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dadsbongos · 5 months ago

Text

a king, his advisor, and the betrothed

@toxycodone the fic is here fren

11 K words / warnings - reader has vag n wears a dress once, threesome WOAH, p in v + p in a sex, oral (m receiving), kabru is a fan of inappropriate workplace relationships

summary - Laios cannot find a suitor on his own, so Kabru is forced to summon an old... friend... for help.

~~~

“Just… someone you would like, then.”

“Someone I would like?”

“Yeah! If you like them, they must be good, right?”

“This isn’t about… ugh, fine.”

Kabru already knew exactly who to set up with Laios, but he wanted to grant himself a few more hours of delusion by drafting a list of desired traits.

A queen should be: diligent and humble, wise and patient. Honest.

Ideally, a short-lived king should marry from another short-lived race. Any children will therefore be short-lived as well, which Kabru considers highly preferable. Another tallman is his best option to keep infertility sparse.

Laios’ personality will need to be accounted for as well (Kabru finds that the longer he dawdles, the more fun he has hypothesizing Laios’ perfect match).

Laios, specifically, needs someone blunt and unencumbered by conformity -- the man seems to thrive when others feel comfortable speaking frankly with him. Someone from another royal court will not do, and especially not someone descended from direct nobel blood. Furthermore, Laios is clueless as to what his own title ensues, so he does little more for his countrymen than make appearances or pass budgets and bills. So for Kabru’s own sanity, someone intelligent and inclined to make Laios do his actual job is also preferred.

They must balance indulgence and sobriety for the man’s antics, as well as willingness to sit through Laios’ obscure personality.

Wait…

“No,” Kabru scratches that last half of his sentence, ink bleeding across the page, “What kind of matchmaker settles?”

They must like Laios, and Laios must like them. Laios is not a man Kabru can envision enduring loveless marriage, it’d be too awkward and the dolt would have it annulled.

Someone not petrified by monsters and intrigued by Laios’ strange personality, but also not so deranged as to be exactly like Laios.

Again, a single name comes to Kabru’s mind, but this time he does not put it off. He’s had his fun scheming, now he must draft a letter to the Northern Continent. To a village chief’s firstborn -- acquainted well enough with basic politics while also sharing a similar upbringing with Laios.

You’re perfect.

You’re also…

“An ex-party member?” Laios’ eyes skim over the contents of Kabru’s summoning letter, addressed at the top to you, “Cool.”

“Yeah, an ex-party member,” Kabru sighs to himself, imagining Rin beating him over the head with her staff right about now, “I think you should know, I briefly- ”

“Kabru,” Laios shakes his head, grinning, “I don’t care. If you trust them, I do.”

Briefly -- sure -- if an entire year and some months was brief. Kabru sighs louder and decides to let Laios find out on his own, since the king is so determined to look cool and easygoing.

In any case, you’ll be fond of Laios, Kabru’s certain.

Certain, and also dreading.

Year 512

“Where’d you find the space case anyway?”

“You sound upset.”

“Look!” Rin flings a gloved arm straight out, gesturing heatedly towards where the party’s newest member is staring straight at the first floor’s cracked ceiling.

Both hands squeezing the straps of your pack, you leave your throat completely exposed in order to gaze at a dark, faraway roof. The ease with which Kabru could slit your tender neck is comical, he finds it more concerning than charming. Any hoodlum or hooligan could rob and beat you blind and you’d be incapable of a proper defense.

“Let me handle it,” Kabru hopes to placate Rin with a soft grin, its success is limited because Rin’s known him long enough to push through his gushy exterior. She puts up no fight, thankfully, and let him approach you alone, “Hey!”

“Shh!” you hiss cutting your fingers along your jaw to silence him. His shock and horror at your rudeness must be visible because you wave that same hand around and smile, “Sorry. It’s just…”

Pointing up, your stare returns to the ceiling. Eyes wide and lips curled with glee. Kabru heeds and grimaces: glistening slimes the shade of clovers goop between gaping slashes in the ceiling. Pulsating and shivering as one beating organ, Kabru can’t think up a more disgusting sight.

“Slimes are sensitive to the heat we exhale, so the louder you are the easier they can find you.”

Blinking at you as inconspicuous as possible, Kabru asks, “Why stand right under them then?”

“They’re so weird. They don’t look intelligent, but they move around easily and developed such a scary way to trap prey. Pretty neat.”

Kabru has half a mind to cut you out of the party just for saying that, until you tack on a,

“Still super gross, though. We should move before they notice us.”

Kabru nods, watching you cross towards the rest of the party before following with a silent prayer that you’re not actually a monster fanatic.

His prayers are answered on the second floor -- your party is down, Holm and Daya crumpled over on opposite sides of the tree den. Kuro is strewn over a shaking, teary Mickbell with a bloody gash in his back. Rin has a similar slash, only deep in her gut and Kabru can tell she’s bleeding out fast.

While he prides himself on his wit and light thinking, Kabru is horrified by the sight of his party in agony. Planning so far ahead of himself he’s trying to scheme how to charm a passing healer into aiding Rin or reviving Holm, meanwhile he can’t even be certain he’s going to survive this attack. His own life is on the back on his mind, body stiff in preparation to swing his sword and cut off the chicken head of a charging Basilisk.

But how should he cut? It has to have a carotid artery, or a heart, but where? What if his strike is at a wrong angle and the snake side gobbles you all up.

Suddenly, the glint of your sword blinds him -- you snip the snake in half, exploiting the monster’s following stagger to round its body and stab through the Basilisk’s head. Tearing outward and splattering Kabru in blood as the beast drops.

He looks to you in silence, knees sore and wobbly and hands a shaking wreck.

Simply, you say, “The snake head is the real head, so if you attack that end first the chicken tail is distracted and easy to sneak up on,” then, you notice his trembling, “Oh, sorry…”

As if waiting for permission, Kabru’s body gives out once your hands find his shoulders. You smooth a palm over his back while shredding the loose material of your blouse to mop up the mess. Gently soaking Basilisk blood from his face with a frown marring your face, continuously murmuring apologies.

Kabru takes your wrist in his hand, blinking back his shock to sigh, “Thank you.”

Suspecting there’s more words jumbled on his tongue, you patiently wait that way: knelt beside Kabru as he squeezes your wrist.

“I think we should go back to the surface.”

You nod quickly. Much quicker than he’d assume you would given how directly you dealt with the terrifying Basilisk, “Do you want me to head back and get corpse retrievers? I doubt we could carry everyone up by ourselves.”

He takes note of how you specifically exclude Mickbell, presumably due to the young man’s hysterics.

The sharp tang of raw iron is filling Kabru’s nose, he chokes on it. He can’t stand to smell it a second more.

“No,” but inhaling through his mouth makes him taste it, rotting each bud on his tongue, “No. I’m the party leader, I should get them.”

Your eyes are lidding, no shock or awe found in the twinkle of your iris -- you were expecting this response.

“Sure, Kabru, I’ll wait with Mickbell.”

You don’t call him out on it, though.

Once the party has been revived and Kabru’s thrown the men their coins, you suggest the crew return a floor above.

“I’m sure nobody wants to eat where they died, so let’s have lunch up there and save instead of visiting a stall,” you gasp quietly and cover your mouth, then deferring to Kabru, “If that sounds good to you? Sorry… I shouldn’t have spoken so boldly like that…”

“No, you’re right,” even though he’s not looking to confirm, Kabru can feel Rin burning holes into his skull with her glare, “I think that’s a good idea.”

Secretly he’s glad no outsiders heard you make that call -- he isn’t ashamed to be bossed around by someone in a blouse, but he’s also not unrealistic. Others seeing that could threaten his meager status among the adventuring community. He’d be the wimp pushed around by his own members.

Interrupting his spiral, again, is you, “Okay, let’s get going then!” you clamp another hand over your mouth, “Right, Kabru?”

“Right.”

Thankfully, it is just your party who only finds your zealousness comedic rather than an opportunity for mutiny.

Returning visit to the first floor proves you about as useful as the initial one did.

Holm and Daya are unpacking rations with Mickbell and Kuro straggling at the edge of the blondes’ conversation. Rin is fetching water. Kabru is watching you; and he knows he should be either helping Rin, or lecturing you to help Rin, but he keeps watching.

He cannot hear you, but he knows you’re speaking -- crouched to make eye contact with a pair of slight humans. Round cheeks and marblesque eyes tell Kabru they’re just scratching at maturity. Not even thirteen.

The shorter one, a boy with freckles, picks at tender plumes of skin around his nails, knees shaking. He finds no voice, but the girl beside him does. She squeezes the shirt over her heart and her brows furrowed with passion, he can barely make out the words: mage, fourth, corpse retrievers.

One of your hands is perched on your bent knees while the other grazes along the forsaken graveyard, your head tilts and if he really forces his ears then Kabru can hear you ask, “How did you get separated?”

The girl’s shoulders go lax, lip twitching down as she sputters a reply. The boy’s picking grows frantic, his head shaking and voice shivery (this time Kabru can pick up: without her, no chance).

Kabru’s gaze hones on you, dissecting each twinge in your face as you process the information. Daya and Holm’s voices become vague, like buzzing insects, even Rin’s agitated staring from the fountain is pushed out of focus. How will you react to these children?

It's a horrible story, he’s sure. He’s so sure it’s a truly heartbreaking tale about two little ones separated from their ward on a lower level due to a snap decision from fear. However, it could also be just that: a story.

Criminals banned from The Island’s coasts often seek refuge in the bowels of the dungeon. Kabru feels confident that as this dungeon continues to fester unconquered: criminals are beginning to raise their children here.

If you blindly follow them down, you’re a fool. If you hand over all your party’s gold, you’re a fool. If you do nothing, you’re heartless. Heartlessness can be worse than foolishness, at least fools have good intentions.

Fingers wrap around the stem of a limping flower and pull, cutting it clean from the floor and holding the plant for both children. You push your hand closer to the kids, waiting until the girl grasps the flower before speaking again,

Something long winded, and judging by the shudders racketing down the boy’s frail body something rather dismal too. Yet you’re beaming up at the children, then they’re smiling as well. Rising to your feet, you brush moss stains from your knees and wave the children off with a promise Kabru can actually hear,

“If my party finds any retrievers, we’ll send them down.”

With eager nods, the kids sniffle and affirm their bravery to you -- the girl cradling the plucked daisy to her chest. You return to your party’s camp and boldly declare,

“I think we should try reaching the fourth floor soon.”

Rin bonks you with an elbow to the side, “Where’s this enthusiasm when I needed help carrying the water?”

Rubbing the tenderized area, you laugh and accept her frustration, “Sorry. Got caught up.”

“Obviously,” Rin sighs, falling to her knees around the party’s temporary camp.

Kabru sits as well, still observing as you apologize to Rin again though your eyes trailing the kids as they heft food packs onto their shoulders and begin their trek.

Mickbell settles into Kuro’s lap, Daya has begun digging into her plate while Holm ensures everyone has a filling portion. Rin agrees to dissolve the tension, meaning you two can begin gaffing amongst yourselves. As if you never left, the party is normal.

Despite your itch to reach the fourth floor as soon as possible, you don’t mention the interaction whatsoever.

Overall, Kabru considers your first dive with the party a cohesion success.

