#7750

[every-tome]

[pesterloglog]

Dave Strider, Dirk Strider

Act 6, page 7748-7756

DAVE: ok actually maybe i will get into it

DAVE: i dunno why my friends got to have adults around who cared about them

DAVE: they complained bitterly about stuff so i guess i convinced myself they were all in the same boat as me

DAVE: but thats not how it was

DAVE: their complaints were trumped up nonsense and i bought it cause... i dunno

DAVE: i didnt have any frame of reference

DAVE: but his dad and her mom no matter what they said it was so obvious they cared about them deeply

DAVE: even jades weird fuckin grandpa who died when she was young obviously would have done anything for her

DAVE: why did i get such a raw cut of the asshole deck

DAVE: and why did it take me so long to figure that out

DAVE: and like hes dead now so thats that

DAVE: so all thats left to do is look back and try to put the pieces together of my first 13 years

DAVE: and all i can think is what the fuck WAS that?!

DAVE: i dont come away with the impression i used to try convincing myself of, that he was like "mysterious" or "stern" or "aloof"

DAVE: the only feeling left is this insane impression that i was raised by somebody who fuckin HATED me

DAVE: and the whole act of even "raising a child" was some totally fucked up game to him

DAVE: like parenthood was one of the highest tiers of irony in his solemn bullshit bro-ninja code

DAVE: so he went through those motions and did whatever he thought was "funny" or "badass"

DAVE: but under that weird stylistic and totally sociopathic approach to parenting i cant even IMAGINE there was any emotion toward me other than some sort of loathing

DIRK: What...

DIRK: Did he do?

DAVE: i dont want to get out the laundry list

DAVE: but for reference laundry wasnt one of those things

DAVE: that was just one of the many little domestic things i just had to sort of FIGURE OUT

DAVE: sorta like i eventually had to learn what the REAL purpose of a refridgerator was from movies

DIRK: Wait.

DIRK: What??

DAVE: i dunno theres too much to even get into

DAVE: just

DAVE: i dont remember the atmosphere ever not being nerve wracking

DAVE: all havin to sneak around and...

DAVE: ugh my shitty childhood spider senses are tinglin just thinking about it

DAVE: it was "training" you know

DAVE: but you know what it really was it was some vicious shit that was bad and sucked and i hated it

DAVE: it didnt make me stronger

DAVE: it did the opposite

DAVE: it made me never want to fight

DAVE: it made me never want to see blood or be near danger or hear metal sounds

DAVE: it made me hate the idea of being a hero cause he was a hero and he ruined the idea of heroism

DAVE: i dont even want to be fighting this shitty version of jack but hey nobody else has secret welsh powers so i guess i have to

DIRK: ...

DAVE: what gets me is how long it took me to put all this together

DAVE: to stop seeing it as some kinda roughhousey and eccentric life i had but was otherwise normal

DAVE: it took years to deconstruct it all and put it back together to understand how fuckin mad i should be

DAVE: and in particular how stone cold deeply uncared for i was my whole life

DAVE: like... being merely "monitored" by a violent robot

DAVE: i only started getting it after spending a lot of time in person with a bunch of people who actually did care about me

DAVE: and i could start feeling like

DAVE: actually somewhat human for the first time

DAVE: instead of...

DAVE: some sort of runty afterthought to a household cabal of smutty puppets

DIRK: ... Puppets?

DAVE: the fuckin puppets!!!

DAVE: i know how it sounds but i am NOT joking and there is NO shred of doubt in my mind that he loved all those puppets more than me

DAVE: honestly it is very possible that he was just insane and thats that

DAVE: i guess it didnt help either that we lived with what we have come to understand may theoretically be the most evil doll to exist in any universe ever

DAVE: in fact its my tenuous understanding that he came down to earth with that thing and like actually grew up with it

DAVE: maybe...

DAVE: maybe spending 30 some years being unseparable from that hell puppet had some effect on him??

DAVE: maybe if it hadnt been casting a pall over our apartment 24/7 since he took me in...

DAVE: grinning...

DAVE: glaring...

DAVE: laughing in my sleep...

DAVE: maybe our lives wouldnt have been quite so...

DAVE: maybe we would have...

DAVE: ugh

DIRK: What?

DIRK: You ok there?

DAVE: .....

DAVE: .....

DAVE: yeah

DIRK: That doll.

DIRK: That was Cal, right?

DAVE: yeah

DIRK: Right.

DIRK: My version is "empty", apparently.

DIRK: Whatever that means.

DAVE: huh

DAVE: how do you know that

DIRK: A source.

DIRK: One supposedly knowledgeable in jujus.

DIRK: I never quite knew what that meant, though.

DAVE: well

DAVE: whatever his was

DAVE: "empty" is never how i would have described it

DIRK: Hmm.

DAVE: man

DAVE: i dunno if i figured something out here

DAVE: like um "explained" something or

DAVE: if im just driving myself crazy with this talk and nothing even needs explaining

DAVE: it doesnt change my past or how i feel about him

DAVE: he was still pretty much awful no matter what the reason

DAVE: and im sure thats the only feeling ill ever have about him

DAVE: so who cares why it was like that

DIRK: Yeah...

DIRK: That...

DIRK: All sounds really bad.

DIRK: I don't know what to say though.

DIRK: Maybe I shouldn't say anything.

DIRK: Since I just remind you so much of him, for, uh. Obvious reasons.

DIRK: I don't want to make you feel worse, or make it sound like I'm offering a defense.

DIRK: For him, or me.

DIRK: Because I don't have one.

DIRK: For either of us.

DAVE: come on man

DAVE: YOU didnt do anything

DAVE: this was just some douche bag with your exact dna, who happened to grow up to be my bro

DAVE: you had a completely different life full of like

DAVE: different choices and actions and stuff

DAVE: and even if you were gonna turn out like him youve barely cleared the half way mark on actually chronologically gettin there

DAVE: in some way ranting about all this is probably just uncool of me because...

DAVE: you arent him

DAVE: youre not resposible for any of this shit but im sorta implicitly tacking it on you anyway

DAVE: so

DAVE: sorry about that

DIRK: I'm not sure it's true though.

DIRK: At least, I don't feel that way.

DAVE: what way

DIRK: That I'm not him.

DIRK: The fact is, I am.

DIRK: It's something I've come to understand about myself.

DIRK: All splinters of me are basically me, no matter how much I want to resist that truth.

DIRK: Or pretend they aren't reflecting my own qualities back at me.

DIRK: I bear a certain responsibility for all of them.

DAVE: splinters...?

DIRK: Yeah.

DIRK: I guess the concept isn't that unique to me.

DIRK: We've all got other versions of ourselves running around here and there, throughout the various compartments of this messed up cosmos.

DAVE: right

DIRK: I just happen to be particularly connected to mine.

DIRK: I've felt...

DIRK: Haunted by them.

DIRK: And what that really means is, I'm perpetually haunted by my own bad qualities.

DIRK: So, when I hear about stuff I did in another reality,

DIRK: I'm not sure what my adult self might have ever tried to do to atone for that stuff, if anything...

DAVE: pretty much dick squat

DIRK: Yeah. But in any case,

DIRK: I'm sure I was completely in the wrong, and I'm sorry I messed up your life.

DAVE: ...

DAVE: thanks

DAVE: but

DAVE: it still feels a little odd accepting an apology from somebody who i just met and technically had nothing to do with my life

DAVE: even if you do feel guilty splinterways or whatever

DAVE: it is just a messed up situation

DAVE: and i guess i had to vent

DAVE: and there was never anyone i wanted to say all that to

DAVE: and the only thing that was gonna drag it out of me i guess was like a teen stand-in phantom of my dead bro

DAVE: just some perfectly innocent dude havin to take the brunt of this shit

DIRK: I'm not particularly innocent though.

DIRK: I've messed a lot of things up.

DIRK: With my friends.

DIRK: Honestly, that's why I wasn't that bent on sticking around, when I showed up.

DIRK: And pretty much jumped at the offer of flying here to get ready for some yet to be explained battle.

DIRK: Battles are easy. Just you, a sword, some bad guys... it's a lot simpler than having to answer for things you did.

DIRK: For the most part, I feel pretty bad about the role I played in my friends' lives.

DIRK: Especially Jake.

DAVE: what happened there

DIRK: I don't even know.

DIRK: An unmitigated disaster for which I'm entirely to blame.

DIRK: It's not any one thing. I think I was just a completely toxic element in his life from day one.

DIRK: I don't know what he's doing now.

DIRK: I wouldn't be surprised if he was trying to avoid me as much as possible.

DIRK: I'm sure that's for the best.

DIRK: I think I need to stay out of his business for a good while, so I don't risk poisoning another innocent kid's life.

DIRK: Like I did with you, apparently.

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: i mean

DAVE: maybe its a little different cause relations between peers is a whole other thing

DAVE: its tricky shit and youre both figuring stuff out on a relatively equal footing and youre both at the same point in your lives

DAVE: its not like when one person is older and supposed to be a lot more...

DAVE: never mind this is a fucked up thing to think about

DAVE: but the bottom line is yeah laying low while you sort out your stuff cant hurt

DIRK: Right.

DIRK: The thing with that, with my adult self's...

DIRK: Ways.

DIRK: The sad thing is,

DIRK: I can really see it.

DIRK: How someone like me can go unchecked in life, and turn out to become a much worse person than I already am.

DIRK: I guess I'm just relieved I still have some time to make sure that doesn't happen.

DAVE: you dont actually seem like a bad person to me though

DIRK: No?

DAVE: nah

DIRK: Why not?

DIRK: We did just meet, after all.

DAVE: because

DAVE: i dunno if truly bad people wrestle so much with whether theyre good or bad

DAVE: i think if i ever sensed my bro like

DAVE: struggled at all with what he was doing or who he was

DAVE: or showed any sort of doubt

DAVE: that might have changed everything

DAVE: but there was never a crack in it

DAVE: or the slightest hint of introspection behind the aggressive cooldude facade

DAVE: if there was i sure never noticed

DAVE: i mean personally

DAVE: i think about it all the time now

DAVE: what it actually means to be good or bad

DAVE: or if not something that starkly moral

DAVE: at least just trying to examine the difference between being decent and being a douche

DAVE: maybe its because of him i worry about that now

DAVE: but for me i think that internal struggle is kind of mild

DAVE: for him...

DAVE: or you i mean

DAVE: it sounds like some pretty dark shit

DAVE: like grappling with...

DAVE: becoming evil vs simply trying not to

DIRK: Yeah.

DIRK: That's not too far off.

DAVE: but the point is

DAVE: even just talkin to you a little bit

DAVE: its obvious youve been fighting with that

DAVE: which means that you care enough to put in some effort

DAVE: i think that counts for something

DIRK: Maybe.

DIRK: Not sure if I'm ready to accept a pat on the back for recognizing I have some problems, and worrying about whether they'll destroy me and fuck up the people I care about.

DIRK: That might be setting the bar kind of low.

DAVE: well when it comes to the subject of him

DAVE: the bars already pretty low dude

DIRK: The weird thing, honestly,

DIRK: Is that it's actually kind of refeshing to hear a sincerely leveled critique of all my negative qualities, coming from another person invested in a relationship with me, rather than from a fucked up iteration of myself as some bizarre "trollish" form of self abuse.

DIRK: The only thing I've ever been exposed to are either various forms of self loathing either from me or my auto-responder, or attitudes completely oblivious to my real issues, as expressed through my friends.

DIRK: My friends always seemed to cut me so much slack, or were just never aware of the kind of person I really was.

DIRK: Well, Jake probably is, by now at least.

DIRK: But he's also the sort of guy who's just as likely to blame himself for stuff I did, as he is to blame me.

DIRK: Jane and Roxy, though.

DIRK: Never seemed to see anything wrong with me.

DIRK: If anything, just the contrary.

DIRK: Roxy in particular had a certain... fixation.

DIRK: She meant well, but was so enamored of me, and seemingly everything I did.

DIRK: Which I think was the last thing I needed.

DIRK: To be idolized in some form by other people I respected.

DIRK: I had enough of that feeling coming from within, particularly when I was younger.

DIRK: And since then, I've been plagued by the insane ego of my youth in the form of an artificial intelligence I designed which essentially trapped that state of mind in a sort of horrid suspended animation.

DIRK: Until... recent developments, of course.

DAVE: so

DAVE: was that stuff true

DAVE: when you said you idolized the other version of me

DIRK: Yeah.

DAVE: and not just some bullshit like how i used to say the same thing about my bro when i didnt know any better

DIRK: It's definitely not like that.

DIRK: I never lived with him, or met him, so couldn't have anything like the contentious relationship you had with my older self.

DIRK: He was a historical figure from centuries ago.

DIRK: There was a lot to admire, and think about fondly.

DIRK: Especially since I was alone, and never had any direct contact with another person, or any concept of civilization.

DIRK: So even though I'm sure I romanticized what his life was like, and the early 21st century in general,

DIRK: It was nice to think about you.

DIRK: I passed a lot of time that way.

DAVE: you say there was a lot to admire

DAVE: like what

DIRK: Well...

DIRK: He was pretty famous.

DIRK: Made some successful movies.

DIRK: At least under a somewhat expansive definition of "success".

DIRK: And an even more expansive definition of "movie".

DIRK: His work accumulated a lot of subversive political influence, which got him in trouble later.

DIRK: He made like a million bullshit Statues of Liberty, scummed them up with jpeg artifacts, and littered them all over the planet.

DAVE: holy shit

DIRK: He was also a pretty badass swordsman, and an active member of the resistance movement.

DIRK: He slaughtered the clown presidents on the roof of the White House, and flew away on a shitty skateboard.

DIRK: Then it seems he gave the Batterwitch a pretty good run for her money.

DIRK: It wasn't enough, but at least he went down fighting.

DAVE: that

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: ima need to hear more details on this some time

DIRK: Sure.

DIRK: But as you can tell, clearly there was a lot to look up to.

DIRK: I thought about the examples you set constantly. The creative ideals, the advanced theories on irony and humor, the tales of courage and martial prowess.

DIRK: Really, I modeled everything about myself after you. Or at least everything good that I was trying to become.

DIRK: And I probably spent an embarrassing amount of time imagining what it would be like to live during his time, and to be able to have something resembling a sibling relationship, or be in some sort of master-apprentice situation.

DIRK: When I finally learned you existed, and started to understand who he really was in relation to me, that put a lot into context.

DIRK: I realized he was a version of you who got a chance to live up to his full potential.

DIRK: And when I understood there was a young version of you, in a situation sorta like mine, whose time on Earth got cut short when you were thrown into all this,

DIRK: I was at least happy to think there was some reality where you got the chance to do everything you wanted to do, be successful, and fight for all the right things.

DIRK: Even if ultimately it didn't lead to a great outcome for humanity, you had an opportunity to live a full life and show what you were made of.

DIRK: While I guess I had... the same opportunity on your world, somewhat less fortunately.

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: but then for all my bitching i guess i still never grasped your full reality

DAVE: just like you probably didnt grasp mine, but just reading into the mindset of a historical figure as best you could

DAVE: what if i wasnt as heroic as it seemed?

DAVE: what if adult me was kinda douchey too in a way you couldnt observe

DIRK: Perhaps.

DIRK: But beyond a certain point, I think accomplishments speak for themselves.

DIRK: I dunno if you can just completely shred every person who ever did great things because they had some flaws.

DIRK: All I can say is, it was important to me to see him the way I did.

DIRK: As a good person who inspired me, and set the standard for what I wanted to be.

DIRK: It kept me going.

DIRK: That said, I'm also glad there's this version of you who got to go through all the things you've been through.

DIRK: Like, yeah, you didn't get to be the cool celebrity who cuts down juggalos on badly defaced government property.

DIRK: And the idea of a "normal life" was rudely taken from you, and it's something you'll never get to experience.

DIRK: But this is so much more challenging, and uncertain.

DIRK: You get to apply all that potential you showed in one reality to something much bigger and more existentially critical.

