mask & she doesn’t have piercings in any of the panels i saw of her.

although i’m not the hugest fan of the reveal of cassie secretly being a demigod rather than just having been given her powers, her being not entirely human gives me a little bit more leeway with her design in my head. hence the stark blonde in her lashes being inspired by fantasy design i enjoy.

one more thing i almost forgot was scars. obviously heroes with no powers would have more visible scars. just with the bats: they all have body scarring but i draw cass with more facial scars because of her history + she’s herself so she wouldn’t bother covering them v.s. tim, who doesn’t have visible facial scars bc he’s Very Particular about appearances, but he has a crooked nose.

scars can be fun to play with as far as trying to remember what happens to certain characters that would leave them scarred (cissie’s scar where the arrow went through her, any scars kon got from literally dying, wally’s or barry’s scarring from their “accidents”) they’re an interesting trait to add & reflects the whole vigilantism thing.

okay i think that’s all the thoughts i have. ik this got kinda rambley but i hope it was helpful 😭

here are some closeups, as a treat <3

#ask and u shall receive #franollie #i’m sure there’s more but this is all i got rn #hopefully i will get more concise in the future lmao #bart (as in bug art)#cassie sandsmark #steph brown #stephanie brown #mia dearden #dc #long post

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anonymousbardd · 6 months ago

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Over The Sunset - FT. Hermes x FemReader

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: "Your slow loving makes me feel so obsessed with you."

𑄽𑄺 Content Contains: xFemreader, fluff, swearing. This story is based off of the series, Blood Of Zeus - ¡Please do not repost without crediting!

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: "All my life I and the world had been moving at a fast pace, but everyone always seems to slow down whenever I'm near you."

[F/n] is a young maiden who lives in a small poli, she used to live in a much larger economy, but her previous home was destroyed by a big group of bandits and hoarders. Now, she lives in a small village that the survivors built.

During the hard times, [F/n}'s family were the ones who helped everyone, they were the ones who gathered resources, and food, and they helped with the injured.

The village had a voting session to decide who would lead their newly rebuilt home, and it was no brainer why all of them chose your family. At the time, [F/n] was still an unborn fetus, and by the time she was born, the whole village had dedicated that day to celebrating their new life and home.

The young girl grew up to be polite, humble and kind, just like her parents. The villagers adored her, calling [F/n] the village's white rose. The young girl had a heart of gold, was sensitive, and felt empathetic towards the poor souls who had passed away. [F/n] would pray to Hermes, she would pray for the safety of the undead.

[F/n] would visit Hermes' nearby temple and would make offerings to him.

One morning, the village's white rose now grew into a beautiful maiden, it was a lovely morning, [F/n] was making her way to the nearby river to collect some water, when all of a sudden, she heard screams of terror from her beloved villagers.

[F/n] ran towards the sounds of agony, her heart raced inside of her chest as her mind showed different horrific scenarios. Once she finally arrived, she noticed that the cries and screams were coming from inside.

She rushed in only to find a dimly lit cave, on the ground where some of the villagers bleeding out, a little girl was crying, [F/n] ran towards the young girl and held her in her arms. Then, in the dark, a figure rose and began to swiftly attack the young girl and [F/n].

The young maiden then took a rock from the ground and began throwing it at the Kere, all whilst she hid the young child behind her, she managed to land a decent hit on its head, causing it to fall back into the shadows.

[F/n] then turned to the young child and made sure that she was okay, [F/n]'s legs were already bruised and wounded, so she wasn't able to run away, "Leave this cave... Hurry and run back to the village!" [F/n] said, "B-but.., I can't leave you here!"

[F/n] smiled and placed a hand on the girl's cheek, "Worry not about me, save yourself," she said, and with that, the young girl ran out of the cave and back to the village. [F/n] knew that if she stayed any longer she would end up being feasted upon.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and the young maiden then decided to pray for the two dead bodies on the ground, as she did, she felt a gush of wind brush against her face.