Year 515

“Don’t speak over or interrupt. Got it?”

“Okay.”

“At all.”

“Alright.”

“I’m serious,” Kabru’s eyes widen a smidge, as if to force how pertinent it is that Laios absorbs this lesson, “I’m still upset about the meeting last week.”

“I didn’t know he wasn’t done talking,” Laios frowns, shrugging in an obnoxiously coy play, the worst part being that Kabru knows Laios does it in earnest. His stupid kicked-puppy stare is entirely genuine, “That guy takes long breaths, it’s hard to tell when he’s done.”

“Well try harder to tell now,” a wave of guilt hits Kabru in the chest, heart squeezing at the sight of Laios’ frown deepening, “I don’t mean to upset you. I just… I want this to go well.”

“I do, too, you know?”

Kabru finds that hard to believe, but Laios isn’t lying to him right now. He’d know otherwise. Whether Laios can make a positive impression will have to be seen, but the man clearly has no intentions of sabotaging himself.

For all his lackluster socio-political ambitions, Laios is still a good king: insightful to the experience of commonmen and quick to new ways of strengthening their country. He has yet to give citizens, or Kabru, valid reason to question his ability to rule.

“I’m sure,” Kabru turns in his desk chair, bracing his forehead with his palm, “Let’s get this finished then.”

“But- “ Laios hesitates when he’s shot an icy glare from Kabru, “But I’m so hungry…”

As if to punctuate his torment, Laios’ stomach grumbles. Loudly. Echoing through the informal setting of Kabru’s personal quarters.

“My poor royal majesty,” Kabru coos, inked with sarcasm, “Will you survive till lunch?”

Laios’ eyes go thin, arms folding, “Don’t demean me.”

“It’s one meal. You’ll hardly die. The faster we finish this paperwork, the quicker we can usher you to breakfast.”

“I want to go now,” Laios, with no sense of self, lays his lips into the crook of his advisor’s neck. Soft, plump flesh scorching Kabru’s pulse, then a cold flash of bone: teeth, “I’m starving.”

Bladepoint canines puncture Kabru’s skin, shock blinding him to the scathing scratch till after Laios has already pulled away. Saliva stringing them together before Laios snaps it, sloppily swiping the wrist of his sleeve across his mouth.

“Disgusting,” Kabru starkly avoids eye contact by glaring at the sheen of spit on his shoulder, cupping the inflamed flesh, “Go change your shirt now, it’s not a handkerchief.”

He doesn’t remember when he first felt comfortable being so venomous around Laios, only that it's easier than trying to be pleasant all the time.

“After I eat?” Laios prompts.

“After you eat,” Kabru massages his tensing temples, working away the headache as it builds.

Upon Laios’ exit, Kabru traces the shallow indents with his fingertips -- lashes fluttering against his cheeks at the resulting faint sting. Now he’ll be forced to find a new shirt of his own, one that hides his bruising mark.

Year 513

“As long as we don’t piss off any living armor, we should be able to get to the fourth floor, at least,” you nod to yourself, hands steady and body firm as you hold up your homemade map of the area.

Raucous groans follow your cheery assessment, and a cursory glance back shows your party in disarray: Rin and Holm have heavy, discolored bags beneath their eyes. Daya is leaning against her axe with quaking arms while Mickbell coils around Kero’s shoulders. Even Kabru can admit he looks worse for wear, or assumes he does because he certainly feels at his worst.

“Oh, unless you all want to head back?” you roll the map up and wave a hand dismissively, almost seeming ashamed of the previous suggestion. Cautious to maintain a soothing and even tone, clearly doing your best to prevent any of them from feeling coddled or mocked.

Not that he truly wants to, but Kabru agrees, “Probably for the best. We’re running low on food, so we should save what we have for the journey back.”

“Makes sense,” you don’t appear disappointed or discouraged, “There’s always next time.”

“Enough optimism,” Mickbell whines, “It’s making me all nauseous.”

“Be nice,” Rin chastises, then looking at you forlorn, “You could probably carry on without us.”

Her dejected lilt prevents any accusations of wanting you to go it alone.

“No way, I’d go crazy by myself!”

Kabru reads that instantly as a lie -- if your scrunching brows and fidgeting hands weren’t telling enough then perhaps you don’t remember confessing to him your days as a solo adventurer.

You could easily carry on without the rest of the party. Hell, you could even join a better, stronger party -- the Toudens, maybe. They’d chomp at your skills if they cared even a little about their fellow men. Kabru bets you would even be able to form a party of your own with ease.

“We’re strongest when everyone’s at their best, after all,” you reassure, turning your back on the dream to hit fourth floor this crawl in favor of aiding your party’s exhaustion, “As long as we can go that deep eventually, I’ll die happily.”

Kabru doesn’t bring up how rapidly approaching the date for you to sail back home is, he gets the sense you wouldn’t want him to.

“Well don’t go keeling on us as soon as we do,” Rin’s scowl loosens, only slightly, when you smile in return and loop an arm through hers.

“Of course, not, Rin. Who else would terrorize you if I died?”

Quickly, the mage’s dark eyes flick to Kabru before returning to you, “I have an idea.”

“Oh, duh.”

Her gaze lingers on the way you’re staring at Kabru and how Kabru stares back. She must read his fondness because her forehead wrinkles up and she tugs you forward, “Yeah, duh.”

Year 515

Kabru’s foot taps impatiently, knowing it’d be improper were he to rush over and help you down from the carriage himself. But forgive the man, he’s in a hurry to have you at his side again.

He wonders if you wear the same perfume.

He wonders if you’ll take to Laios immediately, or will it take the entire two weeks before your wedding ceremony for you to warm to him?

Most of all, he wonders if he can compose himself during the entire courting process.

“Hey!”

Kabru’s mind snaps back into the present at your call, you’re charging over with an ecstatic wave. He waves back, calmer and centered towards his chest.

“It’s great to see you again!” you effortlessly knock the polite handshake Kabru extends aside to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “Imagine my surprise, the first time you send a letter is to try and marry me to a king!”

“I never found the time to write back when things finally got interesting,” Kabru bluffs, returning your hug. Warmth spreads between the both of you, if he focuses hard enough he can make out the dull thud of your heart, “Hopefully this makes up for it.”

“Definitely,” you pull back, rolling your eyes, “Father made my brother village chief while I was on The Island, so there wasn’t anything left for me to do there.”

“Perfect time to get one up on your brother. Even just marrying into royalty is better than village chief.”

You hum thoughtfully, “Let’s meet Laios Touden first. I remember he was kind of a weird guy, no?”

“He still is,” Kabru shrugs, turning to guide you into the main hall as men lug your bags towards the castle’s south wing, “He’s nice, at least. Wants to make living easier,” he glances back at you over his shoulder, “Handsome, too. You must remember what he looks like.”

“I remember he was big.”

“Strong, yeah,” Kabru slows to match paces with you through the rolling corridors, “Nice jawline, pretty eyes, and the slope of his nose isn’t terrible. He’s kind of an outstanding specimen, physically I mean.”

“Oh…” you press a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing at his rambling, “So his looks do the heavy lifting?”

“Just something to keep in mind,” he pauses outside a set of tall double doors, one hand braced against the hanging, solid black handle, and the other drawing circles into his temple, “His unique personality hasn’t faded with becoming king.”

“How interesting.”

“That’s a word for it.”

Laios is slumped comfortably back into his throne, sunlight complimenting his bored expression before he notices the pair pushing through his grandeur. Immediately, his eyes sink into you, scrawling from the top of your head to your feet in blatant observation. Staunchly, his gaze remains respectful to your modesty, indicating he’s purely sizing you up; perhaps confirming whether or not he could take you in a fight. Or to use you as a meager replacement for his monsters, studying your anatomy and mentally attaching tails and horns and heads where he sees fit.

“King Laios,” you politely remain behind Kabru. Your own gaze lurches over the king’s body as well, much less clinical than his examination -- you already know you could take him in a fight. What you want to imagine now, is if he’s the outstanding specimen that Kabru claimed, “So nice to see the Golden Kingdom for myself.”

“Prettier than the North,” Laios, much to Kabru’s unspoken irritation, scratches the back of his head without grace, “You’re from there too, right? How has it been? I haven’t been in awhile.”

“Oh, you know,” none of the men from your village look like Laios, despite their hard labor they aren’t built like him. Big. Beefy. Chewable also comes to mind; you could chew him up and be full of protein. From the little pouch of his stomach you surmise he isn’t cut or excessively defined, which drives you mad, “Same as usual. Cold and quiet.”

“Mhm. How about the monsters up top? I don’t think anybody from my village was willing to slay them,” he folds his arms, legs spreading as he readjusts for comfort, head ticking curiously, “I’ve been thinking lately that they could be overrun by monsters if nobody fights them off.”

Kabru’s irritation grows, having to claw at his thighs to restrain from choking the man. He may be older and bigger and more powerful than Kabru is, but Laios is the most painfully oblivious man in the world. He just has to be. He’s so focused on not attacking his king that Kabru almost misses how eyes scald his side at the mention of monsters overtaking the North.

“I haven’t noticed anything unusual,” and you mean that, the North truly is as boring as it was when you were growing up, “Maybe more acceptance for magic, but that’s mostly to combat the increase in ghosts.”

“Increase in ghosts,” Laios’ eyes bulge, posture straightening out in vivid excitement, “Do they know why there’s so many? Do they just wander around, or do they remain in cemeteries?”

“Ah, King Laios,” you try to hide the way your eyes bounce repeatedly towards Kabru’s rigid frame. His hands are balled, even shaking, and his stare is aimed over the king’s right shoulder, “Perhaps we could get some privacy before discussing such things?” you boldly step forward, correctly assuming Laios would take no offense at the intrusion, “We should get to know each other on our own.”

“Oh, right!” Laios waves a dismissal towards Kabru, apologizing for holding the man so long.

You don’t ask Kabru if he’s okay before he leaves, but you take one of his hands and squeeze it gingerly. Smiling tenderly and bidding him well. A soft halo of gold ringing around your head from sunlight pouring through glass panes.

“Don’t let- ” just as he’s apologizing for his king, you silence Kabru.

“I’ll form my own opinion,” you release his hand, still grinning, “You trust me, don’t you?” he nods, of course he does, “So trust me to gather my own thoughts, okay?”

Oh, God that cannot be a good sign.

Please, please, please -- he’s contemplating getting on his knees to pray outside the doors -- please don’t let his reaction to Laios’ monster obsession make you hate the king. You’re his only choice, the only one that will do!

You’re kind and strong willed and beautiful and he’d love to have you living under the same roof as himself.

Not that that has anything to do with his decision. No, no, that would be idiotic.

That would be the worst plan he’s ever planned in his entire life. So, he’s glad it's separate from his real motivation.

At least, he’s glad until that night. Alone in his bed with only moonlight shining along his pristine sheets.

For hours Kabru has been cooped in his room, and technically he’s been cooped in his mind even longer. Since the second a passing pair of guards relieved him from lingering outside the throne room, Kabru blindly stumbled through his messy thoughts.

Worse now than ever before is the desperation to know. Clawing him apart from the inside out. He needs to know.

To know what you’re feeling. To know what’s being said. To know why you two never came out, even hours after Kabru left. In explicit detail, he must know. What you like about Laios, what you don’t, what you find attractive, if you got hot in the face when you saw him, if you ever felt that way about Kabru, if you think Kabru’s attractive, if you accepted his invitation just because Kabru sent it or because you truly wanted to meet Laios.

