#might write a fic for this but i lack writing skills
Note
Hey! Can I request a falin x reader where reader is a lone researcher in the dungeon and stumbles into chimera falin and the two fall in love?
Maybe Like a 5 times the reader has met chimera falin and 1 time the two get to meet after she’s turned back type story?
beauty/beast
…ft! falin x gn! reader
…tags! 5+1 format, reader is like slightly unhinged, fluff with moments of angst, slight suggestiveness
…wc! 2789
…notes! grimm tries not to come off as a monsterkisser for nearly 2.7k words, the fic,,,, hope you enjoy!!!! i love chimera falin so bad…
One
You can’t say you didn’t ask for this.
It’s a death sentence to traverse into a dungeon on your own, especially with your lack of combat skills. If you were sane, you’d have hired a bodyguard to help take down monsters you couldn’t handle. Fortunately, you are not, and decided instead you could very well handle monsters in a pacifistic way.
Any companion you told this to chose to stare at you like you admitted to dark magic.
So, you’ll simply prove the nay-sayers wrong! After all, how hard can it be to tame some monsters?
Very hard, actually. Like… incredibly.
You had to pride yourself in how you managed to sweet-talk some petty thieves for advice on monsters in the floor you’re currently on, even how to avoid orcs! At least that much is out of the way.
As for fighting, well, sometimes a very sharp slap to the head with a book, or even the sharp tip of a pen can subdue anyone, if just to give you enough time to run.
Besides, blood makes for some extra ink if you just happened to come by a dead body!
Going purely on efficiency alone, you’re doing tremendous work! When it comes to your study? Not so much.
The purpose of coming all the way down here is that you have a very specific urge. That being, to tame a beast. Some researchers gained the will to try and do the same to elemental spirits, why not other monsters?
One of the most common rebuttals you receive is that monsters are animals, they can’t be tamed at all, and you shouldn’t even try lest you want your head bitten off. Considering thus far you only got bitten by a walking mushroom, you think you’re doing rather well! (You did take an hour to contemplate to yourself how a walking mushroom seemingly has teeth, though.)
That brings you now later to the fourth floor, trying to shield your notes from the water as you lament losing more ink. Sure, you might write a little bit more than should be necessary, but you surely can’t be out already!
So, delight fills you as you peer past a doorway to see the top half of a woman face down on the floor. Haha, you can likely drain her pretty easily for some ink! Looks fresh enough, and some patches of her are already damp with red!
You skip over, humming as you do so, when all at once the woman jerks and looks up at you. Her golden eyes pierce your own, making you freeze in place. You wonder if something had gotten mixed up and a succubus ended up making its way to an upper floor, when the walls of the small tower the woman is inhabiting collapses.
A chimera screeches at you, as if telling you to leave it alone. If you weren’t so awestruck, you would have tried to shush it, lure it towards you and petted its oddly human head. Alas, you let the chicken-legged thing go, finding a safe haven for itself.
Day 1:
I have found a beast in its purest form.
I must pursue it.
I must tame it.
Two
‘Obsession’ would be putting your experience lightly.
You had never wanted to gaze upon a monster as much as you wished to see the chimera again. Unique is its proportions, the lower body of a dragon and the torso and head of an adult tallwoman.
To anyone else, its face must be more of a lure. With the prettiest face and… great assets to boot, like a fish drawn to an angler fish's light, a blindsided adventurer comes near.
You had tried to navigate where the beast has gone, observing the damages of certain areas to lead you closer to it.
Thoughts course through your mind like speckles of a daydream as you walk and walk and walk, trying to sneak past other enemies and adventurers as you do so. What would its feathers feel like? Is it different from the mop of blonde hair on its head? You didn’t get the chance to observe its eyes – are they human or monster? What of its body heat? What is its diet?
Ah. Diet.
Your own body stops walking in realisation. By all means, comparing their mouth to the rest of their body, it’s ultimately impossible for the chimera to have a stable diet in this dungeon, correct?
Perhaps… you need to make a lure of your own.
Even after days of navigating the dungeon, you still have plenty of rations from the surface remaining in your bag. Hopefully the chimera likes the most noble meal one can fit inside a lunchbox — meats and pasta with the richest sauce. One could say your taste in meals is unique, eliciting a morbid curiosity. If the beast is more in tune with its human side, it will react the same.
You don’t know what tempted you to arrange a table with two chairs on either side. It’s not like the chimera could fit, but it was only suitable for your first formal meeting with it! Oh, how you can’t wait to observe it eating, and so close…!
If you’re lucky, it may even attempt to taste you.
You promptly shake off the thought.
What you focus on now is to draw the chimera near. It seems to favour secluded areas, but has been seemingly chased around. Aw, is it scared of humans? That’s just adorable! Or, maybe, it’s resting before setting off on a search… Now that’d be some juicy stuff! Who’s the chimera’s prey? Another monster, or humans?
Oh, of course you’ll use yourself as bait. You’re not a coward!
You know basic enough spells that you won’t be entirely drained of mana upon use, lighting up a route to catch the chimera’s attention upon spotting it. Down you lead it, making yourself look as bright and delectable as possible, before sitting in your seat, your meal readily prepared for the chimera.
You smile up at her as she pokes at the food you prepared, and she begins to eat.
Day 3:
The beast was very hungry upon encounter. Even when she finished the meal, she insisted on having something more. I complied, and soon I had emptied my entire share of rations. The chimera eats food made for humans easily.
This elicits curiosity – it might be proof enough that the chimera’s existence in this dungeon is unnatural. Even now, it looks too… human. I feel uncomfortable now referring to the beast as such – an ‘it’.
Thus, I will refer to the chimera as ‘she’ from here on. It suits her. She truly is magnificent.
All signs point to her being an attempt at creating a ‘beast-kin’, but instead of using the soul of a monster and body of a human, it’s as if it’s a mesh of both. A disgustingly beautiful transformation. To compare, it is not dissimilar to the breeding of a pug. Deliberately done to appease someone, something. A selfish birth.
Someone must be wanting to do the same as I to the chimera – tame her to their whims.
…I’ll have to look further into this.
Three
You feel less in control of your studies these days.
The more you hang around the dungeon, scavenging for food and following your muse, the more insane you feel. But, for the sake of research, you power through.
The chimera, she has been opening herself up to you. When she gets anxious, her feathers ruffle, and you shush her with pets. She calms down occasionally. Once, you had encountered her, blood on her body and under her fingernails. You cleaned her using the mana-infused water. She had never looked so calm.
She doesn’t feel like a monster you have tamed, but a friend.
This scares you.
Sure, there’s the possibility that the chimera is an unnatural phenomenon, and isn’t even a monster.
But that also means you’re losing your resolve.
The chimera sits with you, as you scrub her red-scaled talons free of dirt and blood. Her upper body leans on you, resting. You can even hear little chirps slipping from her lips.
She’s so cute.
Even as her golden eyes soften, the small slits in them dilating to exhibit relaxation, she smiles at you. You don’t flinch when her hands take your face to look at you. She’s a bird after all – she might be trying to memorise you, how you look, so she knows not to hurt you in the future.
You were nearly about to reminisce on your further embarrassment when the chimera speaks.
Four words. She spoke four words in the common language, leaving you staring at her. You’re speechless. She must know that she’s caught you off guard as she slowly tucks your hair behind your ear and moves away.
The moment is quickly ruined. “Dragon!” A boyish voice calls. “There you are. You’ve been leaving my side so frequently. There’s no time to–”
An elf in a cloak freezes upon noticing you. His heavy eye bags rival your own as he glares down at your sitting position.
You don’t do anything, merely looking up at your friend in confusion. She is back to being silent again, reaching her arms out to the elf, as if about to pick him up. He swats at her, before pointing at you.
“Kill them,” he demands her.
She hesitates. You also find yourself unable to move. So the chimera is under someone’s control after all. This elf, forcing you apart from your friend.
You hardly process your friend lifting you off the floor, her fingers closing in around your throat. Tighter and tighter. Your eyes can barely make out her empty expression as she squeezes the life out of your lungs.
Snap.
You fall onto the floor, and the mad mage leaves with his dragon in tow.
Day ??:
“My name is Falin.”
The chimera told me this last time we encountered one another. She has a name. A beautiful name that belongs just to her. Falin.
…I would say ‘my Falin’, but she is not. She is under the control of that elf. I wouldn’t want her to be my Falin anyway.
She shouldn’t belong to anyone.
I was revived by a kindly Eastern woman, who is accompanying a group of retainers following their lord. They are joined by another party, also recently revived.
Apparently, in my revival, I had uttered her name, “Falin,” and captured the attention of the malnourished lord.
He is looking for her.
…I was informed she is his love.
Pushing personal feelings aside, I asked to come along. I neglected to mention Falin’s current state. I couldn’t do that to him right now. Maybe once he sleeps, or eats… but not now.
Falin, I wish to save you. That is my goal now.
You are not a monster to be tamed.
Four
Today, you met Laios Touden.
He is Falin’s older brother, you learn.
You met a lot of people, actually. You met Falin’s party, an elf who Falin went to school with, as well as Laios Touden.
“You’ve seen Falin?” He asks you, brow creased. He had leaned forward in interest. Lord Toshiro, Kabru, and Asebi were also listening to you with intrigue.
You nod. “Yes, but I fear the situation might be a little more than you have bargained for,” you vaguely inform.
Your words would be interrupted by Laios’ request to talk privately with Toshiro, to which you comply. You do already have a feeling of what's being said, something Kabru seems to pick up on as he glances over at you.
“Falin… isn’t faring well, is she?”
“Not in the traditional sense,” you reply. Kabru grimaces, clearly not appreciating your rather… erratic way of conversing. You add before he could talk back, “she’ll come back for me.”
Kabru furrows his brow. “Excuse me?”
His question remains unanswered until you are swept up in a heated battle. Looks of horror cross everyone’s faces at the bloody acts committed by the chimera.
You merely smile.
“Hello beauty,” you whisper when she turns to you. Falin steps forward, cornering you. You welcome her with open arms – and the world becomes dark again.
Day ??:
Scorned though I may be by Lord Toshiro, I know myself not to be mad, but in love.
Yes, I am in love. I know this now for certain.
I know that he, too, is in love. I do not see his wishes badly. In fact, from a sane man’s mouth, it is perfectly understandable. Dark magic is dangerous. As is love. He’s risking his own reputation for it, even if others don’t appear to see things the way he does.
But when push comes to shove, I am not that sane man. I am joining Laios Touden’s party in the retrieval of Falin.
The aftermath of the battle consisted of a hearty meal. Who knew monsters could taste so nice? Keep this in mind for the next adventure.
I had figured this all came from the result of black magic. Marcille Donato is a much more interesting woman than I thought. I’m sure I could learn a lot from her.
Hence, we march forward. I know you aren’t in your right mind, Falin, but trust that I am.
I will risk it all for you, beauty.
Five
The ice is cold underneath your fingertips. The woman encased inside is relaxed, as if she’s merely asleep. To see her completely separated from the lower half of the chimera body was something uncanny to you, so used to seeing her towering over you, able to squash you like a bug.
You turn to Marcille as she approaches. “You had the right mind, keeping her fresh like this. Deep down, you really did want to follow through with the plan!”
The blonde elf is sheepish. “I did end up causing a right mess in the end. It… It was selfish of me.”
“It was love,” you reply.
“Not the love Falin needs, though,” she finishes.
You both stare up at her in silence. If you were delusional enough, you could swear you could see Falin breathing.
“I love her,” you admit, quieter than you have ever been. “Is that alright with you?”
Marcille turns to you, her eyes wide. For such a gossip, she really hasn’t picked up on it?
“I…” She hesitates. Her hands reach her trousers, and she scrunches up the fabric in her hands. “It’s not my choice what – or who – Falin chooses. I don’t think I have the right to decide anything for her.”
You nod, graciously taking Marcille’s word to heart.
You feel you’ve also changed throughout your journey. Volatile as you may be, you appreciate Falin as she is. An untamed beauty. Not for anyone to claim or put their ideals onto.
She’s simply Falin.
“Come on,” Marcille takes your hand. She has the kind of look on her face where you know she accepts you readily. “Let’s go eat, okay? For Falin.”
You smile back. “For Falin.”
I don’t care about the day anymore.
Falin is being revived today. Soon, I’ll have a chance to meet the real her. The beauty behind the beast.
Ha. I haven’t called her that for a while.
Maybe I’ll follow Toshiro’s way and propose immediately too? No, Marcille may accept me, but that might result in another need for revival.
I can’t wait to get to know you.
the first time
Falin opens the door with a dazed expression, not expecting the crowd waiting around the door. Of course, this resulted in quite the hoo-ha. People running around, celebrating the successful revival of Falin Touden. You wait patiently for you to be welcomed once more.
The woman is sitting calmly at her bed. Some of her features are still feathered, but you’ve always liked how they felt underneath your fingertips.
She glances up at you, examining your form.
You’re taller than she thought.
“Hi,” you say, handing over a random blade of grass you picked.
Falin takes it. Her fingers brush against your own. She starts twirling the natural green between her fingers. She smiles warmly. “Hello,” her soft, tired voice returns. It’s so sweet that you might melt. “My name is Falin. It’s nice to meet you.”
You know from the way she glances up at you that she already remembers you quite well.
Feeling the happiest you’ve ever been, you fall into Falin, pulling her into the tightest of hugs.
“It’s so wonderful to meet you too, beauty.”
Today, she asked me if she could belong to me.
I said yes, but only if she belonged to herself first.
She accepted.
#✮ grimm's fics!#FALLS OVER#this is my longest fic so far i think wow#as falin deserves#delicious in dungeon#delicious in dungeon imagines#delicious in dungeon x reader#dungeon meshi#dungeon meshi imagines#dungeon meshi x reader#falin#falin touden#falin x reader#falin imagines#falin touden x reader#falin touden imagines
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played ww and now im thinking about floormasters and gloom hands
im like 90% sure someone already made this connection, but
colors a bit off and no eye on floormaster but I see a connection
#shower thoughts hmm#well one is gloom and one is just some hand but#theyre both floor-hand-thingys#why not?#might write a fic for this but i lack writing skills#lets see how many drafts it takes for me to get out something good-#linked universe#legend of zelda#zelda ww#zelda totk#floormaster#gloom hands#totk spoilers
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wondering if koga or adonis are going to get some more character development or like Not Really, because. koga's got his stuff in the ! era, which, fine! new players have absolutely no idea what happened and how important his current dynamic with rei is, it's cool, hurts only a little bit!, meanwhile adonis is still... trapped in his unfortunate character trope... that i doubt he'll ever break out of.
i'm not expecting either of them to do a complete 180 obv, but i do actually want to see koga figure himself out as, how to put it, an individual musician with his own style*? and if i have to read about how adonis is big scary huge and terrifying** at first glance, but actually, wow! what a surprise! kind, quiet and gentle once you talk to him even ONE more time, i'm going to snap.
*i'm just kinda biting my hands here because there are bighuge neons in my brain pointing out that koga's path should have him as a some sorta representative of undead ? temporary leader perhaps? considering everything we've learned in crossroads AND the fact that he mentions in his initial story how he's the least popular/known member and he wants to change it On Top Of wanting to face rei as equals, like. augh. put him in a situation please
**he's not.
basically both of them could use some activities separate from 2mkb, whether as a duo or individually, or perhaps as leaders of their respective shuffle units, but considering the next ud event is rei and shuffles probably won't return until after the climax series is over... it's Gonna Take A While I Think
#shrimp thoughts#i'm also Sitting And Thinking about valk because on one hand i DO adore how far they've came#on the other i AM in love with their puppetmaster + doll dynamic and don't want it to dissolve Now That They're Equals#like yeah mika might be a human but... once oshisan's doll always oshisan's doll? figure out what you like then do it on purpose?#on one hand the controlling puppetmaster and his obedient doll dynamic was a result of shu's trauma and mika's lack of confidence#in his... idk sense of himself as a human? and skills as an idol but there's something bewitching (hehe.) in the concept of an idol being#a Literal Doll doing whatever their master makes them do. perfect synchronicity. and the fucking. MAINTENANCE it was so precious and i#dooooon't want it to go away :(#augh. my enst fic that i started writing was about a collab between undead and valk and how each group's mak-- sorry kouhai line#(well. dot in valkyrie's case) could embody this sort of 'look at me and me only; i'll charm/hypnotize you so that there's nothing#but me in your mind' possessive love in their own way... 눈 감아 Red Sun &c &c#anyway. yeah. thinky thots with no point
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I’m thinking about perfectionism again, specifically with respect to how it can skew your opinion of success and failure.
There’s this concept that comes up a lot when you read about issues like perfectionism: all-or-nothing thinking. It’s a trap that’s easy to fall into.
If you’re a fic writer falling into this trap, you might feel like you’re an absolute failure if your fic isn’t a 100% accurate depiction of the scene you see in your head with flawless grammar and zero typos. That is a, quite literally, impossible standard to meet and as a result of never meeting it, you probably feel one or more of the following:
lack of motivation
certainty that there’s no point in even trying
self-hatred or some other form of intense dissatisfaction with yourself and/or your skills
This is a completely logical way to feel in that mindset, by the way. Your standard for success is so high that you’re constantly a failure. If your standard for success is impossible to meet, then there is no point in trying. If there’s no point in trying, how could you possibly feel motivated?
In order to move away from those feelings, you need to move away from that all-or-nothing, black & white mindset.
One way to do this is by figuring out a new standard for success that actually can be achieved. For example, give yourself permission to have occasional typos in your stories. Gaiman’s Law states that an author will always find a typo the first time they open their published book. If even Neil himself has resigned himself to this fate, then hopefully you can too. If you managed to write your story then that’s a success and finding a typo after you’re done doesn’t turn that success into a failure.
Another thing that’s helped me is to think of every failure or mistake or dissatisfying result as a learning opportunity. If I’m not able to do something now, that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to do it at some point in the future. I just need to keep trying. Practice makes better. Practice also helps you figure out the things that are easy for you and the bits that are hard and where you might need some help - either from a fellow fan or from another kind of resource.
I think part of the reason why people can get so anxious about their fanworks is because we care so much about them. We love the characters. We love the world. We want to do them justice in our writing, and we want other fans to love our creations too.
It’s important to remember that all of us love imperfect things all the time. It’s not perfection that makes a thing lovable. It’s the heart that’s put into it.
There’s a lot of fear behind perfectionism. Fear of being caught doing something wrong. Fear of being shamed for a mistake. Fear that imperfection makes us unworthy or unlovable. Fear that a single flaw will ruin an entire work. Fear of failure.
If you want to be able to move through that fear, you need to be able to reduce it somehow. The most effective way that I’ve found is to stop writing with the goal of posting something online. Write for the sake of writing, without the pressure of showing it to someone else. That might help you to get out a first draft (or second or third) without that worry about being judged and found wanting.
If you’re not ready for positive self-talk or reframing the internal narrative (I get it. Been there.) then allowing yourself to be less than perfect in a place where no one else can see you might be a good first step.
And just because I think it’s important that you hear it from time to time: you are a wonderful, creative, amazing human being - mistakes included.
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Masters of the Air Fanfic
As requested by sweet @arianatheangel-girl and the subsequent poll for a “Buck Cleven Fic before the series comes out” -and I, being a madwoman with no impulse control and a faint recollection of the book, have delivered…this…whatever this is
Song Challenge: i was challenged by dear @the-ugly-swan for a twenty favored songs challenge and I’m gonna go ahead and make this part of it. August by Taylor Swift informed some of the bittersweet timeline here, with infidelity not being the enemy but rather the lack of possessing oneself fully during wartime to give to another
Spoilers: historical accuracy and inaccuracy abound here so, beware there are some biographical facts about Cleven in here that might count as spoilers to those who wish to watch the series with a blank slate. While to the history purists I must beg for a substantial amount of artistic license to be granted me, and obviously I’ve not seen the show yet and I crunched the timeline to my own will
Reader insert but without the use of “y/n” -I’m utterly fudging a bit on the likelihood of a WAAF lady being part of the American ground crew, however, I had in my minds eye the vision of a greasy mechanic and a glamorous flyboy and it wouldn’t budge, so shhh, go with the vibe
Warnings: mature, 18+. Fluffy smut was requested and while it is very brief and mild in here, not very explicit in phrasing, it’s quite present and a plot point so beware. Also, Virgin!Gale has my heart so we went with that. No shade to dear Marjorie irl, I’ll probably end up writing fics about her once the show gives me Inspo. Some angst due to war, POW’s, etc, mild language
Word count: a monstrous 12k
They came in like locusts at the height of summer, long prayed for, oft cursed in moments of perilous isolation, those ever so intriguingly shiny Americans.
Swarming with a metal buzz over the flatlands of East Anglia, big hulking beasts touched down on fresh tarmacs with more grace than anything that size ought to have, flashing the most bizarre and suggestive paintings on their gleaming fuselages. Flying Fortresses, they were called, and deserved the name. Nothing but the biggest, the loudest, the most alarming machinery would do for the American war effort, and now all this mighty strength was Britain’s too, no longer alone, no longer enduring.
Now the fight could be taken to the enemy in earnest. Out of their flying ships poured the most alarmingly young looking faces, jaunty hats and leather jackets, they looked every bit the sort of fellows war was advertised to.
Farmers in their tractors, mothers with daughters still under their command and RAF veterans all looked askance at such pristine warriors. Had their fertile fields been paved into airfields just for this? Were these gum chewing boys the long expected aid? It wasn’t anti-climactic, nothing American could ever be, it was all just alarmingly fresh. It was understandable then, the initial tentativeness the locals felt towards their new occupants, the way the boys took up such space in the rural villages, made such a racket in the pubs, chased every skirt that swished in the rainy summer breeze, stuck hands out for a shake no matter the introduction. They were a warm, boisterous and confident lot, all much needed attributes in wartime Britain, and soon, the initial distrust of the citizenry thawed, hands were shaken in return and invitations made. An amiable amalgamation eventually occurred, Norfolk never to recover or return to whatever placidity had been her’s before the arrival of the 100th.
Personally, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them. The planes, that is.
Amalgamation was less a choice for yourself and your service members than a duty. It was abnormal, having a mixed ground crew, British and American servicemen too often clashing in hierarchy disputes for it to be standard, but with deployment rates so high and casualties mounting, ground crew became a case of whichever skilled individuals could be called upon to keep the operation running, the pilots up and the enemy bombed.
You were just glad to be near home, first time back since ‘39 when you’d signed up in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force -even if your rural hometown was now overrun with Americans. They weren’t a bad lot at all, at least not the ones you’d encountered so far on base. Amiable and unexpectedly eager, undeterred by veterans’ grim looks and tales of the woodchipper across the channel, that line of anti-aircraft that shredded anything trying to penetrate the continent.
“Better get crackin’ then.” Was the common response followed by a grin.
Your crew chief sergeant, Ken Lemmons, an American with a forelock of sandy ringlets and the patience of a saint, made the job easier even as every ounce of expertise was exacted from each man -or woman- under him. Feeding a fiery chain of bullets into the turret gun under a hot July sun, you thought your papa may have had the right of it when he tried to dissuade you from choosing the harsher duties of the Auxiliary Force. You could’ve been pouring over a map in the cool of the boardroom right now, or passing on radio messages, even shuttling planes would’ve been more relaxing, but no, you’d spent your life passing him tools in his garage, your papa had been building flying machines when most for these boys were still in diapers, and that path called to you, too. So for you it was grueling maintenance work and the ever present grime of grease on your hands and the awkward reach of twisted metal repairs. Gratefully, after their first mission, there were plenty of them back safe, however riddled their fortresses might’ve been.
It was interesting, the way certain of the flight crew treated the ships. Some were endeared but indifferent to their repairs while others hovered at each hole and tear, like over protective mothers, while you and your mates tried to do your jobs.
Why, one plane in the five assigned to your care was even named “Our Baby”. With such a moniker it made sense that its porcelain faced pilot would caress the shredded wing with a misty eyed frown at each wound, like it were a breathing thing, a race horse, a friend. You didn’t judge it, and he didn’t seem aware of his audience, he’d be back out there doing his own check up after debriefing. Never interrupting your work, always quick to step aside or duck out of the way of a ground crewman’s path, it wasn’t time to chatter or make introductions, although sometimes when the work took long and his reports longer, he’d be there to bid goodnight to you all, soft, American drawl saying “Goodnight, thank ya, goodnight, good work, thank ya” again and again to each.
You grew to recognize them, the ones each mission spared, there were so many and under hats and bundled in leather jackets they tended to blend together, but there were those who made their mark, if not on you then on Dorace in cartography and Eileen at the Red Cross. There was much tittering and speculation, after all, spread thin as their time was, there was also plenty of off time, made all the more charged and anxious as it came in the form of waiting for new orders. The men would be vibrating with nervous energy and generous in the flush of a recent victory and they took it out on the little villagers who in good British fashion took it on the chin and challenged them to a contest of good spirits.
Those were happy days, less anxious than the preceding ones and less heavy than those making up the year after. You dared be roped into the multiple pub crawls, often choosing the most sensible and quiet of the group as your victim and attaching yourself to their side for the evening. This tactic had its fallibility, sometimes those moderates were such a bore as to be unsupportable or hadn’t enough verve to make a full night of it and retired early like respectable, curfew-abiding saps. That’s how you found yourself one night ensconced in a beer pungent corner of Flaggen’s, green leather seats sticky under your palms, with Major Egan fanning out a wad of cash in front of you. It was a blatant attempt to bribe you to clear his aircraft sooner than the last inspection suggested.
“Suggestions” was Egan’s term for regulations.
If you were less tipsy you wouldn’t have giggled at the man’s idiocy, but his arm was heavy around your shoulders and this very cash had bought you one too many gin and tonics. “These regulations keep you alive!” You chided him, shaking your head and feeling the room tip as you did. Truly these Americans could hold their liquor, almost as well as the Polish Squadron when it came to a binge.
“A little flack isn’t gonna keep her down.” he scoffed, “I’ve been grounded for a week now-“
“-I don’t have the authority-“
“-and I’m not gonna sit here while Buck goes up and racks up his number!” Eagen was vehemently slurring and your drunken mind tried to process who Buck was, if not Egan himself.
“Aren’t you Bucky?” you asked, bewildered.
-Americans and their nicknames.
“Yeah.”
“So who’s Buck?” you concentrated very hard on the ancient coaster beneath your latest pint.
“It’s Buck! It’s Gale, Cleven, Major Gale Cleven!” Egan waxed louder and more dramatic with each addition. “You keep clearing his plane! But not mine! Why’s that, huh?”
“How do you know that?” you asked, dubious and only in the raucous of this little pub would his loud voice go unheeded. Compared to the ongoing dart game to the left behind the half wall, an elephant’s trumpeting would be considered bashful.
“ ‘Cause he tells me?” he replied, bewildered at your slowness, “Says you and your crew are little fairies, crawlin’ all over his plane and patching it up better than ever after each mission. And then you clear him. Simple as that.”
“I don’t have authority to clear anyone.” you repeated.
“Huh,” Egan grunted, “how’does he mean then?”
“I don’t know.” you replied firmly, “I doubt I’ve even got your plane, i don’t see you around.”
“I don’t stay around, that’s your job, patching up. I just fly the damn thing.”
“Oh, well.” you shrugged, “I’ve had five, it’s down to three after last mission.” Three years ago the mention of that ratio of losses would’ve sank your mood to the floorboards, by now it’s horrifically routine. “What’s yours called?”
“Mugwump.” he grinned proudly, a flash of white beneath his dark mustache, the man’s face positively shimmered with sweat.
“Serial?” you asked demurely, just to be difficult.
He squinted his eyes shut briefly, head tilted back as if to ask the heavens for help and the recited in a drill master’s staccato “42-30066, ma’am, yes ma’am.”
You giggled again and Egan’s arm jostled your shoulders, smushing you further into him. They were good fun, these boys, didn’t even mind your horrifyingly unflattering uniform with its bulging pockets adding bulk where your curves should take center stage and your stupid pleated cap making you look to be half baker, half doll. You preferred your plain navy coveralls but you’d hardly be let into an establishment in them. Egan’s warm arm didn’t seem to mind the excess poof of the material, he smashed it right down with his hand’s firm grip, he was fun, you decided, no harm in good fun. “Alas, not one of mine.” you sighed, focusing hard on the serial number.
“Damn.” he swore, playing at dejection.
“No,” you went on, “but I’ve got this one, a very spoiled one, maybe you know whose it is. They named it ‘Our Baby’!”
Poor manners and personnel etiquette though it was, you couldn’t say it without tittering.
Egan didn’t laugh, he just looked at you like you’d proved his point. “Yeah,” he replied vehemently, “That’s Buck Cleven’s!”
“Oooh.” -So it was him, the fighting cherub, the walking doughboy, toothpick, baby at wings: there were a dozen or more nicknames you and the ground crew gave the wing-petting Major behind his back. “He always says goodnight to us.” you said instead.
“Is that where he is when I wanna go for a drink?” Egan exclaimed, “Ha! You’d think he was married to the ole ship.”
“He handles her beautifully.” You feel oddly compelled to defend, he’s a master at flight and as someone who must repair each fault of his landings and his leavings and his missions, you feel some loyalty to his finesse. “He handles her so well.” you repeat in the tone of a woman who’s seen some aviation in her time, young though you may be.
“Well let me let you into a lil secret,” Egan smirks and you brace without knowing why, he is, after all, not the respectable and dull men you choose to go out with, he is the dangerous sort you bring those dullards along to deter, “shes the only ‘she’ that boy has ever ‘handled’ -if ya get my drift.”
The sleazy wag of his eyebrows leaves no room for ignorance, you feel your face heat up, wether in prudery for the topic or second hand embarrassment for his friend’s sake, you don’t know.