Then right before her, a tall man with fair skin appeared, his eyes were a beautiful shade of blue and his hair was in a braid, he took off his helmet and looked down on the ground to see the dead and [F/n].

The young maiden knew that the man was too big to be an ordinary mortal, "Wh-who.., who are you..?" [F/n] asked quite frightened, the tall man chuckled and kneeled down.

"Well that's quite disappointing... As my devoted follower I would thought that you would have at least a bit of a clue who I am."

He than hovered his hand on top of the dead villagers and began to harvest their souls, he looked at [F/n] and smiled, only then did the young maiden realise who it was.

The man in front of her was no other than Hermes, the god she's been praying to all her life.

Just as the tall man stood up, [F/n] lifted her body and warned him, "Wait! Careful, there's a Keres lurking in the dar—..,"

*shing!*

In a blink of an eye, the Keres from before was cut in half, Hermes' reaction was quick and beyond mortal abilities.

[F/n] sat there in shock, the god then reached out his hand for the young maiden to hold, "Come, let me help you out of here," he said with a smile.

The young woman then held his hand, and without struggle, he carries her in a bridal way.

[F/n] felt her heart pounding inside of her chest, her facd felt hot as she looked at the god who's carrying her. Not a second later they were outside Hermes' temple, the god gently placed her down and looked at her wounds.

"Wait here, I'll be back," he said looking up at the young woman, not even 10 minutes later, Hermes returned with clean cloth and a bucket of water.

[F/n] watched as the god dipped the cloth in water and began to gently dab it on her wounds, causing her to wince in pain. "Bare with me for a bit.., I know it hurts..." Hermes muttered.

The young maiden moaned, her legs were aching, she then looked at Hermes who was currently focused on her injury, "Do you usually do this for those who worship you?" [F/n] asked.

Hermes smiled warmly and looked up at the young maiden, "I do not, consider yourself special," he said, [F/n] felt her face heat up, she then looked away, the sun was already setting.

[F/n] looked back at Hermes and hummed, he was already wrapping up the wound with more clean cloth, "Why..?" [F/n] mumbled, Hermes looked up and hummed, "Why did you save me..?" She asked, "What do you mean?"

[F/n] looked down and sighed, "Compared to you, I am but a young woman... I haven't done anything to be blessed enough to get saved by a god..."

Hermes looked at her for a second and laughed, he sat down on the ground and rested his arms on his knees, "You, my dear, are truly one funny girl," he chucked.

Hermes then stood up, offering his hand to [F/n], to which she accepted.

He then brought her to the top of a mountain that perfectly viewed [F/n]'s village. Hermes held her close to him, making the young maiden feel secure, "You see this village? It's a small poli that your parents helped to grow... And you, a daughter of those with noble hearts, did the same."

[F/n] looked at him, slightly curious. She knew what Hermes meant, but she wanted to know what he'd say. Hermes turned to face [F/n], "You cared for the weak, praid for those who had fallen, and you helped with the village's troubles.., you, darling, are a lovely person."

Hermes smiled and looked out to the horizon, watching the sun slowly fall, "Ever since you started to visit my temple... I can't help but admire you for your kindness, you're very thoughtful... Everday you give me generous offerings, I can't help but feel flattered."

The god then turned to look at [F/n], "Sweetie, you're such a humble person, and on top of that, you're kindness makes me admire you more and more, I find myself looking forward to your presence for whenever you visit my temple again."

Hermes kisses the back of [F/n]'s hand, "I can't help myself but fall for such a charming woman..," he then looked up to see [F/n]'s red face, the way she looked told him everything.

Hermes then slowly pulled himself away, "Though I may know more about you... You don't know much about me... Worry not about that.., I'll gladly take my time and take things slow with you," he smiled, tucking a hair behind [F/n]'s ear.

𑄽𑄺 Blood of Zeus needs more appreciation honestly... Sorry for being inactive, I've been busy hanging out with my family hehe.