He can’t just ask, so now he must meticulously set up a series of precision events to fish the information out.

Because your hesitance to emphatically accept the proposal confuses Kabru. You’ve never been particularly picky about partners, but you’re not the type for manufacturing attraction to spare a person’s feelings. So theory one is that Laios is not physically appealing to you.

Though not even that explanation makes sense. To be short, Kabru doesn’t understand how you couldn’t be attracted to Laios. Such strong, determined features demanded attention; and trust, the attention would be positive.

Broad shoulders and meaty thighs, Laios’ build is admirable on its own: Kabru could sink his teeth into Laios’ bicep and never cut bone. Aside from that is the healthy fluff of blonde hair his king keeps trimmed, as well as his face. Remaining clean shaven gives an air of proper hygiene and self-sufficiency that makes Laios seem more attractive.

Kabru cannot fathom how you’re not preparing vows yet.

That thought makes him shoot up in bed, eyes wide and a hand curled into his churning gut.

Why can’t Kabru fathom how you’re not preparing vows? Why does he find it so peculiar?

That type of questioning, this obsession -- it implies Kabru wants to prepare vows, doesn’t it?

With ragged grumbling Kabru collapses back into his mattress, letting his fried brain melt through his ears as he finally attempts giving in to sleep.

…

He wakes to a nightmare the next morning -- you and Laios are alone in the great hall, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the end closest to the kitchen. Chairs pushed so close the armrests are peeling against each other, elbows knocking as Laios forgoes all table etiquette. Not once do you scold or demean him. Instead seeming too engrossed at the ear-nibbling of shapeshifter trivia Laios is laying down.

“Did you ever run into one?” Laios asks, eyes a little too glittery for someone who must’ve woken quite early for this private breakfast, “My dad had our dogs follow herds so we could spot them in the flock.”

“Dogs can tell which sheep are fakes?”

“Oh, yeah! Dogs can tell by the smell,” Laios taps his nose, “I wonder what the difference is, don’t you? Do they smell more sweet, like dirt? Or do they have no smell at all since their illusions?”

“Maybe a Kobold would be able to tell you? Their anatomy is dog-like, after all.”

“I thought so, too! But there’s not many Kobolds native to the North.”

“Well, hopefully you can find out one day,” then you bite for more monster facts, “I did always wonder what my own shapeshifter could look like. Don’t they read people’s minds to make their copies?”

Laios’ silverware clatters away, tinking loudly on the glass plate, hands flexing hysterically, heart jumping to his tongue, “They do, they take other people’s interpretations of you to confuse your company into keeping it around.”

“How thrilling,” you muse.

“It’s a shame I’ll never get to see or make another one,” he lifts his fork, pushing meat and eggs around his plate glumly, “Would’ve been fun to see what you look like in my memory compared to the real thing.”

“You can tell me now,” your palm bares his shoulder, leaning over your chair and towards his own. Laios’ honey eyes dip, tracing the shape of your lips which makes you lean even closer, “How is it that you see me, Laios? Would I be flattered?”

“I hope so,” he blurts.

Kabru backs away, rattling door hinges before slumping back into the corridor. Rotten thoughts of how lovely you are corroding his brain. You’re so lovely to nip at your betrothed’s interest wholeheartedly, no matter how unconventional.

You’re so lovely it's all consuming.

You’re so lovely he can’t remember when or why, exactly, he fell in love with you.

You’re so lovely he thinks he might have just always been your emotional pin cushion.

There remains to be a single thing Kabru could name that made him fall in love with you.

Kindness is much too bland of a trait. And you wanted the wellbeing of others, but that’s something Kabru expects from people. You are pretty, but that’s no reason to daydream about buying a house together. Perhaps it was a combination of all three that mixed lethally well with how much time you spent together.

That, with how detrimental party romances are to group fallouts, maybe made you more desirable? Could that be it?

You were a new, fascinating person he couldn’t pick apart as soon as he gazed upon you, and you knew exactly how to swerve his expectations. You loved listening to him mutter about the interlocked nature of humans: one man cheating on his wife in Kahka Brud undoing a port in Melini. But you stepped away from interpersonal Island gossip. You could rattle out seven variations of man-eating plants but couldn’t stand to even look upon the vegetation without grimacing.

Approachable with a thin smile and batting lashes, beautiful and quiet. Very quiet. You hardly ask anything of others. It should make you seem ominous or menacing, but no part of him feels endangered by you.

Kabru always felt so comfortable around you that, despite knowing his other party members longer, he found you the easiest to converse with. Before he could realize himself, you’d crawled over so many emotional walls without letting him bypass a single one of your own.

You’re his worst nightmare, he craves you more than oxygen.

Year 513

The tavern door opens with an outrageous squeal. If the mood were different, then you would probably make a humorous remark about the aged hinges. But the mood isn’t different. Things are tense and he just wants to go home now.

Even twinkling stars blink away to avoid giving his humiliation anymore attention. Moonlight rudely oozes over you both, though, reminding him how much he prefers the sun. The moon always seems to follow him when he’s whirled in his worst turmoil.

You step into the tavern first, holding the cranky door open for him. He’d thank you like the upstanding young man his mother raised… if only the mood were different.

Silently, Kabru trails behind you, cheeks blistering hot and palms moist, with his head bent. You two make it back to the table circled by your party, sans Daya due to a more pressing engagement with her fiance. Rin’s perma-scowl cracks briefly into blatant shock at his slouch before schooling herself into re-wrinkling her face. Confusion curling into the folds of her glabella.

“What happened?”

Per usual, you answer for Kabru, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” anger seems to flash briefly over her for a moment, a spasm so minute only Kabru can spot it, “Really?”

He’s not surprised she’s upset about him, shamefully, trying to woo you during a night out with the party. What surprises him is that her anger is solely directed at you.

At least until you nod firmly, “Nothing happened, Rin.”

Then pity laxes her irritation, she spares Kabru a flicker of eye contact before mumbling an ‘okay’. She ends up remaining largely silent for the rest of the night, only extending responses when directly prompted.

What else surprises him is the ease with which you lie. Something happened, just not how he wanted it to play out.

Maybe he didn’t notice because of his drowned mood, but Kabru swears you didn’t exhibit any of your usual tells when you spoke.

(the fact he harps on your physical tells will make him so mad he cries later tonight)

Year 515

“He’s going to burn their ear off, I’m telling you…” Marcille grumbles.

“I think it's cute,” Falin grins.

“Of course, you do,” Marcille sighs, though smiling fondly at the girl while scritching around her plumage. Falin chirps happily and nuzzles into Marcille’s shoulder, “He’s your brother, you never think he’s as weird as he is.”

Kabru speaks boldly, which he knows is unlike himself but he’s so eager to show that he knows you more than them that he cannot stop himself, “They can bond over the monster talk, at least.”

“Are they even into monsters?”

“Kind of?” he backtracks, realizing that he isn’t sure how to answer her question, “They hate monsters, but they know a lot.”

“Good on you for finding someone like that, then,” Marcille shrugs, “They might actually have a good marriage.”

Kabru tenses, even though he shouldn’t (because he knows why you’re here, so he can’t exactly get depressed when other people bring it up), “Yeah. They will.”

“For a while, I thought you’d marry my brother,” Falin says suddenly. Eyes sharp on Kabru’s figure.

Marcille guffaws, “Why would you say that?”

She shrugs before letting her eyes relax to their usual serene state, “They get along well. And Laios likes him. Laios doesn’t usually like people.”

“I guess you have a point,” Marcille waves a figurative flag before gesturing to the room around them, “But we’re not planning their wedding.”

“Yeah…” Falin sighs like she’s the one most disappointed.

Kabru says nothing, only returning to the list of ale and wine suppliers eager to vend for the upcoming royal wedding. His eyes skim names he’s heard various reviews for, but his brain takes none of them in. Rather, he’s fixated on what Falin said.

She could see it?

Could they have gotten married?

If Kabru forgot you completely, or even better never met you, could it be him stepping up to the altar? Would Laios have him?

Laios doesn’t usually like people. but in crowded meetings, it's solely Kabru that Laios searches for. And it’s the sight of Kabru that makes Laios sigh in relief. And it’s the sound of Kabru’s voice that Laios waits for before delivering a response.

At dinner, back when they ate together before you monopolized mealtimes, Laios always ensured Kabru had twice his fill before calling it a night.

(“Even though we’re not fighting in a dungeon anymore, I still think you should retain your strength.”

“You sound like you just like watching me eat.”

“Maybe that, too. You have a nice mouth.”

Kabru never responded to that, too petrified over the implications. Now he thinks he probably should have, maybe it would have meant he’d be marrying a king.)

Falin was right in that Laios doesn’t take to people easily, and he’s sure that’s all she meant. But Kabru knows that her statement is a criminal oversimplification of Laios.

Laios likes people so much he’s gone on potentially endless, potentially fruitless, endeavors for them. Laios likes people so much he makes them harpy eggs because they seem minorly interested in monster cuisine. Laios likes people so much he makes sure they’re treated with the utmost dignity. Laios loves people, and suddenly the thought of you becoming one of those select people is getting harder to grieve.

Laios’ love is not limited, but now Kabru’s forced to come to terms with the fact that Laios’ romantic love for him is--

“So, did you pick yet?” Marcille and Falin are swatching fabrics from the cushy loveseat of the main library, “I’ve heard of a roach outbreak in Smisson’s breweries, so I hope you didn’t get attached.”

Kabru jolts upright and shakes his head, saying the first dumb thing he can think of, “I heard of that, too.”

Falin giggles, “He’s the one that told you about it, Marcille.”

“Huh? You’re kidding!” a furious blush overtakes the elf, “I’m sorry, I don’t know how I forgot that!”

Kabru shakes his head again, swallowing roughly, “It’s fine.”

Really, it’s all fine.

Year 513

“Everyone wanted to be here,” Kabru chuckles quietly, as if raising his voice could somehow wake the entire Island.

“I’m sure,” there’s no hint of sarcasm in your voice, “They were with me late last night, so… I didn’t really expect anyone to see me off,” you giggle softly, a hollow sound he doesn’t take very kindly, “I’m surprised you made it.”

“It’s the least I could do after everything you gave the party,” with no decorum he scratches the back of his neck, and avoids looking you in the face, “It’ll be harder in the dungeon without you.”

“I believe in you.”

His breath hitches. He looks at you. A barely-there smile and tired eyes. It may be the most honest he’s seen you. He’s tempted to ask how you meant that ‘you’, but doesn’t.

He doesn’t even speak until you’re boarded -- until he’s forced to raise his voice so you can hear him over a bustling crew and fellow passengers.

“If I send letters, will you read them?” Kabru silences you before you can open your mouth, “Will you respond?”

Then, you’re smiling wider, and your eyes are tight with joy. It isn’t the usual siren cant of droopy lids, it’s pure elation. You’re laughing at his question, shoulders bouncing gleefully. You’re nodding. You speak between chortles, as if he asked you what color the sky was.

“Of course, I will!”

You look more beautiful than he’s ever seen you before.

“Okay, I’ll write you, then.”