DIRK: Whatever strength you showed in trying to save a dying planet, the fact is, I think we need that more here.

DIRK: And the trials inherent in being a part of something like this, I think they bring more out of you than a relatively pedestrian life on Earth would. Make you face more things about yourself. At least, that's been true for me.

DIRK: But it sounds like it's been true for you too.

DIRK: It sounds to me like the experiences you've had changed you a lot, for the better.

DIRK: You mentioned the experiences with him that were designed to make you stronger have actually made you weaker, but really, I doubt that's true.

DIRK: I bet you've become stronger than you realize, not because of anything he did, but because of what you've done, and the ways you've changed yourself through your own effort.

DIRK: I hope it doesn't come off as overly sentimental garbage, but it seems to me like you turned out to be a really good dude.

DIRK: Like, really, a better sort of dude I ever imagined talking to when I pictured meeting the legendary guy I idolized.

DIRK: I pictured him as probably being "too cool" to be the type of guy you are.

DIRK: But you know what, fuck being too cool for that.

DAVE: ...

DAVE: you

DAVE: ...

DAVE: ...

DAVE: ...

DAVE: you dont think im cool?

DIRK: Nah.

DIRK: I mean, in the right way, yes. I think you are.

DIRK: But, in the way that doesn't mean anything and doesn't matter,

DIRK: Not particularly.

DAVE: ...

DIRK: Anyway, that's...

DIRK: All my "stuff", with respect to your other self.

DIRK: Again, there's a lot more I could say about him.

DIRK: Maybe stuff you should know, or maybe it's all irrelevant to the path you're on now.

DIRK: Regardless, I'd be more than willing to answer any questions you have about him.

DIRK: Or, anything really.

DIRK: Feel free to ask me whatever, ok?

DAVE: ...

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: i

DAVE: ill have to think

[technikki]

norman in. my likes

[size-two-shrimp]

It's almost been a year since I started writing for ULTRAKILL.

[thandouniverse]

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[spookyfoxdreamer]

[lovegetfashiongoods]

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[astrometrych]

Astronomy #Space #Espace #Astrometry

[sweetsouthernthing94]

lovely lips how about another one, juicy and wet

Maybe at 8 or 9k lol

[howlingrush-krp]

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⇨ Choi Soobin — TXT { alpha }

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[skzdarlings]

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 2/2

masterlist.

PART 2/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. cat-and-mouse. dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. brat tamer!felix and brat!reader. everything that transpires is fully consensual with implied conversations on kink preferences, and an established colour safeword system before the scene. that being said, they still get a lil kinky. please heed the following content warnings: fear kink/cnc, hiding, chasing, lots and lots of dirty talk, fingering, blow jobs, face fucking, throat fucking, a little bit of crying, penetrative sex. (protected but dirty talk like it's not.)

(chapter word count: 7750 words.)

enjoy! <3

-

The gentlest nip of a summer breeze moves through the settling blue darkness.  Everything feels romantic.  Everything except the handcuffs chaining you to Felix,  Security Guard of the Year, Man of the People, and Defender of Propriety and Pop Star Penis.   

Felix does not look at you as he drags you away from the stadium.  He smiles sweetly at passersby, doing his best to hide the handcuffs no thanks to your flamboyant gesticulations, but it dissolves again to that grim, determined countenance. 

Felix has an interesting face, so many sharp lines, but the overall effect is somehow delicate.  A body of contradictions, slender but strong, a stark masculinity rippling beneath the glittery prettiness he happily indulges in.  Blue hair should not look that good on anyone, but you doubt anything could make him look bad.  He sparkles like the glitter star on his cheek. 

You poke that cheek.  A muscle in his jaw twitches.  He looks at you sideways, all pretty brown eyes and a constellation of even prettier freckles.  

“Do not,” he says. 

“Do not what?”

“Just. Do not.” 

You obey his demand for silence.  For about six seconds. 

“So how long have you been a security guard?” you ask amiably. 

“You’re really trying to have a normal conversation with me,” he says.  “Now? After that introduction?”

“I prefer the term meet-cute.”

“We wrestled on the ground then you handcuffed us together and threw away the key—”

“Adorable.”

“Right.” He picks up his speed.  You could easily keep pace but you decide to stagger along like he is too fast for you, whining as he drags you behind him.  Felix sighs but slows his pace.  To your surprise, he answers your question.  “A month,” he says.  “I’ve been working there a month.” 

“And you’re already gunning for CEO,” you say.  “Considering how dedicated you are to bringing justice—”

He slams to a stop.  Your chain jingles when you collide, hands smacking together.  He faces you. Wisps of blue escape from his half-ponytail to dance across his face.   

“I already told you,” he says.  “My job is checking tickets.  Chasing you down was my personal pleasure.”

“You’re a sick bastard,” you say.   

He smiles.  It is a gentle smile, seemingly sympathetic out of nowhere, his eyes softening with the lift of his brow.  He has an uncanny ability to make softness more threatening than roughness. It gives you a shiver. 

“Let me guess,” he says.  “You don’t have a job, do you, sweetheart?  You can’t hold one down.  You don’t know how. Your parents have money and it’s nice, sure, but they were overbearing your whole childhood, weren’t they?  Until one day they decided you were grown and just stopped caring.  And now you’re out in the world with no more rules and you don’t know how to deal with it.  Except by acting out.  It’s fun, right?  Looking for trouble.  Makes you feel something for a minute.  Because even though you have everyone fooled into thinking you’re this wild and carefree person, you’re locked up inside.  You’re not scared of consequences because you’re already trapped.  Oh, uhh, stop me if I’m getting cold, yeah?”

You just stare as he blithely runs his pretty mouth. 

“You don’t really care about the prize, it’s just about the chase,” he continues.  “You told me I was a good boy, yeah?  Your words.  And you think you’re bad.  A bad, bad girl,” his deep voice drops even more, like the heavy-handed thud of a low blow, striking some place intimate inside you, “but that’s not really true, is it?” 

He smiles that particular smile again, full of affection and tenderness, an expression that is completely alien to your brash and aggressive nature. 

“Deep, deep down, you just want to be good,” he says.  “But you need to earn it to enjoy it, don’t you?  You need someone to tell you that you can, that it’s okay.  But you don’t make it easy.  And you’ve been running for so long, you probably can’t even remember how it feels when someone cares enough to catch you.” 

You suddenly feel the weight of the handcuffs. You expected this dull pretty boy to have a hidden mean streak to rival your own, not for him to blast through your barriers and drag your innermost thoughts to the surface.  To say nothing of his perfect speculation on your background. 

“So what, you’re some kind of stalker with a philosophy major?” you ask. 

He is still smiling. 

He laughs, a low chuckle.  He looks like a star, glittering silver and blue in the moonlight. 

“No, I’m not,” he says.  “I’m just the same as you.  Vexatious, apparently, because I’m all smiles all the time.  Just so good, you know?”  He is almost theatrical in tone.   “Of course, that’s technically the opposite of you.  Isn’t it?” 

When you don’t answer, he touches your chin, just his fingertips.  It is still enough to guide your face to his, locking eyes. 

“I said, isn’t it?” he asks, his tone sharper. 

If he is insinuating that you are only pretending to be bad, then that means he is only pretending to be good.  If you are secretly good, then he is secretly—

His mouth hovers close to yours.  He abruptly steps back. 

Oh.  You blink quickly.  Yes.  Of course.  It is always the real bad boys who take care to be good, isn’t it?  He does not need to flaunt it.  He can just smile at you. 

“Come on,” he says, interlocking your fingers with his.  He tugs you along, humming to himself as he leads you down the street.  So seemingly innocent.  Grinning to himself like the cheshire cat. 

You stare at those freckles, the glitter stars, his dimples. 

A vexatious vixen, indeed.

“So that Jisung guy,” you say. “The one who gave you these handcuffs.  He thinks you’re a nice guy who needs some adventure in his life.  It was just a prank gift and he thought he was being funny.”

“Yup,” Felix says, popping the sound.

“Little does he know you’re actually some sick and twisted pervert,” you say.

“Tsk,” he says, looking at you with a cheeky grin, as if to say what a silly girl you are.  “I’m not sick.  See, unlike you who bothers everyone whether they like or not, I only chase the ones who like to run.  Twisted, on the other hand… well…” 

The handcuffs jingle, strung around your joined hands like the red string of fate.  You look at each other, starlight on your faces, a noisy arena behind you and a game ahead of you. 

You smile back at him. 

You still intend to win.

-

It is a twenty minute walk.  Your conversation weaves around implications, some very forthright flirtations, and a couple scandalizing explanations.  Despite his previous goading, Felix is far more reserved in his desires.  He blinks when you describe a very dirty scenario and get detailed.   Very, very detailed.   

“Um, right,” he says.  “Fun as that sounds, I’m pretty sure that constitutes as a human rights violation.”

“So?”

“I, uhh, prefer to do things that don’t get me put on an Interpol watch list.” 

“Coward.”

You nonetheless accept this and describe a totally different scenario.  He looks a little wan. 

“Where would I get a rocket launcher?” he asks when you are finished. 

“I dunno, get creative.  My friend Seungmin once—oh shit, my friends!”

“Wait, huh?  Your friend Seungmin has a rocket launcher…?”

You take out your phone to find a gathering collection of texts from Seungmin and Minho, ranging from teasing you about losing your touch to asking if you got arrested and they need to bail you out.  Your friends are a nightmare which is why you like them, but they always get you out of trouble in the end. 

You confirm you are safe, that you already left, and that you are trying to have sex with a hot, insane, kinky sadist of a security guard.  

“You know I can read everything you are typing right now,” Felix says.  “I am standing right beside you.  You’re typing with a hand literally attached to mine.”

“Well, mind your own business.”  You do not bother hiding your texts. 

“You are giving them my name and address,” Felix replies.  “It sounds like my business.” 

“Well, it’s not.  We’ve already established the world revolves around me.  You’re the supporting character, pal.” 

“Right,” he says.  He blinks at the screen.  In a more serious voice, he asks, “Do you want the postal code too?” 

It never hurts to be thorough.  You type the address and send it to the boys. 

Good thing you waxed, Seungmin writes. 

Felix squints at the screen and tilts his head like a curious cat.  “You waxed for a concert?” he asks, giving you a once-over.  “What did you think was gonna—”

“I am prepared for every eventuality,” you interrupt.  “It’s why I always win.”

He holds up your handcuffed wrists and cocks an eyebrow.  “Is this what you call winning?” he asks. 

You smirk, your whole expression bright despite the suggestive wiggling of your eyebrows.  “Matter of opinion, I suppose,” you say.  “And my opinion is the only one that matters.” 

“Right,” he says, forcing a frown.  Despite his efforts, a smile is tugging at his lips.  He suffices to roll his eyes and march ahead, yanking you along behind him.  “Come on,” he says.  “We’re almost there.”  

Once your friends have your information, you put your phone in your little purse.  You turn the corner and find yourself looking at an absolutely gorgeous house.  Your jaw drops as Felix leads you up the driveway.  It is an ostentatious design to say the least.  You pass a gate mounted with two lion statues.  

“Not my style,” he says when you gawk at the stone kitties.  “This place belongs to my parents.  They usually rent it out but they let me live here while I go to school.” 

“So you weren’t kidding,” you say, a funny sensation in your chest and stomach.  “About your background, I mean.  You and me really are alike.” 

You realize the sensation in your chest is an inkling of feelings.  Genuine, heart-felt, soul-stirring feelings. You look at Felix and see a lot of yourself, though he is like a mirror version, exactly the same and completely the opposite.  It makes you huff, holding a hand to your stomach like you can control the butterflies there. 

“What’s wrong?” Felix asks, pausing at the front door. 

“When was the last time you had a feeling?” you ask.

“A… feeling?” he asks.  He stands silent for a long moment.  When he realizes you are not going to elaborate, he asks, “What kind of feeling?”

“Just a feeling,” you say.  “You know.” 

“Uhh.”  He blinks quickly.  “I have feelings all the time.  Every day.”

“Wow,” you say.  “That sounds exhausting.  Explains a lot about you.” 

“All right.”  He shakes his head.  He reaches into his back pocket and fishes out a set of house keys, twirling them around his fingers until he finds the right one. 

“Wouldn’t it be funny if I threw those keys too?” you ask.

He gives you an exasperated look.  You grin.

With a shake of his head, he sighs and unlocks the door.  The foyer lights flicker to life and the house alarm starts ringing.  It gives you a punch of adrenaline which has the predictable effect of getting your blood pumping.  Your body does not know the difference between fear and desire.  You have only been here two seconds but you are already licking your lips. 

Felix is none-the-wiser.  He flips open the alarm panel and punches in a code.  It beeps and goes quiet.   You look at each other in the soft golden glow of the foyer lamplight.  He still looks stupidly pretty, blue hair and glitter, sleeveless shirt and jeans.  Unassuming, gentle, sweet.  Not at all like he could throw you over his shoulder or manhandle you in the grass.  But he can.  He did.

“Come on,” he says, tugging on the chain between you. 

You feign disinterest but your eyes scour his space.  You pass through the kitchen where there is an array of baking utensils drying in the dishes rack.  The entire kitchen is clearly maintained with great care.  The rest of the space is a little chaotic, shelves and desks and units overflowing with technological equipment that you can neither recognize nor name. 

“I build computers,” he says, catching you staring at the pile of miscellaneous parts.  “Sorry for the mess.  I wasn’t expecting company.” 

This is uttered dryly and you wave it away.  You do not want to admit you find it somewhat endearing.  Your hobbies primarily consist of keeping the local PD on their toes, but you appreciate the practice of a craft.  It only adds another layer to this weird dude, pretty but athletic but intelligent but ridiculous but charming but geeky.  And just as competitive and crazy and freaky as you. 

“Bedroom’s this way,” he says.  “And, uh, don’t get any ideas.” 

“Too late,” you answer, though truthfully your filthier fantasies are fracturing in wake of the reality of him.  The computers, the baking tools, the wall of games and consoles, collectible toys and ughhh why did he have to be kind of adorable and secretly have a personality.  Mutual objectification is more your style.  Not quivering under a gentle touch and feeling… feelings. 

“You look like you are thinking way too hard,” Felix says, pausing at his bedroom door.  “It’s freaky.” 

“Not thinking anything,” you say, because you are too busy feeling to be thinking.  Ugh.   You shake it off and push open his bedroom door. 

He shakes his head and leads you in.  He has a pretty elaborate gaming setup, the rest of the room plain in comparison.  His bed is neatly made and you cannot help but envision a mess of sheets.  Yes.  That is more your thing.  Taking that sweet and gentle façade and corrupting it, right down to the core.  You want him to lose control.  You want to drive him crazy.  You want to draw this out, use the handcuffs and—

“Aha,” he says. “Right here.”

He pulls open a bedside drawer.  A pair of handcuffs is sitting inside it, the key right on top.  He takes it out and immediately unlocks you. 

The cuffs fall to the floor.  He scoops them up and jingles them in your face. 

You stare at them then slowly meet his gaze.

“Oh,” you say.  “You evil son of a bitch.”   

He looks at you with a soft little pout, like he cannot imagine why you would be upset and you are hurting his oh-so sensitive feelings.  But he knew you wanted to play him.  He knew you wanted the handcuffs a little longer.  Now there is no reason to linger.  Now you can just walk out the door and never see him again. 

He is going to make you ask for it. 

That is not your style.  You hate being out-smarted.  And you really, really, really hate losing. 

“Right,” you say.  “I guess that’s it then.”

“Guess so,” he says.  “Bye.” 

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

You are still standing in his bedroom.  It is dark but there is an elaborate lighting rig around his computer, all bright blue neon and blinking lights.  You are swimming in blue, breathing it in.  His hair, the room, and moonlight. 

You will never see this colour the same way again.  Of that much you are certain. 

“Blue,” you say. 

His brow crinkles.  “Blue?” he repeats. 