“Nothing wrong with that.” you reply coldy, only to distance yourself from the road his body language seemed to be hurtling you both down.
“Quite right. Nothin’ at all!” Egan agrees vehemently, his smile easy and his eyes clever “But I’d be a poor friend if I didn't try to remedy his predicament.”
“Telling me is somehow part of this remedy?” you were suspicious, rightfully so.
“Maybe.” Egan drawls it out, shifting in his seat to no longer corner you, his attention drawn to the nearby dart game. The man of the moment, the subject, the handler of planes and none else, was not here. He had such a luminous head of golden hair, it would be a beacon amongst the muddy haired crowd flinging darts. “The thing of it is, dear,” Egan confided, “I've had an absolutely marvelous time since I got here. And I think that’s rather essential, for sanity and for international relations, don’t you? I’ve gotten to know all sorts of wonderful people, lovely people like yourself-“
“-word is, you’ve known them a little too biblically, no wonder Cleven avoids your outings.” You could not help but temper him. “Half of Great Britain has had the privilege, if some are to be believed.”
“And so what if I have? I love dancin’!” he laughed quite happily at your barb and you didn’t have it in you to pull down any further a man who was sacrificing so much day in and out. “Getting to know Great Britain is a better occupation than pettin’ plane wings under the moonlight.”
You tittered again at his words and the oddly endearing memories you had of watching Major Ceven petting and whispering to his plane like she was his long-standing beloved, loitering ground crew unheeded. “He does do that.” you agreed.
“Hey, everyone’s got their method.” Egan insisted in his friend’s defense, “But I have told him, it’s good for the morale to mingle, even if he hates drinkin’.“
You pucker your face at that. “I know he mingles, Violet says he’s a doll when he goes to market.” you point out, small town chatter gets around and while you can’t say you know Cleven, you know he’s mild mannered and precious. And a terribly pretty face too, which isn’t fair, he oughta be an ass which a face that cute. “And he got a tan from somewhere last week.“
“Oh, so ya noticed!” Egan is triumphant, “A bunch of us used our day passes to go messin’ around in boats on the canals.”
“Good for you.” you didn’t know what else to say. “Why are we talking about him? What’s your point? I can ask for your plane to be transferred to my crew, but it won’t get you a sloppy clearance. And if your friend is so socially awkward he can’t even manage a pub night, you can hardly expect me to be flattered that you consider me prime material to throw at him.”
“He’s not awkward.” Egan cut to the chase quite serious, in mission mode, “Buck just had his hopes tangled up back home, and now he’s here he’s finding it hard to accept that hopes were all they were. She’s real moved on.” Well that had hurt, you winced in sympathy. “I warned him, everything during this war has got to be taken as a bit inpermanent. Don’t fall in love with Texas girls when you’re headed to England -via: Louisiana, Indiana, hell, by New York she’d stopped writing.”
“And now the texas girl has-“
“-found a Texan, I guess.” He shrugged and chugged the last of his pint. “She’s gettin’ married, it's really over. So, -“ he made a broad gesture as if to explain his reasoning for this entire segue. “-you like projects, you wouldn’t be in the line of work you’re in if ya didn’t, so whaddya say?”
You looked around the dimly lit pub in search of two things, sunny blonde hair and a clock to tell you how badly you were going to regret this night, come morning. “He’s not even here.” you balked.
“Well, no-“
“-what I say is,” you grinned at him disbelieving, “you owe me another gin and tonic for subjecting me to such inane chatter.”
His grin should have served as warning enough that he would neither drop the subject nor let you off free this evening. In fact, the ticking clock and its late curfew breaking hours became the least of your concerns come morning. The cool wash of bitter juniper blended into the pungent flow of beer, it blurred everything, soon there was a great swelling of pride for your native village, a pub crawl was on, all three visited and drank from, an army Jeep was requisitioned without authority, there was some incident regarding a policeman‘s helmet. The latter being the reason why you found yourself in “jail” the next morning, nursing a raging headache and questioning life decisions while glaring at John Egan’s polished boots.
There was very little talk about bail or Air Force hours being exceptioned, the more pressing concern to the Bobbies who had nabbed you was the coed holding cell. Thorpe Abbotts was a small place, after all, and you liked it that way. If this overly indulgent night could be kept away from the military police, all would be well.
You had one hope: Harry Crosby was sensibly absent from the holding cell, having a keen sense of when to depart from the raucous joyride at the precise moment to save himself a demerit. It was an extreme embarrassment to you that you’d not had the same sense. In fact, fond as you were of a bit of a knees up, you couldn’t quite credit the fact you had allowed yourself such free reign, or accomplished such foolishness. Glowering at Major Egan’s face now, animated with delighted chagrin at your shared plight as it was, you vowed to never again hook your fortunes to his, as it were.
Your resolve, and humiliation, was about to be compounded, exponentially.
There was a bustle of a visitor entering the precinct, easily heard in the small space, followed by the low hum of mild mannered conversation. It went on for sometime, and no amount of straining at the bars and cocking of ears would allow you, Egan or your fellow misfortunates to ascertain the gist of it. Violet’s husband was the main constable, and you were quite certain he’d be moderate in his sentence, he had his helmet back, after all. It was the Air Force penalty of not being on base in time this morning that you feared, a growing nausea that compounded the misery of your aching head. They’d not discharge Egan, they’d probably not even demote him, he was too crucial and he’d done this one too many times for it to be grace alone saving him. When he was needed, really needed, he was there. That’s what counted. The same could be said of you, but that hardly mattered given your low rank.
Violet’s husband, also known as constable Herbert, came in sight and with a jangle of keys and a tap to the side of his nose, swung open the bars of infamy and gestured for you and your fellow inmates to file out.
“All sorted.” He declared. His gaze lingered on you as it had many times in your life when you’d been caught jumping in puddles after church, “Let this be a lesson and a warning to you.”
You tried your best at both obeisance and penitence, both of which were rather natural feelings at the present time, while hurrying past as fast as was respectful, your approaching shift hours making your heart thump in panic.
On the steps outside, your savior was loitering against the wrought iron fence, thumbing at the petunias in the nearby window box. Gale Cleven was a mile long of lanky body in perfectly pressed and tailored Air Force greens, fresh faced as the good conscienced are, hair combed without his cap and a smile on his soft face that was composedly long suffering, rather than endeared, as he watched you miscreants pour out of the modest brick building.
You stumbled to a halt on the first step at the sight of him and allowed your instincts to take over, hands smoothing down hair and skirt with frantic self consciousness. You must’ve looked a rumple.
“I hope last night was worth it.” Cleven drawled in that voice of his, so oddly deep for so fresh a face, his placid smile growing into something more genuinely mirthful as Egan smooched at him in gratitude and swore that he knew his Buck wouldn’t abandon them, that his Buck would pull through for them. “I order a round of toothpaste for everyone and cold showers, you stink.” Gale shied away without any real effort, nodding in greeting to the boys he recognized.
Then, as if in the most painfully slow motion with all the strong string accompaniment of a silver screen scene, his eyes landed on you and an odd ache formed in your chest at the anticipation of his disapproval.
It made you tense and draw yourself up to your full height, looking about as regal as a drenched bantam in your disheveled dignity, but you weren’t about to be relegated to another tier than these boys he so amusedly indulged.
“Y’all know what time it is?” he asked mildy, those azure orbs with their batting dark fringe didn’t waver and you realized he indeed had more guts than you’d given him credit for.
There was a chorus of “no”s and various guesses based on the fast evaporating fog and the lightening sky.
“Zero five thirty.” he ended the suspense with the cock of an eyebrow at you.
“Shit!” Egan was suddenly animated, “Shit, shit-“
“Hey, you keep your swearin’ away from my sweet lil corporal.” Cleven chided, and it took you a brief moment to startle upon realizing he meant you. And he thought you sweet? “C’mon Miss,” he waved you down the steps and for some inexplicable reason you felt very compelled to obey and suddenly stood beneath his gaze like a dutiful child awaiting deliverance or censure, “I’ve only got this bike, petrol allotment ran out when we went to the canals last week. But it’ll get ya back faster than this lot. Reckon you can manage on the handlebar?”
“Wha-?“ you glanced sideways at the bike with its large, sweeping handlebars and second guessed his meaning until he himself was straddling it. His legs required the seat to be hiked up impossibly high and the narrow nip of his waist was accentuated by the posture. Those padded, fleece puffed jackets you had seen him in had done no credit to his form, a toothpick he may have been with how terribly lean he was, but he was firm in all the right places. He was also waiting on you to answer while you ogled him.
“Gosh yes, I can, if you’re sure? Awfully kind of you.” you blathered and moved in a hurry to make up for your stalling, keenly conscious of his eyes on your back as you shimmied your backside up onto his handlebars, feeling the warm press of his hand as he helped steady you from tipping all the way back. You wiggled on the thin metal bar, spreading your legs on either side of the front wheel and doing your best to ignore the raucous commentary of the still tipsy audience of your fellow inmates swaying on the precinct steps. “Y’all just be glad there’s no mission scheduled today.” he snarked to them instead and they chimed up that last night’s idiocy was calculated with that in mind.
“Huh.” Cleven uttered, unimpressed, behind you and it made you shiver, worse than if your father caught wind of this stunt. “Darlin’ put your hands over mine, s’gonna get wobbly takin’ off.” he directed next and you did as you were told, looking back over your shoulder at him with a grateful smile that you were relieved to see returned, pink lips stretching and a freckled nose bunching up sweetly when all of the sudden a rush caught you by surprise and the bike was in motion and you whipped your head back to view the street as it rushed up ahead of you. “See ya boys!” he hollered out as a mutinous babble rose from his friends at being left to jog back.
The young man could put some speed on a bike, uphill too. Or, as much of a hill as could be found this far East. You could hear him chuckle when you squeaked at the first jolt of a pothole, your thumbs hooking under his hands and curling into his palms. They were warm and calloused, dry from the cool breeze and you may have imagined the way he squeezed them in assaurance but you did not imagine the way his voice piped up again, smooth and conversational: “Harry told me if I was quick I could get you out in time, I think we’re gonna make it. S’dont worry, even if Sergeant Lemmons gives ya trouble, I’ll insist.”
“That’s really too kind of you.” The chill of windburn and a substantial amount of remorse made your cheeks glow scarlet. “All of it is. I’m rather ashamed.”
“I didn’t take you for an all nighter sort.” he agreed but followed it with a soothing compliment, “You’ve always been nothin’ but perfect. P-p-perfectly punctual, I mean, and there’s no reason to let Egan’s idea of fun ruin your record.”
“Wasn’t his fault. Not wholly.” you sighed, giving Violet a bashful wave as you passed her opening the shop, a wave which Cleven mirrored behind you and between the two of you letting go the bike, it nearly dumped you both. It was luck and sheer persistence that righted you and kept your balance. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a bad habit, picked it up at Northolt.”
“Where’s that?” he asked.
“South, by the coast.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to explain your debauchery away, “I was working a ground crew down there for a bunch of Polish Pilots. Spitfires mainly. That squadron nabbed the most kills of any in the RAF back in ‘40. Why, even Churchill visited more times than I can count, he found them good fun. Too much fun, they never went to bed without downing half a barrel. There was dice built into the bottom of the pints at the Black Bull, rather addictive, rolling to see who would buy the next round. —There was always a next.” You added upon reflection.
That was also the year you had lost your brother. The correlation between the habit and the loss wasn’t to be dwelt on.
“Huh,” Cleven let out one of him contemplative hums, “and how do we compare?” he asked surprisingly.
“How?” you laughed, daring to crane your neck back to see him in the early morning sunshine, pretty and sweet and arch in his expression. Dusk had not done his mama’s work on his face any justice, it made you want to pant he was so pretty.
“I dunno, in any way,” he laughed in turn, not even breathless as he sped the bike over the cobblestones, the village barely awake and mostly quiet, “how do we compare?”
“To the Poles?”
“Or the French. Or your own, the RAF ain’t no joke.” he amended, “Whoever is our competition.”
“So it is a competition.” you smirked -how very American of him. “Depends,” you hedged playfully, “Our boys are so very nice, familiar, they never run out the right coinage during a date either. But the French are better flirts while the Dutch are better dancers. But the Poles, they know how to romance. Lots of hand kissing and flowers, so many flowers there had to be rules made for overstocking the billet.”
“Sounds like we gotta step up our game.” he decided.
“Is that what you meant? How you compare? First impressions?”
“I-I- guess, yeah.” he now sounded confused, “I mean, what else? You got scores for aircraft?”
“I do.” you replied, as it was true, “But that’s unfair, you’ve only just arrived. I thought maybe you wanted to know something more -salacious.”
“Like?” His tone behind you was guarded and you doubted if the alcohol of last night were not still buzzing and fortifying your brazenness, that you’d ever go through with what you said next.
“Other performances. For instance, in bed.”
You felt his fingers flutter around the bars beneath your own, you gripped them tighter, not just because the stretch of old road before the air base was ancient and pitted but because you were in an agony of suspense as to how he’d take your forwardness.
“There’s a record of that somewhere?” he asked at last, a beat too long, too delayed for casualness, too morose for flippancy.
“In fact there is.” you responded carefully. “A little diary of rankings, actually, there’s multiple and whenever there’s a grand assembly of the WAAF or the WACs, they’re passed about and tallied.”
“Sweet Jesus.” he swore behind you, “And here I’ve been chalkin’ up railways and munition dump targets like they’re some achievement.”
“Oh it’s all a bit of silliness.” You assured, not intending to make him glum.
“Do-“ he hesitated and you prayed for strength for him to spit it out as the airfield came in sight on the flat plain ahead. He didn’t.
“-Do I what?” you prodded softly.
“Are one of these little tallies yours?” he asked miserably.
You grinned to yourself and felt the sunshine seemed brighter and the air crisper than ever before as it rushed in your face with the slowing speed of his bike. “No, not in the least. I merely keep track of Sally’s ledger. It’s all a bit too -messy, for me.”
You dared peak behind you again and he looked relieved, then blushed furiously at your observance of him. “Well, who does Sally say is winning?” he dared.
“Romania.” you chortled and he did too, in shock if nothing else. “But Egan’s caught wind of it, he’s quite determined to save your country’s dominance, you don’t need to sweat it.”
His frown was back and you had to focus on not falling off as he slowed the bike to a halt, momentum precarious as his long legs kicked out and walked it the last yard to the segregated barracks, you felt his hand again on your waist to steady you. “Does that bother you?” he asked earnestly, sorrow in his blue eyes.
He offered a hand for you as you hopped down and it was you who held onto it long after it was needed. “Bother me?”
“Yeah, him -consortin’…with Sally?” he pressed, hands quite engulfing your one, “Does it hurt you? Bucky, see, he doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s just so-“
“-Blimey, you are a dear.” you marveled and then amended your interruption as your amusement only further creased that sweet face, “If I am ever again in Major Egan’s company, it will only be to escape it just as quickly. I’ve had quite enough of…consorting.”
“That so?” The lackadaisical confidence he exhibited outside of the precinct was back again, a not unattractive smirk plastered on his vulnerable face, a scheme in his guileless eyes. “Had enough of holding cells?”
“Quite.” you smirked back. “A quiet family dinner is more my style, the occasional picnic, even a zip round Oxford as one must show the foreigners about.” you paused and squeezed his hand once more, “And I do enjoy a bike ride.”
You did not know if he cataloged your preferences for an ideal date or not, life was busy, after all, and the momentary frolics in the July sunshine and banter on the tarmac and evenings in the pub were the exception. Time went on. Most of life was spent in the air, in his case, and in yours, beneath the belly of his beast, wrench in hand. But ever after his gallant rescue of you, there was more than the passing “goodnight” paid to you, there were cheerful smiles on his exhausted face when he returned from a mission, as if you were the one face he was coming back to. With an old familiar dread you noticed the way you begin to take each hole and dent and damage to his plane personally, as if it had been exacted on something precious to you. You have begun to care, for him and for his men, and your tired heart could barely do more than dread what that might lead to.
Good fun. That’s what these boys were supposed to be.
Gale Cleven hadn’t proven much fun. And somehow that was worse. It was worse and also unbearably honoring to be the last face he saw before taking it off, flags in your hands waving in front of his hulking bomber, giving the old familiar directions for a perfect takeoff, one he executed sublimely time and again. His sober, purposeful nods to you before he engaged and taxied out for a mission of death was more intense and intimate than any bouquet or even, your thought, a kiss. It was true the donut dollies on the sidelines were often the last faces of home that many of those boys would see. But in the his cockpit, looking down at your shrimp sized figure on the tarmac, both Major Cleven and you knew that for him, it was yours.
Once, there was a scare, in the first days of august. More than a scare if you were being honest, your heartbeat about stopped and didn’t pick back up for a few hours until word came in. The rest of the base wasn’t much better.
Ten planes had not come back. -Among them, Our Baby. And Mugwump. For two officers, so crucial, so senior, idolized and beloved as they were, to not return, was a blow like none other. You weren’t alone in hovering around the control shack, taking license of your friendship with Dorace to get a play by play of any news. When news came, such as it was, it was both relieving and exasperating.
It would seem there was some problem, a defect or too great of a hit. Orders to land in enemy territory were ignored, however, by Cleven no less. He had doggedly pushed on, safely landing them in allied Africa, of all places. It took almost a day for this information to finally be pasted together, by the end of it you were sad, haggard and half useless in your coveralls, stupendously relieved for a man you were supposed to feel professionally about.
Instead, that night, tucked in your own bed after a meal with your parents and little brother, you thanked God for keeping him -them, all of them- safe. And found yourself pondering the tan on him when he got back from his African foray. Some jealous part of you feared he might be kept there but a week later the thunderous hum of approaching bombers buzzed the air overhead of Thorpe Abbotts and the satisfying thwump of wheels touching down brought them back. There was a frenzy of greetings, flight and ground crew eager to welcome them back, the radio operators, too, and even the civilians who’d managed to get on base.
Your little brother among them. Donald wanted to see them back safe and it wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t dire, not returning from a mission the planes wouldn’t be in such poor shape. They’d been repaired in Africa, enough to fly them all the way back to England. So little Donald was nearby and when the crowd parted and a bee-line for Cleven became apparent, he took advantage and gave the young man a firm handshake in greeting.
“Hey buddy, thank ya, who do you belong to?” Buck laughed while returning the firm grip.
“I’m her brother.” Donald pointed you out proudly among the dispersing crowd and you rolled your eyes at his expectancy for Gale to know or care about you, more than your most pertinent work on base.
“Oh are ya now, hers, huh?” he grinned at you, “Been talkin’ about me?” he greeted, there was a still healing scrape on his left temple that your fingers itched to soothe. How badly had he hit his head?
“Of course I have.” you defended, happiness bubbling under your lips and threatening to make you smile more than was professional, you could see Sergeant Lemmons observing you from the side and tried to keep some decorum. “We thought you’d died.” You stated plainly, it wasn’t any secret to Donald, as soon as the plane had gone missing and before radio contact had been reestablished, you’d rushed home and made the family pray over supper.
“We’ve been praying for you.” Donald agreed, and you saw Cleven startle, a gasped intake of breath between those lush lips and his eyes seemed to water as he searched first your brother’s face and then your own.
“You have?” he choked out, raspy and touched.
“Yes.” you whispered, mouth twisting in a ugly grimace to hold back your own emotion. It was of little use, something beyond War Effort investment in his well being had been admitted. “We thought you might be dea-“
-you didn’t finish your reiteration of your dread. Your face, a greasy and mist spattered face, was suddenly smushed into the padded leather of his bomber jacket, nose tucked right into the fleece apex where his pale blue scarf always rested on his throat.
He was hugging you, you realized with delayed surprise.
“-even though it made the potatoes cold, Da insisted on prayin’ every night after she told us-“ Donald was waxing eloquent on his own sacrifices of having one added prayer request lengthening his mealtime but you were oblivious to more than the firm press of Cleven’s still gloved hand to the back of your scarf wrapped head, some strong emotion shuddering through his body against your own. A tremor of terror and pain, you suspected, emotions he’d been suppressing all week.
After all, the saved weren’t supposed to be shaken up. They’d been saved, what was there to be off about? You’d seen enough pilots after a close call to know it was every bit as bad or worse than actual disaster. They’d send him right back up again in days, and that was what was expected, demanded, required. He was tremoring against you and you gripped him tighter, sympathetic and aching to cure it somehow. Even for a moment.
“We’ll keep praying.” you assured, and you heard him clear his throat, snotty and rough. “Oh, blast, I’ve positively greased your jacket.” you mourned as he let you go, finally, and you caught sight of the mess your filthy hands and face had imprinted on it during the embrace.
He chuckled as he looked down at the imprint, “S’fine.”
After such an exchange of emotion the air felt charged between you two, without privacy or precedence, it felt unthinkable to linger in that mood. You turned to his plane and pet the fuselage with unstudied fondness, it had been horrid having the old bird absent. You were not above having favorites and the love he poured into his ship, somehow, like some old fairytale truism, made the hulking metal beast lovable, in turn. “How’s our baby, hmm?” you asked him, giving him a sly smile and he took your proffered out seamlessly, joining you in cataloging the damage that had not been deemed severe enough to hamper his return.
“Don’t crawl under here, sir!” you protested as you wiggled under the belly only to find him beside you in the plane’s shadow, “You’ll be a mess!”
“I’ve already got stains.” he brushed your worries off, and you knew it was true. Bloodstains in fact. He had lost a man, the report said, and apparently, judging by his trousers, Buck had held the poor fellow as he bled out. “And I wanna show you the spot I’m worried ‘bout.”
“Alright.” you conceded, allowing him to direct you to the nose. “Watch it Donald!” you had to reprimand your little brother who predictably followed after, “You’ll burn yourself if you touch that, this thing was just running.”
“Careful buddy.” Gale echoed gently beside you and pushed his little head down, more into a crawl. You refused to allow the gentle way he treated the brat to warm you, you refused. Or at least, you refused to let it show, the tingle and heat you felt being all too consuming to be denied.
He was lovely. But you already knew that. He was even more lovely when, upon crawling out from under Our Baby, he took his scarf from around his neck, silk decadently soft, flesh warmed and smelling strongly of his exertions, and swiped it across your greased cheek.
“You’ve got just a lil more…” he practically mumbled and wiped down to your chin, firm, gentle little rubs of the silk which required his other hand to grasp your chin to steady you. You weren’t sure when he’d taken off his gloves, but the feel of his skin on yours was heady.
“It’ll take a couple days.” You predicted regarding the repairs, “Which means you’ll have a few days free, if they don’t drown you in reports.”
“Oh they will.” he laughed, “But s’long as my days are free, means yours aren’t.” he pointed out.
“I guess that’s true.”
“We shoulda thought of that when we chose this line of work.” he joked and your cheeks flamed at the realization he wished to spend time with you. “But you’ll have your nights still, yeah?”
Coming from anyone else, the request for your nights to be reserved would strike you as suggestive indeed. But this was Buck, and when he mentioned nights you imagined nothing but taking him home for a tepid potato and rationed powdered milk supper and the warm reception of your family. His weary eyes suggested how badly he needed that. You could give it to him, and it made your heart glow.
“Yes, I’ll have my nights.” you agreed, “And you can have them, too.”
Sergeant Lemmons agreed with your estimation of Our Baby’s damage the following day and four long days after were spent patching up damage that suggested what a hellish ride that must’ve been. Someone else hosed the blood out of the bay but it turned the puddle on the concrete beside you sickly pink.
To and fro from office to barracks to observation tower, Cleven would stop by to see his ‘baby’ on these occasions. The heckling the ground crew gave you regarding this potential double meaning was agonizing and almost made his attentions not worth it. But then he’d be dropping to a squat to chat with you as you soldered metal, heedless of the sparks, or else bringing scones from the mess to refresh you and, again, wiping your face often with his fancy scarves despite your protests that it was futile.
And at night, on the second day, you made good on yours and Donald’s word and brought him to dinner. It was a quiet walk from the base to the end of the long main road, right to the outskirts of the village, where your family’s unassuming little thatched cottage nestled amongst mama’s victory garden, daddy’s aeroplane hanger and repair shop loomed ugly and dark behind.
The look on Buck’s face when you met him outside the base’s gate at seven in the evening in a dress and heels was worth capturing. But you hadn’t a camera with you and it wasn’t like you were liable to forget. His pure look of awe and appreciation for your cleaned up and girlish state was nearly comic if it weren’t so flattering.
“Darlin-“ he began in a rush but did not finish, only taking you lightly by the fingertips and spinning you slowly, his eyes wide like he was seeing a marvel, which, maybe he was, -your womanly form finally liberated from puffy uniforms and ugly coveralls. Wholesome as your intentions were for the evening, and indeed for him in general, it was some relief and delight to know he was capable of getting hot under the collar. His mama’s well drilled manners soon caught up to his unbridled appreciation and a deluge of charmingly proper compliments rained down on you next until you had to put a stop to his babble by tugging him down the road with the reminder of dinner as incentive.
“You’re sure they won’t mind?” he began his worries again, nervous to meet your parents.
If he’d been like the rest of the boys he’d know just how much mingling was already common. It wasn’t remotely odd to bring him home, not when you lived so near. “Don’t be silly, they’ve been begging to meet you and Donald has plans of torturing you with his plane models and Papa wants to show you his shop and mama thinks you're much too skinny, I’m sure she’s gone to the black market to grab something to fatten you-“
“-how’s she know that?” he interrupted in shock.
“Oh,” you flushed, realizing your misstep, “I’ve talked of you. And she recognized you, she and Violet are thick as thieves and -it’s not like you’re unremarkable. A physical description is rather easy to give when you, well, when you look like…you.”
“What do I look like?” he cried out but his cheeks were smiling despite his outrage, “Malnourished?”
“Like a lanky cherub.” you refuted and were pleased that the late summer sun was still bright enough at this long hour to show his pretty blush.
“A cherub.” he repeated in disbelief.
“Yes.” you were firm, both in tone and the press of your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, “And as we’ve been commended to entertain angels unaware, how much more when we are certain of one?”
“Oh shut up.” he begged you and you two staggered into each other as you laughed your hearts out. It felt good to laugh, for the both of you, and a little too foreign, as well. It left a hollow melancholy in its wake that was soothed by the near and swaying proximity of each other’s body.
“They’ll be glad to have you at the table.” you dared go on, feeling you should prepare him, should the subject arise, “I’ve a brother, you see, an older brother. Rafe, he was stationed in Burma. We’ve not heard of him in over two years. There’s an empty seat at our table, it takes a certain sort of soul to fill it without it feeling like a sacrilege. But you fit the bill nicely, I think.”
“Burma.” he repeated with all the gravity of a man who understood, who knew the ache of almost hoping a dear brother, a beloved son, was dead rather than enduring the slow hell of a Japanese internment camp. How awful to almost wish for a decisive end for one so loved. “No word at all?”
“None.”
“I’m terribly sorry.”
“Thank you.” you whispered, “And thanks for making it back, yourself.” you squeezed his arm jovially and felt his other hand fall atop yours there in the crook of his elbow and a sweetness filled you at the gesture, such as you’d never known before. It was peaceful and lovely and your little village suddenly looked as pretty and idyllic again as it was always supposed to, the routine route home was seen through his eyes, the eyes of a homesick boy with a soft girl on his arm, bound to meet her parents and inspect Donald’s plane models.
Your mother and father loved him, little surprise there, he was a darling and homesick and yours was a happy home, humble and wounded though it may be. Your mother was obnoxious in her delight the moment father took him out back to see where your expertise for welding first began, the little aerodrome, no longer fitted with pleasure craft but now fitted to scrap the more useless casualties. Mother pestered you as you helped clear the table, asking after him and whatever this thing was between you. When you assured her it was only dinner to fill that chair and some unfathomable knowledge that had grown each time you stood before his propeller and waved him off to death, she knew it for what it is.
War and the urgency of living that goes with it, shrinks long emotions into fast passion and steady hearts into foolish daring. Neither of you were the sort to tumble into the passing vogue passions that had seized hold of your friends and comrades. Yours was a quieter path. Even so, after the fourth evening of dinner rations and quiet fireside chatter and the patter of late summer rain on the roof, there was a kiss as he walked you back to base, his jacket over your shoulders, his shirt clinging to him and the sweetest intent etched on his misted features as his lips descended to yours.
“Thank you,” he had said so passionately yet so subdued, a wall of wisteria at your back and his honey blonde hair dripping into his eyes, “I’ve needed this bad.”
His words suggested the family dinners, his scorching lips suggested the molded flesh of your body in his large palms.
“So you’ve wanted this?” your breathed mixed, a hazy little cloud between you in the damp evening air, your little alcove of shelter from the rain under old Mosley’s shed was like another little world entirely, fauna filled and peaceful, even the ever present drone of machinery was drowned out by the downpour.
Your mother had been right, you should've waited longer till the clouds passed but you had both cited curfew -and maybe even subconsciously sought just such a predicament as the one that had you necking Gale Cleven in a wisteria claimed tool shed.
“I’ve wanted you.” he clarified, firm grip on the base of your neck punctuating his turmoil, his lips met yours again and whatever oath of abstinence he had chosen, it did not seem to include kissing. He was soft and persistent and all consuming, those restless hands migrating in an ever mapping caress, making every part of you thrum with butterflies. “Wanted you for a long while.” he spoke into your lips, “I think you’re just great.” And there was happiness then, untinged with anything temporal beyond the feel of warm flesh beneath cold, rain soaked cloth and lips that tasted of honeyed biscuits.