“You better!”

Your ship rocks as it sets off from the dock, but you don’t disappear beneath the ridge. In fact, you almost hang over it, torso flattening against wood and nails digging for purchase as you wave.

Kabru waves back. He runs down the dock like a fool, barely catching himself from tumbling into the lapping ocean.

“Bye, Kabru!” you’re still smiling, bathed in soft orange and soothing yellow -- your voice grows distant over crashing waves, “I’ll miss you!”

He keeps waving. He waves and he waves and he doesn’t stop until your ship is behind the horizon. Only then does his hand fall to his side, eyes sopping wet and chest squeezing.

He feels pathetic.

He misses you already.

Year 515

Days prior this morning, the grand hall was cleared out -- pews replaced the needlessly long cherry oak dining table. Flowers plotted in tall carved vases with white lace and silk choking the necks, a velvet track from the altar through open doors to the courtyard. People from across the continents were invented, diplomats to friendly nobles to acquaintances Laios does not remember to true friends to your father and brother and Falin.

(“You don’t want to invite your parents?” Kabru re-evaluates his list of guests, “Seems uncouth, no?”

“What do I care?” Laios’ legs are splayed, thighs pressing against either side of the gold throne, “A wedding is meant to be happy, why would I need people I don’t like there?” he knocks a fist back into Kabru’s chest, letting his knuckles linger over the man’s heart only as long as he can say, “I have you, and my betrothed, and my friends. Really, that’s all I need.”

“It’d be rude to- ”

“I get it,” Laios’ hand falls back onto his armrest, fingertips skimming the rounded metal edge, “This is why I’m leaving it to you, I trust you.”)

Out of all the tedious preparation, dressing Laios was the most tragic in that the king hated everything the handmaids and servants stuffed him in. Countless hours were wasted before they begged Kabru to help, only then did the king settle:

No crown, terminally unsurprising, since Laios abhorred the weight and feel of it on his head. Rather, he would adorn himself with that dreadful Winged Lion’s pelt, and a vermillion cotehardie reaching mid-thigh with gold trim. Leather belt tethered around his waist gave the fabric shape whilst holding up loose britches. Daggered teeth of various beasts lined his neck, which Kabru was privy to each and every complaint over the sensory nightmare they provided. He’s sure as soon as Laios can, he’ll be tearing the necklace off.

Dressing himself, regardless of Laios’ multiple emphatic encouragements, was a similar exercise in disaster:

It felt massively inappropriate to wear something so shiny and attractive as gold on another man’s wedding night, even as Laios insisted Kabru wear whatever he pleased. Still, Kabru chose silver earrings and accents. Sparkling and flattering, yes, but nothing so bold. He did splurge with a sapphire blue kirtie that made his eyes shine brighter, and a simple chain of pearls. He felt attractive, and joyous.

Joyous for tonight. Joyous for a wedding! Yes, simply so ecstatic for tonight’s marriage.

Truthfully, Kabru is so overjoyed for his king, he really could just fucking die.

From joy. And happiness.

Because what makes it even better is how you look happy. Actually happy. No low gaze or siren simper, just pure, carefree merriment as you link hands with Laios. Reciting vows from a flushed, teary-eyed Marcille. Neither of you has that gleam or honeydew sparkle of pure love, but Kabru is good at his job: zero doubt swims in his mind that you two will be a pair truly enamored with each other.

His misery must be unfiltered in the back of the grand hall, far behind the rest of the wedding party, because Rin’s dark eyes are piercing through the side of his skull. She’s frowning up at him, arms folded.

She murmurs, “You should’ve said something.”

Kabru grins at her sardonically, “I should’ve broken up their engagement? You didn’t even like us interacting when they were in our party.”

“That’s- !” her cheeks stain red, an annoyed huff rattling her whole body, “They never told you why they rejected you, right?”

Kabru’s silence is answer enough. It’s also more unsettling to Rin than any dungeon monster she’d encountered.

“They knew that I wanted you,” Rin clears her throat, embarrassment trying to choke her into silence, but she overcomes it for the sake of her friend, “So, out of respect, you were refused and never told why.”

Kabru loves Rin, as a sister. He loves her so much he’d kill for her, because she’s like his sister. He loves her so so so much that he cannot even be mad at her, because part of him always considered her somewhat to blame for your rejection of him.

For an agonizing, silent few seconds, Kabru just stares down at her with those crystalline eyes. Blinking himself from his stupor, Kabru asks the dumbest question he could think of, “Did they want to say yes?”

Rin’s frown deepens, forehead wrinkling, “Is that something you really want to know?”

Laios is a terrible kisser, and out of respect you cover your mouths with a hand as he maps out your lips with eyes clenched. Kabru told him not to close his eyes too early, and naturally Laios did not listen. Thankfully you’re there, hiding Laios’ possible humiliation with one hand and guiding him with your other on his jaw.

“No,” Kabru sighs, “Not really.”

That’s the biggest lie he might’ve ever told Rin.

Still she pats his back sympathetically, even laying her head against his shoulder.

Celebration begins, food laid free for grabbing and wine flowing like water -- especially into Kabru’s gaping maw. It's sour on his tongue, but as far as he’s seen it's him alone that scrunches his face and shakes out his hair at the taste, which only has him feeling crazier.

“Isn’t this foul?” Kabru scoffs, slumped over one of the many strewn tables in the general ballroom, cramped posture making him seem smaller. Ordinarily this is embarrassing. Ordinarily he’s not drunk.

“I don’t notice anything,” Chilchuck swigs from the clear chalice in his hand.

Marcille takes a civilized sip for herself, unspoken concern that their friend’s taste in alcohol is not utmost dependable, “I don’t notice anything either.”

Kabru swirls his wine, staring into the dark spiral and wondering if a bug of some type sensed his grim mood and decided to drown itself and poison his cup.

“I’m going to get a new drink, then,” Kabru rises, bidding the pair well as he guns for the barrels of frothy ale.

People cheer and clack maizers, spilling various toxic cures onto the floor making his shoes stick with loud clicks. Something he doesn’t bother with knowing Laios will seek him out once the stains are discovered.

Laios, Laios, Laios: speaking of.

Kabru’s gaze floats across the party to find his king, who is staring off with hands fidgeting in the drape of his Winged Lion’s pelt as your father speaks. An unfortunate sight, one he’s itching to rectify when a lengthy gown flows into his vision.

Dashing and soft and yours.

Sage fabric glides along the floor, intricately sewn floral trim skittering along the ground. Flowers of lace and yarn decorate the bust and sleeves, even a crown of colorful buds blooms atop your head. Rings of gold link around your fingers. Hair swept away to unveil your face, coiled and braided with, unbelievably, more flowers dancing between the tresses. Faint lavender and tangerine lingers around you in a hypnotizing haze, culling lovestruck head-turns of men and women with your every step.

“Your husband’s alone with your father.”

“They’ll come out alive, or we’ll hear them killing each other,” you pull out a seat at the longest central table and gesture to the chair directly beside you, “Sit. We never got to properly catch up.”

Kabru sees you have wine. He suddenly craves the sour grape flavor (maybe all he was missing was the sensation of licking it off your lips). From what he remembers, Laios was holding wine as well. Kabru considers stretching out to steal a second taste.

Although, sugary enough is the sound of your voice, suddenly his fresh mug of ale is entirely forgotten.

“Kabru?”

You’re so pretty, Kabru could tear his eyes out now and not miss a single greater sight. Especially when you’re -again- bathed in the pouring gold sunlight through grand windows, tranquil beside him at the long table. As if there isn’t a single other spot you prefer, you sit right next to him with a chalice of the worst wine he’s ever had.

“Hey, Kabru…”

His hands shake with the need to hold you. Chest raging with his uncontrollable heartbeat. His head hurts with the knowledge that there really isn’t a place he prefers more than by you (even if he’s forced to drink alcohol so foul it's comparable to sewage).

“Kabru,” your touch startles him, pout and knitted brows capturing his whole attention, “You’re not even listening to me!” you laugh, shaking off his incompetence so easily it makes him want to thank you with a kiss, “Are you drunk?”

“Huh?” he lowers his head into his hands, “Yes,” he lies to you, “Yes, that must be it.”

“Poor thing, I thought you were better at holding your liquor.”

“Your memory is fading…”

“Oh, well, suppose me and the king will have to tuck you in. Make sure you get to bed safely without bumping into anything expensive.”

Kabru gags, pushing himself up from his seat and dashing towards the nearest bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach (wine, mead, beer, and beer’s good brother ale).

Tears sting his eyes, snot beginning to leak from his nose as he spits into the toilet bowl. You and the king. The king and you. You and Laios: married. Perfect union. And Kabru did it all to himself. He wanted so desperately to drink himself under the table to forget, and you just had to go reminding him.

You are the worst person he’s ever met, and so is Laios! Your commitment to respect is disgusting, and Laios’ trust in him is an absolute travesty. You two should just hurry up and keel over instead of shoving your romance in Kabru’s face; and if either of you ever thanks him for setting you up then he’ll gut you both that very instant.

Laios and you are terrible, awful, no good devils -- and he wants you both so bad he’s vomiting in the bathroom on your wedding night.

Maybe he can send you both off on a honeymoon? Yes, yes. And while you’re away, he’ll drown in responsibility by day and pretty faces by night. Upon your return, he’ll have forgotten he was ever smitten.

No, who is he kidding? That would be a pointless venture.

You’d be so giddy to tell Kabru allllll about your trip while Laios would show off trinkets he picked up with that charming smile, Kabru would fall right back here. Puking and crying. He should just resign totally. Rot away in bed and die so he never has to see either of you again.

How cowardly.

How unbecoming.

Kabru could kick himself.

Rin was in his position more or less (...less, though, definitely less) and still had the nerve to face him every day for years. She didn’t run away, and she didn’t make her party suffer because of her feelings -- so how could Kabru extend the kingdom’s wellbeing over his? Without him, Laios would socially drown with a village chief’s firstborn as a life preserver.

You’re smart and well-versed in reading others, but you’re not Kabru for God’s sake. You can’t apply half of what you know, not to mention you don’t even care to learn.

Wiping off his mouth and flushing the toilet, Kabru stumbles toward the doorway with a prayer in his pocket to find water soon.

Returning to the chipper scene, Kabru can instantaneously spot Laios flagging him down, with his spare hand curved into the base of your spine.

He dodges you both and retires to bed. Lightheaded and miserable, he’s asleep quickly.

Then, suddenly, he’s not.

He’s outside Laios’ room.

Did his feet carry him here subconsciously? How pathetic…

Kabru is fully prepared to turn back and amble to his room when there’s a sound from the other side of the door. A sharp gasp and whine, then your giggling, and Laios’ voice pleading for you to be nice to him. More murmuring, then a soft moan. A lofty sigh.

Song of a consummation.

Foolishly, Kabru hadn’t thought that your sex life was something he’d have to encounter directly. And despite knowing he should step away, if not out of honor then at least to preserve his own heart, Kabru’s curiosity bolts him to the floor.

He’s never seen Laios fuck.

He’s never seen you fuck, either.

He feels compelled to study -- how does your subdued front mesh with Laios’ eager hands? Which of you takes control? With his bigger size and more powerful title, one would assume Laios, but Kabru bets it's you. Will you make him wait? Would he dive between your thighs with fervor? How will the lip stain your ladies painted you with look slathered across Laios’ pale skin?