“Mm.”  You look around the room, pretending you are unbothered by the intensity of his gaze.   “Red.  Yellow.  Green.  Colours can say a lot, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he says, exhaled on a breath.  The neon light catches the little star on his cheek, glinting at you.  He is dazzling.  This moment is larger than life.

You take a step back, holding his gaze. 

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go…” you drawl, backing out of his room.  “It’s amazing what you can say with just a colour…” 

“Uh-huh,” he says.  He looks at you like he did at the arena, maybe even more intensely.  Now he knows what you are capable of doing.  Now you understand each other. 

He follows you, assessing every step you take.  There is a subtle flex to the lean muscles of his arms, reminding you that while he is beautiful, he is also capable of more. 

“And what does blue mean?” he asks.  “To you?” 

You walk backwards, an unspoken understanding that once you turn your back, the game begins.  So you hold his gaze, smirking, inviting.  The foyer lights flash on and gold light fills the space between you, casting shadows across your smiling faces. 

He walks like a predatory cat, slow and smooth.  His confidence is easy.  He needs no grand display of machoism.  He just smiles that pretty pink mouth.  The glitter on his cheek sparkles.    

“Blue is the colour we show on the outside,” you say, “when deep down we really want something else.”

“I see,” he says.  Abruptly, his intensity vanishes when he laughs and says, “Put it back.” 

Somehow, despite diverting his attention, he still saw your slight-of-hand.  You swiped the closest object, a little jewel-encrusted clock on the nearby table.  You waited until your body obscured the view but he still saw.  

He can read you that easily, predict your moves that well.  Because it is not as though he loves the clock.  It stands out from his things, clearly one of the ostentatious designs, courtesy of his parents.  You can read him that easily too.  He does not like gaudy, shiny little knick-knacks.  He likes neon and blue and you. 

“Put what back?” you ask.  You have reached the front door.  Your hands are behind your back, the bauble in one, the other twisting the doorknob. 

“I’m not gonna ask twice,” he says. 

You push the door open. 

“I’ll give it back, if that’s what you really want,” you say.  With a suggestive little smirk, you ask, “So what’s your colour?” 

Red to stop.  Yellow to pause.  Green to give in. 

“Blue,” he says.  To play. 

You smile.  You hold up the bauble, wink, then zip it into your purse.    

“In that case,” you say, “you’ll have to catch me first.” 

His expression changes in an instant, that playful giggling gone as quickly as it came.  He breathes and it fills him, makes him look sturdy, makes him look ready.   

“Sweetheart,” he says.  “Don’t make me do this.” 

The softness of the pet name is completely undone by the dark tone of his voice.  There is nothing soft about him.  He is ice cold blue and burning red heat at once, searing you with his eyes, the way they rove your whole body.  You feel each glance.  A shiver races down your spine.  Instinctively, your body braces itself, fearful of that voice and that gaze. 

It also gets you so, so hot. 

All that tension snaps. 

You turn and run, bolting down the driveway and past the fancy gate.  You are quick on your feet, practiced and lithe.  You show him no mercy this time.  Earlier you were unprepared, severely misjudging his capabilities, but you will not make the same mistake again. 

You glance over your shoulder.  He is no where to be seen so you slow your pace, bemused. 

A minute later, he comes tearing around the corner and your heart starts pumping again.   Just like back at the arena, he grins as he thunders after you. 

An instinctive little yelp leaves your mouth.  You resume your pace, booking it for the corner of the block.  There is a little patch of green park so you run there, disappearing between the bushes. 

It seemed like a good idea but the streetlight barely breaks the thick tree branches. It is darker and eerier here, genuine fright overcoming you.  You come to a clumsy stop, fumbling with your purse to grab your phone.  A flashlight will stop you tripping, but it will also lead Felix right to you. 

You hear him behind you, clambering through the bushes.  Your heart leaps.  The darkness makes you forget this is all pretend.  You run without a light, dashing down the narrow path and squinting for even a glimpse of street light.  You need to get out of the bushes otherwise you risk falling on your face, then he will be right on top of you in seconds.   But running on the road will expose you too quickly. 

You will not surrender that easily.  He knows that. 

Torn between the garden and the road, you get a brilliant idea.  You dash back onto the street and hope it takes him a minute to follow.  He is not behind you so you race back to his house. 

There is no way he will circle back here.  He knows you want a chase, so a chase is what he anticipates.  He would never guess you ran back into his house.  Oh, you can’t wait for the look on his face when he finds you perched on his bed, feigning boredom as you wait. 

You run back up the driveway.  The front door is closed and you crash right into it, assuming it would be unlocked.  Nope. He locked it.  Maybe that is why he was delayed. 

You spin around, halfway expecting to find him there, ready to push you up against his door and cage you in.  But no, you are still winning.  He is undoubtedly still running through those bushes. He will circle the whole block before heading back here.    

You hurry down the side of the house, looking for any open windows.  You do not think he had time to set the alarm.  Did he?  Maybe that is why he was so far behind. 

The side gate is unlocked so you slip into the backyard.  You come to a surprised stop because it is a beautiful landscape.  The greenery is pristine and there are little couches and chairs scattered around.  There is a shed, some storage trunks, a fire pit.    In the middle of everything is a pool, sparkling blue in the golden lamplight.  Of course. 

You do not rush. You cross the yard in a slow walk, taking a moment to catch your breath.  You strategize your next move.  Should you pose on one of the pool chairs?  Wait by his back door and knock when he gets home? 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a low hum.  Someone is making their way down the side of the house.  

You panic.  You are often caught scampering around places you are not supposed to be, so instinct propels you to hide.   You run to one of the storage trunks and duck behind it. 

No sooner have you hidden does Felix stroll into the backyard.  He is a little dishevelled, a few strands of hair escaping from his half-ponytail, but he seems mostly unbothered.  He moves at a leisurely pace, humming to himself as he swings the gate open. 

He pauses there, leaning against the tall fence.   You are quite certain the world has never been this quiet.    

 “I know you’re here,” Felix says, his deep voice shattering the silence. 

Your heart leaps into your throat.  You should have known better.  Of course he had the same idea as you.  Now what?  How can you outsmart someone who can predict your every move? 

You peek around the storage trunk.  Felix is smiling, all dimples and delight.  Even his eyes are glittering as he swings the gate shut.  He looks across the yard as he curls his fist around the padlock.  He slams it shut, effectively locking you in with him. 

So that is why he took so long.  He unlocked the gate before giving chase.  He laid a trap and you ran right into it. 

His walk is more of a prowl, a slow but steady tread across the grass.

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs, uncannily chipper. 

You cannot believe you are about to be beaten so quickly.  It has your head spinning, your heart racing from your run, your adrenaline pounding as he approaches. 

Your heart tempers itself when he stops.  He pokes his head around the fire pit to see if you are hiding there.  

“Sweetheart,” he says, casting his gaze around the yard.  “You don’t need to hide.  I promise I’m not mad.”  He strolls around the pool, looking from here to there, even up at the trees.  He hums thoughtfully to himself.  “Now, now… If I was a troublemaker who needed to learn a lesson, where would I hide…”  He ducks behind a pool chair, frowning.  “Hmm, hmm, hmm…” 

He stands for a minute, tapping his chin.  You want to glean some semblance of your surroundings, but you do not want to take your eyes off him.  You are convinced if you do, he will manifest right beside you.  So you look at the house then at him, the gate then at him, the trees then at him.   You almost want to scream.  He is not even moving and he has you completely captivated, every last sense in your body attuned to him. 

“Pleeeeease,” he says in a long drawl, a cute little tone.  He ambles over to a different storage trunk and lifts the lid.  “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

He slams the lid down so hard it makes the unit wobble.  Even though you are far away, it makes you jump.  You have to cover your mouth to stop a yelp from escaping. 

You stare as he leans over the other unit, peering behind it.  He huffs in frustration when he finds nothing.  Despite the angry grimace, when he stands upright, he is wearing that saccharine smile. 

“You’re hurting my feelings, sweetheart,” he says.  “I thought we were turning into friends.  Don’t you want to be my friend?” 

He flings a chair out of his way, then swiftly drops to his knees to peer under the picnic table.  He is getting closer, bit by bit, which is somehow more terrifying than if he beelined right at you. 

He is giving you time, you realize.  He wants you worked up.  He wants your heart racing.  He wants you quivering and soft and afraid. 

You look around frantically, searching for an escape. 

Your hope rises then plummets.  The back door is ajar but that is an obvious trap.  It leads into the house but there is no way you are crossing the yard without him seeing you. 

You jump at another slam.  It was the shed door.  He is stepping inside it, rifling through the yard tools in case you are crouched inside. 

“Come on,” he says into the shed.  “Don’t be scared.” 

You take a deep breath.  You have only seconds to cross the yard while his back is turned.  You do not waste another moment, jumping to your feet and running as quietly and as quickly as you can. 

He is just as quiet.  You shriek at the sudden arm that catches you, just like it did at the arena.  Felix tackles you onto the grass again, pushing you down on your back and covering your mouth. 

You wrestle him, just like last time, ignoring his laughter as you claw and bite at him. 

“You’re a little mean, you know that?” he says, waving his hand after narrowing dodging your teeth.  He dives back in, undeterred, grabbing your face in one hand.  “Yeah, that’s it,” he says.  “Fight me.  Brat.” 

You do not surrender easily, but he manhandles you with the same effortless skill as before.  There is no doubt he has training that you lack, flipping you in his arm then pushing you down on your front.  You kick your legs as he straddles your backside.  He brings your hands together on the base of your spine. 

You know what is coming and it makes you shriek with frustration.  Just like last time, he slaps the handcuffs on your wrists and locks your hands behind your back. 

“You stupid little—” you start, your words stifled when he puts his hand over your mouth and yanks your head up.  He holds the handcuff key in front of your face, then makes a show of throwing it.  You are pretty sure it is still in his fist, but the very idea has you whimpering into his palm. 

“That’s better,” he says, slowly taking his hand off your mouth.  It hovers like he expects you to start screaming.  You just exhale heavily, glaring.  “All right,” he says.  “Very good.  Come on.” 

You play at obedience long enough to get off the ground.  He helps you stand, then you immediately kick at him.  He tries to grab your leg but you dodge the swipe of his hand, running the opposite way. 

Your balance is thrown, dizzy from the takedown and the handcuffs.  He catches you quickly.   You yelp when he sweeps you off your feet, boasting all that hidden strength again. 

He carries you over to the deck where he drops down, sitting with his legs spread to fit you in between.  With your back to his front, he pulls you against him, an arm across your chest to keep you pinned together. 

“Oh fuck you,” you say, wriggling helplessly. 

“Not quite,” he says, laughing.  “I’ve been picturing something else.” 

He covers your mouth again, catching your shriek when he tugs your shirt open.  The flannel falls down your shoulders and he yanks the tank top down, getting a handful of everything you inadvertently flashed him earlier. 

Despite the force of his initial touch, he is not rough.  You might have kept your cool if he was; you are used to rough, fast, hard.  But his hand is tender, almost loving, a slow touch that trails from your neck down your chest, thumb circling the peak of your nipple before he squeezes your curves in the cup of his hand.   It is maddeningly slow and careful, your whining trapped in the palm of his hand. 

“This is what I was picturing,” he says.  It sounds like a growl, his deep tone just above a rough whisper.  His lips graze your ear and you shiver. 

You gasp, taking in deep gulps of air when he frees your mouth.  A weak whimper is all you manage when he hooks his legs around yours and pries them apart.  His hand dives down to your shorts, making swift work of the buttons. 

“Yup, just what I thought,” he says as his fingers sink inside you.  “Do you feel that?” he asks, as if your attention could be on anything but the thorough, rolling touch of his fingers, torturing the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs.  He slides his fingers into you with no resistance whatsoever. He starts finger-fucking you, laughing when you moan, when you rear up under his hand for more.  “Mmm, yeah, you want it don’t you?”  You try to resist but it is hard, especially when he teases you, making you chase him with your hips.  He just laughs again, slowing his touch maddeningly.  “God, that’s hot,” he says.  “You might be a brat but your pussy...   It’s begging for it, isn’t it?  Does it like this, sweetheart, hmm?  Hmm?” 

He is absolutely torturing you, rubbing those swollen nerves to the crest of an orgasm then withdrawing, again and again, until you swear it burns.  You make a strangled sound, clutching his hand on your chest, still cupped possessively on your naked breast. 

“Tell me,” he says.  “Tell me how much you want me to make you come.” 

“Mmmph,” is your oh-so intelligent reply. 

“You can do better than that,” he says.  “Come on.  Show me how much you want it.  You can’t lie to me, sweetheart.  I can feel it, hmm?  Gonna feel it when you come.  Gonna feel your pussy get nice and tight around my fingers, asking for it, baby—oh yeah, what’s that?  What’s it want?” 

“Ugh, fuck you,” you whine. 

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” he says.  “Fuck you.  You can run that pretty mouth but I know what you really need.  You’re gonna be begging me for my cock, to fill you up and make you feel all full for real. Isn’t that right?  Go on.  Show me you want it.  Show me.” 

Your chest is heaving.  Your eyes close.  You concentrate on that orgasm, chasing it desperately.  It approaches rapidly and your thighs start shaking. 

He covers your mouth again, once more predicting you.  He knows you are about to come.  This time he takes you right over, groaning in your ear, clutching you tight while never once slowing the deft thrust of his hand.  You scream into his palm, the intensity of the orgasm washing over you.  The blue light of the pool flickers even with your eyes closed, seeing nothing but blue, blue, blue.   He surrounds you, his voice, his moans, his touch. 

Your hips buck, your heart skipping a frantic beat when pleasure turns to sensitivity. He chuckles but stops, dropping his hand off your mouth.  You catch your breath, slumping against his chest. 

He touches your face with the hand he just used to fuck you, wet fingers streaking across your mouth as he turns your head.  You blink at him and part your lips just for him to shove his fingers in your mouth.  You cannot help but moan, eyes closing as you suck the tangy wetness right off his fingers.  You watch when he takes them back, when he licks them for himself.  Strands of blue fall across his forehead.  He looks as flushed and filthy as you feel. 

He grins around his fingers.  Then he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your face to his.  He kisses you for the first time with the taste of your pussy on both your mouths.  His kiss is deep and bold, as if you are already his.  You are dizzy when he stops, gasping when he pecks your lips with sweet, chaste little kisses. 

“Gonna uncuff you now,” he says softly.  “Because for what we do next…”  He grabs you by the throat and you mewl, clenching around nothing when he rolls his hips under you, showing you how hard he is.  “Yeah, sweetheart.  For that, I need all of you.” 

You sit quietly while he uncuffs you.  You feign complacency, standing on shaky legs when he guides you upright.   You fix your shirt, glaring at him, though it is a little harder while you are still catching your breath. 

He was right about one thing; you need him like you have never needed anyone.  You are throbbing, completely and totally aching with the loss of his touch.  You have never felt such clear pulsations, your body begging for more even while your expression is petulant. 

You follow him to the open door.  One step, two steps. 

Then you say, “Blue.” 

You take off running into the house. 

He laughs incredulously, not even making an attempt to grab you. 

He slams the door shut behind him.  You skid to a stop in the hall, listening to the gentle beeping of the alarm as he arms it from the inside.  It is the same quiet threat as the padlock; there is no escape. 

Giddy, excited, practically vibrating with anticipation, you run and hide.  There are boxes and tables piled high with gadgetry, not to mention his couch and bookshelves and general appliances.  Plenty more places to hide than that big back yard.  And when he finally does find you, when you have worked him up the way he worked you up—

That is what winning is all about. 

You sit in your hiding place, breathing hard.    

“Sweetheart,” Felix says in that too-sweet voice.  His footsteps are slow, unhurried, casual.  “Stop hiding.  I said I didn’t want to hurt you, but if you keep this up…” 

You peer at him between some boxes.  He stops in the middle of the room, catching his breath too.  The glittering amusement has left his eyes.  They are narrowed, his flushed cheeks and sweaty hairline only exacerbating his predatory air. 