It was impossible to maintain the stoic propriety of behavior you’d once managed before, on base, after that. You knew now how he sounded when he moaned into your mouth and he his stare alone could make you blush, you had spoken to his mother on the phone and he had seen your childhood bedroom. He learned once, laying amongst sea grass on the beach during a cloudy Sunday, the silky moist feel of you beneath your swimsuit, his long, bashful fingers that were ever so fond of petting anything and everything, finally finding a place that responded to his swipes with jolts and gasps and sighs and pleasure. You peaked three times on that sand dune, Buck none the wiser as he had nothing to compare your little deaths to, you kept a firm grip on his forearm and told him he was doing marvelous and that’s all it took for him to be persistent. Persistent beyond what you imagined any other man could be due to cramp. He was getting freckles from so much sunshine, but it was well, the rains would be here soon come autumn.
These happy days had you risking your life to pause your work and watch his pretty form swagger across the asphalt to his next destination and he, ever so right and proper and by the book, became devil enough to lie in wait for you and catch you by the waist when you least suspected it and drag you into some abandoned corner.
Only to kiss you.
To kiss and to ask after your day, as if your evening was not to be spent sat beside him at table or the movies, lying on a picnic blanket with him near or in the back of a jeep on top of Mayberry Rise, the tallest point around where the stars ran into the sea on the horizon.
One of the first days of September, you made good on your promise to Harry and drove with him to muck about Oxford for a day and see the college, the library, too. It was a long ride and as you were at the wheel, Harry was gem enough to allow Gale along, too, and by the end of it, driving back late and in a rush before the headlights would be needed, you were quoting favorite literary passages to each other. As if you were all students, not misplaced youths in the business of killing.
You said as much and in the burgeoning gloom Gale’s rich voice asked if you knew any Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
“Not Wordsworth!” Harry clarified.
“No, I don’t.” You admitted, for all your chiding today of their not being cultured enough, you didn’t know your American writers as you should.
“He’s got a poem for that.” Gale said, “For what you said. Or at least, it makes me think of today -that verse, ‘member Crosby?- the one it goes:
-I remember the gleams and glooms that dart across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part, Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song, Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
The deafening silence for the rest of the car ride was filled with truth and your own heart was heavy when you bid them both goodnight that evening, headed to your seperate billets. You paused in you departure to turn back once more at the door and holler to Buck in the chilled September air, “That poem, is there more of it?”
“Lots more.” he’d spun round on his heel, pleasantly surprised at your inquiry.
“What’s it called?” you intended to search it out, though it was doubtful that a copy would be found near this remote place.
“How about I write it out for ya?” he suggested as if thinking the same.
“You’ve got a whole damn poem memorized?” you balked, incredulity warring with amusement that you should’ve guessed he’d be the sort.
“I-I-I might.” he stuttered before laughing.
“Then please do.” you grinned and threw him a kiss across the distance which he jumped up and caught from the air in a grand show of dedication. “Goodnight, cherub.” you wished him, “Sleep tight.” He had a mission in the morning, a daylight one.
“Goodnight old Bean.” He teased your accent and the door swung shut behind you blocking out the cold and the retreating sound of his footsteps.
If you’d have known that was the last time you’d hear them you’d have stayed an age out in the cold night listening to him go, memorizing the cadence of his gait, the sway of his shoulders disappearing into the twilight, the turn of his head as he’d throw a glance back at you, sweet and handsome and cheerful despite his ominous itinerary.
If you’d have only known.
It wasn’t like last time, like Africa. There had been no loss of contact. Dorace had heard every awful minute until the clock ran out. They’d been shredded, their precious ship turned into a raging inferno and Major Cleven’s gritted and garbled transmissions left only one hope that some at least had jumped out. Jumped out only to land in Nazi occupied Europe, it was a faint mercy to cling to.
The empty chair sat next to you again at the table and mocked you all. Mocked your hope and your resilience to dare love again. How foolish to bring home a man who belonged to a group they were calling “Bloody”, and not as a curse but an epithet.
The losses had been staggering all summer and now in September they hit close. You were confident that Crosby and Egan were every bit as dismal inside as you felt, Egan’s warm hand had clasped your shoulder like you were a fellow officer and told you he was sorry. You took the condolences and gave them back, a stupid little exchange that only highlighted how unspeakable some pain is.
Three weeks later, Egan’s plane didn’t come back either.
In your more fanciful moments you allowed yourself to imagine Egan and Cleven alive, somewhat whole and reunited. You could almost hear Cleven’s joking welcome, “What took you so long, Bucky?”
You’d indulged these fancies for Rafe, too, until years of silence suggested the worst.
However, this time, well into October and with an entirely new set of planes under your care, word came at last through the Red Cross, and the truth was exactly as you’d dreamed. There was only the paltriest letter back to command but it said they were well, they were alive, together indeed and being moved to the Polish border. Away from their own comrades' bombs. It was more than most ever got, and your family celebrated the news with the gratitude it deserved.
As October turned to November and your gloved fingertips froze as you worked, every sharp needle of chill reminded you of him, how much more awful it must be that far north, snow piled deep and muck everywhere and lice covered blankets and illness left untreated. As the holidays hurtled nearer, days of peace and goodwill you had planned to be spent with him, you were consumed by the dread of losing him to the elements since war had proven too clement. At night you lay abed and reread the one bit of handwriting you had from him, that damned poem he had written out, left under your door in the early dawn that had taken him from you.
My lost youth. That was the title of the thing. It cut like glass every time you read it, but Buck had touched that paper and looped those letters and dotted those i’s and it was precious to you. It became a prayer of sorts.
“There are things of which I may not speak;
There are dreams that cannot die;
There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
And bring a pallor into the cheek,
And a mist before the eye.
And the words of that fatal song
Come over me like a chill:—
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
Strange to me now are the forms I meet
When I visit the dear old town;
But the native air is pure and sweet,
And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,
As they balance up and down,
Are singing the beautiful song,
Are sighing and whispering still:—
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
Then, in January, as if prayers got heard, the most unexpected happened.
Major Gale Cleven, what was left of him after cold, starvation, murder and a treck across Europe, had returned. Things like this, seeing your lost beloved ride up to your workplace in the shotgun seat of a jeep, was the stuff of movies, hopeful propaganda or a woman’s mind that had finally cracked. You just stood there, welding helmet in hand, frozen rain spitting down at you, watching him jump out, watching Harry tear down from the observation tower to embrace him.
Dully, you could hear behind you Segreant Lemmons kind cheer of “so it was true, he got away from the bastards!” and a congratulatory thump between your shoulder blades. It was a moment of truth, to realize how far your faith had dwindled when the very answer to your prayers stood steaming with life in the cold air and yet you still could not accept it as reality.
“Baby.” his hands were warm compared to your damp cheeks and the span of them, so familiar and large, cupping your jaw with the calloused thumbs swiping at your temples, that was reminiscent of August and of happier days. Yet still, you had dreamed of him doing this, dreamed of a million different embraces and each time you woke up. “Baby, I’m back, I came to ya.” his voice was wrecked, from disuse and illness and whatever misery that had subjected him to. That, that was real enough, the rattling cough more so, you’d imagined his suffering in your worst nightmares too, this was something you could believe.
Familiar flesh was gaunt under your touch, gray cheeks where once there’d been freckles and the sinful pout of his once ruby red mouth was a dull violet, as if the vitality had been leached out of him. “What’d they do to my cherub?” you mourned, worst nightmares and wildest hopes blending into this one moment.
“Don’t cry, don’t cry f’me, I’m back. I came back.” he cooed to you, rough and sad himself, and your face was buried again in the placard of his coat, a great woolen overcoat this time, no fleece or any vestige of the swanky finery that got the flyboys ribbed for being soft, fancy, spoiled.
Nothing soft about these men, nothing gentle about their lot, nothing glamorous about being hurled down from the skies in a ball of fire.
“We kept praying for you.” you realized, it seemed important to tell him that however hopeless you all had felt, you’d gone through the motions anyway.
That was faith, wasn’t it? The hope of things not seen?
“I felt ‘em.” he said. “How else you think I managed it?”
It. -had managed it, that tiny word represented a host of terrors and miseries and unforgettable incidents that ricocheted in his brain like the lead fired into his boys head’s when they couldn’t manage a forced march, barefoot and underfed, in the snow.
Christmas had passed but January was not so very advanced, that evening your family turned back the clock and it was a matter of guessing as to who was celebrated more, baby Jesus or Buck Cleven. The two seemed intertwined at this point and in the warm glow of gas lamps and rationed toddy, with Buck’s hollow cheeks beginning to bloom and his dull eyes starting to animate, some part of you finally understood why so many felt worshipful on the holiday. The shit war rations felt like a feast, mama’s canned vegetables being the freshest thing he’d eaten in ages and with him sat at table again, empty chair filled, his hand creeping into your lap to lace with your own, there was peace.
Even the airforce, hard driving and high demanding though it was, took one look at his battered condition and admitted a period of conveyance was due. It wouldn’t do to send up a shoddy pilot, lose another plane, yet another crew or a hero of the hundredth. It’s not every day one of your squadron leaders escapes a POW camp and marches over occupied Europe and fordes the Channel to get back home.
A month was set aside. And you took as many weekday passes as you could during that month, happier than anything that he had been permitted to stay in town, to lodge with one of the locals. Rafe’s room was now occupied by him and mama’s broth was poured down Gale’s throat twice daily and his days kept busy with paperwork and Donald’s math problems. The ticking clock, the passing days, like the evil crocodile gobbling up time, was politely and britishly ignored in favor of enjoying what was. You no longer slept with the tear stained and crumpled poem clasped to your throat but his head lay there often enough instead. The thump of your heart helping him sleep, because exhausted and sick as he was, sleep and solitude were not comforts.
He was wracked with guilt for leaving Egan and his men behind, it had been every man for himself during that brutal forced march, he knew that and yet he’d left a friend behind. Buck waited for news of Egan like you’d waited for news of him. Nameless and senseless guilt ruining much of his own success and peace.
“He’d have expected nothing less of you.” you had taken to reminding him, “He’d be angry if you hadn’t taken the opportunity like you did.”
“I know.” he agreed miserably.
You admitted to him then, the horrid guilt of feeling that somehow, some missed defect or some lousy flaw had been the reason he’d been downed. Your work somehow not sufficient to keep him in the skies. When you’d admitted as much, Sergeant Lemmons had looked at you with all the censure such moronic introspection deserved: “Cleven got bombed to hell. He expected it, daytime raid and all. Blame the Nazis.”
“Blame the Nazis.” you suggested now to Gale as he lay sprawled in your arms, sweaty and feverish but his color was back and he looked pretty as anything so alive and near.
He looked ready to dare something, his face hovering nearer yours and the heavy weight of his limbs suddenly feeling full of intent but then his sparkling eye caught sight of something in the doorway and his lips quirked and his body shifted away.
“Whatcha doin’ sulkin’ out there Donny?” he addressed your brother and sure enough the little scamp emerged from the shadow of the doorway and joined you two on the bed, comic book clutched in his hands. They had a routine, apparently, Papa was no longer the chosen one for bedtime stories. It made you want to wince in anticipation for when Buck would move back to base and things would become full of dread again.
That day came sooner than you’d counted on. A month is not so very long, after all, and it was filled with so much work and business, stolen moments at home hardly being the norm.
“It’s an easy mission.” he’d said at dinner, as if arguing the point to you all. You knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything and so you all let him specify just how easy, how routine, how utterly unworrying tomorrow's flight would -should- be.
If it’s hard to get back into the saddle after being bucked off, how much worse to climb back into a plane after being tossed from the skies.
That evening he lounged on your bed instead of Rafe’s, the house emptied as your mother and father took Donny to the movies, the appeal of a new film finally showing cited as being too alluring to resist. He was lost in his thoughts, watching you go about your little evening routines that you tried to maintain when at home. It was domestic and cozy, warm where the world outside was cold and then there was Buck, golden as anything in the low lamp light, utterly unaware of the figure he cut lying on his side.
“I’ve missed it.” he told you, “Flying, I’ve missed it.”
“Of course you have. You were born for it.” you murmured.
“Ya know,” he reflected, “I signed up for the Air Force before it all got hot, before Pearl Harbor. I was gonna fly no matter what. I remember grittin’ my teeth durin’ training and tellin’ myself it would all be worth it. Just hang in there and it would pay off. I just felt something important would need me. Hell, guess I got more than I ever bargained for, didn’t I?”
“I guess you did.” you agreed.
“I couldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.” He insisted and you knew he was talking to himself again, until his face turned towards yours and the softest look of fondness crossed features turning them almost pained when he said next, “I couldn’t do it, get back up there, if it weren’t for love. The rightness of it but -love, for my boys, my family. For you.”
“I know, and we’re terribly lucky to have your devotion. -And…and I love you, too.” you vowed earnestly, then giggled at the absurdity of this being the first time to admit it.
“I’d had my suspicions.” he grinned back, some of that old cockiness returning along with his vigor as he snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him.
“Do you know why my parents have gone?” you asked him pointedly, turning on your side to face him.
“To see a movie.” His face was so innocently perplexed you almost lost control of yourself and ruined the game right then with something terribly forward.
“My parents aren’t in the habit of seeing movies.” you corrected him soberly.
“No?”
“No.”
“So where’d they go?” Buck asked.
“Oh they’re at the movies.” you smirked, “But they’ve gone for us.”
Gale’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, if not of you then of his own naïveté. “For us.” he repeated and his voice had dropped an octave in the interim.
“Yes. Something about wanting us to have a goodbye.” you quoted.
“I’m not dying tomorrow.” he pointed his finger firmly in your face and it made you smile to see him so fiesty again.
“No,” you agreed with his prophecy, “but I wanted to give you some incentive to hurry back.”
“Oh?” those lips of his puckered again in confusion before his smarts caught up with him and the pink corner tugged up in mischief, “Ooooh.” he repeated, suddenly very close, his energy, his body, his heart, inches from being one with you. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, oh yes.” you confirmed, slotting your lips against his gently only to be met with eager, desperate need in his own kisses.
Your childhood bed was narrow and the counterpane below you familiar and dear, stitched by your mother in colors you’d once wished to update upon entering maturity. Now, laid out in perfect security and familiarity, you watched Buck Cleven dangle a toe off the abyss before diving in, pausing to caress the blanket beside your hip, smiling to himself.
“What?” you were breathless to know every thought in that dear head.
“My mama made me one, looks lots like this.” his eyes were watery soft yet his smile was glad, his hips narrow and sharp in the cradle of your own, stark hipbones not yet padded by your mother’s cooking pressed you down into the bedding, grounded and right. “You’ve made me real at home here.” he whispered and it pleased you ever so much. “Do I dare take this last liberty?” he muttered as if to himself, even as those blue orbs bore into your own, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt and you ached from need long deferred and the weight of remedy lying heavy between your thighs.
“It’s no liberty,” you whispered, catching his dog tags and bringing his face to yours, the size of the man so very apparent now he was hovering above you, “it’s yours.” you watched his pupils blow out at the statement, his ragged breath fanned minty across your face, even angels wield swords. “I’m yours.”
“And I’m yours.” he concluded.
With that exchange of truths something snapped between you, like a ribbon cut, gone was the hesitant cordiality and deference that had marked your courtship. Here now was fierce possession and the gloated satisfaction of those who possess something cherished and are no longer kept from partaking of it, buckles and garters snapped in the quiet room and the rustle of sheets and shirts wafting to the floor made your breaths hitch with anticipation. Precious flesh came into touch with every brush and it was enough for many minutes merely to cling and grasp, imprinting desire into the back and the arms and the throat of each other, like an armor of love against the decay of death.
“Yours, yours.” you swore as his finger played you once more, his breathing hard and rough in your ear, harsh commands for you to say it again and again, reminding you he was fearsome when he wanted to be.
“Don’t look,” he begged when you realized through a haze of joy what he was about, pressing in with all the finesse of a cricket bat knocking at the wicket, hoarse and doe eyed above you, there was only the whine, “please, darlin’ don’t look, just, my eyes, please.”
It was a fumbling entry but nature and pleasure prevailed, as it had since the first couple. And dear boy that he was, he knew you had indulged in a leg up, one or two at least, before he came along but still, he could not bear it for you to see more, not this time. He wanted it just to be the kisses and the sight of your precious face contorting at the fullness of your belly and the force of his hunger for you. All the rest were vulgar details left somewhere under your skirts, and, unbeknownst to him, reflected in your childhood mirror situated on the wall behind his plump arse.
“Oh god.” he had choked out, winded and in awe as his body shook at the feel of you accepting him deep, “You’re a slice of heaven, heaven that’s-that’s what you fee- oh god, oh god.”
He had giggled at the absurdity of this dance and then broke off with a moan that made you giggle in turn and back and forth it went as his body jerked into yours as if he’d no control over it, led quite literally by the part of himself buried inside you. He knew it was foal-like and a poor showing as a lover and he also knew you didn’t care a bit, your eyes wide at the size of the intrusion and captivated by the sight of his newly enlightened face.
“You alright?” he asked urgently, as a sudden and familiar feeling took over his body. The feeling of his brakes giving out, his flaps malfunctioning, the hydraulics failing -it took over him, his spine tingling and his vision beginning to blur and only your punched out gasps and sweet smile wavering on his horizon as the frantic, masculine, natural need to drive in deep enough to puncture your heart seized him and propelled him in you, against you, above you with such force you forgot to breath. For all Egan’s teasing of Buck’s hatred for athletics, the man wasn’t shabby when it came down to it, even after months of internment, or maybe due to that stolen time, his life force seemed to pour out in a torrent and your belly buzzed at the sweet abuse.
“I’m perfect.” you managed at some point, “You’re perfect, so perfect.”
He shuddered at the praise and as if terror struck him then, he was suddenly pulling away and moaning “I should- I shouldn’t -I’m gonna, darlin, I’m gonna lose it-“ and young and sweet and clumsy as anything he rutted against your slick frantically, mouth pressed to yours until the hot gush of his satisfaction spilled out and added to the mind fuzzing feel of him sliding against your little pearl.
You encouraged his shaky limbs to collapse on you, the lanky frame of him a sweet weight, sweaty cheek pressed to your breast, you could feel the dopey curve of his smile against your plump flesh. His hair curled at the nape from the sweat of his exertions, all winter chill forgotten in this bed. War and missions and bombs, too. You petted each other for a while before he raised his head and, gazing at you adoringly, he murmured “thank you.” his nose nudging yours and the steadiest of kisses lingering in the tingly aftermath.
“Darlin?” he broached the subject a while later, cheek again pressed to your chest and his fingers sliding in a hypnotic caress over your thigh.
“Yeah, Buck?”
“Later,” he prefaced, tentative and raw, “when -when the war’s over, and when, well, when I can make my own promises…”
Your heart hammered beneath his ear and you squeezed your legs around him, as if to shore him up enough to say what you wanted him to say so very badly. “Yes?”
“Would you marry me then?” he begged and somehow you knew this, what you had just indulged in, was never going to happen without that hope for him.
Perhaps that’s why it felt so strong, like a communion of souls more than anything else. “I’ve half a mind to make you wait and get my answer when you come back tomorrow.” you teased and his head reared up with a dangerous glint in his eye.
“Don’t you dare.” he warned, grin breaking out despite himself.
The sound of the front latch grating on the door startled you both but he pressed you down when you went to scamper and clothe yourself. “The door’s closed anyway,” he argued in a whisper but you knew he felt as nervous as you at being caught, if not more so, yet still he was a stubborn one. His hand was firm and large clasping your cheek, expression arch and expectant. “Promise you’ll be a good little girl and say yes when I do ask.”
You laughed at his gall, to make you wait, to make you promise when he wasn’t even proposing. But then again -you had said you were his, and he was yours. It had already been done. Sometimes life was as simple as Gale Cleven made it out to be.
“I promise.” you whispered happily, bringing him back down to your embrace and willing away thoughts of tomorrow and flagging him out to danger.
One day he’d come back for good. One you could make promises again. Until then, there was hope.
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writers lifeblood, I’d adore hearing your thoughts. 💋
#masters of the air#mota#masters of the air fanfiction#gosh is that a first tag? i don’t think so I know I’ve seen schemes at the very least on here#mota fanfic#austin butler#gale cleven#john egan#Major Egan#Major Cleven#buck cleven#Gale Cleven fanfiction#austin butler fanfiction#austin butler x reader#austin butler x you#austin butler x y/n#austin butler fluff#Austin Butler imagine#Austin butler smut#callum Turner fanfiction#callum turner#harry crosby#anthony boyle#hbo war#band of brothers#the pacific
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hello!!!! i love your recent fics and i want to request one for you 🥹 one where reader does happy dances every time she eats sanji’s food? and it’s so natural for her that she makes him shy ((in a good way for doing it
Happy Times
Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Y/N
Content: Starvation, fluff, Sanji's shy (my favourite part) and Y/N's sad past.
A/n: I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing this! <3
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First of all, thank you for requesting! This is my first time making a request so I hope this story is to your expectations!
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After the Strawhat crew saved your poor country from its terrible leader, you were unexpectedly welcomed aboard as a new addition to the crew.
Despite your lack of devil fruit powers, Luffy saw potential in you and believed that your unique skills and determination would make you a valuable member of the crew. He admired your bravery during the fight and knew that together, you could accomplish even greater things.
He also might have gotten some persuading from a certain cook.
"Cheers to our new nakama, Y/N!" Luffy exclaimed, raising his cup in a toast.
"Cheers!" the crew chorused in unison, their cups clinking together. Each member of the Strawhat crew expressed their excitement for having you on board, promising to support and protect you as one of their own.
From Nami's approving nod to Zoro's subtle smirk, it was clear that you had earned their trust and had become an integral part of their pirate family.
As the celebration continued, you looked around the room and realized that the cook was nowhere to be found. Curiosity piqued, you excused yourself from the crew and made your way to the kitchen, where you found Sanji preparing a feast fit for a king.
You admired Sanji's culinary skills for a while, marveling at how effortlessly he would slice through vegetables and handle the sizzling oil without hesitation. As you watched him prepare the feast, you couldn't help but be in awe of his culinary prowess.
It was no wonder that he was known as the "Black Leg" and hailed as one of the greatest chefs on the Grand Line.
You decided to slip away quietly, not wanting to interrupt Sanji's cooking or draw attention to yourself.
Finding a peaceful spot on the ship, you took a moment to reflect on the incredible turn of events that led you to become a member of the Strawhat crew.
The memories of your past struggles and the newfound sense of belonging filled your heart with gratitude and determination for the adventures that lay ahead.
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It was hard to believe that just a few days ago, you were living in a country oppressed by an unjust ruler. The people had been stripped of their wealth, forced to give all of their money as a gift to the ruler on the 10th anniversary of their reign.
You were once a part of an orphanage that suffered greatly under the ruler's oppressive regime. The orphanage struggled to provide basic necessities for the children, and you witnessed firsthand the hardships faced by the people.
As one of the oldest children in the orphanage, you were burdened with responsibilities beyond your years. From the age of 10, you were expected to take care of the younger children, ensuring they were fed, clothed, and safe. It was a heavy weight to bear, but it taught you resilience and compassion at a young age.
You often found yourself questioning the quality and safety of the food made from the meager rations provided by the adults. However, you had no other choice but to eat it yourself and feed it to the younger children, hoping it would sustain them.
Surviving each day became a delicate balance between fulfilling your responsibilities and ensuring everyone's survival.
But one day, the Straw Hat crew, led by the fearless Monkey D. Luffy, arrived in the country with a mission to liberate the oppressed people. With their extraordinary abilities and unwavering determination, they fought against the unjust ruler and his forces, bringing hope and freedom to the once-struggling nation.
As they defeated the ruler and his regime, the people rejoiced, and a new era of peace and prosperity began to unfold.
Everyone thought it was the right decision for you to go with them. . .
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"Y/N?" A voice called you from behind, belonging to Nami.
You turned around to face Nami, a wide smile spreading across your face. "Yes, Nami?" you replied, gratitude filling your voice.
"Sanji said that the food is ready," Nami informed you, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The aroma of the freshly cooked meal wafted through the air, a stark contrast to the meager rations you were accustomed to.
Your stomach growled in response to Nami's news, reminding you of the constant hunger you had endured in the orphanage. The thought of a properly cooked meal filled with nourishment made your mouth water.
As you followed Nami into the kitchen, you noticed that everyone was there, engaged in lively conversation, yet no one touched their food. It seemed as if they were waiting for someone, and curiosity piqued within you.
"Finally! There you are, Y/N!" Luffy exclaimed, his mouth drooling as he resisted from touching the meat in front of him.
You sat beside Nami, a sense of guilt washing over you as you apologized for being gone for so long.
"Now Y/N-san, why don't you taste the food first?" Sanji asked from the kitchen, prepping the last pieces of dessert.
You hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether you deserved to be the first one to taste the food.
Usually you were the last unless you had to taste if it was edible or not.
Everyone looked at you as you scooped a spoonful of one of the dishes, but you paused. The memory of the starving children back in the orphanage flashed in your mind, and you couldn't help but feel that they deserved this meal more than you did.
"It's alright," Sanji's voice said as he was now behind you, his warm hand resting on your shoulder.
It was as if he could read your mind and understand the guilt that was consuming you.
You nodded before placing the spoon inside your mouth and swallowing it. The flavors exploded on your taste buds, a symphony of perfectly balanced spices and textures.
It was a moment of pure bliss, and as you savored each bite, you couldn't help but feel grateful that you were able to experience such a meal after years of deprivation.
The taste of the food was so exquisite that you couldn't help but let out a little dance, your body moving to the rhythm of the flavors. It was as if the nourishment had not only satisfied your hunger but also awakened a dormant joy within you.
As you twirled and swayed, the room erupted in laughter and applause, everyone delighting in your infectious happiness.
"Y/N is doing a happy dance!" Luffy exclaimed, laughing.
The meal had not only filled your stomach but also filled your soul with a newfound appreciation for the simple joys of life.
With the biggest smile on your face, you turned to Sanji, gratitude shining in your eyes, and whispered, "Thank you, Sanji. This meal is beyond anything I could have imagined."
Sanji's cheeks went from a light tint of pink to his whole face being red, dropping his cigarette in the process. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and happiness at seeing you enjoy his food so much.
It was moments like these that reminded him why he loved cooking and why he put so much passion into every dish.
"I'm glad that you like it Y/N-san," Sanji answered, his eyes filled with pure love. Shyly, he added, "I put my heart and soul into creating this meal, and seeing you enjoy it brings me immeasurable joy."
You smiled in return, completely unaware of the effect you had on Sanji. The genuine happiness that radiated from you was enough to make his heart skip a beat, and he couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of purpose in his culinary endeavors.
Though it didn't go unnoticed.
"Looks like Love Cook can get shy around women," Zoro teased.
Sanji's face turned even redder as Zoro's teasing words reached his ears.
"Shut up, Mosshead!" Sanji fired back, trying to hide his embarrassment. But deep down, he couldn't deny that there was some truth to Zoro's words.
Your presence had ignited a spark within him, and he couldn't wait to continue creating culinary masterpieces that would bring joy to your heart. . . .
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Continue?
#black leg sanji#vinsmoke sanji#sanji#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece headcanons#one piece fanfic#one piece sanji#sanji x reader#blackleg sanji#sanji vinsmoke#straw hat pirates#roronoa zoro#zoro x reader#monkey d. luffy#one piece zoro#straw hat luffy#zoro#sanji x y/n#sanji x you#sanji x black reader#vinsmoke sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji fanfic
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Oml I love your writing, I just binged all the Sam fics! I saw you take requests for Harvey 👀 any chance for a “confidential check up?”
Hello, dear anon!~ Thank you so much for both the compliment and request. This was my first time writing a full-blown Harvey fic - and I hope I did suffice :D
Thanks for your request, and thank you so much for your time and love! <3
ᴀ/ɴ: as I said, this is my first time writing a Harvey fic and I am still sick, so I hope it will suffice!!
PS: I hid two Easter eggs this time. >:)
PPS: maybe 2,5, one being a slight nod at @sashiavi >:))
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Harvey (SDV) x afab!reader
ᴡᴄ: 4194 words
ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: medical misconduct, unprotected sex, light nipple play, seductive reader, Harvey's a little insecure.
☾ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴅʏ ☽
A secret that you'd never share? Simple and carnal, your secret was. Primitive, even. You had only made the appointment with Doctor Harvey to finally wrap the man around your finger.
You had tried it fair and square at first, you seriously had! Coming by whenever he had time, bringing him little gifts you were sure he'd like; trying to engage him in conversation.
However, Harvey always seemed so busy, so professional. Telling you to take care and stay healthy and giving you advice on how you achieve just that. Always looking out for you, always gentle in his words and behavior. And by Yoba, it made you want to break him even more.
Also, what better way was there to implement your plan than to catch the little lamb where it felt the safest and most confident? Of course, it was a little unfair, pretending you needed his help and skills to treat an injury, but then again you did. Just not in the way Harvey would expect. He had loads of chances to get the hint, but nothing had worked. Not even when you had fished out the shortest skirt possible out of your closet and wore it with a top that left barely anything to one's imagination, accidentally falling on your knees right in front of Harvey, showing off those lace panties of yours. No, that hadn't worked either. Harvey had let out a gasp that made you believe you had finally done something to him, just to rush to your side and ask if you were okay. If you needed help, if you were dizzy. Fuck did you want to cry out that you were dizzy for him, his touch. Instead, you gave him a sweet smile, fluttering your lashes at him as you told him no, you were fine. But thank you so much, Harvey!
You had scrambled to your feet and made your way back to the farm with your head hanging, and that was the point you decided it would probably need to be all or nothing.
“So, what brings you here today? Maru only noted that you requested to see me. I hope you didn't hurt yourself?” Harvey asked, scooting closer on his rolling chair. You were already propped up on the table, smiling sweetly at Harvey.