Despite knowing what it says about his character, Kabru stays. On some level to get it through to himself that you two are together and off-limits; and on a deeper, truer level because he’s sick in the head.

As was the plan anyway, until a booming, “Hey!” echoes from down the dim hall. A guardsman fast approaching from his patrol route. Kabru’s face is hidden by the dark, figure easily mistaken for a passing servant. But even if the guard could recognize him, would it matter?

What reason does the royal advisor have for lingering outside his king’s chambers so late into the night?

Lies fly through Kabru’s brain as the guard bristles closer, none of them plausible. Finally, the idea of killing this man cycles through his mind, and he reconciles with the fact that must be his only option to avoid an obscenity charge.

“Oh, you came!” a soft hand lands between Kabru’s shoulder blades, voice floating past him and to the guard now two feet away, “Thank you for your faithful service, but don’t concern yourself with him. Our king summoned him,” your laugh soothes Kabru’s tensed muscles, “I wasn’t sure he’d make it because of the hour.”

Kabru stares at you, not bothering to hide his confused, jaw-hanging stare as the guard retreats to his typical patrol.

A thin silk robe drapes over you, loosely tied at the waist and exposing much of your chest.

“I never took you for a pervert, Kabru,” such a mellow voice makes even your scalding accusation sound sweet. You whirr him around by the arm and lug him into yours and Laios’ newly shared room. All proprieties trapped outside but trepidation slithers through, lodging in his gullet.

Laios lays on the bed, exposed completely. Tousled sheets bunched between his hands and under his thighs. Cheeks flushed redder than the head of his cock, hard and slapped against his stomach. Wide spread thighs and heaving chest bountiful eye candy.

“How’d you know it was him?” Laios sounds devastatingly breathless, eyes low and ruby lips swollen.

“Hunch,” you answer plainly, petting down Kabru’s arm until your fingers lace with his.

Kabru murmurs your name, wide eyed. You knew?

Of course, you knew. How could he have thought anything else? Your calm nature about the whole ordeal solidifies that you must’ve known for a long while. Longer than him, even. When would you have figured it out?

“He’s beautiful,” you perch your chin on Kabru’s shoulder, cooing into his ear, “You were always so focused on his face, you’ve never gotten to see anything beneath his clothes, have you?”

Oh, right. The very first day you got here, obviously.

Laios rolls his head from one shoulder to the other, brows pinching in frustration, heated gaze straying from Kabru to you, “He’s going to touch me, right?”

“Depends,” your hands skim up Kabru’s spine, nudging him forward, “Kabru, do you want to touch your king?” one arm glides around his front, fingers toying with the band of his trousers, “And myself?”

“Uhhh…” can he be honest with himself? Can he lay himself bare before not one, but two people? Two people he’s interested in above all else. Heat laps from the barrel of his chest, scorching from cheeks to ears to forehead as sweat beads along his hairline and the back of his neck.

“I asked a question. I need a response.”

Laios’ cock twitches against his abdomen, throat croaking around desire.

“Yes,” Kabru exhales, heavy, barbed, and thorny, cutting him up inside until he’s too weak to stand. Sinking onto the mattress by his knees, “I will.”

Laios’ eyes flick from Kabru’s face down to his weepy erection.

He wants Laios in his mouth. Wants the warmth slapping his tongue, burrowing towards the cinch of his throat. He wants to grope the bulge his king forces through his neck and feel your hands buried in his dark hair. The latter need is fulfilled, your fingers combing through dark curls to push him into your husband’s crotch.

“What a pretty mouth, Kabru, you love to run it,” you climb onto the bed beside him, holding Laios steady by the base, “Try something new, hm?”

“New is- ”

“Try it, Kabru. Now,” regardless of the choppy demand, your voice remains dulcet. Pillowy and fluffy. He could melt into your sound.

His tongue lolls to slather the underside of Laios’ cock with hot saliva, enveloping the man in his mouth. Cheeks hollowing and lashes batting wetly up at the king, crimson deepening on Laios’ face. Behind him, the mattress dips and shakes, Laios’ eyes jumping from baby blues to over Kabru’s back, hips jerking against his chin.

Your hand lifts from inky hair, curls slipping between your fingers in vain attempts to tether you against his skull. Now both your palms run up Laios’ chest as you mold against his side. Your thighs spread around one of his arms and robe nowhere to be found, painted lips smear rouge up Laios’ neck and cheek before you claim his lips.

One of Laios’ hands cradles Kabru’s head, not rudely pushing nor wrangling his hair, just an affectionate reminder of whose cock is in his throat. Meanwhile, the hand between your thighs crooks towards your heat, middle finger ringing your clit -- earning a jump and heave from you.

Laios coaxes Kabru off, winded as he requests, “Can you two kiss? Please?”

Kabru gives the king no time to abjure before he’s spearing you with attention, not that you’re more patient; hurriedly cupping his cheeks and legs spreading to welcome him between. Sat up enough to give Laios a proper view, Kabru fondles your ass as you happily cram your lips to his. He wonders if your lip stain wipes off on him as well. He hopes it does.

“So beautiful,” Laios muses stroking his cock, casually flicking his wrist and thumbing the head, as you reach for Kabru’s.

Kabru’s lips sear down your neck, urged to bite. He does not.

“Soft, right?” Laios lays his head against your shoulder, poking obnoxiously into Kabru’s space (not that he minds), “Still sweet with wine.”

You taste better than the fucking wine.

Does Laios?

Your lips curl, drifting away just to whisper against his lips, “Would you like to kiss the king?”

“Can I?”

Before you can reaffirm, Laios snatches Kabru by the chin to kiss him.

Laios is not sweet like wine, he tastes like beer and salt and iron from a raw lip, and yet Kabru cannot drink him down fast enough.

Hands, big and calloused and sweltering, brand Kabru’s hips -- spinning him around to face the door as you unwork the man’s nightshirt. Tossing the flowy cloth aside, you press a final kiss to Kabru’s lips, before laying out beneath him.

Kabru’s eyes hone on the honeydew slick glossing your slit, hands scrambling for perch on your bracketing thighs as Laios’ settle on his ass. Anticipation builds and flows out of his mouth, rich and thick and in the form of a lashing tongue. Broad and cozy, Kabru sweeps up your cunt, thumbs parting you for the purest taste. Audible sighs fan over your pelvis in time with Laios burying his spit-slick fingers into Kabru’s hole.

A groan vibrates through your hips, Kabru’s electric eyes flashing over the quiver in your thighs as you grind onto his nose. Both hands knotting through his hair.

Fingers prod inside you, curling toward your stomach before scissoring apart just to noisily slurp out leaking wetness.

Burly hands rearrange Kabru again, manhandling him until he’s got his back against Laios’ chest with legs thrown out across the bed. Exhilaration surges through Kabru’s whole body, extremities jittering and whines dribbling down his lips. Slowly, he’s lowered onto Laios’ cock with teeny rasps inspiring you to grab him by the shoulders. Again, sweet lips meet his, but he realizes the ploy quickly: torturous pleasure rips through his gut as you push him back to prime for riding.

Laios’ hand finds your chest, tweaking your nipple while snapping his hips up. Pounding into Kabru’s clenching hole in time that you sink down on the poor man.

Over Kabru’s shoulder, you and Laios swap spit with noisy kisses and if he weren’t sweating ecstasy then maybe he’d find the power to be embarrassed over his desperation to join. Regardless of getting his brains ground into mush by your combined, incessant pistoning, Kabru finds himself giddy to be involved further.

You’re purposeful and elegant; excruciating, tantalizing bounces with nails digging into the meat of Kabru’s chest. As if you could easily tear him apart, only dangling in front of him like a carrot-drawn-horse.

Laios is frantic and overwhelming; hips unrelenting and thick muscled arms belting Kabru against him. Skin clapping skin, moist with sweat, and fat rippling from the impacts of Laios’ fucking. Each thrust into Kabru sends him rocketing further inside you; bulging deep, deep in your squelching cunt.

Contrasting in all ways -- your hands pet and scratch while Laios’ anchor and tug, you moan and mewl while Laios groans and growls. When you’re not kissing your husband you impress downy lips upon Kabru’s chest while Laios tears bruises from his neck with full teeth.

Passion swells each suck and stroke and pap, pap, pap until Kabru’s bursting from the inside out. He keens, body tensing.

“Breathe,” Laios huffs into his ear, voice low and crackling, “Breathe, it feels better when you don’t tighten up.”

Kabru heeds, blowing hot air across your bare chest as he cums, and you coo, “Good boy.”

A slush of your combined juices cascades, soaking and matting Kabru’s pubes. Wetting his and Laios’ balls. Three hard rams and Laios is spilling inside Kabru as well. Pants and gulps echoing around the room.

Reclining against the headboard, Laios slowly pulls your exhausted body off Kabru before slipping his cock out of the man. Each of you is fully aware the hygienic option is to wash yourselves, change the sheets, and maybe even comb through messy heads of hair.

None of you do, though.

Laios, grinning bright and alluring as the sun, has an arm nestled around both you and Kabru to keep you flush against his sides. Your head finds a pillow in your husband’s chest, Kabru copying the motion. Swamped exhales pass between yours and Kabru’s blissed out faces, but only measured breaths pull a serene rise and fall from Laios. Drool even leaks from the corner of Kabru’s mouth, he groans in disgust but can’t manage the strength to wipe it away. Neither can you, exhaustion poisoning you from the knees up.

A careful thumb dabs the spittal away, only to grossly end up smearing it across Kabru’s shoulder when Laios replaces his hand on the man’s bare arm.

“How…” Kabru shudders for breath, “Why…” his eyes flutter drowsily, “Not tired…?”

“I didn’t do much,” Laios reasons (whether he genuinely thinks that or is bluffing, nobody can be sure), voice low as he notices you’re beginning to drift asleep, “Wore yourselves out, though.”

“Still…” Kabru huffs defiantly, yawning against the moist valley between Laios’ pecs, “I… more stamina…”

“Ass,” you drowsily pitch in, eyes closed and lashes stark against your cheeks.

“Ass?” Laios looks down at Kabru.

“Ass,” Kabru yawns again, now capable of slurring full sentences together with his breath sufficiently caught, “First time taking it in the ass. Probably took more out of me than I expected…”

“You should’ve said something,” Laios lours, “Even monsters like Orcs that have sex for pleasure stretch their partners more than I did. It helps prevent tearing. I wish I could’ve seen more mating rituals before getting cursed.”

“You could read more…”

Kabru’s too tired to negate your yawn of a suggestion. He doesn’t need to before Laios mutters again, seconds away from passing out altogether,

“I’ve read about them a lot, I just wanted to see it for myself.”

Year 515. Some days later.

Laios suddenly turns in his throne, angling his body towards Kabru, “You think I can make polyamorous marriage legal?”

“Why?” Kabru’s sure he knows exactly where the king’s head is, he just wants to hear the man say it.

Sticking out his thumb, index, and middle finger, Laios scrunches the digits towards his palm twice, “Aren’t we all getting married?”

“You’ll have to ask your real spouse about that first.”

“I did.”

“Huh?!” that makes Kabru’s heart explode, blood and meat blowing through his orifices. Teasing Laios is easy now that he more clearly understands the man’s motives, but you?

You’re intimidating even after he’s been inside you, he doesn’t know how Laios can so casually ask you something like that (he does though, it’s due to Laios’ many loose screws).

“I already asked about us marrying you.”

“And…?”

“They thought it was a good idea!” Laios shakes off, as if Kabru should have just known you would go along with your husband’s insanity, “So, can I legalize it?”

“Probably,” Kabru settles a hand over his chest, hoping to calm his racing heart (or what remains, anyway), “I’ll look into it.”

“Yay! Thank you!”