He unties his half-ponytail, then bends over to run his fingers through the length of it.  He flips back up, all that blue falling prettily in place.  He licks his lips as he prowls through the room, looking behind boxes, ducking under tables. 

You shuffle with him, moving when he does.  He checks your previous hiding space with a jaunty, “A-ha!” then curses. 

“Come on now,” he says, turning around.  He smiles like a shark, all teeth, hungry despite the innocent flash of a dimple.  “You’re only hurting yourself,” he says.  “I know you, sweetheart.  You’re in here somewhere, and you can’t tell me you’re not thinking about what it’s gonna feel like when I catch you, yeah?  Hmm.  You’re fast.  I bet you’re flexible too.  I bet I can get you into all sorts of positions.  Get you making all sorts of noises for me…” 

It is a struggle to be quiet as you move.  Your limbs are still shaky.  Every word out of his mouth makes your breath catch. 

You swallow hard, freezing when he pauses.  Did he hear that?  Maybe not.  He turns the other way, heaving a deep sigh before he laughs.  It lacks amusement, a harsh sound as he turns and turns. 

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs.  In a harder voice, he snaps, “Stop hiding from me.”  Then he smiles again.  He turns in your direction slowly.  “You’re not scared of me, are you?” 

You cover your mouth, cowering down when he seems to look right at you.  Your heart is pounding so hard, you would not be surprised if he could hear it, even feel it, shaking this whole damn house. 

“If you come out on your own,” he says, “I promise to make you feel good.  You’ll come so hard, you’ll forget how scared you are.” 

You keep that hand over your mouth, fighting to keep quiet.  It stifles a shriek when he suddenly waves at you, a drole little finger-wiggle.    

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says.  He crouches down, putting himself at eye-level, peering between the boxes that shield you.  “Don’t make me come get you,” he says.  “I’ve been nice, haven’t I? Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”    

You shuffle to the side.  He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head while he laughs. 

“Right,” he says.  “Fine.  We’ll do it that way.” 

You bolt when he does, shrieking as you clamber around some equipment to get away.  You manage to escape to the foyer, cursing when the automatic lights flash on.  It feels like a spotlight, illuminating you in the middle of that big empty space with no where to hide. 

You can hear Felix stomping after you.  You scurry into the kitchen, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide. 

You yelp when he bursts in behind you.  This time, he does not give.   He grabs you roughly when you try to run again.  With very little effort, like you are scarcely more than a mild inconvenience, he lifts you off your feet and slings you over his shoulder.  He says nothing while you curse and squirm and slap his back. 

“You know what I wonder?” he eventually says, marching you right into the bedroom.  “I wonder… if I make you cry, is that gonna make you tighter, you think?”  He slides you down his body, holding you flush against him.  He smiles.  “Worth a shot, no?” 

And then he handcuffs your wrist to his wrist and tosses the key across the room.

“Oops,” he says. 

He grabs your throat and you gasp, spilling onto the bed when he pushes you.  He puts your on your back then straddles your chest, swiftly unbuttoning his jeans. 

“Open up,” he says, practically prying your mouth open, just giggling when you bite at him.  “If you bite me,” he says, two fingers shoved deep in your mouth, “I promise, I’ll give you something to be fucking scared of.” 

You were right.  You will never see the colour blue the same way again.  You will never be able to settle for anything less than Felix again. 

With a whimpery sigh, you relent, blissful as your mouth falls open.  He shoves his clothes out of his way, just enough.  He is rock hard and wet at the tip when he guides your mouth around his dick.  He cradles your head gently, even if the rest of him is not gentle.

You moan, your pussy literally twitching for attention as he shoves into your throat and makes your eyes water.  You take him well and he groans, pulsing in your mouth when tears start running down your face.  He fucks your mouth and throat, a back and forth that has your seeing stars.  Eventually he pulls back, laughing as runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Oh, baby,” he says.  He reaches down to wipe a tear.  “I wanted to do that the second you started mouthing off to me.”

“Asshole,” you say, though it comes out with a giggle. 

He laughs, sliding down your body to get between your legs. He gets your shorts and underwear out of his way, kissing across your pussy and up your stomach.  He lifts your shirt and crosses your breasts with his mouth, leaving little bite marks in his wake.

With the hand cuffed to yours, he interlocks your fingers sweetly, pressing it into the mattress.  Then he swoops up.  He kisses you, his tongue a soothing touch after everything. 

You moan, literally shaking with need as he smiles against your lips.   He speaks in that low, rasping voice when he says, “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize you’re gonna come all over my cock.” 

“Oh god,” is your rough reply. 

“It’s Felix,” he says.  “You’re gonna be screaming it in a second, aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

He has a condom in his bedside drawer.  Though you see him put it on, he still leans down to dirty talk, holding your throat as he whispers, “Was gonna be nice and wrap it, but you don’t like it nice, do you?”  He spreads your legs with his own, pushing down with his hips.  You whimper when the head of his cock glides over where you are very wet and very needy.  “No, sweetheart,” he says.  “I’m gonna have all of you.  And you – are gonna – take it.” 

He punctuates this with short thrusts, gradually easing inside you.  You moan, canting your hips to meet him, needing more.  When he starts fucking you in earnest, your whole body gets pliant like it never has before.  You let him hold you, tethered to him by the handcuffs and something else, something to do with those feelings inside you.  You let them melt into the physical sensations.  When he touches you, working you into an orgasm while he is deep inside you, it all washes over you.  You come with a cry, screaming his name just like he said. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he says.  Your bodies are flush together, chests touching, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist.  His face is in your neck when he laughs.  It is not a fake laugh, not coloured darkly, but ringing with true amusement.  “What’s your name?” he asks.

You laugh too, whispering it against his mouth when he leans in to kiss you.  He groans, kissing you, and says your name against your lips when he comes.  It binds you to him more effectively than the handcuffs. 

You lay there for some time afterward, all that pent-up adrenaline taking its time to dwindle.  He lays on your chest, your free hand in his hair, stroking it.  Eventually he looks at you with wide eyes. 

“I’m not, you know, like that, I mean—” he says. 

“I know,” you reply, massaging the nape of his neck.  You get uncharacteristically bashful.  Usually your partners, being more dominant, are the ones offering consolation to you, and you seldom need much.  Felix, you can tell, needs something, and it draws something out of you that you hardly knew existed.  Something tender and soft, that enjoys touching him and soothing him and making him smile. 

“Do you still have that, uh, feeling?” he later asks. 

You nod.  He smiles. 

“Me too,” he says. 

“That’s nice.  Can we get the handcuff key now?” you ask, making him laugh. 

The handcuffs end up on the floor with your clothes. 

This is usually the part where you run away, but you think you are done with running for a while.  You lay down with Felix, side by side, washed in the neon blue light.  You take a breath and roll onto his chest, resting your head there, and he runs a hand down your back in a soft caress. 

“I’m just glad I didn’t wax for no reason,” you break the silence, making him snort.  He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head.  “What!  Don’t look at me like that or I’ll try and sneak into another concert when you’re on the clock.”

“Mm, will you?” he asks, grinning.  “I better be prepared.” 

“Oh no, I’m not messing with you.  I’m picking an easier target next time.”

“I’ll find you anyway,” he says.  “Can’t hide from me, sweetheart.”

“Hmm,” you say, hiding your face because that squishy feeling in your chest is back.  “I still won this round.” 

He lifts your face so he can look at you.  Your eyes close when he swoops in and kisses you.  You can’t even pretend to be annoyed with him anymore.  Vexatious vixen, indeed.   

“I think,” he says, “we might have tied this round, sweetheart.” 

“Fine,” you say.  You kiss again, long and sweet.  Then you bop him on the nose.  “But next time it’ll be me.”

He sighs but smiles, shaking his head.  Then he cups your face and pulls you in for another kiss.   

[sm-baby]

OFF-LIMITS

freakshow AU by @hootbon

Context || The Chosen one (Part 1(??))

PRETEND MARRIAGE FIC LETS GO!! Off-limits is a non-canon sort of continuation for The Chosen One!! Also Just putting it here: Showtime is not canon in freakshow AU!! I'm just.. being indulgent-👉👈

Word count: 7750

The pacing is a little off but I'll let you be the judge...OK ENJOY BYE HUGS AND KISSES!! NO BETA WE DIE LIKE MEN!! also if Hoot's reading this I'm so sorry.

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

There were many benefits to being the ringleader's favourite.

One of them is being proposed to, apparently.

She didn't think her body still had the capability to choke, but apparently it was all too possible. She gagged, punching her fist to her chest on the flavourly assault on her throat, hacking wheezing as the grip on the tea table tightened. 

Pomni winced, eyes twitching and swallowing before sitting back down with a not-so-casual tone in her voice. She faked a laugh “Haha… what-”

“ I'm marrying you."

The man sat on the opposite side of the tea table, classy, with full manners. the way his hands were politely on the table, proper yet focused… Caine so specifically wanted the meeting in Pomni’s room... She was perfect for the setting. A doll playing tea party. Classic. Simple. 

“ A-And what does-”

“ It means my brother can no longer claim ownership over you." 

Pomni inhaled and stirred the tea in her hands. She fawned a fake sympathy towards his perspective humming along as if she understood his reasonings…but she choked, this time mentally. 

Were they seriously still on that dumb brother’s quarrel? Ownership? She didn't think Able would want to do anything with her after their last meeting but it seems the tension she's been feeling between the both of them has been growing… Caine’s brother has been nicer to her lately, she assumes, still in the effort for him to be in her good graces… but she didn't think it would really lead to anything, nor would she let it. 

“... Ha." Was all that left her. Pomni doesn't often know what to say in tense situations. She lost herself in her thoughts, cupping her tea in both hands, nervous and tense. Of course, she definitely doesn't want to do this. She was more so thinking about a way to decline him rather than a yes or a no.

Uhh… hmm..

“ You would still be performing, but this also means you get to sleep in the old manor. Or so I think that's what husbands do… unless my sources are wrong which—“

Pomni could spit out her entire drink! That changes everything! “ YES-" she slammed her hands on the table.

Caine wasn't startled, but rather, just looked at her, raising a brow at the rude interruption. he'd look down, seeing that pomni just spilled tea over herself and the table… what manners. 

“ Uhh-... Yes- that- that is what husbands do, yes��� “ she sat back down, her voice awkwardly lowering to a timid whimper. 

The gentleman barely looked at her, rather levitated a napkin to wipe the table. It was a cruel silence, almost like he dared her to explain such rude behavior. 

Pomni cleared her throat “ sorry, I-I would uh… love to be married- to-- You… ?” Is that how one says yes to a proposal? 

“ Ha. It humours me how you think you have a choice in the matter. “ Caine snapped his fingers, and the napkin disappeared. If he were to be perfectly honest, he saw no qualms in letting Pomni live in the manor. He would relish in the thought of her walking past his brother knowing she was officially unattainable. A sort of trophy of sorts. A taunt mayhaps. A jest. A silly funny mockery.

Meanwhile Pomni’s brain was completely somewhere else… 

To have access to the circus on the regular while having more time in the manor… no more stupid games necessary, no more-- having to kiss up and hold the balance towards both brothers! This was a win! Of course this isn't a ticket out of the circus, but she's going somewhere, and it's refreshing compared to the circles she's been running for the past few months. 

Pomni looked up to see Caine, sitting across her, this time with a hand extended to shake. 

As soon as she shook his hand, a ring formed around her finger, from thin air, seemingly out of nowhere.

“To show that you're reserved." 

Pomni looked at her finger, and-- honestly the way he said that made her skin crawl. Caine always saw Pomni and the others as lesser than him. And the way he proposed was no different from a person booking a seat at a restaurant. 

The deal was struck and Caine wasted no time to get up and leave the room. A small good bye greeting, closing the door behind him, but otherwise his business there was done.

Pomni was still sitting on the tea table, thinking to herself, staring at the ring on her finger. It was like it was part of her body. She would try to pull it off but to no avail, no budging or anything. 

She grit her teeth… great.

The two went their own separate ways thinking nothing and everything about the transaction… though it must have been quite the sight to see Caine leave the room, and have Pomni follow a few moments later, now with a ring on her finger.

“ No f@#$ing way.” Jax thought, seeing the sight.

She didn't know what she was expecting, but it was certainly a Caine wedding.

The ceremony itself? she could barely remember any of it. Rather, small clouds of memories that were important.

The way she walked down the aisle so stiffly, like a gun was pointed at her head. The way Caine placed a ring on her finger, Kaufmo’s death gurgles as he officiated their wedding…

There were small comforts. She didn't actually think of it as anything special— more just a necessity rather than an actual wedding, but some of her friends tried to make it special for her. Ragatha was sitting front row in support not for the union but for Pomni herself– Kinger hallucinating, holding her hand in a father daughter dance. And Gangle making the the effort of getting her a wedding gift– or what she could give anyway…which was a drawing of her in her wedding dress.

Caine wasn't even present in the after party. He just placed the setting and left the guests to their own devices. That was honestly a relief for Pomni for a short while, to be able to hang out with the closest things she had to “friends”. She had the lone memory of Ragatha and Kinger giving her a drink, and asking her how she was doing.

They've both been well aware of her motives by now. Exit, exit, exit. At this point they were convinced that was her form of insanity. But they supposed that little bit of hope was keeping her going.

Kinger turned Ragatha then back to Pomni. “ We hope you know what you're doing.”

“ I never said I did…” the bride said, her pitch getting timidly higher. “ But– it's a direction! I don't have a lot of expectations either, but…hey, I think I'd regret it if I didn't take the chance. ” She looked back up at them, embarrassed at her short rambling. “ Oh! I hope– you two are holding up relatively okay tonight?”

Ragatha chortled.

Kinger answered “ We haven't been okay for years, Pomni.”

“ Y-Yeah…I… I should have seen that coming, yeah…”

Suddenly, a slow song came on the reception. 

Most of them weren't fond at the idea of a slow dance at first, but a tap from Ragatha to a ribbony friend (and a sister begging the other) later, people were on the dancefloor.

Ragatha danced with Gangle, then exchanging partners from her to Kinger. The Gangle AI found it funny to force Kaufmo and his rabbit friend in a dance. The night was going off with a hitch.

Ragatha swayed back to exchange partners from Kinger to Gangle, and the magician was off on his lonesome again. He took no offence to this, but standing in the middle of the dancefloor on his own, to a song that used to be considered romantic, he couldn't help but freeze.

He stared at one of the guests in the distance, the one who decided to sit out the activity. The one in the dark staring daggers at him as they dawned the very torso that used to bring him warmth.

Maybe…

… If she was still in there…

He could ask if—

Before Kinger could take one step further, a hand took his own, the hand of a very worried bride clearing her throat and walking him back into the dancefloor. “ Kinger, this sounds like a good song!” Pomni laughed nervously, heels clacking as she pulled him gently but insistently.

Kinger blinked, and turned to her. “...Oh! Yeah! It is!” And just like that, the old man was brought back to the dance floor.

It was almost like the poor were invited to their first celebration. Some were laughing, and there were definitely moments of teasing and natural play, but at the end of the day they knew they would be hungry again. It was an inevitability. Some chose to spend it to the fullest, some chose to wallow, some chose to make the best out of it.

Pomni struggled to keep up with the magician’s stature, but they figured it out after their earlier father daughter dance. She would be pleased to see that He was almost experienced with the way he moved.

Her dance partner wasn't all that mentally present, but she could see that he was calm. The way he listened to the music and closed his eyes was disassociated. But it was a look of contentment. 

His grip was so sure yet gentle around Pomni. Holding her like it was the last dance he would ever have with someone. 

She could only imagine what he was picturing in that brain of his. She dared not interrupt.

“ I've danced with someone before... I think.” 

Pomni looked up at him. “ What do you mean?”

“ I don't know who that person was, but I remember feeling very nice when I was with her.”

Pomni sucked air through her teeth. She's heard… read… stories from Ragatha. Although it wasn't the most in detail, she figured out the jist just from hush-hush language she used.