You had picked out an excellent outfit for the day, if you were allowed to say so. A blouse that was easy to open up and discard, and a skirt that seemed modest enough yet was nothing but of the mere purpose of covering up your lack of panties. And you were hurting. Terribly so, even. For him.
“Nono, Doc. I just, you know. I've been feeling some kind of way. Under the weather, you might say.” You leaned forward a bit now, running your fingers through your hair before twirling a strand around your finger. You were met with a pair of green-brown eyes, so full of consideration and empathy. It made you want to just sit on his face and make him spill all of his care onto your sweet pussy until you could feel it in every part of your body.
“I see! And how does that show? Do you have a headache? Do you feel more tired than usual?”
So sweet and caring, Doctor Harvey. Too cute to not bite.
You let out a sigh as if you were contemplating, biting around on your lower lip. “No, that's not it. I don't know how to describe it, it's…embarrassing.”
The doctor looked up at you again, putting away his notepad now. He gave you a sweet, genuine smile. A hand landed on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"There’s absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. This is a safe, confidential space; nothing will leave these walls.”
Go on, little lamb. Step right into the trap.
You leaned back a bit, pushing out your chest now. “Well, it's my chest. It's been so…so tender lately.”
A hum. That's all you got. A hum. Or so you thought. Because if you looked closely, you could see more. His moustache was twitching as his eyes flickered down to your breasts. Harvey was a professional, though. He quickly cleared his throat, nodding at you.
“Alright, I will glad- I would be happy- let's take a look, shall we?”
It took a lot from you to not break out in a grin; having the man break out in a stutter like that? It definitely was a step forward.
“Yes, please.” You needed to pretend to be innocent now - you didn't want to scare him away, after all.
Your fingers were quick to unbutton your shirt and your upper body was already bare before the doctor could even properly turn back to you. For a moment, his motions seemingly stuttered to a halt, his hands still clasped together from rubbing the disinfectant on them.
His moustache twitched again as he approached you, taking a seat on the chair again.
“Alright, my hands might be a little cold from the disinfectant, but I should be quick.”
Fuck, you hoped that he wouldn't be. You gave him a nod and what you hoped to be a shy smile, pushing your chest towards him a little.
And then, finally…Fucking finally you felt tender fingers on the soft skin of your breasts. It left you breathless for a moment, helpless as he traced the curves of your tits so expertly.
The moan falling from your lips really wasn't an accident, but Harvey, dear sweet Harvey, decided to let you off the hook. Ever the gentleman, wasn't he?
“Did that hurt?” He asked, his eyes flickering up to you, gently squeezing the flesh again. This time you looked straight into his eyes as you moaned, licking your lips. “No, it just…tingles,” you grinned, eyes following Harvey's dropping hands with dismay.
“Well, I did not find any lumps or irritations that could explain the tenderness. Did any lifestyle changes happen? Or perhaps a new medication?”
Pretending to be thinking, you swung your legs back and forth. One of your feet got in contact with his shin, slowly tracing upwards only to slide down again.
The man’s face was stoic, eyes trained on your face with a stern look.
Yet again, the twitching of his moustache betrayed him.
The thought that you hadn't responded yet reeled you in a little: “No…Well. Maybe kind of? You know…I've been having, well. Thoughts about someone. Thoughts about them touching me, wanting me,” you began, your foot wandering to his knee.
“Could that be it?”
A blush had spread on his cheeks now, and Yoba did you love to see it. He picked up the notepad and quickly jotted something down, then nodded.
“I assume that could be it-”
“And what do I do about it, Doctor? It hurts, after all.”
Immediately, his attention is back on you completely. “Hurts? Where?”
A vague pointing to your body made Harvey's hand reach out, touching your stomach. “Here?”
You shook your head, letting your foot wander down again. “Lower.”
His brows furrowed now and he let his hand slide towards your abdomen. “Here? Are they cramps?”
Again, you shook your head.
“Lower.”
He was hesitating now, looking up at you with an uncertainty you had never seen before, and it felt like another small victory.
“Could you…uh. Point me to where it hurts?”
Click - the trap was snapping shut.
It didn't need many words; you opened up your legs without an ounce of hesitation, revealing your cunt, all wet and ready for the doctor. “There.”
Harvey swallowed thickly, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words. Words that wouldn't have him lose his license. It wasn't like he hadn't seen genitals before - much more than one would expect from a small town like this - and he had never been affected. So why was his throat dry now? Why was his heart pounding like this?
“It's getting like this whenever I see handsome men like you, what could that be?”
“It’s getting like…what?” by now he was thankful that he was able to get some words out with his head feeling as light as it did right now.
“I dunno…wet?”
His eyes went straight back to your pussy, staring at it. You were wet. And you looked delicious. But he was a doctor. A professional. He had done so much to be where he was right now!
“Oh! That…uh. That…it- well. It stems from attraction. It's so..so sexual intercourse can happen more easily, you see. All natural. There's no need to worry at all.”
He was pulling back, this damn professional. Even though you could see that you were getting to him. “But…isn't there a remedy?”
Harvey wanted to just sink into the ground. His head still felt light, and he could feel his pants tighten - he had been mesmerized by you ever since you had introduced yourself. And of course, he had noticed your attempts to catch his attention - he wasn't stupid, after all. Yet Harvey had promised himself. Promised himself to not get too involved anymore. And now you were here. Exposed, and seemingly ready for him. So close but- he had to be strong. Be a doctor.
“Well, for one…You could do some self-care. Masturbation is quite healthy for the human body and mind.”
Like hell he'd recommend you to have sex with someone else, not even someone like him could be so professional. You called him handsome after all, for crying out loud!
“Oh! And…how does that work?”
Your patience was running thin now, but you felt like you were so close to having him where you wanted him, despite him being so oblivious. His face was motionless now as he stared at you, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He was obviously looking for words.
“I-”
“Come on, Doctor Harvey. You're supposed to help me, aren't you?” You cooed, interrupting the clouding thoughts before they could really rain on him.
“But- that is the thing. I am your Doctor-”
You didn't answer him right away, your hand wandering to your clit first, giving it a gentle flick.
“And what if you prescribed yourself to be my remedy? I think you're the only thing that can help me,” you moaned.
The groan coming from his direction certainly wasn't professional anymore. A hand, now warmer than before, settled on your thigh. “You said it hurts here?”
Before you could look where his finger was pointing you could feel the pad of it trace through your wet folds.
“Exactly,” you breathed, spreading your legs a little further.
“I can't see much,” he murmured, his cock twitching painfully in his pants. “I'd need to clean you up first before I run some more tests...is that okay with you?”
The bobbing of your head was enough for Harvey to finally break down.
He leaned forward faster than he would have guessed from himself, his fingers spreading your folds, and by Yoba, you were wet. All the more reason to examine you closely, wasn’t it? Keeping you healthy wasn’t bad, after all. It was his job. And if that was what it took, he would oblige – for the sake of medicine, of course. Not because of his throbbing cock and the desperate need to taste you on his tongue; not because he was salivating from the thought alone.
His tongue slowly slipped out of his mouth, a sliver of hesitation lingering in the air. He could see your hole contract when you thought him close, he could see the shivers making the muscles of your thighs twitch whenever his hot breath hit the wetness of your cunt, and yet…wasn’t this wrong? Had he somehow taken advantage of you?
“Harvey, fuck, please?” A small rock of your hips followed your words. Urging him closer. He could smell you now, and holy life, did you smell good. Lured him right into taking a deep whiff, as if he didn’t know he would get drunk on you immediately. Yet he did know and he willingly took another deep inhale. The impatient whine above him caused his eyes to flicker up to your face. You looked down at him, your lower lip tugged between your sets of pearly whites. No words needed to be spoken, and yet Harvey still followed your order.
His tongue slowly slipped out of his mouth; eyes glued to your face. He wanted to see how you would react to that first contact, wanted to see if you felt as hot as he did right now. His pants were really straining against his aching erection, his zipper pressing against the shaft through his boxers. He was pretty sure those were wet too by now, with all the pre-cum he had been leaking. He finally pressed the muscle against your entrance, licking a flat, thick line upwards. And he took his time doing it; so much so that it had your toes curl and your thighs close in around his head. The brunet was quick to react, though, one hand holding your leg open, while the other busied itself with spreading open your pussy for his hungry tongue. His licking had become faster now, but precise enough to avoid your clit. He was, after all, only cleaning you up now, wasn’t he? Still, that didn’t mean that his hot tongue licking up whatever you gave him didn’t make you moan for him. How long had you been thinking about this? Having Harvey between your legs, in any which way he would have offered? Too long. And now he finally had his head buried between your thighs, licking and sucking you up like a starved man offered a meal after ages of going hungry. His tongue licked up and down, from one side to the other, but he still ignored your hardening clit with apparently the same professionalism he had ignored your advances before.
He gave your lips a light suck, then sunk his tongue deep inside of you. A groan left his glistening lips, eyes shut tight while he lapped at your walls eagerly, trying to get as much of you as possible into his mouth. “Harvey, oh fuck, right there,” you breathed, hand flying in his hair to hold onto the strands between your fingers tightly, giving a tug that was harder than you had intended it to be. But that only seemed to spur the male on more, his face burying deeper, tongue and lips working in unison now. And by Yoba, he had never tasted anything this good; so sweet, so…you; and you were addictive.
Your hips bucked upwards for him, if to grant him easier access or just because you couldn’t keep them down anymore, you didn’t know. You didn’t really care, either. Harvey’s moustache rubbed against you in a way that made your head spin, his lips sucking on you while he circled his tongue within you made your whole body tense. Even when pussy-drunk he seemed incredibly precise, knowing just where to brush past, when to suck and when to lick.
You weren’t able to do much anymore, just hold onto his hair and wait for the sweet, sweet release to wash over you and in turn, Harvey’s tongue.
It was close; you could feel it in the ripple down your spine, in the way you clenched around him, you could feel it in the pit of your stomach, too. You were dangerously close to the edge, and one well-placed flick would push you over. You were ready for it; the string of moans that left your lips were dirty, raw, carrying all the words you couldn’t form anymore.
You awaited the feeling of your orgasm crashing over you, not to suddenly feel empty and cold after being engulfed in the warmth of his mouth. But Harvey was standing now, his face wet and his glasses fogged up from the heat that had reached the cool surface, and yet you knew that he was staring right at you. You opened your mouth, but you didn’t trust your vocal cords just yet, so all you did was letting out a confused hum, to which the brunet in front of you smiled.
“You are all clean now- I believe you are ready for further tests.”
Fuck, you were. More than that. By now, you really felt an ache in your body, and the only remedy was there, right in front of you, fumbling with the buttons of his pants. His hands were shaking, enough so for you to lean forward, popping the button open for him. The doctor let out an awkward laugh, moustache twitching from the embarrassed rumble that went through him. “Sorry,” he whispered but quickly switched gears when you pressed a kiss to his lips. The taste of you mixed with his spit made you whimper, the appetite for him only growing within you. You wanted to help him tug down his boxers as well, but instead of fabric, you were met with the soft skin that had been hidden beneath until now. Your throat went dry; you just had to pull away and look at him. He was big, tip coated in a layer of pre-cum, his shaft girthy.
“Harvey, please,” you stammered, leaning back on the table so he could lean over you more easily.
The brunet followed you like a well-behaved lamb, leaning in again to kiss you. You could feel the tip of his dick against your entrance, slowly pushing forward. The stretch the head of his penis caused made your eyes roll back, excitement for the rest of his girth stretching you bubbling inside of you.
Harvey, ever the gentleman, took it slow. Rutting inside of you, centimetre after centimetre, eyes fixed on your face for any signs of pain and discomfort. He brushed your hair to the side to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how good you felt, how wet you were for him, and holy Yoba, did he ever feel anything like this before?
You had to admit, at first, the stretch did hurt a little, but with both him being so tender with you, so gentle, the pain quickly turned into a cloud of lust and despair. You wanted him, and you weren’t afraid to show him anymore. “Harvey, oh, for fuck’s sake, fuck me.”
A twitch, and then a shove that made him bottom out inside of you. A groan from him bled into the moan that tore from you, but that didn’t make Harvey pause. Not anymore.
His thrusts were shaky, unsure at first. He was just so adorable, wasn’t he? His eyes searched yours as if to ask for approval, as if to make sure he was doing this right, and it made your heart swell within your chest.
“You are so good to me, Harv,” you whispered, shamelessly letting your moans slip for him. The brunet’s eyes lit up, and he pushed his hips forward faster, more eagerly now.
Smiling to yourself, you let your head lull back. Harvey’s dick felt so good within you, filling you out with clumsy thrusts that steadied the more confidence he felt. Your back arched in as the brunet found a rhythm that seemingly fitted both your tastes; fast strokes that reached deep within you. The little grunts that left his slightly swollen hips only added fuel to the fire, only made you want him more.
Your legs hooked around his soft hips as he fucked into you with quick thrusts, body working with him to get him to go harder, more ruthless. Lucky for you, Harvey was a quick learner. Dick now fucking into you harder, red tip still pounding as deep as he could go.
The man’s face was a mix of pleasure and astonishment as if he wasn’t able to believe this was really happening to him. You just felt so damn good around him, walls clinging to his hot cock, sucking him off with each thrust. If he had a say in it, he would have never left your sweet pussy again, keeping his dick buried inside of you, thrusting into you whenever he deemed fit.
The moans and whines of his name that filled the examination room made his vision blur; his balls incredibly tight all of a sudden.
“Harveeey,” you gasped out, your hand reaching for his in an attempt to hold onto something again, fingers gently brushing along his knuckles before intertwining. The brunet above you was panting now, his hips never stilling as he fucked into you. His eyes, however, weren’t focused on your face anymore; they had fallen onto your tits that were bouncing oh so nicely for him with each of his thrusts. He just couldn’t help himself; it was too tempting – his head dipped down, teeth catching one of your pretty pink nipples, nibbling on it just to suck it into his mouth moments later.
You could feel the feeling start to grow inside of you again, your orgasm approaching you, even though you didn’t want this to stop yet. You didn’t want this to end just now, now that he was filling you up so perfectly, cock sliding against your squishy walls with such ease; you didn’t want his balls slapping against your wet cunt to stop just yet, you wanted, no, needed, more.
As if hearing your thoughts, Harvey picked up his pace just a little more, his mouth switching to the other nipple to pay it the same amount of attention. The squelching sound of the wetness between your legs was to die for, just like the feeling of his orgasm hot in his veins.
You just felt so deliciously good, better than any neat whiskey ever could have, and it made him go crazy. He felt hot, he felt like he was just about close enough to heaven to feel it, but not quite there. The bucking of his hips grew more desperate as he chased his orgasm, going hard and deep inside of you while his mouth busied itself leaving hickeys on your bouncing tits. The insecurity from before had vanished, and the groans, the begs, the whines, the praise, all coming from you was enough to keep it away.
“Harvey, I am- fuck, I am so close-“
He would have answered, had he been able to. But he had basically gone mute, aside from the whimpers and groans, as well as high-pitched moans that dared to tumble from his tongue. Instead, he just nodded at you and did his best to pick up the pace some more. It was just so hard with you sucking around him so nicely, drooling all over his dick. So hard to focus when he could feel you shake beneath him, making his body ache for the final push.
The bite to your tit he gave you, combined with his deepest thrust yet was enough for you. You squeezed his hand tightly, your toes curling and your back arching in as finally allowed the release to flow over you. You cried out his name, your sweet, pretty cunt spasming around poor Harvey, who was, admittedly, both absolutely pussy-drunk and empty-minded.
His breathing now came in forceful, laboured pushes, and if he had ever heard a patient breathe like that, he would have sent them straight to bed and run endless tests on them. But this – this was nothing but the sheer hunger for one person.
He suddenly slammed forward once more, his back arching in as he moaned out your name loudly, penis twitching as he came inside of you, cum painting your walls white. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to not lose focus, his mouth hanging open as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your legs were quivering with each thrust that sent shocks up your spine from the overstimulation that slowly started to nag at you.
Panting, the brunet tried to keep himself from crashing down on top of you, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. His eyes were still hazy as they took in your fucked-out expression. You looked ruined but also completely…satisfied.
Your hand was still shaky as you reached up to let it run down his flushed cheek, a smile on your lips. “That definitely helped, Harv,” you whispered, voice slightly more hoarse than it had been that morning.
Harvey cleared his throat, and after a moment or maybe two – maybe also three, he just felt so good inside of you – pulled out of you, shaky legs carrying him over to the sink where he wettened some paper towels to clean you up.
“I am glad I was able to help.”
Disappointment settled in your stomach. Was that it? Did he just go back to his professional self like the table beneath you wasn’t drenched in your wetness and his cum?
“But I need to run a few more tests. I think home visits would be best; I’d need different surfaces and times.”
Click. Two lambs had fallen for the trap
#sdv#stardew valley#stardew valley fanfic#stardew valley farmer#stardew valley smut#sdv fanfic#fanfic#smut#sdv harvey#sdv harvey x reader#sdv harvey x farmer#stardew valley harvey#stardew valley x reader#stardew valley x farmer#harvey x farmer
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LET’S EXCHANGE, SHALL WE? | blade x reader
summary: blade helps you finish your mission as a spy with him as your objective by giving you an exchange (he knows) you won’t refuse
assassin!blade x fem!spy!reader
note: f/n - fake name, first time posting smut >.< , porn with plot (it’s a long ride folks), reader calls him ren, (might) ooc blade T^T virginity loss, v*gin*l f*nger*ng, nipple teasing, with proofhead ! cunn*l*ngus, breast groping, hick*ys, hair pulling, it’s reader’s first time ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა blade is down bad for her °ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ° lots of praise <3 also teasing, he kinda bullies her :((, fluff at the end ;3 (this fic is based on the manga cinderella x assassin >w< i also imagined how hot assassin!blade is frfr ) hope u cuties enjoy!
a/n: this is my first time writing smut because i am mostly on the fluff side of writing ToT but thanks to some uhh advise from other writings, i hope this is written well :,> english isn’t my first language so forgive me if i had any mistakes here TwT
it was all nothing new. you knew that all too well.
here at the association of blue angels, it is necessary that every spy has their own change of paths that comes across their ways in order for them to fulfil their duties and gain secret information from their clients, whether they are deadly, from aristocratic families, from high positions, or popular idols, it is fundamental that their aim for their prime objective is done and filed back at the organization. no matter who their target was, it was an absolute must you return with new info regarding the end of the view.
it was all nothing new, of how your boss would pick you for every male target, quiet with predatory gaze for women that lurk next to their sides. pretty girls like you will easily win their attention, that’s why they see why you’re perfect to work as a spy at the blue angels. your looks are perfect for the eyes of others, the definition of an eye candy. you knew your job all too well. non-stop praises from your boss whenever you’d return with an info dragged along on your palm, your eyes naively scanning down on the office floor as you mutter out an ‘i’ve returned.’
with different personas you became, brand new names you required in your business; that is what it takes to be a spy in disguise. for you, all of that just to be used as a seducing tool. so much for the title you earned…with these priorities set on to you, you would be forced to fuck your targets afterwards. the organization you were apart of depended on you with these said goals, and that’s the problem they see…
because you were too sheepish to eventually have sex with your objectives, even when asked.
yes, you have the looks to charm them like a siren luring their victims. however you were…too unsophisticated. guileless innocence and purity of a shy teenager. the confidence of seduction is what you lack. no wonder some of your co-workers poke fun at you. the naive y/n, they would murmur to you. but, they had no choice as you were the best spy among your group who can catch the eyes of men in a blink of an eye. set aside your ingeniousness…
it wasn’t like you asked for these missions to be set to you, after all, ever since they noticed your lack of temptation for the people they assigned you to, you were given to more easier victims, someone you won’t have a hard time gaining info from, in easier words someone you would not have to sleep with to collect main enlightenment. this, sounded somewhat as an insult for you. yet, for them, they just think this was for your best to avoid pressure.
‘pressure my ass…i do spy work, not sex work..who do they think they are?’ were the thoughts circulating inside of your head once you were outside of your boss’ office. them seeing your body as the sheer instrument of your skills when out as an undercover, you hated it. you wished they’d return your assignments when your targets were tougher victims. now that you are known in the blue angels association as the girly spy whose looks can kill, there was never going back as your reputation swoons the other workers when the aim is a pervert.
not much long after, your boss had called you into his office to hand over a new mission; following your last successful expedition that had been completed. as your eyes gazed down on the paper he slid on his desk, you slowly read the details for your next objective.
an assassin. a dangerous one to be exact.
“they call him blade, his real name is currently unknown. he works for the stella hunters department, an association filled with menacing assassins, and he’s one of the deadliest among them. find all regarding information about this man, including his weaknesses, and don’t hesitate to swoop in all you can. i’ll be handing this commission over to you, y/n,” is what your boss said, lighting a cigarette whilst looking over the paper that you held on your hands. you couldn’t help but be overjoyed once you heard this responsibility was handed to you, who had been longing for a task like this for so long. you’ll show them, you’ll show how you’re not just the kind of spy who sleeps with their intent. with a smile, you wholeheartedly accepted this work.
so, you put up a new persona, new name, and you were all set. this should be easy, with your looks there may be a chance this person will be beneath your thumb.
oh how right they were when they call you naive y/n..
blade was…scary. though, you managed to make him fall for you after months of trying. and there was this tiny gut feeling inside of you that was saying you were slowly falling for him, too. he was good-looking, fucking handsome. he’s got the stealth of a ninja, as if his presence wasn’t even there at the first place. so far, he is able to startle you whenever. the sword that he swings in his hands were swift, fast, and silent—often drools with the copper scent of velvet liquid. you pretended not to notice since he told you he worked as a bodyguard. the fake name you gave to him, he addresses you as f/n. you think it was convincing enough, after all, you ‘dated’ him for over 3 months now, that was a record. you didn’t quite understand why blade fell for you, in honest speaking; all you knew is that he suddenly asked you out when you both were at a fancy cafe shop he dragged you along with. his red eyes lured you, instead, and that made your heart jump.
surprisingly, blade was quite affectionate. despite being cold to your for the past months, he soon began to open up to you more with his loving antics. ‘cause of that, you were slowly getting weak over his words like some damsel. well, 3 months of dating can end up to something like this happening, although that doesn’t matter for now. your boss was pleased when he heard the news from you.
“did you manage to dig through his personal info? real name perhaps?”
“i—uhh…n-no, i still haven’t managed to..”
“…”
“…”
“just keep up the work, y/n. do not disappoint me.”
blade is an assassin for god’s sake, scooping information about him will take more than years to do so, even if you were playing as his faux ‘lover.’ you didn’t understand why he refused to answer questions from you in connection of his workspace, he replies all the time that it was ‘too embarrassing’ to say so. he says that then won’t hesitate to come home and drop his sword somewhere in his big house. this was going to take longer than you thought it was. no wonder this assignment was labeled as ‘heavy.’ investigating him was like a trace gone cold no matter how many evidence you found. it was like the said evidence were nothing but dents.
so that was why you decided to take matters into your own hands.
while he was out on his ‘work,’ you walked inside his home naturally, and quietly. blade always told you where his house keys were hidden every time he was out for business. your skills of not leaving traces as perfectly working as always. his small office inside of his house, you easily unlocked the door and went inside. blade had mentioned to you to never enter his house office, yet here you were. you couldn’t help but feel a little bad, however this was your job. you weren’t supposed to love him in the first place, you’re just a spy. playing with someone’s heart can be cruel.
his documents that spread on the inside of his cabinets that were placed on the sides, you opened them, seeing all the details you needed; displayed in front of you. your heart drummed in exhilaration, already imagining all the possibilities your boss might give you for your future works.
oh naive you..
“what might you be doing…y/n?”
a cold metallic feeling that touches your neck as you didn’t have time to react to the stern voice that whispered through your ears. gloved hands crawl through your thigh as the other held the bloodied sword closer to your throat. your breath hitches, and time froze at that moment. your eyes widen once you realized something..
he called you…y/n. not your fake name.
“b-blade..?”
“yes, y/n? what are you doing here?”
this wasn’t a fucking dream, he knows your name.
“why so silent now? are you surprised i know your real name, y/n?” the way he speaks your name was austere, moving closer before he gently lays his head on your shoulder. even his gorgeous face was splattered with blood, almost his entire clothing was. you were done for, your cover was blown.
“h-how..?”
“hm? how’d i know?” he chuckles. “simple…you’re a spy, aren’t you?”
you froze
“i thought your organization is a lot more smarter than that, sending a cute girl here to grab my attention. well…not like i’m complaining..you guys do know it’s not easy to fool me, right? and now you’re here in my office when i forbid you to go, that won’t do, y/n..” he spoke, softly caressing your thigh in a manner that slowly turned rough. you let out a soft grunt as blade grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, his red hues staring back at yours as he smiles like a manic. you couldn’t move your eyes away…those chilling eyes, like a predator looking at its prey.
“so? tell me.”
there was nowhere else to run. he’s got you on a chokehold, your body pressed against his as his strong grip held you down. you didn’t even register your thoughts completely to know you were sitting on top of him, you were too focused on his deadly gaze. your entire life as a spy, all fell down quickly like building blocks…all because of blade. your eyes felt like tearing up, finding the words to say, heartbeat screaming in your chest to just tell the truth…you…
“i have betrayed you, blade..”
blade’s attention was fully on you now, glancing at your body on top of his as you spoke in a whisper, almost in regret.
“i was going to find your name…and report it to the association…” you should’ve just declined the job. maybe the easier works were made for you after all.
“i’m sorry…if you must kill me then…i’ll accept that outcome.” you wanted to apologize to your boss, as well. for failing as a spy, for ruining his expectations on this ongoing mission. blade looks at you with no reaction, he still held you tight before grabbing his sword. this was it. this is the end for you.
“i see..” was all he responded before raising up his weapon, blood dropping down from the tip. blade hugs you tight, the sword adjusting over your neck.
as you closed your eyes, you watched as every decision you made throughout your life flashed before your mind. you began to wonder if maybe you were born as a normal girl—not a spy or anything, would you have found happiness? true love? would you have finished school and achieve a dream you’ve always wanted? probably. however, here you are, spending your last moments in life as it was ended by an assassin. there was no point in asking those questions now, this was the final.
just then, the sound of the sword dropping on the floor came on your ears, your eyes were back wide open when two pairs of arms are now wrapped around your shoulders, almost like a mother hugging her child close. blade laid his head down on your shoulder once more, smudging small drips of blood onto your clothing as you felt his breath on your neck.
“ren..” he mutters to you through the hug. “just call me ren…” then he pats your head like an animal.
you had a whole bag of questions right after that moment. pulling away, you looked at him with the most bewildered face ever, your face contorted whether you were angry or just plain confused.
“what?”
“hm? what? oh, ren as in—
“that’s not what i’m confused about..!”
blade was amused by how you reacted to his sudden gesture. most assassins by now would’ve sliced your neck open upon seeing you were an undercover spy sneaking info out of him, however from here…he instead proposed a deal. a deal that made you get stuck to this job.
“if you agree to marry me and become my wife, then i’ll allow you to keep spying on me.”
you think it’s dumb at first, marrying someone for the sake of knowing every little detail about him for some stupid mission. but again, his proposal was reasonable enough. for him, his side was that he gets to marry you. and for you, you can inform your boss you lured him into an engagement. easy as that. you can already see the look on your boss’ face once you tell him that exact information. blood rushes through your cheeks as you were thrilled with the thought. it’s a big win-win for both of you, and a marriage contract will do the trick. eventually, you agreed.
and thus, the two of you got married. in contract.
this was for the commission, was what you kept telling yourself. a married life with blade was…something that might take a while to get used to. he spoiled you rotten, when you guys got married he bought an expensive wedding gown on that same day, all because you thought the dress was pretty. he was loaded for an assassin. the stella hunters group payed them fairly. too fairly. they are a group of assassins after all. blade loved teasing you, seeing your face blush was his favorite sight. and his teasing wasn’t even intentional. hell—he probably turned a deaf ear when he was making fun of you.
no long after, you moved into his huge apartment. living together wasn’t much of a hassle. there were separate rooms, so whenever you wanted to not sleep with him, you would sleep in the other room (just in case). he’d gift you small gifts, something to entertain you with. sometimes, he’ll buy unnecessary lingerie to deride you with, piss you off with probably, too. you weren’t going to lie, some of the lingerie he bought were pretty (yet that doesn’t mean you like them !) it’s unbelievable to know how much blade says ‘i love you’s’ to you a whole lot. his demeanour as an assassin changed when you’re around.
on second thought, this man was out of his head. and weird.
you slightly began to think of him as a pervert, blade likes to scan down a lot to look at your melons. though, this doesn’t happen frequently, he only does it when you notice just to pull on your strings. you hated how instead of you who kept blade under your thumb, it was him who was influencing you. he had a strong morale, blade knows about the stares you give him every time he comes out of the shower. pretending like he doesn’t notice then would proceed to walk towards you with a towel over his leaking head. men like him on assignments are (kind of) no different, with good looks at first it should be alright, then suddenly they were perverts. it was an ongoing cycle you run throughout your life as a female spy, never escaping the chain of male clients.
and as for you who was an eye candy of every male gaze in your work, there was no difference of how easily they fawn over your figure like a barbie doll. nothing new to you; but to blade, he’s fully aware. he knew the treatment you got from your workplace, how you complained to him during on dates of how you were mostly assigned to older guys or either degenerates. as long as they were guys, you were quickly rolled in. you were pretty, and cute. he can understand why your boss gave you roles for victims who were men. it’s often hard grabbing the attention of a man after all, unless you were beautiful. yet he tells you how you actually did a nice job making him fall for you.
a blush erupts on your face when he mentioned that. blade only said that to make you feel better, is what your brain told you.
with the deal ongoing, you and blade made a lot of exchanges, some of them were cardinal for your mission as a spy. he gave you a lot of opportunities to know every little thing about him. in return, all he asked for were hugs, kisses, or dates. he was like a lovesick puppy. the loving looks he gave you, taking your palm out of nowhere then kisses them so soothingly. it was not worth questioning of how he makes you down on your knees. though you refused to let him know about that side of you of course.
you can’t let yourself down for a handsome assassin.
you and blade came home one day from a banquet incident.
it was supposed to be part of his assignment. to assassinate a director chief who was part of that party. all you have to do was merely watch him and be his party date. he came along with a colleague, her name was kafka. she introduced herself to you then congratulated your marriage with blade. she was beautiful, eyes hypnotizing and her presence as dangerous as blade’s. throughout the party, she started to grow a liking towards you, asking you to dance with her then glancing behind your back with your hand on hers. she was probably trying to make blade jealous.
how right she was when she said it worked.
kafka was rather flirty, although she was wearing a suit to the banquet, she still looks exquisite. for the entire night, you spent half of your time with her. well—she made you spend your time with her to be exact. dancing and sharing chats while drinking underneath the moonlight. you weren’t sure how blade reacted to his female companion being a little too close with his wife. in the meantime, she asked a lot of questions to you, too, asking how you and blade met, what made you love him, the usual questions like a mother asking about her son. she smiles mischievously at every answer you gave.
there was a side of you that’s telling not to trust this woman much. she had a mystique side to her. just by the look of her eyes, you knew kafka was someone not be trusted. she is an assassin, just like your husband. spies and assassins were no different much for their missions. unlike spies, they don’t kill in order to obtain said info. they hide themselves in order to do so, like skulking shadows. while assassins like them, chooses violence. how did the world come up so terrible that they created people like your profession to exist?
that same night, however, a small explosion occured, catching you immediate attention. the floor shakes with ease, leaving small visible cracks. screams of the people in that party made a ruckus, running out of the building from below your view as you only watched in a panic. what in the world just happened?