~~~

kabru miserablism POV my beloved

beast laios and fae reader and treasure kabru imagery makes me so hard

#laios touden x reader #kabru x reader #laios x kabru #labru x reader #laios x reader x kabru #laios touden smut #kabru smut #dungeon meshi x reader #i spent so long staring at this thing i don't wanna look at it anymore omg

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mishy-mashy · 7 months ago

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With—

some comments/thoughts that I'll try to keep big-spoiler-free,

the status of completion with the # of chapters at the time of writing this,

and a snippet of each's writing (my standard for rezero insert fics is set low so you can get a preview and judge for yourself);

List of RZ fics that've been recommended, in order of chronological rec

===============

- Re:Reader by Kaip0 on fanfiction.net (Rem X Male! Reader that Returns by Death with Subaru)

Comments:

I'm thinking it was written to go against "I love Emilia"

Reader can speak about Return By Death

Ends at the end of arc 3. Author has no more stories, nor anything that continues it

STATUS: Completed (109/109)

- A Matter of the Heart by Shimosu on AO3 (Julius X magician OC that's forced into knighthood)

Comments:

Includes, and starts with, original events and EX Novel 4

OC is OP but also... not. I guess it's more of her potential that makes her OP?

Probably written with Gluttony in mind (losing existence, what's left of the victims, JULIUS, etc.)

STATUS: Ongoing (13/?)

- Glass of Appa Juice, Sir? by RadiantVoid on Fanfiction.net and AO3, under the same handle (OC with a Divine Protection can see death counts)

Comments:

Sentences following dialogue get confusing because it's not always the actual speaker, but someone else. It's hard to explain, so as an example;

"I hope you trip on your way in." Otto winced.

"Please don't say such things!" Ram snorted.

OC is similar to Otto, in that he's just some guy trying to survive the shenanigans that come with the Emilia Camp's mere existence

Ends between arc 4 and 5. It's recent, which is nice (published in May 2023, finished September 20 2023 [writing this as of Sept. 28, 2023])

STATUS: Completed (17/17)

Made this a long time ago and I forgot to post it

Does anyone have Re:Zero fic recs? Not the ones with rewriting Subaru or exploring an AU but like- one with a reader or an OC or even a good crossover?

#i find it intriguing that some rezero fics have their dialogue written in a way meant to mimic the web novel #the appa glass one really surprised me on how recent it was #like. im writing the comments 8 days after it completed #it took only four-five months for the story to start and complete #i dont know if the comments i made for appa juice are too critical rather than just [comments] but i actually like it a lot #matter of heart seems to take a while to update but the chapters are long so it cancels out #although appa juice also makes the insert aware of subarus failed loops and its memories which did throw me off #spoilers #re:reader feels kinda cliche (as in like a lot of other rezero fics) in that rems the star that loves you and #it doesnt make a lot of rezero sense (like not much realistic human nature)#i like when the characters are allowed to be ugly and cringy because of human nature rather than just “dont say that ughh” embarrassment #re:reader isnt really my thing i think its for the male audience that likes rem more than emilia #i couldnt make it through re:reader so maybe youll like it if u do #sorry #thanks everyone for the recs!#rezero #re zero #re:zero #reblog #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #oc #reader #ao3 #ff.net #note: these tags are from when i made the list #glass of appa juice without looking at the story its title makes me think of tnma milkman #i like that matter of heart shows OC is scared of emilia #clearing out my drafts (tag limit)

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au-roulette · 6 months ago

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AU Roulette Challenge 2024

What is AU Roulette? A casual fic-writing challenge encouraging authors to play around with different types of alternate universe stories, which will be randomly assigned to each participant regardless of the fandom they sign up with. The goal of the challenge is to encourage creativity and get authors to write fics with premises they might not otherwise have considered, with varying difficulty levels of participation for writers of all experience levels.

How does it work? Writers will be able to sign up from now through June with a fandom of their choice. At the start of July, each participant will be assigned three AUs from a masterlist using a random number generator. Each author will then have the choice of completing the challenge one, two, or all three of the AUs. Any fic exceeding a 500-word minimum will be considered a completion, so long as it employs the AU premise. The fic-writing period of the challenge will run for a month. Fics can be posted at any point during this time, and authors will have the option of having them added to an Ao3 collection for the challenge if they desire. They can also be posted to tumblr using the tag #AU Roulette 2024

What kind of AUs will be included in the challenge? The AU Roulette challenge will focus largely on popular, staple AU types with broad applicability to any fandom or relationship type. For example, a possible result might be something like a Time Travel AU (encompassing all the possible subsets, such as fix-it time travel, time loops, or other tropes under the same umbrella), but more restrictive AU types like a Soulmate AU that make assumptions about the author’s interpretation of character relationships in canon have been intentionally kept off the AU masterlist. The official list of AUs will be kept under wraps until assignments are given, but will have over 30 different prompts to ensure authors receive a good variety of options, and if you have suggestions or concerns about what AUs are being included, feel free to reach out.

What if I get an AU type that doesn’t work for the canon I chose? Limited re-rolls will be allowed on a case-by-case basis. You are also encouraged to be as creative as you want with your interpretation of your assigned AUs, which may help with making them fit. The goal of this challenge is to encourage weird, creative fanfic, not to have every author who rolls the same result write cookie-cutter versions of the same types of stories. If you were to get a Coffee Shop AU, for example, there is no requirement that the coffee shop in question be a real-world 21st-century Earth Starbucks. In fact, deviating from the mold is highly encouraged. So long as you can make a case that you filled the loose premise of your AU type, you will get credit for having completed it.