She had a feeling she knew exactly what was going on. But it wasn't her business to correct him.

“ She must have been a great person.” Pomni said.

For the first time Kinger didn't feel like wood. His eyes relaxed just from that simple validation, a moment of blissful unawareness of where he was or who he was. Love spread from his heart, to his chest, to his finger tips, to the… little…friend? Yes, friend… that he was dancing with.

Pomni was well aware that she wasn't the person he was seeing at that moment. He had no thoughts, but the feeling of a powerful comfort took over him, he didn't care to take back anything else. Not his memories, not his sanity, not his mind. Like holding the hand that he once kissed. Spinning her, laughing with her, holding her close when the clock struck a romantic midnight. 

He could feel a tear escape his eye.

“What about you, Pomni?” Kinger opened his eyes and suddenly realised that his hands were holding at nothing. Not a person, not anything. Kinger blinked and looked around, that blissful feeling suddenly becoming fleeting. 

He was by himself on the dancefloor again

“... Pomni?”

Pomni would catch herself tripping forward. What was once the tiles that was the dance floor was now wooden, and unfamiliar. “Wh- wha- where…?” 

In the blink of an eye Pomni was somewhere else. For a moment she was confused before turning around and seeing her new found husband, back turned to her, sitting, looking down from the balcony they were at.

“ Awfully rude of you to dance with someone more than your own husband.” He didn't even bother to turn to her. He was still looking down, hands on his would-be chin, sitting on a long chair made of cushion and fine wood.

“ I-I was just dancing with—”

Pomni was cut off by Caine slowly patting a space on the seat beside him. The cushion, comfortable, yet sturdy. Pomni gulped before approaching.

When she joined him she could see the view from above…it was an indoor balcony built for the rich to watch the poor. 

From up high, Pomni could see the other performers, and quickly she scanned the dance floor to see Kinger, shaken, looking around and interrupting Ragatha’s dance in worry for where she went.

Pomni bit her lip and sunk down. Guilt over took her. She stood on her tiptoes, hands on the wooden railing and waved to be seen, to let them know that at least she's safe, and praying that they understood that she didn't leave them but-

Caine’s hand grabbed her arm. “ No, no. Let them figure it out.”

She froze from his touch. Caine guided her hand to make her sit down and she sunk in the seat right beside him. She looked down to read the others distress and felt immense relief when she made brief eye contact with Ragatha which then the assistant turned back to kinger, calming him down without making it obvious she's seen them.

Pomni sighed.

On her way to lean back on the chair, she felt an arm wrap around her shoulder, then pulling her to her side.

She stared at it for a moment, the arm. her body stiffened at the all too familiar touch, before looking forward, sweating, in denial at the situation.

Caine crossed his legs, an ankle on the other knee, still looking on at the view in front of them. His posture was far from hers. Swaying his crossed legs, relaxed, and confident. for a moment he looked at her and back down at the party. 

Amazing reception as always, Caine. You've really outdone yourself with this one.

They stayed there in silence for a couple of moments. Caine was all too comfortable and Pomni had nothing to say to him. The groom would say that his bride looked beautiful that night, but in the most objectifying way possible. She was an accessory. She always was. Nothing different from a beautiful pearl necklace. 

Maybe it was the way he was gripping her, but Pomni couldn't breathe with all the tension in the air. She let out a shaky breath, a face comparable to a cat hypervigilant towards a cucumber. Sometimes she forgets how affectionate Caine can get with her physically, and every time she just accepts it. Not like she can do anything about it really.

“ Wine, boss!” A servant walked into the balcony area. A voice so signature, and unmistakable Pomni didn't need to turn around. Caine and his bubble were inseparable except for the moments when they weren't. If she hadn't known any better she—

Pomni came back to reality.

…Wine?

“ Thank you, Bubble.”

Pop!

Caine didn't even have to lift a finger, the wine bottle was already levitating towards him as well as a wine glass, ready to pour.

“ Wine???” Pomni flinched, turning her whole body towards the bottle.

Caine blinked. “ Oh! How could I forget, you've never had this…” He thought to himself. 

He would never let the circus members have wine for multiple reasons. The poor PG rating would go down if their mouths were without filter. And also he didn't need to have a bunch of wild animals run a muc and destroy the circus tent. But right then, he duplicated the wine glasses into two, pouring one for himself and for his bride. 

“ Consider it a reward for being so attentive today.” 

Pomni got her glass, and held it in both hands. God damn. She hasn't had alcohol in so long.

It was as plastic as expected but wine wasn't there for the texture. She was just about ready to drink the night away. Pomni tried to play it with manners but admittedly took longer sips than what she could usually handle.

They both continued the night in silence

and Pomni waited…

And waited…

And waited…

And… 

Motherfucker, this isn't doing anything to her!

The visible frustration was clear and Caine couldn't help but let out quiet snickering.

“ Huh—!?”

Caine snickered again, barely audible, but less is more. Pomni couldn't help but feel embarrassed. There he is again! Playing with her like always! “ You didn't actually think I would let it affect you, did you?”

“ No—! I… I didn't even think that you could--! I..!” The woman gripped the wine glass. “ ugh! ”Had it been for the fact that she had to watch herself around Caine, it would have been in pieces by now!

Caine would continue to laugh, not seeing any of the woman’s frustration as a threat. It would take a great deal to scare Caine. One could take a knife to his throat and he wouldn't take it seriously. Pomni wasn't even sure if fear was programmed in his AI.

But Pomni stared at the floor, eyes scribbled, forcing herself into disassociation to stop herself from doing something she’ll regret, and suppressing any more anger.

She hated him. She hated where she was. She hated so much of this. She had a long fucking day and she really didn't need this. She couldn't cry, she couldn't scream. She felt the strongest urge to have a tantrum in her room but that wasn't possible! She just can't win in this shit hole!

Ugh! God DAMN IT!

So much screaming went through her head, but it was nothing but silence on the outside. She was just about ready to be completely immobile for the night. Mentally skip pass the rest of the day, she could just explode and she would be okay with it.

Caine rolled his eyes and took a sip from his glass, but Pomni’s overall energy was too loud to ignore. He sighed. 

The groom lifted her head up by poking a finger on her forehead, and forcing her to look up at him. “ As much as how beautiful you are pouting, it's really ruining my night.”

Silence.

“ Pomni, do you want to be intoxicated?”

Silence again.

…Caine patted her face.

“ Huh? What? Where am I?”

“ I'm noticing your desire to be intoxicated. Do you want to be drunk?”

Pomni squinted her eyes and furrowed her brows, looking at him in question. Suspicious. “ What's in it for—”

“ I will give you the ability to be intoxicated if you stop seething. I will not have this attitude on my wedding night.” Caine said, grumbling, taking another sip at his glass. “ So I ask you one last time, would you like to be-”

“ YES!” pomni cried!

Caine squinted his eyes at that reply, once again unamused by Pomni’s rude interruption. But this time she wasn't apologetic at all, rather grabbing at his collar desperately.

she continued. “ God, yes, please—” 

Oh he really shouldn't be rewarding this behaviour. 

And just like that, Pomni's glass was filled once again. It didn't take her long to start sipping but their mini deal came with boundaries:

(1)She is to take her time and behave while drinking.

(2)Caine has the ability to make her sober again at the snap of a finger.

(3) She may only have one glass of wine.

That was it. Truth be told, I didn't care for anything else. If she gets aggressive he could easily subdue her. If she hurt herself, as long as her dress wasn't ruined he was fine.

At first it felt like nothing. Pomni was just calm, her speech becoming slightly slurred, but otherwise it was just Pomni. She looked light weight and she was light weight. 

Ah, that's more like it. Quiet. 

He wrapped his arm around her again, and this time Pomni just accepted her fate. She leaned into his touch, thinking of him as nowhere different from a pillow.

Pomni’s vision could go blurry with how little attention she was paying at that moment. But she couldn't help but wonder. The blinding lights, the food, nice decor… and asked: “ Why all the effort?”

“ I don't say no to a celebration to my name! and yours I guess.” Caine mumbled that last part in the middle of a sip.  “… and if my brother asks one of you, you have the right to say that our wedding was official.”

“ God, you two are such brothers….” Pomni muttered under her breath.

“ Only by code.”

The bride put a palm on her face, muffling her words. “ No… the fighting. The quaralling, the one upping…  you act like little boys.”

“ …Excuse me?”

“ I didn't even think marriage can be official in the digital realm… you make the rules. Might as well make wedding certificates and it would be just as official.” Pomni chuckled. “ But you married me cuz you wanted to make your brother jealous.”

… He didn't have the energy to reply to such an immature, untrue, false, made up, retort. He just rolled his eyes. He had too much self respect to entertain such false assumptions. “ Ugh…” his face grew in disgust. Pomni without filter is worse that he thought. At this point he'd prefer if she got aggressive instead.

Time passed. Pomni wasn't very pretty when she was drunk. She'd have the ugliest laugh, and the crudest things to giggle at, though, the last one was a little amusing. But Caine was just waiting for til the moment the glass was empty so he could— pop! Snap her back to soberity. 

But something intrigued him.

She started talking about his brother.

Her filter became less and less. And Caine perked up when she did. She talked badly about Able’s taste in music and art, how annoying it was whenever he visited the circus, how much she despised his very existence…

…Caine filled her glass again.

“ —a-and that nagging voice! ‘That sounds wonderful, sweetie!’ ‘ Oh, Pomni, you're so smart!’ God!”

Caine chuckled, and started leaning closer towards Pomni to hear her better.

Pomni continued,“ Oh he's so pretentious! And so-- so—”

“ Condescending?”

“ Yes! C-Condescending, patronizing, I— what am I? Nine??!”

Caine laughed! Oh hearing slander about his brother was music to his ears! And to hear it from someone to passionately-- he can't get enough! This was making his night!

“ S-say… was my glass always so full?” Pomni turned to her wine glass. She could have sworn she's been drinking for an hour at this point… she doesn't remember refilling it!

“ Hm? Oh, no no, digital hellucinations, my dear. Do carry on with what you were saying.” Caine pushed her wine glass closer to her chest, not bringing much attention to it.

“ Oh. Right. As I was saying…”

Oh Caine was having the time of his life. Smug chuckling left his teeth, absolutely enraptured by Pomni’s unfiltered bad mouthing. Shes been putting into words feelings he held for far too long. Ahh, he could stay there for hours.

“ I mean— at least you don't even-- try to hide that you don't like me. You don't act like friends with any of us.”

Caine could feel himself blush, playfully swiping his wrist at her. “ Oh you're too much.”  She was praising him now? Why, Christmas came early! How can he not enable this behaviour? “ Keep going.”

The trauma bonding would further on, but at some point Pomni tuckered herself out. The alcohol was getting her, she's been talking long enough, she's been full of hate enough today. Pomni leaned her head back on the chair to doze off, before Caine shook her awake. 

“ Hey!” He grabbed her face, mushing both her cheeks. “ Awaken! Tonight hasn't ended yet. We have yet to full-fill the husband/wife quota.”

“ Mmm…you're already my husband, remember? Kaufmo said so at the..the..” Pomni yawned. “Wedding.. ceremony…”

Caine groaned!

Snap!

“ Oh- damn it!”

And just like that all alcohol was erased from Pomni’s system. He also fully woke her up. Pomni can never truly escape that day. She groaned into her hands as she felt energy return to her body.

“ Come, come.” Caine got up and fixed his suit. “ Let's at least greet the guests off. Then you'll sleep at the manor.”

“ On my way…” 

Alcohol truly was a temporary darling. Just when she felt her sorrows were drowned away, she came back into reality— at an even worse state.

The two teleported back downstairs to end the party. Caine announced it's end and Pomni was saying goodbye to her friends. She greeted Kinger goodnight, waved Ragatha goodbye while she was busy with (one of) the twins. Jax’s goodbye was nothing but mockery, gesturing to her like she's some little princess in her wedding dress, which Pomni froze in embarrassment. Zooble wasn't even there when she came downstairs…for the better maybe. They always made her skin crawl.

The guests were away and the two were alone once again. At the snap of a finger, Caine fixed the entire reception. Any mess, streamers, decoration, gone, as if there never was a party to begin with.

Caine fixed his coat and arranged his gloves, dusting off all the mess that came with being in the vicinity of the others. Meanwhile, Pomni was thinking to herself— something she never thought to question…

“ Hey, Caine…” she looked up at him. “ When you said ‘sleep at the manor’, what —”

And swoop! Next think she knew he swept her off her feet in the traditional bridal style position, and before she could react—snap! They were teleported somewhere else! A bedroom that was nowhere like the others.

“UH—” Before she could say anything, Caine put his arms out straight and dumped her on to the bed. Man. What a romantic guy.

Oof Pomni frowned when she was dropped head-first, so carelessly and aggressively on the cushions… she groaned in misery— before remembering where she was.

She quickly got her head up and looked around! She was wrong! This place was familiar!

“ Huh!?”

“ My bedroom.” Caine said so passively. “ Well technically now it's yours as well, but. It's mine.” It looked like his mind was occupied with something else, he was staring forward but he was not at the present moment. She knew that look, he was searching something in his database.

“ When was this??” 

“ Since I told my brother you were moving in.”

“ Why??”

“ I'm ignoring you if you keep asking questions.’

Pomni looked around… this was like the guest room they made for the performers but grander. The bed was even a little higher— God forbid she falls off in her sleep. 

Caine fits right in the room’s aesthetic, Pomni was completely out of place. The room’s palette was red and black, with linings of gold here and there… Caine really hadn't bothered to make it accommodating for her. She just sat there in silence awkwardly like she was just invited to a friend’s house.

Man…can she even sleep in this? She looked down on the sheets: they were red, The pillows as well. the wood was furnished black and if she looked up, she'd see a chandelier at the ceiling. 

She shivered… Her old bedroom was weird, but she's spent just enough time in it to grow comfortable. at least she fit in its overall aesthetic. But she doesn't think she could say the same for this one. This whole room screamed Caine.

“ Ah. Here it is. ‘How newlyweds spend their wedding night’.” Caine said, and continued to look forward. 

“ What…N...No. Caine, don't read that.” Caine really…really…did n o t need to know about human customs. She's going to die from how awkward this was about to be..

The AI muttered what he was reading, “ ‘ Spend time together, Newlyweds often feel drained after a day of celebration …’ skip.”

“ Caine.” Pomni winced. “ Caine, did you not do research beforehand-”

“ ‘ When both couples lay in bed together it's important to have both parties feel safe in each other's presence—’ ickk.. skip. Are there any alternatives?”

“ Caine, I'm going to throw up.”

“ ‘According to a new survey with over 350 recently-married couples, nearly 40 percent of newlyweds had—’...” 

Caine squinted in disgust. 

“ I'm not reading that.”

Pomni at this point just gave up and put her head on the pillow.

“ Seeing as none of this is applicable to us, let's just skip this step of the consummation. As much as it pains me not to properly follow the process. I'll just leave you here and you can sit out the night. Good?”

“ I-”

“ Wonderful.” Caine snapped his fingers and the two were back in their usual outfits. He was back in his ringmaster clothes and Pomni was in her sleeping wear. And by sleeping wear, it means her usual tutu. Because she does not have sleeping wear.

Caine fixed himself up and pulled a blanket up on Pomni’s body. That's good enough. Husband's say goodnight to their wives if he was correct? 

Caine scanned his database again. 

Yeah, he was correct. 

“ Goodnight, dear.”

“ Ahh…” This was weird. “ G-Good.. Goodnight.”

And just like that, Pomni was off to sleep. Meanwhile, Caine teleported out of his room into another place at the Manor. He dusted his hands off and was already somewhere else mentally. he had other matters to attend to, another show to organize. He's spoiled himself enough with a night celebrating his name, now it was back to work. How Caine liked to work.

Morning followed and Pomni was snapped awake with a booming greeting “ Good morning, dear.”

Pomni screamed.