“hmm, just as the boss planned..” you hear kafka say, bringing her gun out of the pockets of her suit. she seems entertained; and she came prepared as predicated. you were right when you thought of how full her coat’s pocket looked. you send her a gaze, perplexed of what she meant.
“i-is ren going to be alright in there??”
“relax~ he’s a professional. do you really think bladie won’t survive in something so small like that~?” something so small, was his agency used to this type of disaster? assassins are frightening indeed. as kafka opened the door from the balcony you two stood in, a large dark smoke erupted out from the party room. you covered your nose, letting out a loud cough while kafka stood there, unbothered. a figure stands in front of her.
“i told you to send a signal, didn’t i?” kafka spoke, her eyes dark as a smile aligned on her face.
blade stands tall, his appearance sanguinary with the drip of crimson coming down on his sword. he looks nonchalant as he stared back at kafka, he huffs, “the bomb went off earlier than i thought. i’ve already slaughtered the remaining security,” blade says, wiping the small blood the slides down his chin. even with something like blood falling down on his image, your husband still looks ethereal. not a single scratch was on him, not even an injury from the bomb. he wasn’t bathing in his own blood, yet he bathed in others. the two assassins looked so astounding together. with their threatening aura and glances they shared, they were really one of the most best assassins in the team. your boss really was mindful to warn you about them.
“is that so? very good then. the lesser the better for our target to be shot in the head…also, you worried your adorable wife, y’know? she was scared you’d die in the bomb,” kafka tells the male, a soft chuckle following by. blade gazes back to meet your figure. you look magnificent in that dress he made you wear. coming to the banquet as his date was truly one of the best ideas he made. blade excused himself for a moment, walking past kafka and straight to you before pressing a small kiss on your temple, not minding the blood that smeared onto your forehead. his gloved hands pulled your head closer to him. you noticed blade had taken off his black coat that matched his suit, probably because it was too hot? either way it’s not worth pointing out, since he looks handsome looking like that.
“apologies, did that scare you..?”
“not at all j-just…shocked..”
“is that so?”
“save the loving hours for later, bladie. we got more business to take care of~” kafka cuts the small conversation between the both of you as she cunningly walks back inside the room boiled with grey smoke, her dark suit dissolving along with her enigmatic figure before disappearing in the space of the area. after she had left, blade turns his head to look back at you, his dark eyes never leaving yours, “you should head to a more safer spot. follow me, i’ll lead you there.”
the route you followed as you trailed behind blade made you quiver in fear when the glimpse of countless lifeless bodies of securities scattered all over the place like fallen dominos. it was if as a blood war happened here. the eerie silence pierced your cowardice even more that blade had to pull your closer to his side. talk about overprotective…your husband dragged you away to an overcast corner, where there were no one else surrounding near that spot. he told you to stay there for awhile, and wait for his return. credulously, you obliged and await for his arrival. the place creaked, helpless pleas fall onto your ears before hearing the sounds of either gunshots or the swift movement of a sword finish the loud cries they let out. this scared you, having to cover your ears and ignore the shouts they let out as the assassins out ended their lives, including the targeted director chief.
spies aren’t special in these types of occupations where blood spilled like paint. as said, your team is more in specialising in gathering top secret data from other groups that your association acquired to know about. meddling with other people’s business (inclusive of your husband and his colleague’s job) was on your description, but not into the extent of this. you weren’t used to hearing bullets firing, guts being spilled and cries of help ring in your ears like a nightmare. however, this was the nature for cold-blooded criminal assassins like them. the sound of footsteps echoed through your hearing, along with the sight of blade returning. his hair was a little messy (in a manner that turned him even more hotter), sword placed tightly in his palm, leaking with scarlet. blade sighed, “i’m back..”
“a-are you ok?? you’re dripping in blood..!”
“it’s their blood, not mine. are you worried about me, y/n?”
“o-of course i am! for goodness sake!” he laughs, a hoarse breath nudging in the middle of his throat before he pulls you closer, forehead pressed against yours as he stared deep into your eyes. “you stayed as i asked…how obedient, y/n. perhaps shall i reward you..?”
“h-huh?? what are you—
suddenly a loud bang shoots through the tranquil air, blade immediately pulled your close to him, before a bullet flies through below his hip, hitting him.
your eyes went wide, seeing small pricks of blood drool down from his abdomen. blade grunts, his head looked across from the room and meets with the annoying smirk of the (surprisingly) alive security had over their face. “b-blade..!” you couldn’t help but shout. there was an ignite of irritation in his eyes. blade ignores you, pulling a pistol out from his pocket and shooting a headshot at the man, before the security finally died. blade held the spot where he was shot; feeling his body weaken as you called for kafka who had just arrived, also bathed in blood; with documents in her hands.
a limousine came to pick you guys up to bring blade to immediate aid. for the entire time you stayed right next to his side until he was bandaged by one of the nurses in the limo, stopping the slight blood that leaked down. thank goodness, he was wearing a bullet proof vest. however with the amount of shots he received from earlier battles, it seems like the final shot you witnessed to him harmed him directly to a more effective part of the bullet proof, causing a bleed. everyone in the limo, they all wore dark attire, collected expressions as the whole drive towards blade’s apartment was as soundless as the dead. blade rested his head over your shoulder, sneaking small subtle touches on your inner thigh while you tried your best to keep your mouth shut. wrecking the droning atmosphere was not something you’d want to do, not to mention the people who were with you in the limo were part of the stella hunters association.
kafka asked if you needed any assistance in dragging blade up on your shared penthouse apartment, though blade cuts in; saying he didn’t need help and that he was practically fine now. it’s as if the bullet shot at his hip didn’t effect him at all. him saying that he was used to being hurt…this made you even more worried about him. as he was one of the strongest in his section along with kafka, it was obvious the missions they give him were extremely perilous.
after the limo had dropped the both of you in your place, kafka bids you a (quite terrifying) farewell through the car glass, velvet gloves waving you a goodbye before the window rolls back up, and the limo leaves with nothing else. blade stood firmly still, despite being shot earlier at the banquet. the bandaged area hid within his bloodied suit shirt, navy dark hair hiding his other eye before he waited for you to stand next to him. “shall we?” he spoke to you in a gentle manner, his hand outreached to yours before you held it and led him home to your shared place.
upon opening the door— you warmly made him rest down on the couch, running to the kitchen to fetch him some water and prepare a bath. blade watches as you run around the house like a panicking maid and an airy chuckle escapes from his lip, “y/n..”
“y-yes…?” you murmured, stopping yourself from pacing back and forth. blade tilts his head a bit, a small smile appearing over his lips, “you know you don’t have to keep doing that. you look so concerned right now, y’know? this… i’m used to it..” he speaks. you didn’t like how he normally says that like bleeding and harming for him was casual despite being an assassin. even if he was strong, blade was still a person. pouting, you threw the towel away from the side and made him look at you, obvious look over your expression you were angry of what he said. was he a dumbass? “don’t say things like that, blade.”
he grins, “why not? it’s true.”
“blade, please, you’re making me worry about your health more. if it weren’t for the bullet proof vest you would’ve died..!”
the male stood up impatiently from the couch, walking next to your side as he suddenly moves his head a little closer to yours, a hum erupting out of him. you moved away, feeling the heat on your cheeks. close…he was so close. what’s with him all of a sudden? “you’re worried, y/n? how very kind..” he whispers, breath fanning over your neck. you shivered. bashfully, you turned your head away; avoiding eye contact as you replied, “i-is there something wrong? if you don’t like that then i can stop worrying if you keep teasing me..”
“how very strange..earlier at the banquet you said you were worried about me. taking back your words now?” there was venom in his tone, an icy gaze that lacks of emotion except for lechery was filled in his appearance. instead of dangerous for his term as an assassin maybe dangerously handsome is a more fitting description. you remained silent, not being able to talk back like he exposed you fully. another chuckle. “not answering, huh? in that case..”
instantly, your figures moved back to the soft cushions of the couch; arms held tight by his fingers along with the feeling of your legs spread across his body—face looking directly over his dark features. you were on top of him while blade laid down on the couch, holding you by your arms.
“you still have work to do, y/n,” he began, voice enchanting with toxin, bloodshot eyes digging holes into yours like a madman. your breath shakes, paralyzed in place when his fingers moved up to play with the small fats of your hips. “you could threaten me with a weapon, dig your hands into my wounds, and i would have to answer all of your questions…” his tone now latched with sweetness like honey. seeming convincing enough for you to be enlightened. you stared back at him, puzzled. “what are you talking—
blade pulls your arm closer to his face, emotionless eyes peeking through your glimmering irises that reads confusion and clarity. he smiles, “right now, i’m so weak…i couldn’t resist anything you do to me..” he quietly sneaks your hand on his injured area, feeling the familiar touch texture of the bandage touch your skin. the lingering sensation made you wince, blade looks indeed weak; pale skin as he breathes heavily. “i’m sure your association has so many things they’d love to know about me..” he mutters to you, lovingly. your breath hitches, taken back.
“well? now is your chance.”
you tightly clutched your fists from his sentence. an opportunity to know everything your boss had been dying to know about this man. anything you’ll ask, he says he’ll answer due to his enfeebled form. there’s a chance; you can’t just turn your head from this. every achievement you can earn by getting the statistics they desperately wanted. everything you wanted will be given if you just do your job right now—
no.
“i’m sorry..” blade blinks his eyes twice, dazed from your response. “it must’ve hurt really bad, didn’t it? i don’t think…i can do anything to you right now..” as you slowly moved your head away from his chest, few strands of your hair fell down across your face causing you to brush them away, you looked at blade with eyes that reads nothing but worry. the male glances back at you with a questionable look. “…to the association, i’m merely just another pawn. just like all the others like me, if we stop being useful we’re replaced right away..” looking down on his stomach, you sighed, “we’re only ever concerned about our own safety, and the idea that someone would protect me with their body…was novel to me. maybe that’s why, i had to protect you as well..”
steadily, your returned your head down on his chest, feeling him breathe heavily through the strokes you drew on his chest. you snuggled into that same warmth, inhaling in his scent. he smelled like enigma and copper, mixed with the floating fragrance of dark virtue . “be careful next time, okay? you’re still my objective after all..” you wanted to see what your husband looks like right now. after all, it took you some time to tell him those words that’s been latched from the back of your throat. maybe he’s looking at you funny, wasn’t expecting them from someone like you. yeah.
the sound of water falling down the tub caught your attention as you promptly excused yourself before jumping off of blade’s chest. walking towards the bathroom, you turned off the faucet that spilled out with warm water, and went back outside to call for blade, telling him that his bath was ready. the bath needed a little more foam, perhaps adding bubbles and some soap to the water will help ease his mind once he’s in the bathtub. before you could head back inside the bathroom to fill the water with soap, a hand stopped you from doing so, as a figure hugged you from behind, head on your shoulder. you flinched, stammering on your words to see blade.
“i love you..”
your eyes go wide.
he kisses the back of your neck, breathing in your scent. “you don’t even understand how much those words make me love you more. you’re so mean, y/n..” blade brushes his lip against your cheek, feeling yourself shudder in his touch. he laughs when you try to push him away. “t-the bath is ready! get yourself washed up so you’ll cleanse your wound as well!”
“has that moody boss of yours never once stood for you?” he dodges your topic.
“…what?” and you definitely have a lot of questions just by the mention of your boss flew out of his mouth. although you couldn’t help but wonder: why was your boss indeed so interested in him? assassins are supposed to be mysterious, it’s crystal clear there a lot of essential inquiry they posses as shadows—but him specifically? there has to be a valuable reason. your boss never hid anything much from you. “how do you know my boss? all i was told was to investigate your background and weaknesses but…w-wait! is there some type of personal conflict between the both of you?? why is the association so interested in you?? hey, tell me—
blade’s lips shut you off, ceasing your words before they could even wind up your query. his weight caused you to lose a bit of your balance, your hands pinned on the entrance of the bathroom as you muffled in his mouth. the kiss tasted like impatience and longing. he freed one of your hands, slipping his gloved palm over your coverless shoulders with a smooth rub to it. you flinched, before blade pulls away from the kiss. it took you awhile to catch your breath and registered what just happened.
“h-hey, what—
“let’s make an exchange. a deal.”
blade finally lets go of your hand, his arm just right above your head as he leans closer, covering your path. he looks solemn, yet there was a hint over his eyes that construes as an engulfing flame of impulse to kiss you again. his other hand slowly slid down to the wall next to you, touching your shoulders till it reaches your hip, pulling you in. “i know i might be playing foul, but if that’s the only card i have then i don’t mind..” the male playfully plays with the fabric of your dress, pulling them up until your feel your inner thigh feeling the cold wind. “i knew you were a spy, yet i bound you by this marriage contract. that’s just how much i yearn for you..”
what is he talking about? a deal? just what crazy ideas is this guy coming up again?
you didn’t realise your were zoning out until blade pushes your chin up with his forefinger, making you look up at him in a better view. “y/n, my dearest..here’s the deal, i’ll tell you my secrets, but in return…” your heart pounds heavily with electricity—feeling your breath quicken when he pressed his forehead softly against yours.
“…let me do anything i want with you tonight.”
that marriage contract he mentioned, although it was fake for the sake of your mission, the predicament you found yourself in was real. though, you needed a little more thought to think about what he wants to do with you, including when blade looked so…steamy?
‘it’s a great chance to gather information, but…what does ‘anything he wants’ entail—huh?’
the atmosphere quickly changed, the male didn’t give you a chance to utter out a word when he instantly went back to claim your lips. this time the kiss grew more heated than before, linking between the emotions craving and thirst—his cold hands exploring your body from out and within your dress, feeling your curves and the heat between them. you were slowly losing your balance, legs weakening from his strength like he was forcing his mouth in yours. actually, he was even more forceful than usual. this is wrong but…you couldn’t resist. it was hot, so hot. it feels like you were sweating as you two exchanged smothering kisses. you never knew blade was talented with his tongue until he used it to deepen the kiss, casting around your mouth until a small drop of saliva escapes out of your lip.
“you would like that, yeah?” the male in front of you muttered between kisses, a grin stretched over his face. “knowing my secrets, sharing it to your associates so your mission would be complete. you’re desperate to know too, correct?” he just knew the buttons to press to make you jolt in his touch. an exchange where instead of hurting him and force him to answer your questions regarding of the info you needed to report to your boss, maybe doing this was better. you’re a virgin after all. a small muffled whimper escapes out of your throat, trying to push him away but blade had already pinned both of your arms above your head—his grip on them strong. he chuckles in the kiss when he notices you struggling for air with your eyes tight shut. he pulls away, along with a small string of saliva connecting between your lips. you could finally breathe again as you pant hard. blade thinks the sight in front of him was fucking delicious, you acting so helpless and weak.
you see your husband licking his lip, right before leaning close again. “good girl, y/n. let’s kiss more, can we…?”
“i…”
“what’s that, dearest?”
you bit your bottom lip, fists tightening on his chest. flashbacks of your co-workers calling you pure, naive, artless…it was time for you to try something new, something you’ve never done before that everyone has already been through as young adults, or even teenagers. him giving you this opportunity to know such crucial data, if in exchange for your body. it was a better deal than earlier.
besides, you wanted to thank him.
it was a terrible decision to rub your thighs together; thinking blade wouldn’t notice (but he did). because of this, his pupils darken, something similar to the look of his eye whenever he was on assassin mode. “i wouldn’t do that if i were you, dearest..” blade spoke, already beginning to feel drunk on that desire that rushes through his veins. “you’re making this harder for me.”
“i’m…”
blade hums in reply to your short words, finger under your chin before you finished your sentence. you just needed the right string to pull off the trigger. maybe this is for the best for your new world. as a spy. you’ll get that stupid title you had for the whole 7 years of working there off of your name. staring right back at blade, looking through his red eyes, you took a deep breath.
“i’m all yours, blade.”
that was all he needed to hear.
he launched towards your lips, kissing you again with fiery passion. you kissed him back as you wrapped your arms around his neck, closing your eyes as you two indulge yourselves in a heated make-out session for the second time. blade was rough with his kisses, as if he was going to shift his name to your mouth, claiming every air that was entering through your lips and help you breathe properly. saying those words to him were a mistake, too, blade wasn’t letting you struggle. the lipgloss you applied that evening before heading to the banquet with him smudged on his lips, tasting you and its flavor. slowly did you feel your feet levitating from the floor, before a surprised yelp comes out of your voice.
blade was carrying you now, your arms still linked around his shoulders. he went forward to your neck after, licking your collarbone up until it reaches your throat, before slowly nipping his sharp teeth at the skin. your breath shakes, abjectly looking away at the vision of blade peppering wet kisses at your sensitive neck alongside leaving visible marks to them. oh how he loves the taste of your skin, like if he was licking the sweetest treat for the first time. his hands caressed your cheek like they were made of ivory, pulling away to look at your panting face, blushing madly. he likes the look of that. “you’re still as soft..and still as sweet..” he mumbles, “i’m getting tired, so why don’t we head up now, hm?”
answering back at him won’t help since the guy was already rushing up to his bedroom with you in his arms, pushing the door open with impatience of a madman—he pulled you in yet another kiss, and a satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you both settled down on his comfy bed. the room smelled like roses, lingering with air conditioned fragrance. you could fall asleep to the relaxing atmosphere, yet blade was helping you keep awake. your neck was probably covered in marks by now, since the assassin wasn’t intending on stopping. the cold air hits your bare thighs, making you shiver twice by the temperature, and by how blade’s fingers began to slide down on your legs to the core of your heat. you gasped hard once his forefinger reaches the main fabric of your panties.
“you’re panting hard though all we did was just kissing. imagine how hard you’ll be panting once i get to shove myself in you.” he was looking down on you and your pathetic figure. how your tummy goes up and down, how your legs squished his hand that touches your panties, how your doe eyes laced with innocence looked at him when he teased you. his patience was running thin with you. god, you’re going to be the death of him. biting hard down on your thumb, you held blade’s arm, tugging on the sleeve. “i-i’ve never done this before..” you murmured, glossy eyes hypnotizing him under your spell. blade curses under his breath, pushing his hair back. you’re so damn cute, he wanted to just fuck your face but he can’t just do that. as much as he’d like to ruin you, rapture himself with your presence—he needed to be gentle with his cute virgin wife.
“yeah? well, i’ll be pleased to teach you then.” he replies, shortly before ripping your panties down to your legs. you winced once the cold air entered to your heating core, seeing small drops of impure liquid drip from your entrance to the soft fabric of your underwear. blade chuckles at your reaction. “first, i’ll teach you how to prep yourself before we get to the main part. but damn, wet already? all we did was share kisses, dearest.”
a pout forms over your face with the sudden teasing, making you meekly cross your legs in order to hide. blade however, didn’t like this attitude you give him. “don’t, i’m observing..” was all he says, his eyes scanned down to your leaking cavern like a hunter tracking down its next meal. you felt frail under his ravening gaze, hands curling into fists while you whined of the way his other hand rubbed over your thighs, earnestly—under all the touch of his black gloves. “i-its embarrassing, don’t look at it like tha—ah!”
his hand worked like magic, gloved fingers propped over your aching entrance as he gave it a rub. that alone was already enough to make your jolt from the comfy sheets of the bed, a loud gasp erupting out of your mouth. blade began to starve from eagerness, pulling his glove out of his hands using his teeth, before his now naked hands continued to toy with your puffy clit; glistening like a gem on his hands. the new feeling sends all kinds of electrical waves throughout your body—pleasure from heaven that shoots just where you liked it. holy shit, this felt good. no wonder some of your co-workers told how you were ‘missing out’ on some of your opportunities to sleep with some of your targets.
the way his hands rubbed circles around your entrance was sending shockwaves and new emotions that coil up inside of your stomach. this was such a nice feeling, you didn’t want him to stop. you hear blade chuckle, “relax, honey..” he whispers, dark and smooth like velvet. his eyes were glued to yours, watching your every reaction and every breath that comes out of your mouth. he didn’t want to miss a single one of it. “you’re so pretty..i can’t wait another minute..” he had a tight grip over your thighs, fingers soaked from kneading your hole in circles. though, he was curious; and also wanted to give you a new experience..
you were disappointed when the feeling of his stroking his fingers on your clit stopped, looking at him with a hopeless look on your face. blade smiles, right before as he shoves you down more on the bed, his fingers entering your narrow entrance. you let out a satisfied cry, back arched up. now that was even more better. hell, that was already enough to sends a current down on your body, you looked so pretty when you whine. “why do you look like that? have you never fucked yourself with your fingers before?” he questions, and you shook your head. he whistles, “heh. you really were missing out. fuck, what a tight one. and this is just with my fingers,” blade slightly flicks his tongue over your mouth, pinning your arm above your head while his fingers began to pump in and out of your cute pussy, squelching noises echoing inside of the room. sweet melodies came out of your throat, sounding like music to your husband’s ears. oh how he wished he could record you right now.
“you look gorgeous crying my name like that, dearest.”
you bit your bottom lip, closing your eyes as you try to just focus on the pleasure he was giving you. his fingers dig deeper to a spot you wanted him the most—prodding closer to your release. you moaned out his name, your white knuckled hands gripped the sheet, the tension in your muscles growing as you held yourself to remain still. “b-blade…!”
“what’s wrong? afraid you like it?” the corners of blade’s mouth twitched upward still in a mischievous grin. slowly did your hips begin to bounce over his drenched digits, silencing your pleasured sighs by biting down hard on your finger as the continuous resonance of your moist cunt being played by his fingers filled the room’s walls. it was as a clear as day you’re inexperienced, so that’s why he thinks this was a perfect time. blade notices how your euphoric essence followed through his rhythm, seeming amused he let you be to pleasure yourself on him, trying his best to ignore his aching cock underneath the fabric of his pants—the sight of you acting like a bitch in heat is forbidding him from doing so however. your moans went louder when you felt his fingers curl inside your clit like it was an instrument, hearing his manic chuckle as he watches you squirm and tremble.
it was lewd. small gasps escapes your lips, trying to cut the knot that’s tied inside of your belly. a wave of intensity runs through your skin as you closed your eyes shut; feeling that closeness almost approaching from your core. good, it felt so good you could almost float on how his fingers did its job. blade kisses you, a groan floating out of his tongue before the coil inside of you was finally cut, and you feel your high dripping down on your legs. you cried loudly into the kiss, before pulling away, panting deeply. the space that lives inside of your head was filled with smoke, mindless into the gaze of the eyes with shades of red. it hasn't even been closer to 5 minutes when your husband began to finger your pure pussy, yet your first orgasm rushed through you like a huge tide. and shit, it felt great. a drool slipped past your lips while catching your breath; meanwhile the smirking assassin on the other hand was chucking as he collected a small amount of your impurity on his long digits, before taking a taste. you blushed madly upon seeing how his red hues widen at the flavor of your arousal.
as he parted his tongue off from his fingers, a small string of saliva followed by. that was fucking hot. "dearest...you taste fucking divine, y'know that?" he tells you like a beast after his thirst was quenched. "what an honor to be your first person to teach you all about this. now that you know how fucking on fingers feel like, next..." the male instantly moves away from your side, roughly gripping hard on both of your thighs before kneeling on the floor right in front of the mattress—predatory gaze meeting your slick pussy. his hot breath fans over core, before planting a quick kiss over at the sensitive area. you squirmed. "for this next one, let me teach you what fucking on my tongue feels like..." you weren't even finished resting from your previous orgasm and he was already prepping you for round 2. this man is going to slaughter you...
at a leisurely pace did he flailed his tongue out of his lips, before he licks a long stripe at your aching cunt. your back arched, a mewl spilled off from your throat, eyes shut tight as your legs moved on its own. sheepishly wrapping around his neck to pull him closer to your core, your hands tugging on his hair. it felt like a whole new feeling, his warm wet tongue navigating to your area—creating new sinful noises to come out of your lips. your breath became quicker, being filled with greediness and filth.
your body quivers as blade began to eat you out, much more faster than before. your liquids hovering on his tongue as animalistic growls erupts from his throat, hand gripping more harsh on your thighs, leaving finger marks in the process as his mouth sucks on your bud like it was his last meal. your thoughts began to melt in pleasure, cries of satisfaction being the only sound along with the continuous laps of blade's mouth feasting over your core, gripping down onto your thigh fat like a madman begging to be choked between your legs.
there was another knot building up over your stomach in no time when blade's mouth reached a certain spot in you, causing you to arch your back upwards, covering the sudden yelp you let out in surprise. his mouth began to lick on that inexorable spot that he had discovered, smirking before sucking every fiber out of you. how vulgar the noises his tongue made while he fucks you with his mouth. you began to see stars, heaven sent euphoria from above that this type of lust that boils within you made you feel like a whole new different person. it was sending new flares within the contact of touches he did, your body grinding on his handsome face—the cushions of the bed below being soaked by your spilling arousal from earlier. that same flare began to engulf more into a more intense heat, feeling your second wave of orgasm incoming while fucking yourself on his warm tongue.
blade had a now tyrannical grip on your thighs, pinning you in place while drowning in your overflowing fluids that started to spill little by little from your satiated cunt. the ongoing sensations of seraphic emotions crawling to the tips of his toes, poorly grinding himself at nothing. the sheets were steadily threading apart from the nails of your fingers, brain fixating at the man beneath you. his groans had been more vocal now, tongue leisurely sliding over your wet folds, while you were here fighting for your life to not cum on his face out of nowhere. how cute you are, weeping with pure tears running down your cheeks. it felt that good? poor girl, there there now...this will finish soon. he just needs to hear you.
"y/n...let me hear you, dearest." his feast over your folds stopped when he spoke, wiping the liquid that fell down his chin with his thumb. you whined, legs prying to make him continue by pulling him closer, feeling vulnerable. he likes the look of that. "p-please...blade.."
"that's not the name we agreed on when we signed that marriage contract now, did we?" blade was definitely teasing you, pressing small pecks on your thigh to taunt you more. it was adorable of how you didn't realize how your eyes were molded in the lustful shapes of hearts, panting heavy as you tried to grind your face back on his hot mouth. with this new reaction of yours, he’ll make sure to take not on how to tease you. he backs away a little with a grin, softly caressing your legs wrapped around his shoulders. "if you want me to keep going, then say my name, dearest. my real name." the heat between your legs was too hard to ignore now, igniting up like blade was your fuel to the fire. it was painful to resist, including when you were already feeling so needy. you took a sharp breath, shifting your position as you locked eyes with the male, looking right at you. "r-ren...please..p-please keep going.."