༝༚༝༚𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚍

#x reader #fanfic #oneshot #hermes blood of zeus #blood of zeus hermes #boz hermes #blood of zeus hermes x reader #blood of zeus one shot #blood of zeus

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jainydoe · 2 months ago

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Delirium

summary: She’s an angel, he’s a dog. Or, the confessions of a white tenured male.

tw: smut, mentions of death, violence

In his dreams are mausoleums. Rows sky high of those he’s trounced. Boys and girls from Schoolyard’s Past. A stranger from a conference who murmured about his adornments - Volkarin is just so … tragically nouveau riche.

Johanna. With her hair and her laugh, laid dead with a frozen smile.

He keeps them all. Collected. Strolls along the cool, clean corridors and considers their carcasses. Malleable. Under his thumb. Under his spell, should he wish. Ripped from rest and compelled to answer any inquiry that may flit across his mind. He’s built a recent wing. Young men and women and. Taashes. Tucked neatly and filed amongst the masses.

Then there’s her.

For her, he’s built an atrium. A private temple where she’s kept in glass. Perpetually moonlit. Preserved. Perfected. In his dreams, he lifts the top of her enclosure open, rushes a breath across icy cheeks. Hours pass and he stares. Confesses secrets. Fears. Wants and desires. He thinks of the different ways she could die and how each would draw and quarter the soul until he’s scattered so distantly, he’d be impossible to make whole. Her, hung in a frozen suspension. Mouth agape and rigor mortis set in. His face would slot so carefully under her breasts, and he’d keep her there, midair, just to ache and sob into her ribs. Or her, burned and charred, body fruitlessly attempting to stay with him. Resisting the path to ash. He’d grip the air, magic rising the fire higher and higher, screaming into its lashings in a jealous rage. That it could consider itself worthy enough to touch her. To take her. Consume her. It takes a few weeks of knowing Rook before he’s begun desecrating the other crypts in his dreamscape. Every gentleman, lady and tramp who accost her with their gaze, with their booming want, earn a place in the Hall of the Damned. He keeps them in an area far from her tomb. The moonlight doesn’t grace their nameplates. When he imagines their spirits pleading in the dark, scared and confused, he sleeps like a babe.

The waking hours are cruel and unusual. At home, every chapter of the day is one to celebrate. The mornings, ripe with expectation and promises. Brunches. Afternoons of discussion and lounging and napping and laughing and dinners overflown with debate and passion. He misses conversation. The type that leaves you buzzed and amped. He catches it sometimes with Bellara or Neve, but Rook leaves him itchy and ready in a way he hasn’t been since his boyhood. If she were a girl in a club and he were a boy with two drinks, he’d give her that smile that always works and kiss her hand to go the extra mile. He’d tell her he knows a spot in the Memorial Gardens and play the gentlemen who won’t offer to fuck her right away because modesty will have her gagging for it. But this is the real world and he’s pushing fifty. The closest he can get to romance is pouring her wine at the dinner table and laying on the pet names like he’s got plenty to spare. He’s started pampering himself. On days where she’d rather have the company of the boy or the other boy, he spends hours rubbing creams on himself, languidly dressing, steps out onto the balcony in his room and thinks about what she’d say if she saw him in just his dress socks, hair ungelled, five o’clock shadow shading his bone structure in that way he’s been told is haunting. He hopes the look he’d give her would haunt her. Etch itself into her memory and burrow into the marrow, to the point where she couldn’t ever feel pleasure again without thinking of his. Remembering the way he’d whisper her name before coming undone at the seams.

Tonight isn’t anything special - not in the grand scheme of things - but he lets the perfumed oil drop onto the paper-thin dip of his inner wrist, taking a deep, deep pull of the leather-booze-sweat-and-musky combo that he knows will drive her mad. He watches her in marketplaces, eyes running over the twinkling bottles of imported goods too precious to touch. Curved glass, inviting and seductive, begging to lay on flesh. She has caked blood on her chest and makes sure her steps are less heavy, presence less imposing. The salespeople offer, nonetheless, smiles wide and hands outstretched, and he feels his shoulders tighten as she wipes her hands along her armor, picks at her skin, begins the fruitless endeavor of trying to dig the last bits of dirt from under her nails.