Can I participate if I am not a writer? AU Roulette is a fanfic writing challenge, so official sign-ups are for those interested in writing (regardless of skill level or experience writing AUs). However, if you are interested in the challenge but not in writing fic for it, consider having a look at the #AU Roulette 2024 tag or the official AU Roulette 2024 collection on Ao3 once authors have begun posting their stories. If one of them really speaks to you, it might be a nice gesture to draw a piece of art, make a playlist, or create some other fanwork inspired by the fic and share it – in which case you would also be more than welcome to use the official tag!

(Authors are of course also welcome to do this for their or other participants’ stories, too.)

How do I sign up? Fill out this form with your email and fandom of choice.

Looking forward to seeing the AUs everyone creates this year!

#AU Roulette 2024

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xhoneygirlxx · 1 year ago

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We’re Not Friends

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: Eddie is just trying to help when he offers to be your date to your sister's wedding, but with all the love in the air will you and Eddie be able to stay friends?

warnings: lots of angst. reader's family sucks. reader's mom makes a comment about her weight. anxiety attacks. reader has low self esteem. fluff. best friends to lovers. fake dating. modern au. (this is titled after an Ed Sheeran song and I also use another one of his songs in the fic, sue me). slight smut. allusions to sex. alcohol consumption. swearing. minors dni!!!!!!!!!! reader and Eddie are both in their 20's. no y/n used, reader is referred to as Birdie. skin color/ethnicity/body type is not mentioned. spelling errors/shitting writing, just pretend you don't notice lmao. also the venue is completely made up and so is the location if you couldn’t tell, im not that creative.

*if I miss anything plz lmk*

a/n: hi my loves!!!! this is one of the last fics on my birthday fic list!!! I want to thank all of you for being patient and being so so supportive of my work. I love you all so much!!! also I do go back to work on Monday so I'm going to try to get as many fics pumped out by the end of the weekend.

And that's why friends should sleep in other beds

And friends shouldn't kiss me like you do

And I know that there's a limit to everything

But my friends won't love me like you do

The turning color of the leaves create the prettiest backdrop, tall trees blooming with orange, red, and a pinch of brown. The ones that have already fallen to the ground get swept up under the wheels of Eddie's car, lifting up and swirling around in a pretty dance, and falling right back into place waiting for the next car.

Although the crisp fall morning is peaceful you can't help but feel like you're living a nightmare. As he soft hum of Eddie's playlist flows through the speakers, you're coming up with a plan to turn the whole car around.

So far you thought about faking an illness, one that would stop the whole journey in it's tracks, only to dismiss it because you couldn't put your best friend through that stress. The idea of pulling the steering wheel also came to mind but you quickly threw that out of the window, not wanting to cause injury to the innocent man next to you or anyone else. Your final idea was one you're sure you could pull off as long as you used all the power within your being. If you pushed your feet on the floorboard hard enough, you could poke them out like the Flintstones and stop the car that way.

Between science and logic, you knew that wasn't possible no matter how hard you wished it would. Instead you'll stare out the window, watching all the pretty trees dance in the wind while you push down the rising anxiety that's forming in the pit of your stomach.

"You good over there, Birdie?" The deep voice next to you shakes you from your thoughts.

Turning your head Eddie's already looking at you with a lopsided grin. His demeanor matches the landscape outside, relaxed and serene. As you look at him you wish you could trade places, be as pleasant as he is.

"Yeah I'm just tired." Trying to sell him your answer, you smile lazily at him even though your response holds more tension than a game of tug of war.

Turning his attention back on the road, you watch as the pavement moves on the darkened lenses of his sunglasses. Eddie looks pretty like this, even though you always thinks he looks pretty. Usually he would be a grump having to be up this early, but today he wears his smile like a badge of honor. The dark curls of his hair cascade down his back, while some falls over his shoulders.

He's wearing the same red and black checkered flannel he always does this time of year, the same one you said was your favorite three years ago and it still holds that title. Underneath is a plain black tee shirt, the only one he has that's free of any band name, and a dark blue pair of jeans that have no holes.

He's still the same Eddie, his rings still sit on his fingers and his pick still hangs from the chain around his neck, but it seems that he only gets prettier and prettier as time passes by - like the turning leaves that still hang on the branches of the trees that you drive by.

"I think you're worried about this whole wedding thing," His voice is unwavering, screaming "I'm right" like it always does. "I don't get what's so bad about an open bar and free food."

Although his point is valid, Eddie couldn't be more wrong than that. This wasn't just an event to get drunk for free and stuffed to the gills at no charge. This was your older sister's wedding, the same sister that was the apple of your parents' eyes. Veronica was your arch nemesis since birth, a rival that you had no option but to defeat in order to survive.

You were the outcast of the family, the black sheep if you will, and you had to endure eighteen years of nonstop torture because of it. Your parents, Christine and Tim, were nothing but successful. The doctor and his trophy wife, the star couple in your small community, that had two beautiful and healthy children.

However you were the hardheaded child, the daughter that didn't have a bright future, you didn't carry as much promise as Vee, and your parents made sure to remind you of that every day. So when you moved out three years ago, you made sure to distance yourself as much as you could. But when you received a pristine white envelope with a glamorous invite on the inside, you were roped right back into the hell hole you worked so hard to leave behind.

You could've just ignore it, faked that you were on a trip and couldn't make it but your mother pretty much threatened you into showing up. So that's how you ended up in the countryside right outside of Chicago, driving in Eddie's Toyota Corolla to the Jefferson Manner on a Friday at eight am.

"You're right, Eddie, I should be so thrilled by that. Thank you so much for pointing it out to me." It's snippy with a hint of malice, and your eye roll held enough venom to injure an army of men.

Whistling loudly, Eddie chuckles lightly. "Woah, killer. Relax, I was just tryna help." He's still soft despite your outburst, sweet like your pumpkin spice latte that sits in the cupholder.

Hanging your head, you inhale a deep breath and release it slowly. "I'm sorry, Eds. I just really fucking hate my family."

He switches his attention from you and the road, taking in your saddened features. Reaching his right hand over the console, he places his hand searches for yours and laces his fingers through yours, which you gladly except.

"Don't apologize for that, kay? That's a valid reason for you to not want to go, I was just trying to make you laugh." The sincerity in his voice wraps around you, easing the nerves that go haywire in your body.

His palm is warm like the coffee cups that sit in the cup holders, his voice is as calming as the trees in the wind, and his smile is just as pretty as it was the first day you met him. You're safe with him, the safest you've ever been in your life, and here in the front seat of his car he reminds you of that.

"They just make me crazy, s'why I don't like seeing them." You feel shy being vulnerable, refusing to meet his gaze by focusing on tracing the back of his hand with your free one.

Eddie doesn't mind, instead he reassures you with a quick squeeze of your hand. "If it makes you feel any better, Birdie, I like you a little crazy."

Dimples deep as the sea and smile still as delicate as a flower's pedal, Eddie looks like a painting that hangs in the Louvre. You want to capture this moment of him to have for the rest of your life, so no matter what you can always remember him just like this.

"You say that now." You tease and he eats it right up.

Looking back over to you, he shines his smile onto you, filling you up with the light of a million stars. "And I'll say it till the end of time." There's no tease to it, nothing but truth in the way he says it.

It turns you into jelly, the feelings that swim through your blood stream, and now you've become too sheepish to answer. You decided to trust your touch over your words, squeezing his hand the same way he did to yours, trying your best to communicate the feelings you hold secretly in your heart for your best friend.

The cobblestone driveway leading to the entrance of Jefferson Manner is, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. It is a straight drive to the property, but once you get closer, a large fountain sits in the middle where the arch of the circle driveway starts.

Different colored cars are already lined up, some you recognize and the rest you have no clue who they belong to. Either way it's pretty evident that Eddie 2018 Toyota sticks out like a sore thumb.

The same dread that you left 45 miles back, is now running through you again. Unintentionally, you squeeze his hand harder as your heart begins to pound in your ear and if it hurts him he doesn't mention it. Instead, Eddie gives you one, two, three squeezes and then lets you continue your attempt to stop the blood flow to his hand.

Pulling behind the Mercedes Benz S Class, he puts his car into park and then shuts the car off. Reading your expression the way he always does, he sits in the silence of the car with you until your features loosen up.

"You okay, Birdie?" Even though he knows you're not okay, you still appreciate him asking anyway.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself a few times, eyes clamped shut as you focus on your breathing pattern. Once your head is above water and your heart stops racing, you open your eyes back up to the real world.

Relaxing your shoulders, you let go of the grip you're holding Eddie's hand in. "I'm okay. I'll be okay." Despite answering him, it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of what you're saying.

Another brief pause goes by and Eddie continues to monitor you, sunglasses now removed so not only can he see you but you can see him.

Your gaze is unwavering, the thousand yard stare has fallen over you and you have yet to dig out of it. "Are you prepared for what we're about to walk into?"

The tone of your voice scares Eddie, the emotion being sucked right out of the words that you speak despite the feelings that battle in your mind that he doesn't know about.

"Honey, I'm prepared for anything as long as I have you." For a split second he winces, wondering if that was too cringy but when your face breaks out into a sweet smile he feels better.

The two of you get out of the car, retrieving your suitcases and dress bags from the trunk. When the door shuts you begin to count the steps it takes to get to the big wooden doors of the mansion.

You don't have to ask Eddie for his hand, he's already giving it to you and you gladly except it, gripping on for dear life the closer you get. Despite the beautiful landscape and the soothing sound of the running fountain, you feel like this is the soundtrack that plays before your imminent death.

The tall, thick, wooden doors sit menacingly in front of you, the skeletons of your past standing just right behind it waiting for your arrival. The ghosts that have haunted your dreams, the graveyard of your history, and the phantoms of your family, mingle and laugh right behind this door.

Eddie waits for you, not moving a muscle until you say so, and you silently thank him with a smile. Like a switch, he watches your face change from flight to fight mode. In a flash your looking over your outfit, brushing down the long black sleeved shirt that sits on your torso, and then straightening out the jeans that stick to your legs.

Your hair is the next thing you frantically fix, pushing it behind your ears and out of your face, letting it fall over your shoulders while doing so. Like a buzzing bee, you zone in on Eddie, fixing the collar of his flannel and then smoothing the material of his shirt. With out speaking, you pick off a singular piece of fuzz from his pants and then let it blow away in the wind.