"so obedient..." he finally muses, before fully shoving his tongue inside your folds. you folded back, hands roughly tugging on his hair as your legs kicked the air from behind, pitiful screams pushed past your lips as you feel the release almost coming of you. you hopelessly grinded on his face, pleas of his name spilling out of you like a mantra as he slowly devoured your clit. he holds you down, laughing between each suck he did on your cunt, right before pushing you over to the edge. whimpers of his name reached his ears like a symphony along with his soft groans, drinking your juices as you came down on your second orgasm. your body heaved, breathless, sweat dripping down your forehead in each breath you took. your thighs were covered with your wetness, with blade licking off your arousal from your folds before pulling away. if you could only take a good look at yourself now, you wouldn't wonder why blade was wearing a proud grin over his face.
the sight of you looking a mess, ruined, and spilled with your fluids. your hair was messy, strands up over your face as for your dress was a wreck. his cock hurt...you were ready now, so why need to hold back? your husband hovered against your figure for a moment, then leaning in to your lips and kissing you affectionately, giving a free taste of yourself that spread on his mouth. the both of you moaned in the kiss, blade sneaking his tongue in your mouth in order to hear more of you, audible growls mixed with your winsome whines. that was when you felt something hard poke beneath your leg, his hips rocking against your naked thigh as the both of you exchanged wet kisses. pulling away, blade lays his forehead against yours, "don't taste too bad, yeah? i think i'm gonna grow addicted to eating you out now."
your slapped his arm, and he chuckles darkly, moving away. it seems you were quite quick to take a breath even after going through two orgasms already, and both of which still hasn’t done with his dick. his eyes looked different than before—as if they were now injected with ecstasy. "now, onto the final one.."
your eyes darted towards blade as he slowly took his black coat off of his attire, his arms pushing back to remove the dressing alongside his black loose tie that hung messily around his neck, all while gazing at you with an intoxicating look. you gulped a small lump that was stuck between your throat, cheeks flaring as you watched him take upper clothing off, revealing the bandage patched to where he was (kind of) shot. "you're looking at me so intensely..like what you see?" he coos, and you looked away, feeling bashful when he called you out. this wasn't the first time that you had seen him shirtless, the both of you often almost ended up having sex if it weren't for you acting so endearing underneath him, the feeling of wanting to ruin your innocence leaving his body whenever he'd see you on that state.
yet now, the male felt like he had the strength to ravage your perfect body. hands sliding up to grope on your plush breasts in awe. he leans down, nipping the soft nape of your lovebite-covered neck; his fingers teases your nipples, dragging his tongue up till it reaches the shell of your ear, whispering words drugged with filth and vileness. your mind was hazy, from the previous bursts you let out from pleasure you couldn't really think straight. when the perception of your eyesight changed when you saw that same tent moving in his pants. it weighed down, catching your attention. naively did you reached for the bump in his pants, and softly rubbed on it, feeling how hard he is. blade groans when your fingers prodded on his clothed erected dick, slowly stopping from fondling your breasts as he gave in the pleasure you’re sending him. you can feel him shudder from above you. "fuck...you just—o-oh fuck..yeah, just like that. keep doing that, dearest.." he whimpered, hiding his face against your neck.
you moved your head to turn to blade, your fingers went forward to touching him while you timidly question if what you were doing was alright, you’ve never done this before after all. blade’s face was burning with carnal passion, sweat falling off his face. you stammered, “l-like this..?”
“yeah..n-ngh…p-put your thumb…rub your thumb over—hold on…”
you examined how blade impatiently takes his pants off, along with his dark-toned undergarments before his long shaft sprang to life, bumping into his toned tummy as it faced directly at you. heart pumping loudly in your chest, e/c pupils wide open as you realize his size…he was big, drops of pre-cum already leaking from his red angry tip while you lay there, astounded. you weren’t sure if he was going to fit. no seconds passed when blade took a hold of your hand, taking your fingers to wrap around his dick with your thumb kneading over the tip. “rub your thumb over here…and pump your hands up and down..” he teaches you, and you did just that. your breath stutters, looking at the navy haired male on top of you and how he started to groan in infatuation when you began pumping his cock. a surprised look latched on your face when you see him thrusting his hips up a bit in your hands, his palms still on your tits right until he brings his mouth to latch on one of your nipples.
the two of you let out your voices laced with lechery, voices producing tainted sounds as blade continued to fuck your hand while he sends you sweet bliss by sucking on your cute breasts, swirling his tongue over your areola as the other twirls his fingers around your nipple. tiny tears of his fluid started to flow down over your palm while you jerked him off, signalling how he’s close. the bed’s head bumped against the wall, loud creaking noises from its legs echoed in the bedroom. his semen covered your hand, little by little did his release came close right before blade pulls your hand away from his shaft, while also pushing himself away from your breasts. you innocently tilted your head, bewildered. he looks a little disappointed.
“don’t wanna cum just yet, pretty…wanna…do that now..” he says, despite already almost on the verge of cumming from your hand. pressing a small kiss on your cheek, the male tugs your dress down, taking a good view of your upper chest.
he thinks you’re pretty. he knows you’re pretty, blade always knows that, even after seeing you for the first time to whatever bullshit mission your organization got you into. but, he thinks you’re even more prettier without clothes.
how your body sculpted perfectly against his touch, lingering fragrance of your perfume and the scent of your hair had always been driving him mad alone. your body was a figure sculpted by angels and goddesses, your dress was completely ruined as it slides down your shoulders (so much for buying an expensive party clothing for a banquet that’s planned to be destroyed) all of you, just for him—a blessing. you were displayed like a gift. blade has always fantasized having you sprawled on the mattress of his bedroom like this, looking so helpless and begging to be fucked by him. oh, how god was on his side this day when his fantasies were finally happening, like a dream coming true.
blade was stunned once you brought your hand up to his cheek, caressing his face like a real wife would do to her husband. bounded to this contract for a mission, like a forced arrangement. however, there were no forces, and he just..really loves you. he blames himself for not meeting you any sooner, but that didn’t matter now; you’re here, underneath his figure, acting like you didn’t just scream his name while you came two times. fondly, as he gazed with devotion, blade held your hand that nuzzled on his warmth, tilting his head to the side. his hair falls down his gorgeous face.
“are you ready?” a question comes up, pushing your thighs apart, making the cold air hit your bare pussy that was shown to him. blade reached out for a packet of protection over the lamp next to the bed, ripping it open with his teeth and sliding it in with ease over his length. was that condom there in the first place? you didn’t know. he stroked himself a few times, gliding the tip against your swollen cunt. he wasn’t even in, yet your were trembling as you nodded.
“then, take a deep breath.”
you didn’t take note that what he said was actually warning.
no words were left to escape past your lips, replacing with a high pitched gasp as he gently inches into your cavern. fuck, he was big, it stings bad. he was absolutely right when he said to take a deep breath, the thickness of his shaft was killing you. your back arched up, already ripping off the sheets from his bed as blade’s head rested on your shoulder, surprised by your tightness. it was sucking in, getting to know each one’s heat as the two of you laid there for a while to adjust to his size.
“ fuck, just as i expected..”
“ ‘s so much…so full..”
you were basically almost sobbing at his length throbbing inside of you, making you wiggle your hips and push more down. shit, shit, shit, this felt good…you were seeing fucking stars, you were clawing down on the sheets, panting with that sinful voice of yours. blade notices this eagerness from you, and to him that was a sign for him to start moving.
with a slow pace, he looks down over at your figure, toying around with your tits as he begins to snap his hips to yours. the bed too began to creak, small squeaking sounds of his bed as blade slowly fell into the pleasure of your pussy clamping down on him. this seraphic occurrence you both were in, lost in each other’s touch and desire were like the world was nothing. tainted sounds of moaning and soft grunts and groans filled the room like an opera. your vision was clouded with passion, his face grinning down over your body like you were a goddess.
slowly and slowly, he starts to move his hips a little more faster, forcing you to follow through his rhythm, making sure your cunny can take in as much as it can. this was the moment, blade found your g-spot like a fucking bloodhound. the male smirks, now snapping his hips forward faster. that same sensitive area brought you to tears, going louder as both of your hands clawed down on his back, leaving visible marks as a reminder how he was hitting the good spots. the bed was hitting the wall behind you so hard, you thought it was about to break.
“ah! r-ren..!”
“don’t worry, i—fuck…i got you…”
it was filthy, the way he pushes his tongue down your lips to muffle your cute moans as he pounds his hips into you. he was in so deep…the tip was practically hitting on your cervix repeatedly like a cycle. it was like this man wasn’t almost injured at all. you couldn’t think of anything else..nothing else but the shape he’s leaving in your insides with just his dick was going to corrupt your head. you forgot what you came here for, fuck the mission.
“you’re so beautiful, dearest..crying my name like that..does it feel good?”
you nodded your head, tugging on his hair as he chuckles darkly. another knot in your stomach began to build up in no time, legs kicking the air as blade continued to ruthlessly ram himself in your tight pussy with a satisfied grin. you’re sure by the end of the day your legs would be sore, and you have to rest. so much for a first time, blade wasn’t giving you any vanilla in the house. you couldn’t believe you were doing this in exchange for information. he better keep his fucking promise.
he’s fucking into you like beast, lips kissing your breast before he hisses down over your bottom lip, “i’m not gonna fucking last…you’re driving me insane, woman..”
“r-ren please…feels so good…i’m..”
“yeah? me too, don’t worry…wanna see you covered…” he couldn’t finish his sentence as he was cut off with a groan, feeling his rod throbbing hard it was aching for a release. blade laughs. “all covered like a mess…is that ok, dearest? would you let your husband do that?” he questions so innocently like he wasn’t fucking you hard you’re seeing white. not thinking straight, you nodded like a helpless maiden, hands wrapped around his neck as you moaned, small drool spilling past your lips. “y-yes..please…”
“oh fuck..”
blade feels your release spill in the condom, hearing you mewl so loud in ecstasy it covers his own moans and grunts. oh god, your voice..it was so naughty, he couldn’t help it. he wasn’t showing any mercy to your pussy after that as blade now abused your poor cunt by going even more faster, not giving you time to recover from your precious orgasm. he groans next to your ear, saying your name before he bit on your earlobe. you squealed, the bed almost moving in a different direction. it took a while before the male pulls out, removes the rubber and spilled all over your stomach, some of the fluid landing on your face. it was a little upsetting how he didn’t get to cum inside of you, yet he’ll save that for future sessions..
the two of you lied there, panting heavily like you both just the ran a marathon. his head rested down on your shoulder, giving small kisses over your collarbone as you catch your breath. it feels icky, the cum on your stomach that he made…he came quite a lot.
“how’s that for a first time…?”
you opened your eyes to see blade gazing so lovingly at you like a prince. pouting, you pinched his arm, making him flinch. “you spilled all over me…”
“i asked if i can, you said i could.”
“i-i wasn’t listening properly..!”
“were you that into it?”
your face turns crimson, turning your head away. for a few moments, blade moves closer before giving you a short kiss on the lips, before he pulls away and removes the saliva off your chin with his thumb. you’re adorable, he knows you’re adorable..
“now then, what is it you’d like to know about me?”
oh..right. the exchange he made.
“huh? oh..! u-uhm..”
“did i fucked your brains out so hard you can’t remember?”
you had to hide your face with your palms because of how vulgar he said those words with a devilish grin. now you know why your boss wanted to know about this man.
he was indeed very mysterious. and charming perhaps.
#blade x reader#hsr blade#hsr blade x reader#blade x you#blade x y/n#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#lily’s.blog🌸#lily’s.fic🩷
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All I want is you
Apollo!Fem!reader x Jason Grace
Summary: You can’t help but admire Jason. Not knowing he’s doing the same.
Contains: fluff. Characters might seem a bit ooc.
A/N: I noticed the lack of Jason fics so hope you all enjoy this one. I had such fun writing it. Feedback is always welcomed and reqs are open <3
Word count: 1.1k
His skin seemed to glow perfectly, his eyes sparkled with the sun. His perfect silky blonde hair was a bit messy, like he had just woken up. Gods, it was flawless, like gold. His slightly tilted glasses made him look cuter than when he didn't have them on. If you didn't know any better, you would say you're enamored, captivated, charmed, enchan…
“Stop staring, you're drooling,” Will said, pointing towards the corner of his lip and casually continuing to eat his breakfast. You brought your finger towards your lip to confirm. How embarrassing, you thought. “I wasn't staring. I don't know what I could ever be staring at,'' you defended, avoiding Will's gaze. Suddenly, your plate was really interesting as you fiddled around with some pancakes. Smooth, gaslight your brother into thinking he's the crazy one.
“Sure lover girl, let's pretend you weren't ogling at Mr. Sparky over there,” Will just knew how to push your buttons. Both of you being top healers meant you knew each other better than the rest of your siblings. Sadly, that also meant he knew your weaknesses all too well like a certain blonde he kept talking about.
“He's way out of my league” you rebutted. You didn't give yourself enough credit. Most would assume you were a daughter of Aphrodite if it weren't for the distinct freckles and soft glow that every Apollo kid seems to have.
“Yeah well, he likes you back. you guys just need to be a little less shy” he stated as if it were a fact. But it wasn't, well, at least not for you. Jason was just too handsome. Sure, the Aphrodite boys were too, and so were some of the Hermes boys, but Jason was just different in your eyes. It wasn't only about looks; it was his caring personality and how nice he could be. Not that it was a surprise, but considering he is the son of Jupiter you would have thought he would be a little more conceited.
”You know, you keep saying that, but I don't see it. Plus I can't think of crushes right now; we have to prepare the infirmary.” both you and Will know that deep down, you wanted to believe that Jason liked you back but were always ‘too busy’ to talk about your feelings.
Especially on capture the flag days, You weren't one to participate; fighting isn't your thing. You were half decent with a bow but just awful at playing, landing you with the amazing job of nursing everyone back to health. You would think people knew better than to slash each other to almost death, knowing that their desert privilege was on the line. But that never seemed to stop anyone from creating more work for the Apollo cabin.
You sighed as you prepared some of the beds in the infirmary, having gauzes and ambrosia ready at your disposal. Singing softly as you worked, maybe you weren't blessed with amazing archery skills or astonishing arts abilities, but you had other skills in your favor. Like your voice and talent with the lyre. Most of the camp would agree that you were the best singer from the Apollo cabin, often leading the sing-alongs at the campfires or just singing sweet children's songs to the little ones at camp.
Caught up in your singing and folding of sheets, you didn't hear the conch being blown or the screaming campers celebrating their victory or announcing their complaints over losing. So, to say you almost had a heart attack when you heard a soft voice call your name was truly an understatement.
“Gods Austin you scared me,” you said, looking at your brother as he smiled softly, “Sorry you just have a patient ready for you, doc,” he said, smirking slightly as he was up to something. “I'll attend some; tell Will to take care of the rest” You turned around, not looking at your now creepily smiling brother. You started putting a little tray on one of the beds . Austin continued talking, “Oh but there is this camper who has specially requested for you,” he said as he dragged said camper towards you. “Okay well bring them up; i don't have time to attend everybody,” your voice started to faint as you looked up towards this oh so special camper that requested you.
“I can come back at another time if you're too busy,” he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head with rosy cheeks, he was embarrassed. But now you sported matching red cheeks as you looked at him intensely in awe of his presence. “No, you fine Jason please sit” you gestured towards the bed. “I got nicked with a sword; it's not that bad” he explained, tilting his head, his voice was ringing in your ears like a charm.
“Can i touch your face” you mumbled as you began to study the small gash he had from afar. “Sure,” Jason stuttered a bit, his face getting a little bit redder. You softly touched his jaw, further inspecting his injury. “Well, it's not deep enough for ambrosia or nectar, but it's still kind of deep,” you stated grabbing a cotton ball with a pair of tweezers “I’m just going to clean it up and heal it ,” you said, your voice shaking a bit. Jason could only muster a hum as you placed a tiny amount of alcohol into his wound. He winced at the sting, but it didn't seem to bother him that much, especially with how gently you touched his face.
Both of you fell into an uncomfortable silence, not knowing what to say, faces a bit too close to each other, entering in panic mode. Yet Jason built up enough courage as he whispered a faint “Your voice is so beautiful.” You couldn't help but look into his blue eyes, eternally getting lost in those precious sky-blue irises. Your faces got closer slowly, instinctively, as if it was the only way to respond. Trying to wrap your head around the boy's words truly left you speechless. But life decided to ruin this perfect moment as you heard someone speak.
“I need some help with some Ares kids,” Will said standing there, clearly seeing he had interrupted something. “Right,” you responded brushing off nonexistent dust from your camp shirt and looking back at Jason. “Your wound should feel better now, let me know if it doesn't,” you said, all giddy at the thought of him coming back. He just nodded shyly, trying to say anything as you walked closer to Will but ultimately stayed silent.
“Your voice is so beautiful, marry me Y/N” mocked Will as both of you walked towards the other side of the infirmary, punching his stomach, “Shut up” you whispered. Gods, Jason Grace might just be the death of you.
#percy jackon and the olympians#hero’s of olympus#jason grace#fanfic#ria fics#jason grace x reader#jason grace x you#will solace#apollo!reader#apollo cabin#jason grace fluff#tooth rotting fluff
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Can i please request some jealousy headcanons for Kaiser and shido with a female s!o? Smutty too if that's alright.Thank you!
꒷♡꒷ GREEN-EYED GAZE!
♰ featuring: michael kaiser + shidou ryusei (separate) [blue lock]
♰ note: VAMPIIE WRITE UNDER 1.5K WORDS CHALLENGE (IMPOSSIBLE). i got carried away making the headcanons and decided to write blurbs to go alongside them but they are both LITERALLY the length of fics.... ANYWAY ryusei’s section may or may not be based off of my interactions with my jealous!ryusei shidou bot teehee. yall know how i already feel about him in ANY type of situation, but adding a jealous michael on top of that??? . . . yall hear something purring or is it just me—
sypnosis: hey siri play jealousy by monsta x!
wc: 4.9k
content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut. fem/fem-bodied reader. SHIDOU RYUSEI. jealous!ryusei. jealous!michael. possessive!michael. possessive!ryusei. mean!ryusei. degradation. unprotected sex. rough sex. big dick!michael agenda! tummy bulging. locker room sex (michael). dacryphilia (ryusei). Tit-slapping (ryusei). spanking. choking. creampie/breeding. cursing. dirty talking (ryu likes to call u mean names when he's horny). groping. hair pulling. sweet n vulnerable ryusei at the end :((. ꒷꒦
MICHAEL KAISER
❥ it should be noted that Michael is not prone to becoming envious. i mean, why should he? he’s handsome, wealthy, extraordinarily skilled at football, and he has you as his beloved girlfriend that he loves to show off. what more could he ask for? in fact, one might contend that he was the target of envy more than anyone else.
❥ at least, that’s what he thought until he noticed you talking with his teammate and sworn rival, isagi yoichi at one of their games.
❥ it wasn’t like he was afraid that the inferior little shit was going to take you away from him. on the contrary, michael could not even begin to describe the sensation of emotions he was experiencing within. it was as if a tumultuous storm of emotions raged inside of him, ones he could not quite pin down.
❥ hatred directed at Isagi? betrayal at the fact that you would so openly talk and dare to laugh with his rival when he was right here? angry that if he spoke about it right then, he would come off as a cowardly fool who lacks self-confidence?
❥ he’s deathly silent, menacingly brooding, and unbelievably furious. he couldn’t help but enviously glower at the two of you with so much intensity that it was a miracle that you didn’t have a hole lasered into your back.
❥ but he could not just idly stand by and do nothing, especially after that little shitstain dared to touch your shoulder. that was his last straw.
“K-Kaiser . . .” Ness' voice jolted him out of his reverie, and the innocent brunette unintentionally fell prey to one of Michael's infamous death glares.
Alexis tried his hardest not to flinch in the face of such wrath, but it was nearly impossible. Instead, he quickly averted his gaze, fearful of further infuriating his King, and motioned to the water bottle in Michael's hand, which had been unknowingly clenched so tightly that the cap had long since burst free, drenching his fist and shorts. Michael clicked his tongue, dropping the poor bottle to the grassy field, his deadly gaze returning to you and Isagi, now laughing about something else that he could not hear because he was too far away. Without saying a word, he extended his hand to Alexis, who hastily used his handkerchief to dry the wet skin.
“. . . I noticed them too.” Alexis murmured quietly, glancing briefly in the direction that Michael was glowering, but not for long since he knew not to look at you without his permission. However, it was at that precise second that he saw Isagi brush something off of your shoulder, which caused his breath to hitch and Michael's murderous aura to flare with ferocity.
“—He’s dead.” Your lover snarled, snatching his hand away from Ness and marching right over to where the two of you stood.
You were not aware of Michael's impending form, but Isagi was made very aware when his eyes met the ace’s murderous ones that were fixed solely on his form. When you noticed the striker's sudden silence, you turned to see what he was looking at, but before you could, you felt two strong arms wrap around your shoulders and pull you into an equally strong body. With the scent of expensive cologne and the familiarity of the rose-thorn tattoo wrapping around his forearm, you knew immediately that it was your boyfriend. Oblivious to the silent staredown between your lover and his rival, you continued to babble innocently.
“Oh hi, love! I was wondering where you were.” You commented, craning your neck up so that you could look at him. He would meet your gaze with a tight, unassuming smile on his lips, always a master of emotional disguise. The fire in his eyes, on the other hand, was undeniable. His smile was like a mask, meticulously crafted to conceal his true emotions, but it had begun to crack. You were no idiot. You could tell that he was upset. At what? You didn’t know.
“ . . . Were you now, liebchen?” You could not unhear the underlying malice that tainted his words, no matter how warm he tried to make his tone, nor could you ignore the cat-like narrowing of his eyes.
“Mhm! I was meaning to come back to you when Isagi and I started talking about ‘My Neighbor Toroto’, the Studio Ghibli movie!”
A stupid-looking movie. One that you still had yet to watch with Michael since every time you tried, he dismissed it with the notion of it appearing too childish for his tastes.
“Who knew that we had such similar tastes?!” You giggled as you turned to look back at Isagi, with Michael taking the opportunity to continue his malicious staredown at the striker. This time, he rested his head on top of your chin to prevent you from catching him.
“ . . . It that so?” His tone was grave, and his words were accentuated with a firm squeeze of your shoulders.
An awkward silence would ensue as neither man uttered a word, seemingly attempting to assert dominance over the other through mere looks alone, until it was abruptly broken by Raichi summoning Isagi. Once he was gone, you had little time to react as Michael's grip would release your shoulders, instead seizing your wrist to tug you along until the two of you were off the field and into the rest of the stadium.
“M-Michael?! What are you—”
“—Shut up.”
His tone was curt—rude—something that told you he demanded absolute silence, and you listened. There was hardly anyone on the way to the locker room since everyone had already filed into the arena and into their seats, and both teams had already taken the field. Once there, Michael dragged you inside, locked the door, and shoved your back against a locker’s steely face. In an instant, he was leaning over you, his forearm resting above your head while his other hand cupped your jaw, deft fingertips squeezing your cheeks as he forced his lips onto yours. It was passionate, possessive, and, above all, dominant, as if he refused to be opposed—as if he were trying to completely and irreparably erase Isagi’s name from your tongue. You adored it; his kingly persona was one of your favorite aspects of him. It was more reminiscent of his behavior on the field than anything else.
“Don’t ever look at him again.” He would mutter breathlessly against your lips, pulling away so that he could peer into your eyes—deep oceanics, half-lidded. His fingers squeezed your cheeks, causing your lips to pucker. Using this grip, he shook your head gently back and forth, relishing in the way your pretty eyes blinked up at him through your lashes. “Do you understand me, liebling?”
You nodded, your eyes wide and doe-like, just the way he liked them. A wolfish grin overtook his features, tapping your cheek twice with the hand that previously held you taut, “Good. Girl.” Both words were pronounced with a tap.
His lips were back on you, this time on the cheek he had lightly slapped. Soft brims kissed hot trails down your neck, becoming sloppy and possessive with each passing second. Sharp incisors and pointed canines would attack the sensitive flesh by the time he reached your collarbone, gnawing, lapping, and sucking at your delicate skin until he left deep marks and you mewling in his wake. Your digits went to grab his blonde tresses, threading your fingers through the soft strands, when his hand came to your wrist, snapping on the joint and pinning it beside your head against the locker.
The silent command was straightforward. Don’t touch him. This was a punishment.
Pulling away momentarily, he admired his handiwork. Your previously subtle flesh was now ridden with purplish and red blotches—some lined with teeth marks—all over your exposed neck and collarbones. You could not possibly hide them, especially since the two of you were now in public and all of your makeup had been left at home. Smirking triumphantly, he grabbed both of your shoulders and spun you around, pressing your chest and cheek against the smooth steel. It was at that moment that you caught the nameplate that was etched onto the locker: Isagi Yoichi.
Michael seemed to notice your realization, chuckling to himself as he flipped your skirt up above your ass, bringing his hand down on both of your cheeks once and then twice, making you croon each time. He ripped your panties down your thighs until they pooled around the backs of your knees, all the while reaching beneath his boxers and shorts to pull out his cock, which was already hard and tip drooling with pre. He wasted no time lining his cock up with your soft folds, pushing into you in one single, hard thrust that had your knees going weak and you nearly sobbing from the immense pleasure. He kept you steady by grabbing your bicep from behind, using his weight to press you against the locker.
“You feel it, don’t you, liebchen?” He grunted, thrusting shallowly and languidly against you as though he were trying to fit every inch and then some into you. “Feel how deep I am in this tight cunt? My pretty little pussy? Hm?” His other hand wrapped around your front, pressing right against your womb as his thrusts grew deeper—longer. Each drag of his cock along your walls was tantalizing, leaving you a whimpering, drooling mess. You could feel him in your tummy, your slightly chubby pocket of flesh on your lower abdomen pressing into his palm. His thrusts grew faster and more ravenous as they began to mimic the fire that had previously been ignited in him only moments prior on the field. It was almost as if he were trying to get you to feel how you made him feel—what you did to him to make him just so fucking crazy for you—and you did. Loud and clear.
Your voice echoed off the locker room's concrete walls like a mesmerizing siren's song, only for his ears to hear. Moans of pleasure, pleas for more, his balls slapping your clit, and your ass bouncing off his hips—it was all too much for you.
“M-Micha, I-I can’t! Too much, plea— AHN~! —please slow down!”
Your cries went unheeded; if anything, they seemed to fuel him to pummel your poor little pussy even harder, ramming you against the locker at an unforgiving pace. He used the arm he held in a vice grip as leverage, pounding into you like a battering ram at a pace that made your brain go numb and your body clench around him as you felt your orgasm approaching.
“You can and you will. No one could ever make you feel this good, could they? Hit that sweet—” He paused, hips stuttering, as he delivered a particularly rough and targeted thrust to the squishiest part of your walls, causing knees to buckle beneath you and cunt to gush around him. “—There it fucking is. Hit that sweet, sweet spot inside of you like I can, huh?”
“N-No! No one–mphf! No one but you, Micha!”
“Not even Isagi?”
“G-God, not even him!”
“Goddamn right, meine königin.”
You would finally come apart against the lockers as Michael let go inside of you, both of you breathlessly moaning in unison. One thing about Michael is that when he came, he came a lot. Every time, without fail, thick, hot ropes of steamy, milky cum invade your womb and bloat you full of his seed. It was heavy too. It was a miracle you had not gotten pregnant by now, given how much he would pump into you.
Even now, as he pulled out of you, thick globs of his white release would leak from your sopping cunt. However, before a single drop could spill to the floor, he moved to grab your panties, which were around your ankles, and pull them back into position to stop any more from escaping.
His hold on you would soften as he became aware that you were still frail from your adventures. He would tenderly spin you around so that his lips would again touch yours, this time more tenderly. Unfortunately, Ness's familiar voice calling you both—more specifically, Kaiser—through the door interrupted your enjoyment of the moment. You knew he had heard what had happened between the two of you—possibly even more—due to the stutter in his voice.
“Uh, a-are you two done in there? Kaiser, the game is going to start soon, and Noel is going to put that Hirori kid in your place if you aren’t on the field in the next two minutes.”
“The hell he will.” Michael grumbled against your lips, placing another quick peck on them before he finally pulled away.
“Duty calls, emperor.” You teased him, lightly pushing at his chest.
He caught your wrist and pulled you into him in a way that always made butterflies arise in your tummy. “Are you coming out there with me, dear?” It was clear from your quivering and unsteady legs that you weren’t going to be able to do any type of walking any time soon.
“Ah, such a hassle.” He commented playfully, scooping you up into his chest, bridal style. “The things you do to me~.”
SHIDOU RYUSEI
❥ this is ryusei we’re talking about here. the same man who’s not afraid to set someone on fire if they even so much as look at you. it should come as no surprise to anyone that he gets jealous easily. that being said, he’d never be one to admit it. instead, his jealousy presents itself in the form of possessiveness and protection. after all, you're his, and you know you’re his.
❥ think of him as a protective doberman, a perfect guard dog. if anyone, more specifically, a man gets too close to you, ryu will loom over you and all but glower, snarl, and howl curses his way until the male gets the hint or has his neck stomped on.
❥ you could not count the number of times you had to physically restrain him from knocking someone’s lights out, especially after that one foreigner asked you for directions and ryusei responded by grabbing him by the collar, strangling him, and barking at him to "get lost."
❥ oh and god forbid anyone dares to flirt with you. you’d need the strength of jesus and all of his disciples just to keep your murderous boyfriend at bay—even then, it might not be enough.
❥ it’s never immediate, though; it takes a minute for it to click in his head what’s going on. moreso, a moment of “is bro serious right now?”. when these moments occur, for once in his life, he’s silent. he looks between you and the fucker who has the audacity to approach you, his eyes narrowed in a glare promising lethality. it almost seems as though he is testing the waters to see if you will speak first or if he will have to. in the end, though, it’s always him.
❥ so what could possibly go wrong when he brings you to his u-20 team banquet?
Angry does not even begin to describe Ryusei's current state of mind. He was enraged—furious, even—by the events that had occurred earlier in the night. You see, the two of you have been together for a little over six months now. He enjoyed bragging about you, and you enjoyed being with him. You were his lock screen, the source of his brainrot, the majority of his entire instagram page, and the absolute apple of his eye. So it would only make sense that when he was made aware of his team banquet in celebration of their big game that he would invite you to come along with him, right? God, how he regretted that decision.
All eyes were on you two the moment you walked into the banquet. Because it was a formal occasion, you wore a sexy red gown with an open thigh slit similar to Jessica Rabbit’s and a deep v-cut that exposed your cleavage and ended just at the tip of your sternum. Not to mention that the back of the dress was low cut enough that your lower back dimples were visible to all. Needless to say, it was no surprise that you were the center of everyone's attention—despite the fact that some of the others had brought their girlfriends with them.