Sorry, I’m afraid we can’t afford anything today.

A lie, though one she might not realize she’s telling. She’s a scrounger. A scrappy, makeshift trader. He wants to ask how she can keep affording all the sleekest, strongest armor and charming home adornments, things that make their situation less of a shit-fuck and more of a happy-accident, but he knows she’ll never tell. I’ve got to keep some secrets, she’d smile, impish and nymph-like, an invitation for him to peel off all her layers and share a secret he’s kept for this whole entire time. One that’ll keep them whispering to each other all night. In the darkest hours, he lets the mind wander to flushed lips, reddened limbs, reddened teeth from the caked blood he’s licked her clean of. She’d be disgusted and he’d be drunk, covering her in every shiny thing of his he has to offer.

Marketplaces are a dangerous setting for him. Tempting in their quick releases. I saw this and thought of you, and I saw that and thought of you, I’m practically always thinking of you, do you think of me, how often, how deeply, how about you show me, right here, right now, before either of us have a chance to think twice.

Wearing the oil is the little thing he allows himself, a pathetic tether to the fantasy he’s let play out. The Rook he’s created from stolen glances, lopsided conversations, dinner jokes and morning tea and midnight-solo-hand-fucks where he can ramble all the things he loves about her and it isn’t unwanted, it makes her cum - that Rook would smell the fact he’s wearing their scent, and make a point of having his sheets smell only of her for the next week. She’d be furious. She’d be deliriously in love. He should make his way to dinner, already. He’s expected. Who will ask questions no one wants to answer if Emmrich is spiraling all on his own?

“So, after all that, what did you do?”

They’re trading adventures amongst themselves, this medley of gritty, young things. Stories of near-death and past lives they’ve left behind - it helps distract from the. Well. Emmrich doesn’t share much because when you work in death long enough, you learn only the other people who work in death care to talk about it. He’d hoped Lucanis would be a shoulder to gab on. He couldn’t have been more wrong. He makes a note to visit the Necropolis soon and only realizes the table has gone silent when Rook is all cheeks ablaze and girlish hair-tucking. Her eyes dance around the table, avoiding Emmrich, entirely. He probably would, too. People who don’t contribute don’t get the benefits of worthwhile attention. A lesson he teaches his students all too well. There are too many other, more important things to fail at here, though. Oil and restriction are the two indulgences he’ll allow, he’s decided. And another glass of wine. Dalish? Huh. Good for them.

“Well,” she continues, “there’s more than one way to convince a guard you’re better off unchained.”

Harding’s guffaw shakes the table and he almost lights a necrotic pool on her chair. Taash is slapping Rook’s back and Neve is laughing into her glass. By the time he’s back in his body, aware of the room, of his senses, Rook is the only person sitting at the table. He can picture it so clearly. Her, chained. Stretched. Arms above her and belly exposed, a deceptively innocent cross of one leg over the other. A pretty please and an I promise I’ll never commit another crime ever again, I swear. He thinks about gripping the hair at the top of her neck and asking how she can be so cavalier about life, constantly toeing the edge. When she regales the dinner table with stories of old friends, people she used to know, he’d imagine meeting them, bringing a bottle of shockingly Dalish wine, something local and real and so down-to-earth. He’d turn up the charm, make them all laugh and later that night spread her legs, his chest against her back as his fingers dipped down, tracing the edge of her underwear, asking if he’s performed to her satisfaction. It’s miserable. It’s juvenile. The fact that the thing that drives him over the edge is imagining himself as a fixture in her life. Her charming companion. Her smart and funny guy that buys her chocolates and treasures and knows that when he touches her right there, she has to shut her eyes because he’s just too much. He’s taut. He’s on edge. And it’s because he knows she’s lying.

“Heading to bed, Emmrich?”