Her heart would beat out of her chest from the surprise-- forcing her up from her fight or flight

She flinched away at the sight of Caine's face inches away from hers. They sat there in silence for a moment… Pomni gulped, before looking pass him and seeing where she was then remembering the night before. 

“Wh…” the red bed, the chandelier… “Oh.” Pomni look at her hand, the left, and saw the ring that stubbornly stuck to her finger. but before she could say anything more, the blanket was thrown off of her, a snap, and the next thing she knew she was sat on the vanity table.

Oh god-- everything was going so fast… Caine snapped his fingers again and her grooming mannequins teleported in. “ I'll leave you here to get ready. I must awaken everyone else for role call. There should be a door to the circus down the hall! Be there.”

Pomni forced a smile and two thumbs ups, then, Caine was off.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She hadn't considered how little privacy she had now that her and Caine shared the same bedroom. Will he be doing this every morning? God, not only is it an incredibly inconvenient start of her day, it's also like having the world's most dangerous alarm clock.

Pomni put a hand through her face and grumbled, keeping herself awake— less so in the physical sense more in the emotional motivation sense. And before she knew it, the mannequins brushed her hair and did their work.

The next few days were something she had to get used to. Every morning Pomni would be greeted by a routine wake up, and every night she would be dumped back into bed, greeted goodnight, and Caine immediately leaving a second later. “Goodmorning, dear.”, “goodnight, dear.” again and again. Caine really was committed to the husband role-- though it wasn't far for AI to follow certain routines and patterns after acquiring a new set of data.

Oh how could she forget: 

Able spent more time in the Manor than Caine did. She would often see him around the house minding his own business, doing his own half of work. He never tried to make small talk anymore which was a stark contrast to his overly friendly persona towards her before she got married. The sounds of violins would go quiet when she walked in the room. It was as if he could just walk pass her with how invisible she was to him. He didn't have lips but she felt that if he did, it would turn into a scowl.

Once, she remembered walking pass him in the hallway, that time she tried to start conversation and—

“ Able?”

“ Don't talk to me.” With out even turning around, his heels were already clacking away, posture more spiteful than his usual.

It was odd but Pomni rolled her eyes.

Good riddance.

During her stay though she never stopped looking for an exit. Being in the brothers’ home was a system all in itself. Ever since she moved in, Caine apparently was there more often. This made it hard to navigate but memorizing both the brother’s schedules didn't take long. Being ai they were very systematic, consistent, as long as there were no human interruption nothing was stopping them from following the same routine.

To be in close vascity between Caine and Able meant no privacy. Pomni snuck around to investigate, less she’d be caught and teleported back. She's tried most of everything, but the brothers’ Manor was bigger and more…liminal, than she thought. 

For every one hallway it felt like there were 50 more. Door after door, an endless maze of nothing but unfinished projects and code. The Manor was a testing facility… a place where the brothers tested out code and concepts before applying them at the circus… there has to be something.

At some points she was so deep into it she didn't think either of the brother's could hear her. She didn't know if anyone could hear her. She could scream or laugh as much as her manic mind can get, and no one could. It was comforting in a way to finally be left alone, but dread came with it.

The dread or never making it back home. The dread of never leaving this torturous realm. 

Things started to get blurry.

The wallpaper was repeating. Doors, every single one looked the same. She didn't know if one door was the other. She turned back and— did the lay out change?? The wallpaper was all so fancy and clean but headachingly repetative. The world was spinning. Her head had a pulse. Her heart was wriggling in her chest. It felt like someone reached inside her back and pulled her spine out.

She opened a door, 

And another

And another

And another.

Random generations, code and miscalculations, projects abandoned and left to dust, circus acts left to die. To die. To die. To die. She envied it. She envied the ability to die.

She got so dizzy. So frustrated, but there was nothing to break, nothing to focus on. she was on autopilot. With how she's been opening doors for the past few hours, she didn't even care to find an exit anymore. Simply open doors. Wander around. If you find an exit on the way, congratulations. But otherwise, there was nothing anymore.

One hallway had a mirror and all she could do was stare with broken eyes. What she saw, she couldn't care less about anymore…who was that she was looking at? Where was she? Who was she? How did she get here? What was her name again?

She kept staring and her eyes wandered to her hands. Amongst all the dissociation was a pit of anger in her throat. She looked at her finger. The ring. And all she saw was the very thing keeping her trapped there. The cruelest person— the cruelest thing, in the world.

Pomni started to pull at the ring.

She hated him. She hated him so much. She hated how much he toyed with her. She didn't understand how such fucked up things could even happen to a block of code, she didn't know what peice of shit of a person would ever create him. If god can be proven then the devil can be too. And he was living proof of that. The entire circus was proof of that.

Pomni grunted a tearful cry, desperately aching for the ring to come off, but it wouldn't budge. If there was pain, she couldn't feel it. She would bleed if it meant having to take it off. Pain was the last thing on her mind at that moment, just the desperate need for something, anything to go her way. Out of anything in this god forsaken realm, she wanted freedom from something, living breathing proof that there was hope in leaving, that she had a semblance of control in this hell.

“ God DAMN IT!!” The pain on her fingers were apparent, yet she hasn't processed any bit of it. “ I hate you! ” She sucked air to her teeth as tears formed in her eyes. She saw no use in keeping anything in anymore. 

Tears streamed down her face with no means of stopping. Pomni, with bruises and scratches on her ring finger, collapsed with her knees on the floor, bent down, letting her tears be absorbed by the carpet. Her whimpering, cries, tears she hadn't let out in ages. She soon let her forehead touch the floor, complete and utter loss of hope and motivation. 

And for a few moments she just sat there… adjusting by sitting on the floor, leaning her back on the wall, tears streamed empty emotions. Crying didn't help. Running didn't help. Screaming didn't help. And so she sat there. Like a puppet left to sit until their next performance.

That's all she was. And that's all she'll ever be.

Was she any different in the real world? She didn't care anymore.

Pomni let out her last hiccups. The floor wasn't comfortable at all…The doll stood up, body heavy. Her steps towards any door were heavy and unmotivated. The only sound echoing through the halls were the sound of her muffle heels, clacking above the carpet.

She could use some sleep. 

After a long day of organising and work, Caine reached into his coat for his pocket watch. It was about time where the performers would be off to bed, and he didn't need to tell them that. This is one of the rare times of the day where he leaves them to their own. He, however, doesn't need sleep. Caine AI knows no tire. He turned his heel, ready to do more work before remembering— ah. His wife. That part of the daily routine. 

See, for the past few days he's been having the formula to wake Pomni up in the morning, and putting her to bed at night, leaving seconds after. Always with his “goodnight, dear” and “good morning, dear”s that one. That's right. He was officially given the trait husband, and-- he's heard that that's what husband's do. And so he Incorporated it in his system.

Of course, even after their wedding night he never put in the effort to even think about laying in the same bed with her. First of all, he has no use for sleep. Second of all, that would be a complete waste of time and resources—He can do work simply standing up and staring into oblivion, but there is only so much he can do. Third of all, it was terribly boring. Fourth of all, he can touch Pomni but laying in the same bed for a prolonged period of time-- no amount of snaps would rid him of all her filth. And fifth—

The list can go on and on, and yet… something ached him to his core. It's been bothering him since the wedding night actually. The very act of not spending the night with her as husband and wife, that skipped a step in the process. And that bothered him more than any boundary he has up. It was part of a system, and he didn't officialize it because he wasn't feeling it that day? Caine AI, were you coded in a barn? Frankly, he was disappointed in himself for letting his ego— perfectionism get the better of him. Was he even truly husband without that final step? He felt like a fraud.

That whole thought process took place in the matter of .0001 seconds. And he was off. 

He teleported to The Manor on his way to atleast clean up the bedroom first. But just when he made his way up the stairs, he turned, noticing the clearly dishevelled and previously distressed looking Pomni coming out of one of the hallways.

He squinted and scanned her. 

Dirty clothes, eye bags, wet and sore eyes, sniffling, head low… 

Oh. She had been crying. 

He rolled his eyes. As long as she wasn't doing it on stage he didn't care. And frankly he didn't want to deal with it.

He cleared his throat to let her know that he was present, in a way, also telling her to gather herself.

“ Oh…” But Pomni didn't budge. She wasn't as disassociated as earlier but still had little energy to be scared at that moment. “ Hey, Caine. I’ll get upstairs soon, I just need a minute to—”

He didn't have time for this. 

Snap!

The usual routine continued. He teleported her to their room, dumped her to bed and sent Pomni face down on the cushion. She doesn't think she would ever get used to that. She put her head up groggily, still too tired to even really complain, before crawling to her usual side of the bed, the right side. She let out a few sniffles of misery. But before she could tuck herself in, she realised that Caine hadn't greeted her goodnight. Or— hasn't even teleported away yet, actually…

She turned to Caine in the bedroom and would notice that he was looking at himself in the mirror. He was snapping his fingers, switching through different kinds of sleeping wear— what??

She squinted in confusion. Caine usually wouldn't stick around for any longer than a few seconds. 

“ Wh…what are you doing…” Pomni said, voice clearly still sore for all her time crying.

Caine finally found pajamas that fit him and fixed himself in the mirror. “ I'm spending my time here tonight.” 

“ …Why…?”

“ It doesn't concern you.” he turned to her, and floated his way to the bed, before noticing what she was wearing. She was still wearing her uniform! Is that what she was sleeping in the whole time? Honestly he hadn't cared, and he wouldn't care had it been for the fact that he was joining her tonight. He was in classy night wear while she wore her tutu. That simply isn't uniform.

A snap of a finger, and Pomni was wearing a nightgown that matched his shirt and pants. With bags under her eyes, she looked down. She didn't have the energy to comment on it as anything special. It was nice to be comfortable for once. But there was nothing more she can say about it.

“ There we go.” Caine said. “Goodnight, dear.”

“ …Goodnight.”

He put himself under the covers, but Pomni was still staring off. Someone who cared for Pomni would ask her how she was feeling, but they were not in the room at that moment.

Pomni wasn't feeling good. She was feeling terrible. If this was any other day, she would be terrified to be sleeping next to Caine. But the fact that she doesn't feel anything strong…

She didn't have a good day… entirely honestly, she was hoping to cry herself to sleep that night. It wouldn't be her first, and it wouldn't be her last. But with the devil beside her, he had no choice but keep herself together.

Her breath was shaken. But she laid down for sleep.

A few hours passed. It felt like the longest night the two would ever spend.

Pomni didn't know if it was her nerves or the room temperature, but she buried herself in her blanket. She could close her eyes all she wanted but no amount of pretend could distract her from all the voices in her head. She wasn't hallucinating, it wasn't anything. Rather the voices were more of doubt, insecurity, and fear. It would come often, but that night was especially loud. Terribly so.

Caine on the other hand was staring at the ceiling. Hands on his chest. He's been staring in silence for hours at this point —and he had the artificial patience to go on for longer—but he found this activity inconvenient. And even worse so when he could hear his wife sniffling right beside him.

Pomni finally started shaking under the covers. Hands shielding her head-- her knees were on to her chest with how curled up she was. It hurt to be quieter than she was already being. The voices got to her and all she could do was cry at that point.

Neither of the couple could get themselves to sleep.

Caine could only roll his eyes. While he stared at the ceiling, Pomni was faced to her side, away from him, curled up cold and unrested. For a moment she looked at the hands shielding her, and the representation of her entrapment looked back. With several bruises and scratches around it, her finger still dawned the very ring that put her there. 

The memory of Caine in the wedding ceremony played back-- the very moment he put the ring on her at the altar. That was the moment that sealed her fate. She wished she could take it back. The image felt like dying a hundred times over.

Caine wasn't stupid. Although he knew little understanding of the human condition his processors picked up on certain symptoms and body language. He would usually ignore them as they were a waste of energy, but he had nothing else to process other than the ceiling he'd been staring at for the past few hours.

He knew Pomni wasn't well. What for? He didn't care. All that he knew was that she was upset, and it wasn't worth his time. It wasn't anything that he hasn't already heard a hundred times from the other performers. She was going to cry again and again anyway. What was the use?

Her hiccups and sniffling were tiny compared to the rest of the room. And yet no one was willing to hear her, listen to her. Perhaps that was all she wanted. If she had someone to be there to trust-- maybe this would have been bearable. Maybe in a different timeline she would still have the strength to go on for just another day. But that wasn't realistic. Not in the digital realm. She could scream all she wanted and no one would bat an eye.

This wasn't the first time she cried tears this painful. And it certainly will not be the last.

[atzupdates]

[231117] ATEEZ Hongjoong donated to celebrate the 5th anniversary of his fanclub

On November 17, group ATEEZ Hongjoong donated 50 million won (~40,000 USD) for pediatric cancer treatment.

Hongjoong held a film photo exhibition "WALKER A" to mark his birthday on the 7th and delivered the donation, including the proceeds from the entrance fee to the photo exhibition, in time for the birthday of ATEEZ's fanclub ATINY.

This isn't Hongjoong's first time doing a good deed! On the occasion of his 25th birthday last year, he held his first private film photography exhibition called "From NOVEMBER 7 and 1998," and through this, he donated 10 million won (~7750 USD) to World Vision to help children who dream of music, exerting a good influence on many fans.

Hongjoong said, "I'm grateful that it was an opportunity to share a lot of love from fans," and added, "I hope many children who are overcoming childhood cancer will not give up treatment due to financial difficulties and dream of a bright future."

Seo Seon-won, secretary-general of the Korea Leukemia Children's Foundation, said, "Thank you for sending warm hearts for children with cancer in commemoration of the meaningful day," adding, "I hope that the good influence of the group ATEEZ Hongjoong and fans will be added to further spread the public's interest and sharing culture for children with cancer."

All the donations raised this time will be used for treatment, transplantation, and rehabilitation treatment for pediatric cancer patients. Once again, we would like to thank ATEEZ Hongjoong.

[sexylonestar]

Nylon # 7750

[nanato04]

Thought instead of just reblogging everything, i will add some of my own works too <3

P.s. shanks has one arm here

Word count: 7750

You can read it on my Ao3 page:

Or

You’re a fucking tease, you know that?

You were the latest member of the Red Hair pirates. You were quite the feisty one when the captain, Shanks, saw you for the first time. Being from a town where crime and murder was rampant, you grew up to be a very combative person. You met Shanks in a bar. While you were downing beer after beer, a bunch of no-goods came up to you and asked how much you charge for a night. You didn’t really get bothered by them and plainly said you were not in that field of work. But they didn’t seem like the type to listen and they started getting too handsy with you.

Shanks was sitting a few tables away witnessing this, he was blissfully eyeing your body while the bunch of fools came and interrupted. And just when he almost got up to defend you, you already got to beating the shit out of them with whatever came to your hand. You bashed one with a bar stool, broke a bottle on another guy’s face, gonged a man’s head with your head and repeatedly stomped his balls. Later when you were done bashing them you turned back to see a red-haired man and assumed that he was one of them. You threw a punch at him but he blocked it by effortlessly holding your fist with his hand.

“Cool down, tiger,” he said with a smirk.

“Who the fuck are you?,” you snarled while snatching your fist away from his hold.

“I’m Shanks, captain of my pirate crew. Nice to meet you,” he said with a toothy smile.

You then assumed he wasn't a part of that handsy group you just beat down.

“Oh. Well. I didn’t know that, sorry for throwing a punch at you. Now leave me alone,” you went back to your seat and continued drinking.

Shanks laughed loudly and he wanted to pursue you more.

“Hey, you didn’t introduce yourself,” he leaned on the bar counter, coming a little closer to you.

“Why should I?”

“No reason, just curious about you,” he said slyly. And it was kinda working on you.

You weren’t approached like this before, and he seemed like a nice guy. So you thought of entertaining this conversation a little.

“Name’s Y/N. I live here,” you said plainly, you didn’t maintain any eye contact.

“Ooo that’s a pretty name! Say, what do you do for a living?” He questioned. His strong presence made you feel a little intimidated, but you weren’t scared of him.