However, anyone who dared look at you for too long would be met with Ryusei’s fury—everyone except for Sae Itoshi, who stared shamelessly at you with desire burning in his eyes. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed this. Due to his high regard for him and the fact that he was the one who gave him a second chance at football in the first place, Ryusei felt as though he could not confront his junior about it. Not to mention that you and Sae already had a pre-existing friendship before the events of Blue Lock. The two of you were essentially inseparable throughout the entire evening, conversing, laughing, eating, and even drinking together while Ryusei was left behind to stew in his festering emotions.
You two have just returned to your apartment after what was a riveting night for you and a torturous one for Ryusei. Now that the two of you had returned home, shortly after locking the door, Ryusei would turn to you with his infamous grin on his face, but the predatory glint in his eyes told a completely different story. He was seething, his gaze piercing right through you.
"You and Sae seemed awfully close tonight, huh? Ya' never told me you two were so 'buddy, buddy'.”
You paused, gazing at your boyfriend with an incredulous stare as you picked up on his accusatory tone. He was, in a sense, correct. Even though you two got along really well that evening, all of your interactions were completely innocent. Considering that you two had been friends for as long as you could remember, this was the first time you had seen him since junior high, when he left for Madrid. What were you supposed to do? Ignore him the entire time?
"What do you mean, Ryu~?" You would inquire, calling him by his nickname in a way that came close to disarming him, but he remained steadfast and scowled as he observed you take your heels off of your slender feet and set them on the shoe rack next to the door.
"You know damn well what I mean, sweetness. He'd retort back, his hands becoming stuffed in the pockets of his slacks as he towered above you. "You can put on your whole innocent 'I was just being nice' act all you want, but I’m no idiot, Y/N."
I’d beg to differ. You thought as you sauntered further into your shared apartment, the buzz of the alochol in your system flickering in and out as Ryusei began to sour your mood. You could hear him following you from behind you due to the sound of his socks shuffle across the wooden floors, much to your dismay.
“We’re just friends, Ryu.” Exasperated, you sighed and made your way to the master bedroom with every intention of taking off this dress and your makeup, taking a hot shower, and then going to sleep.
“Oh, just friends~!” He mimicked your tone crudely, his quick palm darting forth to snatch your elbow to prevent you from moving further. He whirled you around with surprising strength, shoving you backwards into the wall beside your shared bedroom non-too-kindly, drawing a gasp from your lips. His hand seized your jaw, slender digits squeezing harshly against your bones, making you whine aloud. He leaned closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing against your own at the scent of faint alcohol and mint wafted onto your face. “Don’t play coy with me, attention whore. I saw how you looked at him all night—practically eye-fucking him."
There was an undeniable fire in his eyes, accentuated by his downturned brows. His fuschia irises burned into yours as your eyelids narrowed into thin slits, boring into the core of your being. Sharp canines and pearly incisors were slightly exposed as his upper lip curled into an angry snarl. Excitement gathered between your legs as your 6'2" lover scowled down at you, forcing you to unavoidably squeeze your thighs together—an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Ryusei.
“Ohoho, what do we have here?” He commented, his knee sliding between your thighs as a ferocious grin spread across his lips. Due to the height difference between you, his knee was perfectly positioned against your panty-clad folds, causing your clit to needily throb against him. “Could it be that you did this on purpose, you little minx? Got me all hot an’ riled up just so that I could fuck ya’ up a little bit, huh?”
The hand on your jaw moved down to your neck, his lithe digits wrapping around it before squeezing. With each passing second, his grip would grow more unforgiving. Your delicate hands encircled his wrist, your back curved into his chest from the wall behind you, and your hips jolted across his knee, eliciting a contented moan from your lips. That was sufficient proof to him that you were, in fact, becoming aroused by this.
“Dirty little bitch.” He growled, a chuckle rising from his lips, before closing the gap between you two and smashing his lips against yours. It was rough, filthy, and full of teeth and tongues smashing against one another in a desire-filled exchange between two people who were both far too ravenous for their own good. Your hands were all over him, and he was all over you until his large palms came to rest on the backs of your thighs and hoisted you into the air, causing you to squeal against his mouth. His brims smirked against yours as he carried you over to your shared bed and placed you atop your silken sheets and plush mattress.
He was on top of you again before you could react, his deft fingers grasping the arms of your dress and pulling it down your body in one smooth stroke, leaving you completely nude before him. He tossed his head back, groaning at the sight of your body and sinful curves, feeling himself practically straining against his boxers. He wasted no time stripping out of his own clothes before diving back onto you, his tongue and pointed canines making quick work of the delicate flesh of your collar bones and neck, leaving visible marks in his wake. While doing so, his hands snatched greedy handfuls of your breasts, squeezing and groping at the engorged sacks as cunning fingers pulled your nipples taut. You keened under his body, fingers grabbing at the roots of his hair and tugging, a silent plea for him to give you more—one he heeded with a few particularly rough slaps to your breasts.
“Greedy slut.” He snarled, rising to tower over you once again, calloused fingers massaging the plump skin of your breasts that he had just brutalized. “Y’want more, huh? I’ll fuckin’ give ya more.”
Sliding off of the bed, he grabbed you by your ankles to take you with him and flipped you around so that you were on your stomach. Assuming he wanted you on your hands and knees, you began to rise to your knees, however, he placed a fiery smack on your rear that had you crying out in both pain and pleasure.
“Nuh uh, keep that pretty ass down here, baby. I’ll fuck ya just like this.” He muttered through gritted teeth, pulling you back down so that your toes bore most of your weight on the floor and you were still pressed flat against the mattress.
Before you could regain your composure, you felt Ryusei pressing a hand firmly against your lower back and his cock sliding into your wet folds in one full push. You gasped, already breathless from the intrusion and the feeling of being so full that you didn’t even know what to do with yourself. You sank against the sheets, your fists balling the material next to your head as you moaned curses into the sheets.
“Nah, baby, that won’t do.” His fingers threaded themselves through the root of your hair, forcing your head up from the bed. “Let me hear how I make this pretty pussy feel, yeah?”
“R-Ryu, y-you’re too big—”
“—The hell I fuckin’ am.” His pace increased, becoming brutal and unrelenting. Every time his hips touched yours, you felt him miraculously strike deeper and deeper areas within you, bullying his fat cock in and out of your helpless cunt as if he were trying to punish you. He was.
“Bet if—ngh! Bet if I was fuckin’ Sae, this pussy would take his cock with no problem, huh? Y’wish it was him fucking you, baby?”
He was barbaric and cruel, channeling every ounce of rage and jealousy into his furious thrusts that pistoned into you within an inch of your life. You enjoyed every second of it. Your mouth remained agape, drool threatening to pool over your soft brims as a chorus of unapologetically pleasured cries and moans escaped your open maw. Without even trying, he hit every spot inside of you as though he knew you in and out—no one would ever be able to replicate how his cock made you feel, not in a million years. That’s one of things you loved most about you.
A sharp smack to your rear snapped you from your fucked-out haze, a cry escaping your lips as Ryusei used the grip on your hair to yank your body flesh against his chest, his lips snarling into your ear, “Answer me, bitch.” He snarled through clenched teeth as his thrusts grew erratic, sloppy even. The distinct pleasure moans he used to emit between his words had evolved into almost feral snarls and grunts, as if you were being ravaged by a beast rather than your lover.
“Tell me the truth, you wish you had another cock fucking you this good, huh? Making you— fuuuck! Making you gush around this big dick, huh, princess?”
“N-Noo, ah~! O-Only want you, Ryu! I only want you!” You babbled through tears of overstimulation as the hand that was previously grabbing your hair was now holding your neck, pressing you taut against him.
“Yeah? Y’love me and my cock that much, sweets?”
“Oh God, yes! I-I only love you, Ryusei! O-Only you, baby!”
“Thaat’s my fuckin’ girl. G’on. Make a mess on me, pretty.”
By the time you gushed around his cock, you were hardly able to stand. Ryusei's powerful arms helped you maintain your balance so he could finish the last few thrusts inside of you before coming undone, spilling ropes of hot milky cum inside of your dripping cunt. The sheer volume of it was too much for you to hold, squelching around his cock as he now languidly thrust inside of you, fucking you both through your highs.
When he was completely spent, he let go of you and pulled away, letting you fall gently to the mattress beneath you. He collapsed beside you onto his back with one arm covering your back and the other resting on his forehead as you writhed around lazily in the moment. Even though he usually could not think of anything other than falling asleep and how great his orgasm felt after having sex with you, you could tell by the unmistakable pinch of his brows and his intent gaze on the ceiling that he was still thinking about something.
“Somethin’ the matter?” You inquired softly, concerned by his sudden silence. You fashioned an arm pillow to rest your head on while looking at him. He didn’t look at you, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly in his throat. “. . . Did you mean it?”
Now it was your turn for your brows to furrow as confusion etched itself onto your features. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows so that you could at least meet his gaze, to which his fuschia hues would give in and finally meet your own. He looked bashful, unsure—it was unlike him. If you squinted, you were certain that you could make out the faint tint of pink tinging his cheeks. His gaze darted away from your own and off to some random corner of the room.
“Yanno . . . about lovin’ me.”
A wave of emotions came over you when you realized that, as you were at your highest, you had unintentionally confessed to him. A sudden warmth filled your heart and permeated every fiber of your being, spreading like a delicate dance of butterflies in your stomach. You said you loved him. Every word you said was genuine.
You shuffled over on the bed so that you could climb partially on top of him, resting your head on his shoulder as you guided his head to meet your gaze again, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Of course, I meant it, Ryusei. I love you now, and I always will.”
His eyes held a tenderness that you did not even know he was capable of, his gaze softened, and his brows rose as if he had been suddenly struck with love. He loved you just as much as you loved him.
“What was that, babe?”
“I said I love you, Ryusei—”
“—I know.” He grinned suddenly and cheekily as he encircled you in a bear hug, squeezing you into his arms and pulling you up onto his naked form. “I just wanted ta’ hear ya say it again.”
“. . . I love you too, Y/N.”
ⓒ vampiie 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work with tiktok or any other site.
#vampiiebitez#blue lock smut#bllk imagines#bllk smut#blue lock#blue lock headcanons#bllk headcanons#bllk x reader#michael kaiser#kaiser smut#michael kaiser smut#kaiser x reader#ryusei smut#ryusei shidou#ryusei shidou smut#shidou ryusei smut#shidou ryusei#kaiser michael#ryusei shidou x reader#shidou ryusei x reader#michael kaiser x reader#bllk
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SEVENTEEN ATLA HEADCANONS
genre. headcanons. avatar the last airbender au.
warnings. none.
featuring. ot13 seventeen.
wc. 1.6k. (around 100 words each)
request. no.
a/n. obviously i've been on a svt atla kick since burnt promises, second chances. i'd be open to writing fics for any of these small headcanons if anyone is particularly interested :)
SEUNGCHEOL
Ugh, Cheol is really hard. I kinda see him as any nation and also none at the same time. For the lack of other Water Tribe on the list, I’ll give him Water Tribe, but I don’t even think he’s a bender. He’d be a passionate hunter of the Southern Water Tribe, and a very good one, but not a bender. He’d always be eager to help out and fit his role as a true leader. He’s looked up to because he protects his people without fail. He’s good at strategics and known for his bravery. I see him fitting a role like Sokka’s father, but I don’t see him as anything glamorous like Water Tribe Royalty. He’s down to Earth and humble and honest. He leads and the people follow.
JEONGHAN
Jeonghan is an airbender. He’s witty and intelligent, and a great asset to his nation. He’d be in an Air temple close to the Earth Kingdom, and he often helps out with strategics if they ever need it. Definitely a kind and angel baby, but if there’s anyone who needs dealing with, he will personally take the task up. He’s world renowned and has allies and friends in every single nation. When he’s not busy, he’ll spend his time travelling around and immersing himself in the different cultures of the nations. He’s beaten Water Tribe hunters at their own hunt, evaded earthbender attacks in the ring because of how light he is on his feet. And his agility and wit proves to be useful whenever he goes head to head with a firebender. He can often predict their next moves and avoid attacks before they’re even fired at him.
JOSHUA
Joshua is Water Tribe!! Definitely a Water Tribe prince, or even a poor boy from the Northern Water Tribe whose parents couldn’t afford water bending lessons for him, so he would sneak around and watch lessons without getting caught. He’s mostly self taught, so he’s not exactly the best, but he can still hold his own. If he’s a Water Tribe prince, then he probably got bored with water bending very quickly as a child and started figuring out ways to skip his lessons lol. He knows clever ways to bribe or fool his masters into letting him slack off, but he also has to build enough skill to show at least a little improvement. He’s probably more interested in carving proposal necklaces to give to his future girlfriend than improving his bending skills.
JUNHUI
Jun is Fire Nation, and he’s extremely talented at Fire Bending. He probably runs a tea shop with his family and takes lessons on the side; just a regular middle class kid. He’s not aiming for a military position or anything high up, but he uses his skills to help him in daily life. He might have friends from places higher up in the city, and because of that, he got to take a visit to Royal Fire Academy for Girls. Definitely turns some heads— practically the whole school is crushing on him by the end of the 2 hour visit, and he enjoys the attention that he wouldn’t usually get at home. It’s safe to say that he’s invited back given the significant improvement in attendance and performance after his initial visit.
SOONYOUNG
Another airbender, only because he’s so agile. Like the spider choreo really makes me see him as someone who just likes to swing around upside down for fun. He’ll play pranks on the older monks, or just anyone he can get his hands on. He’s a lot like Aang in that way. He definitely creates his own airbending moves, because he is a choreographer!!! Somehow takes a trip to the Earth Kingdom because it was his life goal to see a tigerdillo in real life. Once he meets one, he somehow adopts it, and settles down in the Earth Kingdom from there on! He’s perfectly happy, and can he even pose as an earthbender if he’s smart about it.
WONWOO
Anyone could probably guess that I see Wonwoo as Fire Nation. I wrote an entire 14.5k fic about it which is expecting a part 2, but I just think he fits it so much? Especially in a role like the Fire Lord or some notable higher up who is skilled at firebending and definitely owns a dragon (if we’re talking a time period before/during the dragon hunts). He’d be the type to just be a natural at it and reach a high mastery at an early age. He’s such a skilled fighter, and definitely knows how to control his flame. He prefers to study directly from dragons instead of old masters, whose teachings feel regurgitated and watered down, which sounds pretentious, but it’s one of the reasons why he got so good.
JIHOON
I see Jihoon as an Earth bender. He’s short and stout but HE'S SO BUFF. He definitely has the density in him to move some rocks, he’s practically built like The Boulder but without the height????? I definitely see him as part of the royal guard, but definitely not an Earth King. He might teach Earth Bending or get posted out on the coast near the Fire Nation or something— but he definitely has a military position. Somewhere where he can use his earthbending to its full potential. Not the most talkative, but definitely the most efficient, so he climbs the ranks like nobody's business and everyone knows to respect every word that comes out of his mouth. If you say even a word about his height, he’ll throw a rock at your head before you can finish the sentence.
SEOKMIN
It was hard to pick between Water Tribe and Fire Nation for Seokmin, but I think he’s ultimately Fire Nation. I see him as an actor for plays, and he definitely uses his firebending to win over the audience. It got to the point that even though he’s from a small town in the Fire Nation, he became a household name and got increasingly popular until he eventually found himself acting in front of the Fire Lord. Once he got rich enough from it, he got a spot in the most infamous acting troupe in the Fire Nation. His favourite role to play is, of course, the Dragon Emperor in Love Amongst the Dragons.
MINGYU
Just a bulky earthbender I don’t know what to say. He probably got recruited to some military position because he’s fit and can hold his own in a fight, but boy’s just really a sweetheart. He doesn’t enjoy smashing people with rocks, so he tries to get out of the military as soon as possible. He instead works as a carpenter of sorts? Builds elaborate structures with his earthbending, and has a surprisingly artistic touch to his creations. Popular with the older ladies because he is a gentleman.
MINGHAO
I see him as an airbender, but I cannot imagine him with a bald head LIKE HELP. But let's say he is, and for aesthetic purposes, keep the long haired Minghao. He practically floats and flies through the air with his airbendings. He’s probably more of a lemur guy than a sky bison guy. I can imagine him having 1 or 2 lemurs who he spends most of his time with. Obviously very light on his feet and into meditation. He’s one of those star students in the class that the teacher picks as an example for the other students to watch and learn from.
SEUNGKWAN
A waterbender, and he’s good because he focused and studied the traditions of it. He knows the importance of the basics, and when he’s teaching, he can get mad pretty quick if he catches a novice waterbender doing a technique lazily. He teaches them the hard way, making the floor an ice rink or slapping in the face with a water tentacle if they make a silly mistake. But he’s a respected master. (Not to say that he’s old, but he holds the respect of an old master). Also a great healer for the Water Tribe. He thinks it’s important for the men to not just learn how to fight with spears and slices of water, but also to heal the tribe, and he offers his lessons to the women of the tribe as well.
VERNON
Another Fire Nation boy. He’s so skilled he can redirect lightning and all that jazz. He’s a worldwide guy too, so he’s definitely familiar with the other nations and their bending to a certain extent. (Like Iroh, studying the Water Tribe helped him with creating new techniques within firebending). He has a dragon because he’s hot like that, and would hold master firebending classes lol. Definitely has connections to the Royal Family and I could even see him serving as a personal guard or something of that sort. His skills aren’t to be wasted, so he can snag a high paying position practically anywhere he wants.
CHAN
Earth Kingdom kid from a poor family™, I mean it’s just so clear in my mind. I imagine his mom runs a corner store, and he likes to use his very limited earth bending skills to make the shop look prettier. If the wooden tables break down over time, he’ll earth bend a makeshift counter to display the trinkets for sale. He’s quite charming even though he doesn’t have much to say about himself. In the lower class of the Earth Kingdom, practically everyone knows him because he likes to go around and make new friends when he’s bored. He’ll help out the elderly if they need it, and flash a toothy grin to anyone he comes across.
↳ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @minholing,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @wonwooz1,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @haecien,, @amara-mars
#﹒fics 𓈃 ⵌ#caratsland#k-labels#seventeen#ot13#seventeen ot13#seventeen headcanons#svt headcanons#svt ot13#scoups#scoups fic#jeonghan#jeonghan fic#joshua#joshua fic#hoshi#hoshi fic#jun#jun fic#wonwoo#wonwoo fic#woozi#woozi fic#mingyu#mingyu fic#dk#dk fic#minghao#minghao fic#seungkwan
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An Early Highharvestide Feast
(Soft Dom Astarion x Female Reader)
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Setting: 4 years after BG3, "good" ending, Unascended Astarion x F Reader
Notes: Took a break from my WrenxAstarion fic to write this Thanksgiving-themed (kind of but not really... lol it just worked for the plot), one shot. This idea was playing in my head, and I had to get it out. Hope you all enjoy and have a happy Thanksgiving! This might end up being a Part 1 of a mini story. I'd like to do the fluff scene with all their friends around and imagine the lives they've lived. I love to see comments about what you liked in the story, it inspires me for other fics.
Rating: Mature 18+ / smut
Word Count: 2.5K
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You’re in the kitchen, flowers strewn about the marble countertop as you arrange the bouquets for tomorrow’s banquet. It’s been four years since you’ve seen everyone at the same time, and finally, finally, the old gang will be back together in one room in less than 24 hours. Your heart practically soared in anticipation... a Highharvestide banquet in your very own home, with your favorite people in the world. You wanted everything to be just perfect.
The planning had taken weeks. Astarion had left the menu to you, of course, apart from the wine and alcohol selection. He had taken that from you quite early on and it had been more than a tenday before he solidified his choices between his frequent business meetings and your political events. He’d focused heavily on guiding you both in politics and expanding your wealth the past few years, while you focused on gardening and improving Baldur's Gate... plus navigating the lack of anonymity in your life.
Admittedly, you’d stumbled clumsily through your change in status, from unknown woman to Lady Ancunin, while Astarion glided into the position like he’d simply left his post for a long vacation. You’d been happy to take the lead in the wilds while a tadpole was lodged in everyone's brains, but you were even happier to hand the reins to him once the city was safe. And you were always proud to tell your friends that he’d navigated the two of you through the changes quite well.
In fact, he'd just purchased a second property outside of Baldur’s Gate with aims to start your very own winery; his pet project that he loved quite dearly. It was beautiful to watch Astarion approach something with such passion and vigor. After becoming the heroes of Baldur’s Gate, it had pained you that he could no longer stand in the sun. Not as much as it so obviously pained him. His mask was carefully crafted, and yet you often saw right through it. You hoped that perhaps one of your friends would bring news of a cure for his condition to the feast.
He had always been adamant that he’d make the same choice over and over again, but guilt still stabbed you like a dagger to the gut when you saw him watch the sun rise from the deepest depths of your manor or caught him studying your tan lines from your many hours spent out in the garden, your own personal pet project, specializing primarily in night blooming plants.
Astarion’s voice pulls you from your reverie as he enters the kitchen with Scratch trailing behind him. His vermillion eyes are focused on a scroll in his hands as he grasps a bone from a jar and tosses it into the dog’s bed. Scratch obediently settles himself into the plush mattress, content to gnaw away at the treat.
“Darling, your dog went after the chickens again. One of the staff had to run him down and then give him a bath. We may want to seriously consider a trainer. Command beast works all well and good when you’re around, but not everyone has that skill set in their repertoire, dear.” His tone carries just the slightest tinge of annoyance; you two have had this conversation before. But you know in his heart of hearts that Astarion loves the blasted dog perhaps more than you do.
You glance at Scratch, currently focused on giving you his best look of feigned innocence. The look reminds you quite a bit of another white-haired miscreant standing in that very same kitchen and you chuckle. Distracted, you feel the miscalculated slip of your hand as you reach for a particularly thorned flower stem. The punishing sting causes you to wince and pull in a sharp intake of breath. Blood blooms in buds of red on your fingers and the scent catches Astarion’s attention immediately.
His eyes are alight as he chides you. “You really must stop bleeding everywhere, my heart. It’s distracting.” He places the scroll down and comes to your side, grasping your hand in his to examine the damage.
“Perhaps if you helped me with these arrangements like I’d asked, I wouldn’t be in this situation, my love.” You respond with a soft huff, but you extend your hand towards the vampire, already quite aware what his next move will be. He bends to lick the red droplets from your skin before he kisses the knuckle of your hand. Astarion will never waste such a precious thing, that much is certain.
“Perhaps if you more frequently used the staff -- that we pay quite well, might I add -- to do things like tend your garden, put all these flowers in vases, and perform any number of menial tasks, then you wouldn’t be in this situation.” The vampire retorts with a raised eyebrow. “All of this is below your station now. It truly pains me to see your beautiful hands doing such things, my dear.”
You smile as you close your eyes and whisper a healing incantation, sealing the superficial wounds with minimal effort. You swivel in your seat and turn to face your husband, eyebrow arched to mirror his own, voice slipping into a coy register. “And what, Lord Ancunin, would you rather see my hands doing?”
You won. You could see it in the darkening of his eyes as he placed his hands on either side of the counter and pressed forward to look at you, red eyes flitting between yours.
Astarion had ebbed and flowed in his sexual appetites, especially in the first few years of your union. He had been plagued by panic attacks and night terrors something awful; they still occurred but not with the same horrid frequency. Your many nights of herbal teas and "flower child" magic, as he so lovingly called it, eased the suffering. You’d been content to ride the waves of desire with him, and it seemed more recently, as the two of you adjusted to domestic life, his appetites had returned with force.
His face hovered just inches in front of yours, eyes alight with a combination of adoration and lust as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before pulling back and running his eyes greedily down your body, cocking his head as he fantasized about any number of dirty things. “I have several delicious ideas for those hands, darling.”
The flowers were scattered on the ground, along with a broken vase in an instant. The vampire hoisted you up with relative ease before placing you onto the cool, marbled counter. His hands grazed up the side of your silken gown and then delved under the hem to explore your bare skin. He quickly found his way to the junction between your thighs and a pleased, rakish smile crossed his face.
“No underclothes, Lady Ancunin? You truly do desire to test my patience today.” His eyes locked with yours as he knelt in front of you, draping your legs over his shoulders and pushing your dress up to reveal you to him fully.
You would have to enlist the help of the staff tomorrow afternoon. The tradeoff was well worth it, you thought, as your silver-haired husband bowed his head before you to run his tongue against your slit, a little hum escaping him as he tasted your warmth. He ran his tongue up to your clit, his lazy, languid strokes pressing into you. Always such a tease.
“Astarion…” You murmur, bucking your hips toward the vampire as your hands found silver curls of hair and took hold.
A smile snaked its way across his lips as he continued his torment. You were wriggling, desperate for more, which the elf adamantly denied you, his hands gripping into your thighs as he brushed his feather light tongue against you once more. Just enough stimulation to keep your attention, but not enough to provide any relief.
“My love..” Your tone is practically begging for him to give you more.
“Mm, darling. I do believe I need to show you what else your hands could do, don’t I?” He grabs your hand and yanks it towards your sex, where he guides you to play with yourself. Hungry red eyes watch the show as arousal begins to drip from you onto the countertop. He slips two long fingers deep inside your cunt and curls them slightly, pumping the digits in and out, which earns him a delightful moan. Still on his knees, the vampire removes his fingers from inside your walls and licks your juices off his hand before sliding your legs off his shoulders and standing. He makes quick work of ripping your gown over your head, pressing gentle kisses against the newly freed flesh of your chest. You are now completely barren and exposed to your lover, his lustful eyes stoking the fire between your legs.
His own arousal is now clearly straining against his clothes. Astarion quickly undoes the buttons of his collar and lacings of his trousers, freeing his cock before your hungry gaze. You’re still playing with yourself as you watch the man completely undress before you.
“Now darling…” He murmurs in that sensual tone reserved only for you. He guides your unoccupied hand to the twitching length of his cock and wraps it around the shaft, giving a few experimental pumps into your hand. “What else can your beautiful hands do?”
You take the queue and begin moving your hand around his length. Astarion hisses in pleasure, rolling his hips as he fucks your hand. The vision is quite lewd; you're playing with your own pussy as you pump your lover’s cock in time, your respective arousals just inches from one another but not touching. It's enough to cause the heat in your cheeks and your sex to rise and illicit several excited keens from you. He teasingly moves his length closer to your entrance, pulling away just as the head of his member brushes against you. You want to scream every time he pulls away, the bastard lives to tease you to the edge of desire.
Astarion was watching the scene with rapt interest, absolutely transfixed. His breath was quickening as he pressed himself into your hand, watching the head of his penis sheath and unsheathe itself under your ministrations as your pussy prayed to be plunged into, leaking arousal all over the cold countertop. He was always more in control in these situations, able to keep a firm hold on his desire in a way you never could.
“Look at my little treat, making such a mess on these expensive counters.” He murmured in mock disappointment and mock condescension, eyes burning with excitement. “Play with yourself and show me the mess you make when you cum for me, my sweet.”
You moan, desperate to have him fill you. “Astarion, please. Fuck me already. Please.” You’re keening, fingers rubbing against your clit with vigor. Desperate for something to fill the ache inside you, you remove your hand from your lover’s cock and shove two fingers into your wetness. The stimulation is fantastic and rips a moan from your vocal cords as your head tilts back.
Astarion chuckles darkly at the scene before him. It was no secret that he loved the way you inflated his ego when you begged for him, a writhing mess of wanton desire for his eyes only. The do-good, stoic hero of Baldur’s Gate turned into a desperate, needy little minx under his touch. He never tired of it. “Cum for me, darling. And then you will get your reward.”
You aim to do as he says, using one hand to plunge in and out of yourself while the other rubs frantically at your clit. Your legs are spread wide, displaying everything to the vampire as you push yourself towards release. Finally, the bubble bursts and an orgasm crashes around you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body and into your thobbing sex. The pulsing seems nearly endless, and you feel the ooze of your juices sliding between your legs as you ride the wave of pleasure. When you come to your senses and flutter your lids open, Astarion's eyes are boring into you with such desire that it causes a tremor of excitement to run down your spine.
In one swift move he has you in a new position. Your feet are on the floor, albeit legs a bit shaky, and your ass is turned toward your lover, body bent at the waist. Your face is pressed into the counter, into the stickiness of your own juices. Everything smells of sex.
A delicious groan escapes from the vampire as he presses the head of his cock into your entrance, ready to take you from behind. “Beautiful... now, let’s see if I am able to make you come undone once more.”
Astarion slams into you with vigor, the force of the movement knocking the wind out of you as he groans in appreciation. Your soaking wet sex offers no resistance and you gasp at the pleasure of the rapid intrusion. He repeatedly drags himself back at a tortuous, languid pace just to thrust himself balls-deep once more, snapping his hips into the flesh of your ass, moaning every time he takes you to the hilt.
“Oh gods!” You exclaim as he picks up the pace, pumping into you with increasing speed, his cock curving gratifyingly along your insides. You feel yourself clenching around him as his efforts push you toward another peak.
Astarion growls and grabs your hand, guiding it once again to your clit. You’re climbing up to a second release as he rolls his hips behind you in an unceasing onslaught.
“There you go, little love. Won’t you cum for me again?” He coaxes in a graveled whisper as his lips and tongue trail down your spine, never once ceasing his thrusts. The vampire’s teeth find a beautiful little spot at the meeting point of your shoulder and neck, and he bites down, just enough to draw blood. The sensation pushes you over the edge and you spasm around your lover, your cunt eagerly gripping at his length.
“Oh! Oh... oh, my love.” The vampire groans as your throbbing sex pushes him over the edge, his final pumps turning sloppy as he spills into you. The two of you are a mess of panting chests and tired limbs for a few moments before Astarion straightens himself up and gently pulls you from the counter, dotting kisses along your shoulder where he left the bite.
"That was wonderful." You whisper, turning to face the vampire as you plant a gentle kiss on his lips.