He smiles, rising from his chair and crossing over to the fireplace. He reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out the gold cigarette case he’s kept on deck, nowadays. Smoking used to be something he considered a young man’s game, reserved for the insanity one feels only in their twenties. He’s realised that feeling is a long-forgotten acquaintance whose not only decided they’re moving in, but that they’re marrying Emmrich and pregnant with twins - Starvation and Enslavement. It’s too late to do anything about it. The nursery’s all picked out.

He crouches down on one knee, inching closer to the fire until the flames nearly kiss him and he can puff out a bit, igniting. “Forgive me, my dear. Forgot my lighter on my desk.” He can lie, too. For a moment like this. He knows what he looks like, sharp and wolfish and the fire paints him a dashing devil instead of a foaming beast. This little move is one of the few tricks he learned from the only other girl who invoked The Acquaintance. Come on, Volkarin, don’t be such a coward. Fucking popinjay. “That’s quite a tale you told, earlier. The one with the guard and chains.”

Her eyes are on him as he rises and leans his shoulder against the mantel, controlled and poised like a former ballerina.

“I’ve lived an exciting life, I know.”

He grins. “Remind me, what did you say you did, exactly?”

She knows he knows. Years of training students keeps one’s finger on the pulse of casual deception. She crosses her arms and lifts her chin in the particular way she does when she wants to appear leader-like. “I blew him. And while he was seeing stars I locked him back in my cell and got away.”

He twitches. His nose burns. “Charming, as always, but I’m afraid that’s not quite what you said earlier. You said,” he uses the cigarette to point at her, “that you took him on your cot and locked him onto it. I remember for two reasons. The first,” he inhaled, “I found it puckish and creative. The second,” he exhaled, letting the smoke twirl away from them both as the tip of his thumb started tracing his mustache, “I know for a fact they don’t keep cots in those jail cells. Too comfortable. A distraction from contrition.” He looks at her shoes. Her hands. Rolls his gaze up to her eyes. “Did you really have to sleep your way to freedom, or was that just a show for our more easily entertained party members?”

She’s enraged and embarrassed, but not too much to point out the obvious. “I don’t know, Emmrich. For a guy who remembers to bring a handkerchief to battle, I highly doubt you happened to forget your lighter on your desk.” In a flash of nerve and steel, she slaps his chest, feeling into the pocket of his vest and slipping out the matching, gold zippo. “Do you think I’m someone easily entertained?”

He looks at her nose, her chin, the bottom of her eyes, counting each lash as he counts his breaths. Lets himself smile. To relax her. To challenge her. To beg her. “I’m afraid if the likes of prison guards and roguish younglings can keep your attention,” he sighs, tossing the rest of the cigarette into the flames, watching it become engulfed, “then I couldn’t possibly attempt the conquest of your favor.” He knows what he’s just admitted. Feels it in the tips of his fingers as he wills them not to dance along his thighs or itch at his neck. Be calm. Be kind. Be careful.

“What would that look like? If you,” she’s shivering, “If you did attempt?”

“Likely frightening.” That makes her laugh. He’d do anything to make her laugh again. But he’d really do anything to shut up that laughter, afterward. Spin it into something breathy and relentless. He wonders if this is what it feels like once your mind is lost. Thinks of cellars and bugs and the stench and rot of insanity. He’d look so perfectly appropriate in creamy cotton, pulled tight, all to keep him from the frenzied need to keep touching himself, no matter how much it hurts, because the ghost of her memory is most present when he’s wanton and weak. It’s not a bad outcome. He would gladly take the isolation of the fractured mind, shattered glass reflections all of Rook,

Rook,

over the pounding loneliness he’s known all too well.

He watches as she looks at her hands, dirt chunking from under her nails, and she smiles something light and tempting. Maybe she wasn’t lying about that guard, after all. Who wouldn’t unshackle a maiden so sweet? He doesn’t care if she’s a siren. He’ll hold his breath until he chokes. “Truth be told, my dear,” here goes nothing, “to vie for your affections, I’d probably pester you with questions, act a fool and ignore any indication you might feel the same in the hopes you’d eventually leave me to perish in peace.” It breaks his heart to watch her frown. Don’t pity him. Don’t look at him. He’s not a wilting lily, he’s a dying ember who only needs the air from her lungs to lift him back to life. He was making peace with death, before her. It’s something he’ll never forgive her for.