You gave him a side-eye contemplating whether or not you should tell him more about yourself. You totally ignored his exposed chest and abs from that half-way buttoned white shirt.

“Mmm. I do freelancing. I can fix things like machines and vehicles. Aside from that, I do other odd jobs too. Honestly, I don’t understand what I do for a living,” you said, slapping yourself in your head for talking too much.

He was silent and he listened to you. You got a little uncomfortable with how he just didn’t say anything so you chugged your remaining beer and got up from your seat.

You took a long exhale and said, “Alright, I’ll leave now. Goodluck with whatever endeavor you have going on.”

Just when you started walking out Shanks called you.

“Hey Y/N.”

You looked back to see him facing you.

He gave you a smile and said, “Join my crew!”

Your eyebrows shot up and you put your hand on your hip, intrigued at his proposal.

“Now why should I do that?” You sassed.

“You’re strong, I like ya! Plus I will keep you fed and you will have a warm bed to sleep on,” he candidly said.

You pouted your plump lips, thinking about this offer. He never broke eye-contact with you and there was thick tension between you two. Well, you’d have food to eat and a nice place to sleep. It would also be way more fun than the boring life you have going on in this island.

“I-,”

Yasopp cuts you off and yells from the faraway table, “OUR CAPTAIN REALLY GOT THE HOTS FOR YA WOMAN!” And all of the Red Hair pirates started laughing and hollering.

Shanks was flustered and gritted his teeth, making a mental promise to drown Yasopp later.

You barked out a laugh so big that you were in tears. You said between laughing, ambiguous words slurring out of your mouth, “I guess I’ll take you up on that offer, Captain!”

Shanks too broke out into a laugh, his cheeks had a light tinge of red on them.

“Sweet! Yasopp come here I wanna tell you something,” Shanks called him out sweetly, Yasopp tried fleeing but Benn and Roux held his hands and legs so he couldn’t move. Everyone including you laughed as Shank went towards his table as he cracked his knuckles.

___

Your new pirate-life was a hundred times better than your life in your hometown. You were liked by the entire crew and you enjoyed everyone’s company. You were also the only woman in the red hair crew but that didn’t bother you much since everyone was respectful and nice to you. At times you helped around with cooking and cleaning. You loved playing cards with Roux and Yasopp. Benn was a real good friend to you and he would always take your side when you bantered with your fellow crew members.

The catch here though was, you barely gave any attention to you captain and that always made him envious of his mates who always got your complete attention. Of course, you obeyed his orders and all but, you intentionally liked to tease him by not talking to him.

Shanks loved watching you. Regardless of the petty game you’re playing with him, he loved to observe you to see what all you’re up to. You were always in your black tank top and olive green shorts, exposing your thick and strong thighs. He would sometimes even take his time to count all the stretch marks you have, he has half the mind to graze his hand over your thighs and squeeze them but, he will work his way to there one day.

One day you jumped up to reach something and it made your butt wobble, you refused to take anyone’s help but at the same time you just couldn’t reach the jar you really wanted. Shanks was passing by the kitchen and he saw your struggle, he thought that was a nice chance to get closer to you but before he even made it to you Benn was there to assist you.

“Hey Benn! lift me up,” you asked your friend.

“Hmm? Aight,” he accepted your request and effortlessly lifted you up, his hands squeezing into your waist. You then looked out the kitchen to make eye-contact with your captain. You gave him a smirk and the red-haired man shook his head and huffed. You finally got hold of your jar. He put you down and you thanked him. He patted your upper back and walked away. You leaned on the counter and took a spoon and scooped up the jam in the jar. After witnessing all this Shanks still came inside the kitchen and stood in front of you. You saw him come closer to you so you put the spoon in your mouth, licking the jam off of it.

“What brings you here, cap’n?” you asked as you went for another scoop and just when you were about to put it in your mouth, Shanks grabbed your wrist and twisted the spoon towards his mouth and he ate the jam off, licking the spoon, all while keeping an eye contact with you.

“Just wanted some jam,” he said. He was so close to you that your bust was almost touching his chest. There was impenetrable tension between you too that was broken off by Yasopp yelling your name.

“Y/N!!! I SEE AN ISLAND COME HERE!!!”

“I’M COMING!” you yelled back. Shanks didn’t budge though. Your eyes darted towards his lip that had a speck of jam on the side. You brushed your tongue on his lower lip, Shanks was curiously watching you. You then wiped away that small bit of jam and licked your thumb, intentionally going in deep. He whistled at you as you shoved the jam jar on his chest and he held it. You smirked and walked off, he gladly watched you go. Once you were gone he covered his face with his palm and groaned. You will really be the death of him.

___

The Red Hair pirates had just landed on an island. It was a long journey for everyone. They landed on a very small, sparsely populated island and it was very inviting. All your crewmates had dispersed, some were buying food, some were hitting the nearest bar, some went exploring. While you, on the other hand, had an evil idea.

With whatever pocket money you had, you went to buy yourself something nice to wear. You tried a lot of dresses and then found a real nice dress. It was a black floral printed dress. It had a flowy skirt and was backless too, exposing the big scorpion tattoo you had covering your entire back, the tail of the scorpion ending tight above your intergluteal cleft. You twirled in front of the mirror, the skirt flew high enough just to give a teasing view of your ass. You were beaming with anticipation to do what you were about to do

Sweet.

___

Shanks and his mates were in the beach bar, it was a big open space with a bamboo roof. It was around 7pm and the sun had already set. The entire had a deep yellow glow with all the halogen bulbs at all the corners. When you entered the bar everyone’s jaws almost hit the floor. This was the first time they saw you in a dress, and you were in an enticing one too. You had all sorts of compliments getting showered on you along with whistles coming right at you.

You went to the bar counter and drank a big jug of ale for the liquid courage. Your back was faced towards where Shanks was sitting. The man was whipped. He kept quiet though, he didn’t give you any compliment, maybe this was his own way of playing with you. The captain watched you, how your back flexed as you moved. How your ass was flush against the seat. How short your dress was. Yasopp saw his captain’s attention towards you and he said, “I’m shocked how you still didn't ask her out yet.”

Shanks laughed and shook his head, “I’m loving the chase though.”

The sniper sighed and continued his conversation with Roux who was munching on a lamb leg and eagerly listening to him.

The bar then played a slow, sensual song. This was the perfect chance to fuck with the captain. You got off your seat and walked towards your captain’s table. Just when everyone thought you would approach Shanks, you set your hand on Benn’s shoulder and asked,

“Hey Benn, this is my song, wanna dance with me?”

You could see everyone’s eyes almost pop off their skulls, no one saw this coming. Shanks was fidgeting with Benn’s lighter, spinning it in between his fingers. You were really testing his patience.

Benn set his cigarette down and said, “You sure?”

“Yeah, come on!” you raised your hand, indicating for him to hold it.

He held your hand and got up. When he turned back to look at his mates he just shrugged.

“Can’t miss the chance to dance with a lady.”

You got him closer, and set his hand on your waist. You wrapped one of your hands around his neck and laced your other hand’s finger into his. There was hardly any space between you two and your tits were flush against his chest. Benn didn’t know what was going on but he was enjoying this sexy dance with you already. You slowly swayed with him along the rhythm.

Shanks’ pupils darkened and he leaned back in his seat. His gaze never left you. He wasn’t mad at Benn. Because who would deny a chance to dance with a gorgeous woman like you? But it really should've been him instead of Benn, with you, dancing slowly, maybe even taking it to the bedr-

Your tattooed back was facing Shanks, he could see Benn’s hand placed on your hips, his calloused big palms pressing into your plush skin. You grabbed Benn’s head from behind and brought his head closer to your neck. You then whispered something into his ear to which he reacted with a wide smirk and gave you a nod.

He then shoved your waist closer to his groin and you grinded on him. Both of you had breathtaking chemistry during the entire dance. His hand roamed all over your back, he didn’t touch your ass though. You swayed your wide hips and went lower and lower, your face dangerously close to Benn’s clothed manhood. Under the low-light your sweat sheened skin glowed and the big scorpio tattoo you had was moving like it was your spine. He then got you up and twirled you, your skirt rising high enough for Shanks to see the beauty marks on your upper thighs. Shanks was really at his limit at this point, everyone else was hooting and whistling at you two. You both ended the dance when Benn dipped you really low, holding up one of your thighs. His entire palm held your thigh with such grip that it left a dark imprint.

He then lifted you up as the song ended, both of you were pretty sweaty and you thanked Benn by kissing him on his cheek. He would be lying if he said he didn’t get hard during the whole dance sesh, though he knew you were doing this just to get a rise of Shanks. He wouldn’t mind being your partner in crime again though.

Benn went back to his seat. “You lucky bastard,” Yasopp told him.

“Fuck you man,” Shanks laughed threw Benn lighter on his face. Ofcourse Shanks knew this was just one of your ways to brainfuck him.

When he was searching for you, he found you near the bar stool, all alone.

He got up with an excuse to order more drinks. Shanks stood very close to you and told the bartender his order. You were casually sipping on your cocktail, playfully ignoring him.

“You’ve put on quite the show, huh,” he remarked.

“Benn’s a great dance partner,” you replied.

“Since when do you wear dresses like this?” he said as he eyed your neck, his gaze carefully observing the beginning and the end of your tattoo.

“Why? You don’t like it?” you asked, but before he even answered you got up and slipped a hotel room key card in his shirt pocket. You placed your hand on his bare chest and whispered in his ear, “Give this key to Benn, will ya?” You then bit the tip of his ear, earning a breathy exhale from him.

“Sure,” he said, and you smiled at him and walked away to the hotel.

Shanks went to his table to grab his coat while half of his mates were passed out and some were still drinking.

“I’m heading out,” Shanks said, desperation drenched in his voice. Benn understood the scene and he nodded.

___

It was a cheap motel near the bar. The whole building was made out of wood. When Shanks walked in, he was met by a receptionist who immediately got up and said, “Sir, are you headed towards room 104 by any chance?”

Shanks raised his eyebrow and answered, “Yeah. Why?”

“Uhh, I’m so sorry I’m afraid to say this but you don’t match the description Ms. Y/N gave so you can’t go in,” the poor receptionist mustered the courage to say.

“Hah? What did she say?” Shanks asked with a puzzled expression.

“‘Only allow the man who has long black hair with a big gun with him to come inside. Don’t allow anyone else, especially a tanned man with red hair.’ These were her exact words, sir. Please don’t go or else I'll get beaten up,” said the scared man.

Shanks barked out a laugh and shoved the receptionist’s face out of his way. He ignored all of his cries, amused at your silly games.

He was standing in front of room 104 and went in without knocking. The moment he entered he was shoved to the wall, invited by a sharp blade to his neck. You were dangerously close to his face, he smirked and looked down at you, who wore a bathrobe now.

“You’re not Benn,” you remarked.

“Nope, I’m your captain,” he played along with you.

You shoved your knife more into his neck, even a tiny bit of more pressure would cut into his skin. He hissed in pain but was loving every bit of it.

“Not outside the ship, you’re not. Get the fuck out of my room and tell Benn to come in,” you demanded, so close to him that he could taste your breath.

Shanks then immediately grabbed your wrist and aggressively turned you around, shoving your back on his chest. Your knife was now on your neck. The blade was on the verge of cutting into the delicate skin of your neck. But you took a big gulp and the motion got the blade to slowly and deliciously dig into your skin. You huffed, you couldn’t move an inch with how much force he was holding you.

“You really needed to be reminded that I'm your captain in, and out of the ship, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear.

His bare foot now snaked up your thighs, his heel finding its way to your pussylips, over the bathrobe. You gasped at the sudden touch. The material of the bathrobe was rubbing on your clit.

“I’ve really had enough of your games, Y/N, do you not know how much I want you, can you not feel it?” he said huskily, grinding his erection on your ass at the word ‘feel’.

Shanks didn’t fail to notice how you didn’t get defensive at all, your hands were just holding his hand but not trying to push him away. Instead, you were shamelessly grinding him right back.

Your breath started to grow heavy, but you wanted to push him toward the edge further.

“Yeah? Bet you won’t even last for five minutes, Captain,” you taunted him, the last word laced with seduction.

Shanks let out a demonic laugh and the blade that was on your neck was slowly now drawing drops of blood. His heel which was intensely grinding your pussy, now went to your knee and slid your foot to the side, making you lose your footing and you dropped down along with him. You squealed at the sudden action by your captain. Now you were sitting against your captain, both of your legs were wide spread open and locked in place by Shank’s feet. You couldn’t close your legs even if you wanted to no matter how hard you tried.

“I guess I just have to prove you wrong huh? You can decide if you want Benn over me once I’m done with you, sweetheart,” he purred as his hand snaked towards your pussy, and to his surprise, you were not wearing anything under. Your back arched when his thick digits casually traced your warm, saturated lips.

“Ooo, Benn’s gotchu this wet, huh?” he mocked you and licked his fingers clean. Your head was leaning on his chest, too aroused to even acknowledge what he said, and he was looking down at you with a vulgar smirk.

He then removed your loosely tied bathrobe from your shoulders, exposing your voluptuous tits. He let out a satisfying growl when he groped your breast. Kneading it with just enough pressure for your nipple to harden.

His mouth watered at how deliciously malleable it was. You held his face that was set on your shoulder, caressing it as he hungrily explored the sensation of fondling your tits. You grabbed his hair and pulled him close to your mouth, so close that he could feel your heavy breaths all over his lips.

“Touch me, captain,” you needily said, your hips grinding in need of any form of friction over your pussy. The cold air touching your exposed sex made your desperation for him worse.

Your words fell out of your mouth as sweet as grapes drenched in honey, how would he ever not listen to you?

His feet that were locking your legs in place had spread your legs further, and mild pain ran through the middle of your thighs. You moaned as the stretch was hurting you, but the arousal you got from that was unbearable.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, his hand now slithering down to your slit.

Tonight this madman was up to no good.

He collected all your juices to lubricate his hands, and he pressed on to your clit, your body mildly jittered at that and your hips bucked. But you only whimpered because that made your thighs stretch more. He shushed you, and snuggled his face on your neck, kissing and nibbling your salty skin. He continued his teasing by dipping two of his fingers deep in your pussy and removing them before you could even get a hint of pleasure from it. You whimpered from frustration because you were too damn desperate to be touched. You decided to take things into your own hands and you proceeded to rub your clit. His lips got closer to your ear, this time though, his voice carried no playfulness.

“Touch yourself and I will make sure you don’t even cum once,” his tone was so serious that shivers ran down your spine. You were even kind of regretting pushing him so much on the edge.

“Please, Shanks, touch me, I need you,” you begged, dumping whatever shame you had in you, already withdrawing your hand away from your heat. Instead, you held his thigh so tight to calm yourself down that he was sure you would leave marks.

He kissed your ear and hummed, “That’s my girl.”

His calloused fingers finally rubbed your clit at such intensity that he took your breath away. Your head threw back on his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed as he was dwelling in the scent of you. He then realized that he cut your neck a little with the slight scent of iron. Your captain immediately attacked your neck, sucking the cut out. This was truly driving him crazy. His attack on your clit only became more fierce as he was now rubbing it with three fingers. You hissed in pain. But the pain drove you madder as the pleasure was slowly creeping up on you.

“Shanks! Ahh- I can't- this is too much AAHHN!” you cried and his fingers only sped up, making you grit your teeth as you could feel yourself getting close to your orgasm. Your breaths started getting heavier and faster. You grabbed his hair and pulled him hard, hoping he would slow down. But he growled at the pain, getting more riled up.

“What? Don’t wimp out on me now darling, you gotta last at least more than five minutes,” he taunted.

Heat pooled in your lower back and you could snap any minute now. Your chest now had droplets of sweat and Shank’s stubble was scratching your neck making your head spin.

“I’m so close! Shanks-”, you moaned his name repeatedly, your thighs were shaking, and you tried so much to close your thighs from the pleasure but the more you attempted escaping his iron grip feet, he stretched them out more just as quickly.