“Mmh.” Astarion agrees in a little hum as he looks down at you with soft and loving eyes, pushing strands of hair away from your face before holding your chin in his hand and planting another kiss on your lips. The slightest of smiles flits across his lips as he runs his hands down to the curve of your waist. You move to begin cleaning up the mess you two made when your lover grabs your hand and begins to tug you away from the kitchen.
"Now, now, darling. Leave that be. I haven't finished showing you what else your hands can do… and we only have a bit longer before our friends show and ruin all the fun. Seems my Highharvestide feast came a day early." He muses, before eagerly leading you to the bedroom you both share. The flowers would have to wait.
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Part 2: Happy Highharvestide Day (all fluff)
#astarion fanfic#astarion fic#astarion x original female character#astarion x tav#baulders gate 3#baulders gate astarion#baulders gate tav#bg3 fanfic idea#bg3 fanfiction#astarion x reader#astarion x you#baldurs gate 3#astarion fanfiction#astarion smut#astarion romance#astarion#astarion fluff#bg3 fanfic#bg3 smut#bg3 fluff#smut
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Is Good Parents Maddie and Jack Fenton even possible?
Specifically, would they be able to change their mindset after over twenty years of bigotry and scientific curiosity?
If they saw their human son turn into Phantom, would they still think of him as their kid? Would they love him, accept him and support him?
I, personally, can't see the canon reveals as anything but a kid friendly compromise of giving the viewers the satisfaction of a reveal and keeping the status quo of the light-hearted show going.
But with everything the Fenton parents did, said, and invented... is it possible for them to turn their backs on their research and start from scratch? To admit that they were wrong after decades of being called quacks, crazy and idiots?
The only thing they were right about was the existence of ghosts, but now they endangered the whole world by building their portal that half-killed their son and traumatised millions of people.
So. Is it possible to write a Good Parents Jack and Maddie fic that doesn't shy away from all the awful things they did and how would you go about it?
Thank you for your time!
The short answer: Technically? Yes. Realistically? Probably not.
The long answer: Everyone is capable of change but not everyone will. For all intents and purposes, they are capable of growing as people and learning to recognize their mistakes and biases and leaving those behind... It just likely wouldn't be a simple flick of a switch. At the same time there is reason to believe that the Fentons wouldn't change their minds.
You said it yourself, over twenty years they've acted like this and so logically you would begin to assume that's just how they've always been and always will be. That shows this goes far beyond their parenting style and skills, and has everything to do with who they are as people.
(Buckle up, this one's a long post.)
We don't actually know all that much about the Fenton parents in canon. We don't see any grandparents or relatives other than Aunt Alicia. Although we have headcanons as a fandom that Jack and Maddie have ghost-related trauma, or it's a family tradition from the Fenton side with Jack Fentonightingale, to explain why they've always been like this, that is still no canon confirmation. (Fentonightingale was a witch hunter, not a ghost hunter after all.)
As far as we are aware, for one reason or another, one day Jack and Maddie started to believe ghosts were real and not just real but malicious. I may not be a scientist by career but even I can tell you they've failed in their duties as scientists the moment they chose their hypotheses over the evidence. That is literally something they teach you in high school science class; you ask a question and then research for evidence supporting that question. (Otherwise known as the "if... then" statement.)
Sometimes that means your first assumption was incorrect, but the evidence cannot be changed. So to me, the Fenton parents aren't ghost scientists, they're ghost hunters and those implications have connotations all of their own. And those connotations reflect poorly on them. And this isn't even to mention their general lack of workplace safety.
When we look at their friendships- they have no friends. They had Vlad in college, but they fucked up that relationship and don't even seem too broken up about it. They hadn't spoken to each other in twenty years until the reunion, and they obviously knew he'd made something of himself; Jazz recognized his name from Billionaire of the Year I think the magazine was supposed to be or something.
When Jack explains what happened to Vlad in "Bitter Reunions", he literally mentions how he thinks Vlad has forgiven him now. So obviously he acknowledges that what happened between them was due an apology.
Do you know something that's noticeably absent? A single apology from either Jack or Maddie. Yes, Jack might be more at fault in his accident, but Maddie ignored him for twenty years too. Vlad can talk whatever crap he'd like about Jack, but Maddie is just as culpable in his 'abandonment' as her husband is. We have proof from "Masters of All Time" that Maddie isn't afraid to go behind her husband's back and do what she wants. If she truly cared about him, she would have made an effort and she never did.
But of course, now we have to talk about them as parents. That's where things get... a lot more complicated.
In "Maternal Instincts" at one point Maddie is shown carrying Danny piggy-back style. It's never explained, it's not played off as a joke. Danny isn't injured and neither is he faking an injury. It's literally just something Maddie did, probably with the idea that she's taking care of and protecting him. And Danny isn't embarrassed by it at all, even when he's been shown to be ashamed of some of his parents' other antics.
In "Girls Night Out", Jack takes Danny fishing as a father-son bonding activity. And I mean that literally, he got the idea from a book called 'Father/Son Relationships For Stupids!'. That might imply that he's a bad parent but that also goes to prove that he's aware of his shortcomings as a father and is genuinely trying to do more for his son. Not everyone comes to parenthood naturally, so for Jack to actively search for advice- even if it comes from a book- says that he wants to do this parent thing.
But in my opinion, the episode that best reveals how the Fentons function as a family is "The Fenton Menace" (and no, that's not just because my blog description references it lol). In that episode, we see Jazz's failings as a supportive sister almost from the very start; in her opening narration, she talks about how she knows his secret and yet when he insists through and through that he sees a ghost, she still thinks she knows better/otherwise. We also get a touching moment where Maddie talks about spending quality time with the people you love (which is a line almost word for word from the show, by the way).
However, there are two things that stand out the most from this episode. This is the episode where we get the line: "Whether it's air, land, or sea I won't stop until we capture a ghost and tear it apart. Molecule by molecule." In response to this, Danny gets visibly upset. It is probably one of the most damning pieces of evidence in the entire series that his parents' behavior genuinely bothered him. He makes jokes about them shooting or experimenting on him, but humor can and often is used as a coping mechanism. After that quote? Danny didn't try to hide his reaction until later on when Jazz asked him. And even then he dismisses it with a quip.
The second thing from this episode also so happens to feed into my main point for this entire argument: This is the episode where Jack and Maddie attempt to 'spin the crazy' out of Danny. That kind of behavior is something you'd find in places like Arkham Asylum, which is notorious for their inhumane treatment of its patients. Decidedly not something you expect to see from supposedly loving parents. That absolutely constitutes as cruel and unusual punishment and yet it's not even meant to be a punishment.
They sincerely think that they're trying to help him by doing this. And that's the heart of the issue, in my opinion. Jack and Maddie don't think about other people. They don't think about their feelings or their safety or their privacy. They are so caught up in the idea that they are doing good that they never stop to think that they're part of the problem. Or the entire problem altogether.
The only time that we get some decent self-reflection is during Reality Trip, when Danny's identity is revealed by Freakshow and the Fenton parents and Jazz are taken as hostages. While they're stuck and trapped, they question why Danny had never told them his identity before, which is when Jazz comments about the poor way they used to treat his ghostly side. It's only then that it clicks for them that oh yeah we did that. That's what it took for them to recognize that their actions have consequences and even with good intentions, you are capable of hurting the people you love.
And I think that's one of the best ways to go about it. You need to give them the time and opportunity for that self-reflection and reclamation. Jack and Maddie are- naturally- a shoot first and ask later (if ever) type of people. One way or another, there needs to be a way for them to pull back and sit and look around for once.
There are many ways to address this too and make way for the possibility of Good Parents Jack and Maddie. One of the fics that immediately comes to mind for me is @akela-nakamura's Not Everything Is As It Seems. In this one we focus on Jack's perspective, and this fic made me So Unwell with its quiet gravitas, I can never recommend it enough. But if you want something from Maddie's perspective, then you can read @peachdoxie's incredible Trust Your Instincts fic. It is 36 chapters, already completed, and it's this beautiful journey through Maddie's Outsider POV.
As for me personally, I explored the subject in Chapter 51 of my fic lex luthor's ascent from supervillainy to fatherhood, Interlude III: Dynasty. We actually get two different reactions from the Fenton parents, one that is more from a 'Good Parent' and one from a 'Bad Parent'.
I think the most important part is to never shy away from talking about and exploring all the horrible things they did and have done. It's difficult to discuss, but the subject is complicated and to address it as anything less than complicated wouldn't be fair to those moments where the Fentons genuinely did want to be there for their children.
Does it make any of their behavior right? No. Does it prove that they can change? Yes. Will they? ...That will have to be left up to each individual writer.
If you found yourself in a similar family situation, of course you're gonna want your family or your parents to grow or choose you. Because you love them, and you want to keep them in your life. But at some point you have to think about yourself and your own safety and health. That doesn't mean you give up on them, but you protect yourself from the fallout in case they don't change.
Every person is capable of it, but not every person is willing to. The Fenton parents are no different in that regard.
#halfagone replies#bad parents jack and maddie#danny phantom#character analysis#i guess???#character study#that's more like it
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*person compliments your fic*
humility: omg thanks! I wasn't really sure about this one, so I'm glad you think it turned out!
self-deprecation: it was so much better in my head. I only posted because I got tired of looking at it.
self-loathing: you don't have to be nice. I know it's trash. I should just delete it
confidence: as soon as I got the idea, I just *knew* I had to write it!
arrogance: right? I wish other people could write like this too but so many people in this fandom just don't understand the characters like I do
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I keep trying to find ways to explain the thoughts that I have when I read the notes on my posts where people beat themselves up. I'm writing this in a convincing tone (I noticed when I was 1 paragraph away from finishing), but that's just how I communicate most of the time. Please add in whatever caveats you think are appropraite. This is just me trying to think my way through some things.
So many of you out there seem to think that the only way to be "honest" about your abilities is to criticize yourself harshly. Like being kind to yourself is somehow self-aggrandizing.
Humility and confidence are two ends of the same spectrum. In both cases, you're secure in your own abilities. You have faith in yourself and what you can do. Humility relates to your internal security and the way you treat yourself. Confidence relates to your external security and how to relate to others.
If you are humble or confident, you have a realistic understanding of what you can and can't do. What you're good at, what you're great at, and what you can't do very well at all. You can accept a compliment when it's earned and you can accept a critique when you're trying to improve. Neither change your self-perception very much one way or the other. You'll be more humble when you're just learning a new skill and you'll be more confident once you're on your way to mastering it.
Self-deprecation and self-loathing are signs that you don't have a realistic view of your own capabilities. You're insecure and comparing yourself to others and finding yourself lacking. This might be a learned behaviour, where every time you showed confidence you were told you were getting prideful. It might be a case of insulting yourself before others are able to insult you - taking the power back from a bully by bullying yourself first.
Arrogance is also unrealistic, but at the other end of the spectrum. With arrogance, you compare yourself to others and put yourself in first place. You think others are below you or can't compete with you, that you're better than they are and they could never be as good as you. There's an insecurity with arrogance too. A fear that if you aren't the best then you must be a loser. If you're not number 1 then you aren't worth anything.
I use the example of getting a compliment because it's so commonplace in creative spaces. If you're insecure, it can be hard -even painful!- to accept them but learning how to do so can be a really valuable step on the road to learning how to be better to yourself.
#thinky thoughts#I'm still not getting the ideas out of my brain very well#so expect this to be the next thing I won't shut up about#as I try to noodle my way through it#long post#still#this turned out better formed than it was in my brain before I started typing#so I'll take that as a win!
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Would you be willing to write a fic of G!P Cassandra x fem! Reader x G!P Donna? Maybe the reader had been teasing the both of them all day and the second the three of them are alone Donna and Cassandra mercilessly fuck the Reader as punishment?
(I sure hope the 🐉 anon position isn’t taken because it’s mine now >:)
This has been in my inbox far too long y’all, glad I get to write it out at last- it’s been so long RIP me is sorry. Not 100% with it buuuuut ye
Let’s get into it!👀
Masterlists
You feel shivers run down your spine the second Daniela gets up to leave. You’re all too aware that she is the only reason your two owners, Donna and Cassandra, haven’t taken you yet.
Perhaps, you deserve it.
Perhaps, you shouldn’t expect anything but rough treatment when you’ve been teasing them all day. You know, you’ve been an insufferable brat today. A part of you yearns for the roughness you know you will receive from the other two women.
You gasp audibly when you feel Cassandra grip your upper thigh tightly as she shoots her sister a smile. You know, her patience is running out.
And she isn’t the only one.
You watch as Daniela is practically led to the door by a small minion of short dolls pushing up against her legs and tugging her forth to the doorway. Donna’s hand moves, and you tense up when it rests on your other upper thigh.
It looks almost cute, your two mistresses grabbing one thigh each, their fingertips digging into your skin. Cassandra’s strong, large hand on you, and Donna’s precise, veiny and well trained one.
They both smile with false gentleness as the youngest Dimitrescu sister exits the house, and the moment the door slaps shut with a heavy push from a doll, their smiles falter and turn to angry frowns.
You gasp when they each tug their hand, fingers digging into your skin as your thighs are pulled apart. You whimper , dressed in one of the dresses Donna has made for you. It’s long, and has so far done a good job at keeping your naughty little secret hidden.
Or so you thought.
Yet, when Cassandra inhales and growls quietly, your eyes widen in realization. Did you truly think you could keep it from her?
With a sharp tug your dress is pulled up, and your cheeks burn crimson as both hands on your thighs tighten their grip. You’re entirely exposed to them, the lack of underwear allowing the two dominant women to see your dripping wet core, glistening and practically calling out to them.
You feel Cassandra push up against your neck, her warm breath tickling the sensitive skin found there. You shiver when you soon feel knife-sharp edges snd tips of teeth drag against you.
You only realize your eyes have closed when you open them up again, wide and surprised at the sudden feeling between your spread legs.
You can only squeak in embarrassment and shock when you suddenly two fingers are pushed roughly inside of you. Your hips automatically buck up and a harsh whimper and shriek is pulled from you when the dangerously sharp teeth at your neck dig in at last.
You whine as the skilled fingers curl within you, but before the pleasure can even sink in properly, Donna pulls her arm back already. You watch through lidded eyes as she raises her fingers, soaked in your arousal, to her face, and feel as though your world is spinning when she sucks her index finger into her mouth.
You whimper again at a particularly sharp jab of pain to your throat, a single tear sliding from your eye as you see blood trickle down your front, stemming from your neck.
Your eyes are wide and you feel lightheaded when Donna’s soaked index finger is presented to you. An offer? No. A silent command. You eye the finger hungrily, eager to feel your own wetness up against your tongue.
However, you have dug your own grave already. Might as well dig deeper.
Her gaze turns colder, harsher, when you merely press your lips together and a self satisfied grin is shot her way. Something dangerous flashes in her dark eye for a mere moment.
“You’re being naughty today, bella”, she hums, and your head spins yet again at the raspiness of her voice.
You flinch as her free hand shoots up from your thigh, a surprised whimper pulled from you when it grasps your jaw tightly.
For a moment, you think to deny her. To embrace the painful ache of her fingers pressing into your skin. Then, her grasp tightens and with a cry, your lips part and mouth falls open for your lover.
“Keep misbehaving”, Cassandra hums against your throat. She dares you to.
You shiver again, your clit aching and your nipples hardening when you feel her lick across your neck eagerly.
Donna’s middle finger is pressed to your tongue, her grip on you harsh, her gaze even more so. She’s smirking slightly at your helpless moans and whimpers, and relishes in your pathetic gagging whenever she pushes too far back.
Upon adverting your eyes, you find the very obvious tents in both women’s dresses. Cassandra’s, twitching and intimidating in width, and Donna’s, large and capable of taking your ability to walk.
“What, got nothing to say, morsel?”, Cassandra taunts, her teeth gently clasping down on your injured neck again. “You had so much to say earlier, little lamb. When you teased us like a little slut”, she hums, a low chuckle coming from her at the increase of your heart rate.
You whine when your jaw is released and Donna pulls back, your eyes curiously following the woman just when she stands up in front of you.
“She’s going to be a good girl now. Won’t you, flower?”
You feel shivers run down your spine at the older woman’s voice. Eagerly, you nod. It’s as though all words have died on your tongue.
You feel fingertips run from your thigh to your pussy, strong, and eager- Cassandra’s. Unlike Donna, she doesn’t enter you with them, however.
Instead you find yourself shrieking and jumping when her palm slaps against your cunt, unforgiving and aimed at your clit. You jerk away at the sudden pain, your thighs clasping close around the woman’s wrist.
Of course, she immediately corrects this by pushing your thighs apart again and trapping one of them with her own.
Your mouth waters as Donna’s dress is practically torn off by the woman, your own body on fire at the sight of hers. Creamy, olive skin is revealed inch by inch.
At last, you’re on eye level with her lower stomach, your lips almost perfectly lined up with her long cock. You squeak when Cassandra’s hand comes up again and your jaw is forced open yet again.
This time, for your dollmaker.
The woman only watches you, her dark eye unchanged and her emotions shrouded.
You feel her tip push up against your tongue, the soft, pink head large against your skin. With a single thrust, she buries herself completely inside.
Your eyes close automatically and your thighs jerk when you feel both, Donna’s cock in your mouth, and Cassandra’s fingers between your legs push forwards and deep in you.
You whimper and moan, your jaw held tightly in place to prevent any thought of bratting and teasing again. Your throat is tight around the cock fucking it, and it’s making both yours and Donna’s head spin.
You hear her panting, loud and breathless, as her hips thrust back and forth wildly. Your pussy clenches around Cassandra’s fingers. Soaking in the pleasure, you can’t help but allow your slightly shaky hand to slide across her thigh.
You find the bulge in her dress easily and grin as much as your spread open lips allow you to when you squeeze and draw a groan from her. Warm blood dries at your neck as wetness drips from you and coats her fingers throughout.
“You’re tight”, Cassandra hums, a maniacal laughter passing her lips when her tongue drags against your throat. You feel it bulge with Donna’s cock, and know she does too. Your hips buck up when fingers curl within you and a tongue drags over the obvious bulge in your throat and mouth.
“She’s soaked”, Cassandra taunts, her own hips grinding to push her bulge up against your hand.
You whimper when your pleasure ends all too fast already as she retracts her fingers from you. Even through teary eyes you see them glistening in the corner of your eye. Your wetness, slick against the two digits that have been rammed into you, coating them from her nail to the knuckle.
You shriek when she suddenly turns you, as if she ran out of patience. You’re left kneeling over, your eyes pressed shut and mouth wide open, tears running down your cheeks from the constant gagging. Donna feels even deeper in you.
Your dress is tugged up around your hips and your thighs are spread wide. You groan around the large cock pushing in and out of your mouth, your vision blurry. You smell Donna, the perfume and scent of flowers and fresh wood that sticks to her.
Then, you feel another cock, wider, stronger, push up against your sensitive clit. You whimper as Cassandra thrusts herself along your pussy, as though collecting all the wetness that so easily drips from you.
Once, twice, three, four times. Antagonizing you, teasing you. You feel her thick head and shaft against you, long soaked in your wetness. Drool sticks to your chin and Donna’s cock, so much it begins to slide down and drip from her balls.
“Mhmm, open up, morsel”, comes Cassandra’s command at last, spoken lowly, so you barely hear it over the slapping of Donna’s balls against your chin and her panting above you.
Eagerly so, you spread your legs wider, and grasp onto your girlfriend’s hips when Cassandra pushes herself inside.
You moan around her cock, the tears running down your cheeks causing both of your partners to moan and gasp. Your pussy aches and clenches around Cassandra, and you shiver as you feel her tremble and twitch in you.
“Fuck..she’s so…tight!”, she groans, and you feel Donna’s balls twitch slightly and her hips jerk against you at the words spoken so breathlessly and hotly.
With the cock thrusting in and out of you fast and Cassandra’s fingers and nails digging into your hips, you barely notice your lover approaching her orgasm until you feel warm, white seed shot in your mouth and down your throat.
Your eyes widen and the younger brunette gasps at the feeling of you tightening around her cock. She groans, her hips aching and burning as she moves.
You gulp down the cum shot down your throat, your eyes closed and lips shut tightly around the wet cock.
When it slips from you, you gasp for breath. You still taste it on your tongue, and feel as if it still sticks to the back of your throat.
You shriek when Donna pushes you backwards, Cassandra’s low and surprised gasp husky in your ear.
You shiver as you feel her sink deeper inside of you, your ass pushed up against her after being pushed in her lap.
Donna cups your jaw, as though loving as her fingers slide over Cassandra’s.
“Mhmm….exquisite…”
You shiver, your mouth at last clasping shut when your jaw is let go of.
You gasp when the fingers at your hips dig in harsher, Cassandra’s lips attached to your neck once again as she forces your body up and down on her. She groans, her body practically thrumming with want, her cock twitching and dripping precum inside.
You feel Donna tugging down your dress at the top and blush lightly at the feel of the fabric being pulled down and your breast being exposed to the warm air of the room.
For a moment, you believe you are granted a break. Then, Cassandra’s hips snap up again, and you’re rocked in her lap with every thrust deep inside of you.
“A-Ah, Cass!”, you shriek at a particularly hard thrust upwards.
Your breasts bounce freely, your nipples captured by skilled fingers. Donna breathes lowly, her cock nearly erect once again at the arousing sight of Cassandra’s cock inside of you. Equally, she watches your wetness drip down to her base and to her balls.
As the rough use of your body continues, you feel yourself nearing your orgasm faster and faster. You’re shaking and shivering, your hands digging into the soft skin at Donna’s hips.
You hiss when cold, precise fingers grope your dangling breasts, squeezing and tugging, pushing them up against one another.
You feel her cock slide up between them, the muscle slick with drool and cum. When you look up, you’re met with a dark, nearly entirely black eye staring down at you hungrily.
Your thighs shake and your eyes struggle to stay open, each thrust into you and between your breasts making you feel more and more riled up.
You understand, this is how riled up they must have been from your constant teasing throughout the day.
Your eyes squeeze shut when Cassandra’s lips push up against your ear, her voice almost soft and hushed in your ear.
“Do you want to cum, morsel?”, she teases, a sly smirk displayed on her lips.
You nod fast, your mouth dry and your pussy sore as it grips her and coats her in more and more cream and wetness.
Judging by the laughter coming from both women, you can tell this won’t do at all.
You attempt to catch your breath, your moans turning to little whimpers as you struggle out: “Ple-ease le-t me cu-cum, Mis-tress”, you beg, your head thrown back against her shoulder.
More breathless laughter and coos come from them.
You feel Cassandra’s nails in you, her hips bucking up at an almost punishing pace. Your orgasm is near, and you know, theirs is too.
Breathless moans and little “Ah!”’s slip from you, your hands moving to cling to Donna’s thighs instead.
You feel the soft, olive skin beneath your fingertips and almost become more aware of the harder, pale skin underneath you.
When your nipples are tugged and teased, you feel yourself nearly topple over the edge.
“Please! Ple-eaAAh! Please!”, you beg, your dry throat burning with the strain to bring out your words.
You’re met with moans and hums, kisses and groping hands. When they both kiss their way to your lips, you feel a breathy permission whispered against them.
You don’t need to be told twice at all, your body spasming and your pussy tightening around Cassandra. You feel her deep within you and as you scream your release, you feel Donna’s thick cum slap against your chest.
You smile as you pant, your chest heaving and thighs shaking when Cassandra pulls out enough to cover your ass cheeks as she too reaches her high.
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Trouble
Warnings: smut in later chapters, fem reader, swearing, suggestive themes. Not beta read. Reader is a vet/vet medic
Thank you for over 100 followers. Honestly, I only started writing fics for my own self-indulgence. I decided to share them with my fellow degenerates, and it seems that some of you like them, so here's the first small chapter to my new one. ❤️
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Levi opens the door abruptly, making you jump. You pout at him playfully. "You scared me!" He narrows his eyes at you, "It's late," he says sternly. "What do you want?" He asks. You roll your eyes and walk into his office as he closes the door behind you both. Placing a pile of reports on his desk, you reply to his question, "The shitty reports you asked for that took me all evening." You complain. "And I know you never sleep, but shouldn't you be trying to get your three hours in?" You tease.
Levi smirks at your response. "Ah, yes. I did ask for those reports. Thank you." Taking a seat at his desk and giving a quick glance at the reports before looking back at you.
"And not right now." He places the reports aside and crosses his arms. "I have things to take care of that require my attention." His eyes then shift to you, "Speaking of attention, what else do you want?" His tone softening just a bit with a playful edge.
He respects your work. You are always efficient in what you do, which is why he often lets your tone and lack of respect towards him slide. Although you're not one of his direct subordinates, he still entertains more of your playful personality than he would tolerate from anyone else.
Truthfully, hiring a veterinary medic was one of Hanges more practical ideas. Having someone at the headquarters to provide and teach appropriate health care for the horses had saved a lot of money while costing very little to hire you. The overall survival rate of horses was much improved now that the soldiers knew better basic first aid, and the horses could return to headquarters for more appropriate treatment if they survived. Many of their losses weren't necessarily due to being directly crushed or eaten by Titans, but many surviving horses would die of injuries and infections upon the journey or arriving home. Your knowledge and skill had meant more horses were surviving out on the front lines and being able to recover when they returned. The cost of constantly replacing horses was drastically reduced. So even if he hadn't been on instructions to be on his best behaviour, what you brought to the regiment had genuinely earned his respect. Not only were you an intelligent woman, but you were downright infuriating. That sassy attitude, the playful humour you brought wherever you went and yet when necessary, you were stern, professional, and eloquent. It had made you popular amongst the regiment. And Levi wasn't immune. He really couldn't resist your charms. But God did he want to fuck that smart mouth of yours quiet sometimes.
Levi is taken from his thoughts when you reply, pouting. "You made such a big fucking deal about these reports that I've spent all evening making sure they were done, I would like to have had a hot bath and maybe read a book."
Levi rolls his eyes at your playful pout. "Well, since you are already here, you might as well stay and assist me with some paperwork," he says with a soft chuckle. He then proceeds to tidy his desk, placing the reports you brought in the correct pile and placing a smaller pile opposite him for you to work on.
"It shouldn't take too long and then you can go and have your well-deserved hot bath, princess." he adds with a smirk.
You bring your hand to your hips. "Either you're trying to torture me or just want an excuse to spend more time with me." You tease, taking a seat across from him. This kind of banter was the norm between the both of you, but he was much more receptive when it was behind closed doors.
A small smirk forms on Levi's lips, "You caught me," he replies sarcastically before he continues reading and signing paperwork.
You too glance over some of the papers and organise them into appropriate piles for him, "Busy day?" You ask, trying to spark some conversation.
"Just the usual," Levi says, his voice monotone as he signs the paperwork. "Paperwork, training, and keeping the brats in check." He pauses for a moment before looking back up at you. "Speaking of training, we'll have to arrange for another session soon." You grimace at his words. He insisted on the occasional sparring session to keep your self-defence up to scratch. "I'm not a fighter, levi. You beat the shit out of me every time, and even then, I know you're going soft on me." You groan playfully, "Literally everyone comes to watch me get beaten up." While you felt like he was trying to make your life difficult with these training sessions, it actually came from a place of care. He wanted you to be able to defend yourself.
Levi leans back in his seat, "You know I only do it to make you stronger," he says with a small grin. "And as for the spectators, what can I do? You're quite popular among the ranks." He then pauses for a moment before adding, "But I can always arrange for a more private session if that's what you prefer." His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. A flirtatious exchange wasn't uncommon for the two of you, but how you fucking wished he would make good on the things he said.
You were instantly drawn to his suggestion and change in demeanour. "Oh yeah? And do you often give people private training sessions?" You say raising an eyebrow.
Levi chuckles softly, "You know I don't," he replies, his expression softening just a bit. "But for you, I can make an exception." He then shifts his gaze to the paperwork in front of him, pushing aside the distracting thoughts. "Anyway, you're distracting me," he says, beginning to sift through the papers again. But it's too late, your interest has been piqued, "Maybe that's not such a bad idea. What would we be working on during those sessions?" You ask, wanting to keep pressing the new suggestion.
Levi gives you a small, subtle smirk. "Hmm, we could work on whatever you feel you need improvement on," he says. "Maybe your form or your speed," he suggests. Almost throwing you into thinking you had misinterpreted his earlier tone. Before he follows up with a hint of mischief, "But whatever we work on, you can be sure that I'll push you to your limits."
You smirk in response, "Who knows, captain, maybe I'll push you to yours."
Levi smirks at your flirtatious comment and arches an eyebrow in amusement, "Is that so?" he replies in a teasing tone, his smirk widening. "I highly doubt that." He then leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "But I won't deny that I would enjoy the challenge." You mimic his movements, leaning forward in response, and meeting his gaze, "Oh I'm sure you would."
Levi's eyes linger on yours for a moment, studying your playful expression. "You're trouble," he says in a low voice before leaning back in his seat. "But I have to admit, I rather enjoy it." He then picks up a pen and begins scribbling on the papers in front of him, his mind wandering as he tries to suppress the arousal between his legs, relieved there's a desk inbetween the two of you.
"So I've been told," you reply playfully, finishing up the last of the papers he gave you to organise, giving you both a few moments of silence before you speak up again. "Do you think your private training session with a troublesome girl like me would whip me into shape?" You ask him seductively, being determined to see how far you can push him, having taken note of the tensing of his shoulders and how he occasionally bites his lip.
Levi finishes his scribbling, taking a deep breath as he places the pen he's gripping down before looking up at you. "Not a chance," he replies, his tone firm but playful. "But perhaps it would tire you out enough to be a good girl for at least a little while," he adds with a smirk of his own.
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