She lifts a hand to his jaw, delicate and rough, thumb running under his cheekbones. “Well, if I were to be in a similar position, perhaps I’d darken your doorstep every day, lose my nerve if I catch your eye too long and fashion myself an expert lover in the hopes it’d catch your attention.”

She wants him and he’s a makeshift dragon tamer. Scrappy. Scrounging for any hint of interest. His desire is an archdemon he’s been holding back with shoelaces. “My dear, if your intentions are sincere, I fear what may become of me.”

A girl possessed, the blacks of her eyes blow wider as the sharp of her teeth begin glinting in the firelight. He’s choking. “You should be afraid.”

Once they’ve crossed the threshold of his door, she pushes him against the slab, lips shiny and breath shallow. Her fingers are clumsy with youth and he’s bumbling out apologies for the mess, for the cold, for anything that might make her leave. He wants to bring her by the fire, warm her up, take his time with his meal. He hears a rip in his dress shirt and considers offering a proper spanking, but before he can assume the position she declares “Get on the table.” He cocks a shoulder and tilts his head. Smiles. Mind blank.

“I beg your pardon?”

Her strength should come as no surprise and he regrets his yelp when his thighs scrape against the stone. He’s in briefs and briefly wonders if this is where she kills him. Lets him bleed out, a martyr, her sacrificial lamb. He’d keep his eyes on her as the lights go out, glad he could finally perform to her satisfaction. When she yanks the last bits of cover off of him, the cold much more biting and mocking, he nearly crosses his legs and asks if she’d like to join him for dinner sometime.

“Lie down and spread your legs.” He laughs. The look on her face says to shut up.

If she’s impressed by his figure she makes no show of it, stripping herself down and, like a lightning rod, gaining electric power with every item she removes. Once she’s as bitten by the cold as he is, puckered and goose-pimpled, she steps up onto the stone, between his legs, staring down at him. His mouth waters. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you.”

“Tell me you need me.”

“Darling-”

“Say it.”

He feels himself getting harder. “I need you.” “I’m going to kill you tonight.”

“I know.”

“And when I’m finished, you’re going to thank me for it.”

“I will.”

She wastes no time warming him up. Her mouth is boiling on the tip of him and he angles to scrape the back of her throat if just to put her on the back foot. In response, she grips his hips, nails digging into the bone as she lowers and lowers and lowers until his toes curl and throat tightens. She’s a harlot and a harpy and his heartbeat is pounding through his head. Hands are pathetic and past conquests no match for her pretty little mouth. Her drool is dripping everywhere and he’s parched. “Let me taste you.”

“No.”

She scratches at his inner thighs, the soft little points where he’s hairless and shallow and the chills running down his scalp make him feel almost feverish. Good. He hopes he infects her. He hopes the little bit of poison that’s soon to fill her cheeks will spark delirium, binding her to him, his kiss the only antidote. Her hair is so shiny and he’s seeing stars. “Kiss me.”

She pops off and grips him like it’s a weapon. “No.” The back of his head thunks in anguish.

“Please, I’ll do anything, I’ll say anything, please, my darling, if I could just,” With a final lick he cums, shiny and sticky on his stomach, matting his hair. She leans over him, commanding and resolute. A demon. A creature of evil. A girl who will haunt him forever.

“Take me to dinner.”

“I will.”

“Buy me something nice, too.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll fuck you when you prove you’re better off unchained.”

“Thank you.”

That night, he dreams he’s trapped in a glass casket and she sits in the pews, smiling at him. He’s never slept better.

#so this is my first time I've set out to write smut specifically uhhhhhhlmk what you think! ahhh!#smut #rook x emmrich #emmrook #emmrich volkarin #dragon age the veilguard #datv

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