“Come for me, my love,” he said with such a sweet tone. Tears were running down your cheeks as you screamed his name. Soon it felt like your whole body was short-circuited and you were washed with an intense pleasure storm. He was letting you ride your orgasm out. The impact was so much that you pushed back hard against his chest but he stayed put. You could feel his hard dick against your back and as you spasmed on him, the friction made him harder.

Once you came down from your high Shanks stopped the abuse on your clit and let your legs go, you hissed in pain. Your thighs were buzzing and you were extremely sensitive. You fell back on his chest, he put his fingers in your mouth and you cleaned them right off, your tongue tasting every bit of your arousal. He then caressed your hair, muttering sweet nothings in your ear.

The captain got up and lifted you with his hand. He laid you down on the bed and he kneeled in front of you, unbuttoning his shirt, taking in your naked form under the dim light. His pupils were blown by how alluring you looked. You looked so ethereal for him. Your chest heaving from the intense orgasm you just endured. Your curvaceous figure just waiting for him to get touched, consumed, manhandled-

Once he got rid of his shirt, he got on top of you, his hand slowly feeling your curves and dips. His smoldering touch on your body made you writhe your hips under him. He held your thigh up with his hand and his face hovered closely over yours.

“So impatient for me, hmm?” he cooed above you. His eyes darted towards the corner of your lips that had some drool on them, a result of his ministrations from earlier. Without thinking any further he licked it up, kissing and tasting the drool on your chin. His lips and tongue then crept towards your lips and he kissed you with raging desperation. Your taste was triggering his suppressed animalistic desires. He groaned and you were moaning into his passionate kiss. He bit your lip hard and when you let out an ‘aah!’ he leveraged the opening and darted his tongue in. You wrapped your plush lips around his tongue and ground your hips on his boner. His clothed dick was throbbing and the more friction it got from your grinding, there was precum collected in his pants.

He slapped your thighs hard and your body jolted.

“Behave yourself, sweetheart,” he said after parting his lips from the nasty kiss he was indulging in.

“FUCK me, captain,” you growled at him and he smiled, loving how you are just as desperate as him.

The captain gave you another deep kiss, and his lips grazed your lower lips as he separated from you. He then kissed your chin, lowering down to your neck. He was peppering your skin with hot and open-mouth kisses, licking you up like you were some sugar candy. His rough hand grabbed your boob and he was kneading it with such fervor that it made your arousal worse. Despite his big palms, he still couldn’t fit your entire breast and it drove him insane. His mouth now on your chest, smelling the sweet sweat around your breasts. The sweet and raw scent of you was more intoxicating than the hard alcohol he drank. He licked and kissed between your tits and he latched his lips on your hardened peak. He sucked on your breast hard and rolled your nipple between his lips. His hand was keeping the other tit busy by stimulating it nice and slow. Your chest rose from the bed, shoving his face deeper in your tit. You whined under him and when you looked at him, he caught on your eye contact and he winked at you. You averted your eyes and hid your face with your hands.

Shanks pinched the nipple that was in his palm and you yelped.

“What? I just wanna see your pretty face,” he said with a smirk after finally removing his mouth from your tit with a ‘pop’ sound. He even slapped your tits and saw them jiggle so beautifully. At this point, he had already lost his mind.

This fucking dog-

“Shanks!” You called him out, gritting your teeth. You were frustrated by his current distraction. You needed to get his dick in you so badly that you came up with something to provoke him.

“Hmm?” He said. He was willing to make you suffer until he drove you to the very edge, even though it means his dick can’t take the restrained torment anymore.

You looked him right in the eyes and said, “Why aren’t you fucking me yet, huh? Can’t get it up?”

Shanks’ mind did a 180 and he’s now dedicated to fuck that sass right out of you. He barked out a devious laugh and his hand came for your throat.

His lips were brushing yours as he said, “Oh you wanna get on my dick so bad huh? Alright, I’ll give you just that,” he said.

He got off the bed and got rid of his pants. When his dick got free from the constricts of the clothing your eyes widened. Your mouth watered at his size. Oh, he was definitely big big. You then spread your legs for him. He saw your seeping pussy and fisted his length a few times. Smirking at how needy you were for him, he quickly got on the bed and settled between your legs. He then grabbed your thigh and flipped you on your stomach. You were knocked out of breath and before you said anything he grabbed your waist and raised your hips high. This way he really got a good look at your back tattoo. It was in its full glory and under the dim room light it looked so fucking sexy on you. He grabbed your butt and squeezed it. Your heart was beating faster with anticipation of what next he’d do. He got down and gave your pussy a kiss from the back. You hummed and he licked your slit, from your clit all the way to your tight asshole. His fat and slick tongue left you mewling. Your taste made him moan and he wanted to go deeper with his tongue but he has a different mission for now.

The captain got up and grabbed his cock and spit on his tip. The precum and spit lubed his dick real nice and he lined it up against your heat. He pressed your clit hard with his tip and was feeling your wet heat.

Your body shivered at the feeling of his cock lingering over your pussy. You were throbbing for him so much that you pushed your hips back in an attempt to get his dick in you. He huffed at your desperate efforts and if it wasn’t for him being dangerously horny right now he’d tease you until you lost your shit. Shanks began by slowly pushing his tip in. He hissed at how tight your cunt was, and you whined at his girth. Inch by inch he slowly entered you, the stretch made you moan and tears stung your eyes. You were panting and tried your best to relax your pussy for him but he was just too fucking big.

Your walls were difficult to enter, yet you were so inviting. The way your pussy contracted his dick it felt like you were trying to suck the soul out of him.

“You’re sucking me in so good babe,” he panted. Once he was completely inside you, he paused for a minute for you to adjust to his size. Meanwhile, his hand was busy kneading your butt and tracing all the stretch marks with his fingers. He felt his dick get drenched with your arousal as you slowly rolled your hips on him, looking back at him, you smirked. He saw your salacious look and responded by pulling out midway and thrusting in hard. You gasped and moaned and your face was buried in the pillow. Your captain filled you up so good you felt your whole body burn bit by bit. His hand was grabbing onto your hip as he pounded into you with need.

Your captain’s eyes wandered towards your vacant ass-hole and he had another nasty idea. He had a lazy smirk on his face as he spread your cheek with his hand and he spat on your puckered hole. Your eyes widened and just when you could say anything, his thumb was rubbing the surface of your tight entrance and he applied just enough pressure to push just past the surface. Slowly twisting the fingertip one way and then the other, over and over.

This new sensation made you whine and push your hips into him more. Shanks was really amused at your reaction to his experimental action.

“Ooo you like this?” he snickered from behind you. “Oh what a dirty girl you are~”

“You’re so fucking nasty- mmmh!” your muffled moans reached his ears. Half of your face was shoved on the pillow and you wiggled your hips indicating him to go faster. He gladly obliged by increasing the speed of his thrusts. At this point he could reach deep inside you, the sounds of smacking hips riled him up wildly. And he just had to make you more flustered by mumbling this, “I wonder what would your Benn feel like when he hears us like this.”

You weren’t taking any of his bullshit as you said, “Yeah? Want me to fuck him too and tell you who’s better?”

Jealousy crawled up his spine the moment you said that, imagining you with him being intimate makes him want to properly claim you as his woman. You cackled when he leaned forward and grabbed your hair.

“Hah! Did my captain get angr- AAAHN,” your mockery was cut off by Shanks as his pace got much more intense than before. He then rolled his hips a certain way, your body shuddered and your breath hitched.

He lifted your face and purred, “Oh? I think I found exactly how to shut you right up baby.”

His vehement backshots felt so fucking lewd and good. His dick was rubbing you on your weak spot constantly and you could feel your orgasm creeping up to you slowly. You grabbed onto the sheets like your life depended on it and moaned his name in fervor.

Shanks felt your pussy tighten around his cock, he saw how he could completely get inside you and as he got out there were strings of your juices and his spit.

At that sight, he didn’t have any intention to stop his jackhammering because he was dedicated to making you feel so good that you wouldn’t fall on anyone else’s dick other than his. He grabbed your neck and lifted you up to his level, pounding you real nice and hard from the back at the same time.

His grip tightened around your neck and his lips got closer to your ear, kissing it, nibbling it. “Touch yourself, sweetheart,” he ordered oh so sweetly. One of your hands was wrapped around his neck and so the other hand went straight to your clit. His constant attack on your g-spot and your work on your clit topped off with his choking was a recipe for a storm that was coming towards you.

He felt your walls spasm around his cock as you finally snapped and you came again, very hard this time. Your loud moans and the wet slaps of his dick in you filled in the room. He groaned at how deliciously you were gripping him. He let you ride out your orgasm by languidly thrusting inside you, he held you by your chest and shushed you as your whole body was jolting.

He kissed your temple as you finally came down from your second high. “You came on my cock so well, my love,” he praised you, making your cheeks burn and avert your eyes.

He then pulled out of you and sat on the bed with his back against the wall. You looked at him, and he patted his thigh, gesturing you to come towards him. You crawled towards him and he was taking in your beautifully obscene form. Your skin was covered with a sheen, the light reflected on you and made you look like a sex demon. Your hair locks fell on the side of your face and your plush lips were apart with drool on the side of your lips. Your juicy tits looked so suckable while bouncing as you were going towards him on your fours.

You spread his thighs slightly apart when you reached him. You took your time admiring his strong and muscular body. Your fingers traced his chest, grazing his nipple, wandering down his abs. You got on top of him, your legs situated on either side of his hips. His hot and throbbing dick was almost reaching your belly button. You were actually shocked that something this big was able to go inside you.

You saw him in the eyes, and naturally, your attention went toward his prominent scar towards his eye. You absentmindedly grazed it with your finger but he immediately grabbed your wrist but didn’t pull it away from your face. He had a serious yet lustful expression on his face. You weren’t intimidated by him though, not even slightly. You found his scar beautiful, every bit of his body features was beautiful to you. You kissed his eye once. Then again. Awaiting any negative reaction from him, but you didn’t get any. His grip on your wrist loosened. You continued kissing him more, on his eye, on his nose, cheek, forehead, and wherever your lips took you. You then kissed him on the lips, your tongue was readily invited by his tongue. You went in for a deep, slow, and passionate kiss with him. You were strumming his heartstrings and he was blissfully letting you do so.

Your other hand held his dick, you were stroking him with your grip mildly right and focused on caressing his tip with your thumb. His breath hitched at that. Your kisses now peppered the side of his mouth, chin, and now his neck. You were sucking the large vein on the side of his neck, attempting to leave a mark on him.

“You’ve been such a tease, y/n,” he remarked with a love-drunk voice. You hummed and replied, “And so have you, my captain,” kissing his collarbone and trailing your tongue on his chest. Your grip on his dick getting stronger, strokes maintaining the same slow pace.

“Is that so?” he mused, looking down at you with a smile.

“Mmhm, you didn’t make a move on me all this time, so I took things into my own hands,” you answered. Your lips latched onto his nipple and sucked it hard. He hissed and his hand held your face, fingers lacing in your hair.

You loved how his nipple instantly hardened and you rolled your tongue on it. He was making low whiney sounds and to get more reaction from him you grazed your teeth on his bud. And you finally earned a moan from him.

He then pulled you up and kissed you harshly. You now lined his dick on your slit and pushed yourself down on him, this time without any struggle. You winced as you were still very sensitive down there, but you could manage it. He groaned into the kiss and you rolled your hips on him, causing him to throw his head back. Your hands were on his chest for support and you were riding him at a leisurely pace. He looked down at you and saw how your boobs jiggled every time you got up and down on him. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your lips were parted. His hand grabbed your ass and kneaded it, encouraging you to keep going on.

“You look so beautiful, y/n,” he crooned. Your heart fluttered at his words and you had the urge to make him feel good. So you tighten your pussy around his dick every time you get down and release the grip once you go up. This felt so sinfully both to you and him, you moaned as you could feel him go so much more deeper inside you. You picked up your pace and rode your man faster.

Shanks could feel the blood rushing to his core and his thighs tightened at the soon-to-arrive orgasm. So he lifted his lips making you fall flush on his chest. You gasped at his sudden movement and he thrusted his dick from below at a brutal pace. He held your hips so tight that you were sure his prints would be there to last.

You wrapped your hands around his neck and gladly took whatever he gave you. His dick was rubbing your sensitive spot with this accessible angle and you felt your face heat up. For some reason, you felt the urge to mark him too. You grabbed his jaw, forcing his mouth to open. You collected a decent amount of spit in your mouth and spit into his. He looked right at you and swallowed it immediately. The sight of him taking in whatever you gave had stirred something animalistic in you. You were just as crazy as him. There was no going back now.

This time your third orgasm seemed to be arriving a lot faster than you thought but you also felt something else coming. You suddenly had the urgency to pee. You patted Shanks’ back and whimpered, “Shanks please let me go, I need to pee!’

He was too immersed in chasing his own pleasure to even bother to let you go.

“It’s alright, let it go, it’s gonna be fine,” he assured you. But you frantically shook your head and kept begging him to let you go. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited to have you release all your juices over his cock. Even the thought of that made him hungrily pump you and even snuck his thumb on your clit to get you to your high soon. You wailed and moaned and felt so fucking feverish. You tried to hold it in but this beast would not stop whatsoever. When he felt the newly learned signs of your orgasm on his dick, he smirked and grinded in you.

You truly came hard this time and your eyes rolled back. Both of you felt hot liquid gush out of you and you screamed his name repeatedly like it was a mantra. He groaned at the feeling of you dripping, spasming cunt and it only drove him closer to his release. His hips stuttered and his pace was also faltering. Tears drenched your cheeks as you were extremely sensitive now and he was still going at it. You bit into his neck and pulled his hair hard. After a few more pumps the man under you growled and released thick and hot ropes of cum inside you. You felt so fucking dirty and at the same time, you felt so good. You whimpered and he rubbed your back. You totally didn’t expect him to cum so much. Once he rode out his high he went limp on the bed, his dick was still inside you and you rested your body on top of him. Too sensitive to even move.

Both of your chests were heaving. He brushed your hair away from your forehead and kissed you there. “You did so well,” he praised you. Your head got up from over his chest and you kissed him again, the tiredness was evident in your energy. You then whispered over his lips, “You’re mine.”

He smiled, “I’m yours.”

You hugged him tightly. He hugged you back with his hand wrapped around your lower back.

Both of you stayed like that for what seemed like 15 minutes.

Shanks patted your butt and said, “Let’s get you cleaned now, yeah?”

You nodded and when you got up, you saw his abdomen glistening from the arousal you had released earlier. Shanks' gaze followed yours and he smirked, “That was hot, I wonder if I could make you do that again.”

You laughed and smacked his cheek playfully. He even saw the intersection of your pussy and his dick, his semen was slowly oozing out of you. The sight made him hard again and you widened your eyes and immediately got up his dick.

Shanks barked out a laugh at your reaction and he laid you down on the bed. “What? Your stamina can’t take it?” He teased you.

Now you weren’t someone to take stamina criticism from your old ass captain, so you said, “Try me, captain. I’m sure you’ll duck out sooner than me.”

“Oh yeah?”

That night you both went on for a few more rounds and both of you ducked out at the same time. You both didn’t bother cleaning up and he slept with you with his dick still buried inside you.

___

It was around noon the next day, Shanks had given you a nice hot bath and cleaned himself too. He let you sleep in and he said he would be back after checking in with the crewmates.

He walked to the bar he left last night and saw almost all of them passed out on the floor, chairs, and the fucking wall. He even saw puddles of puke at some corners and huffed. Shanks took a vacant chair and drank a half-emptied bottle of water.

Yasopp was passing by with a brush in his mouth and saw his captain in the beach bar. He didn’t fail to notice all the marks on his chest and neck. Disappointed at his captain for not even attempting to cover his love bites, and he did seem like he was proudly showing it off. “Oh she a freak freak,” he huffed and mumbled to himself. Being fully aware of your wilderness and his captain’s desire towards you.

-the end-

[lovegetfashiongoods]

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