Moving your hands back up to his chest, you center the pick on his chain. Then move his hair, fixing the ringlets that got blown around in the breeze. Once your satisfied, you move back to your spot next to him and sweep his hand right back into your hold. Releasing on more deep breath, you settle your pinched eyebrows and your determined eyes, and let the worst fake smile settle onto your lips.

The smile doesn't reach your eyes the way it usually does, your teeth push against one another so forcibly Eddie wonders if you'll shatter teeth, and you simply look like your in pain. Either way, you push open the big oak door and let yourself inside with him following right behind.

The lobby of the manner is everything you expected, high ceilings, a crystal chandelier, and every single family member of yours gathered around sipping champagne and speaking to each other like a potential client.

Even though it's magnificent inside with the beautiful décor and lively plants, the sight of everyone in their gaudy outfits and cheap laughter makes it feel like an eternal hell.

Eddie must feel the way your shoulders tense because he's quickly leaning into you, his voice just a whisper in the shell of your ear.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. You have me and I won't let anything happen." He reminds you, his smile is more sympathetic than anything.

Nodding your head you remain smiling, it's awful and it hurts even doing it but if you want to survive the whirlpool of piranhas, then you just have to fake it until you make it.

"If it isn't our lovely Birdie!" The sound of your mother's voice is like silk, smooth and confident, just like she always was. Walking over to you, she holds a champagne flute in her hand and you wonder how much the bubbling spritz cost your father.

The last time you've seen her was last winter, her million dollar smile outshining the Swarovski crystal tree decorations that sit behind her. Your mother has always been beautiful but her insides are rotten, ugly and maggot infested, all hidden behind the mask that she put on for everyone to see.

You gave up a long time ago trying to figure out her brain, finally accepting defeat to the maze that was her mind. Now when you look at your mother all you see is a shell, a hallow covering that has nothing to offer you other than it's pretty design.

Pulling you into a hug, you're hit with her scent. She smells like Dior and cashmere, the Chanel outfit that sits on her body scratches your skin, and the pearl necklace she wears jabs you right in your collarbone.

"Hello mother, thank you for inviting me to such a wonder occasion." You instantly revert back to your old accent, the same one your mother instilled into you from the time you could even under stand the English language.

A faux laugh comes from her bright red lips, "No need for that, darling, you're always welcome." Her manicured hand waves at you in fake genuineness.

The smile on your face continues to show and you hate to think it matches hers. Even with the sweet tone you use and the gentleness of your actions, the blood that runs through your body continues to boil the longer she stands there.

Eddie on the other hand stands next to you completely and utterly amused by your fake performance. The snort he lets out when you continue to use your "eloquent" voice is quickly covered up by a sniffle.

Like a vulture, your mother's eyes are quick to zero in on the curly haired man next to you. "Excuse my daughter for her bad manner of not introducing us, I'm Christine."

The minute her hand reaches out for a handshake, you're heart stops. This is the one thing that could make or break this whole trip and it was the only thing you didn't prepare your best friend for. Many years of your life, you were trained that a handshake is all it takes for someone to learn about you.

Without skipping a beat, Eddie simply picks embraces her hand like a prince out of a Disney movie and places a kiss to the back of her unwrinkled hand.

"What a pleasure to meet you, Christine, I'm Eddie. And might I say how beautiful you are."

He's all dimples and doe eyes staring at your mother, a true prince charming in his red flannel and jeans. His voice is like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, it's smooth going down your throat and it warms your belly better than any blanket can.

That warmth is now tingling your body, a frenzy of butterflies flapping around in the walls of your heart. It clearly works on your mother as well but unlike you she doesn't hide it very well.

"You're really the charmer, Eddie." It's flirtatious and alluring, the same voice she put on for every pool boy your father ever hired.

Annoyance and anger floods through you and you know that your eyes would be shining green to anyone with a trained eye.

While she clutches her pearls and eyes Eddie like he's a four course meal, you intervene into the conversation before it can continue.

"Where's daddy? I'd really like for my boyfriend to meet him." You bat your eyelashes like a pageant queen and your arm acts like a python wrapping around Eddie's, making a mark on what is yours.

"Oh you're father's around here somewhere, you know how he is." She dismisses, taking a drink from her glass and swallowing down the golden liquid quickly. "So how long have you and Birdie here been dating?"

"It's going to be two years next month. Isn't that right, honey?" Eddie turns to you and gives you a playful smile.

Looking back at him you hope he can see the misery that hides being your eyes, a white flag of surrender.

Your mother on the other hand doesn't care about your answer, that's why she didn't ask you. She's reading Eddie, trying to see how much she can push your so called boyfriend until she gets what she wants.

"Well that's just wonderful, young love is a beautiful experience. You have to be careful with Birdie here, she's known to leave the nest quickly." It's a jab, a spiteful and mean comment headed right for your gut.

Eddie doesn't miss the way you're lips falter for a second, the flash of hurt in your eyes. It kills him watching you stand there and take all the comments from your mother like stray bullets.

Turning his attention back to your mother, he gives her a smile, one that you would know as a wicked one but to a stranger would seem kind. "I don't think that will be a problem. Birdie knows where her home is."

It's a direct warning, a clear sign to your mother to not mess with you or what is yours. Just him sticking up for you like that makes your stomach twist in excitement, a feeling you've grown so used to over the course of friendship with Eddie.

"Well, I'm glad she finally found her place then." Your mother responds coldly, clearly hearing the bite in his tone. "Why don't you two go find your room and get settled in, rehearsal dinner is in a few."

Before retreating into the large crowd of family, your mother turns back to you in one more attack.

"Oh and Birdie, wear something that will hide that stomach. Don't want anyone to assume you've been knocked up."

Once you've found your room, you all but rush Eddie inside slamming the door behind you. In the quiet safety of your suite, you can relax your shoulders that have been sitting high since you've arrive.

"Jesus Bird, you weren't lying." Eddie says as he flops himself on the queen sized bed.

You don't respond, instead you squeeze your eyes shut and try to calm the heaviness of your breathing. Behind the darkness of your eyes, little twinkles of stars flash from how hard you have them closed, the swooshing of your heart continuing in your ears like angry waves of the sea.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself over and over again, trying to erase the cruel words of your mother and the images of disgusted family member's faces out of your mind. You're not sure how long you've been standing by the door until a hand grasps at your wrist lightly.

"Birdie," Eddie's coax goes unanswered, "Come on, Birdie."

Warm calloused hands travel to the plump of your cheeks, lifting your face up just enough that he can see you. Finally opening your eyes, you're relieved to be looking into the golden whiskey pools of his.

Smoothing his thumb over your cheek he doesn't say anything, just lets your breathing calm down. Here you are, in the nice room behind the shelter of the locked door, and he's here.

Breathe in. It's okay. Breathe out. You're safe. Breathe in. You are here. Breathe out. So is he.

It's enough to let your feet move on the plush white carpeting, while Eddie leads you to the bed with the tug of your arm. Sitting on the plush mattress on crisp linen sheets you're grounded, and with the heat of Eddie sitting next to you and his hand in yours, you're anchored.

The rehearsal dinner goes over well enough, the Irish mule helping with every single speech that's given and every horror story of your childhood that is told. Luckily for you, Vee didn't ask you to be in her bridal party so you didn't have to attend the actual wedding rehearsal, and even better you won't have to deal with her for the real thing tomorrow.

Eddie does great at dinner, he talks to your father who surprisingly likes him, both getting along over their love for vintage cars. Your soon to be brother in law and his groomsmen also get along with Eddie, they laugh and cut up most of the time while clinking beer bottles together. Not to mention every single woman there wanted to get into his pants, swooning at everything he said and giving him the 'fuck me' eyes while doing it.

You hated it, every single minute of it. Like always you were ignored, simply looked over until some story was being told where you were ultimately the joke of. Any time someone asked you what you were doing with your life, you were met with cringing smiles and snickering laughs.

Four separate times your mother commented on your dress, the way it fit, the price value of it, and how it really wasn't a good color on you. All of your sisters friends rolled their eyes and whispered back and forth while staring at you, aunts and uncles acted dumbfounded when you told them that you were a freelance writer for a small music magazine back in Indy, and your cousins made comments about how badly you look since the last time you saw them.

It didn't matter anyway, even if your sister asked how you managed to get a stand up guy like Eddie to agree to be with you, in front of all of the guests. You had to remind yourself that you were there for the free booze and food or whatever the hell Eddie said in the car on the way here.

This wasn't a popularity contest for you, it was simply you being forced to do something against your wishes because your mother said so. You asked yourself why you even listened to her in the first place while letting the brown liquor burn in your stomach.

Why was it so important that you even showed up here? Why did you have to come to the awarding ceremony of favorite kid when you knew you weren't going to win? Why would you even set yourself up for such failure just because your mom said so?

Well, you're answer came when a flushed faced Eddie was laughing with your grandparents at one of the round tables in the corner. His eyes crinkled at the sides and his head was leaned back so you had a clear view of the neck you loved so much.

Then you looked over at your sweet looking grandparents who laughed loudly at whatever was said. Your grandmother had her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head back and forth, and beaming brightly. Your grandfather smiled around his cigar, big round belly jumping with laugher, and his cheeks smooshing up against the frames of his big glasses.

You didn't come here to win a competition. You didn't come here because your mother threatened you within an inch of your life if you didn't. You didn't come here because you thought it would be fun.

You showed up because you wanted to prove to the people who doubted you for so long just how happy you were. You wanted to prove that happiness doesn't come from the amount of money in your account or how many rooms sit in your house. You came here because you wanted to prove that they were wrong, that the grass on the other side of the fence could be green too, and that someone who grew up differently that you could still do amazing things.

Eddie was someone that your father would've had you kicked out over bringing him home in high school. Eddie was the boy your mother would tell you to stay far away from. Eddie was the kind of guy that your sister wouldn't look twice at because of who he was.

But right now, during the beautiful dinner the night before your sister's wedding, your best friend/fake boyfriend has them all wrapped around his guitar calloused finger.

Not much has been said between you and him, especially when he was the man of the hour. You're not really complaining though, you're happy that he made a good impression with them. When the night began to settle into your bones and the alcohol started to make you tipsy, you slyly walked up to Eddie and tugged on his sleeve to let him know it was time to go.

On the walk back to the room, you sway slightly with every step you take, balancing on the walls with one hand while the other holds your strappy heels. When Eddie stops and turns to the door of your room, you all but smack into him with clumsy steps.

While he fumbles with key, you're in blissful content with your eyes closed. The kick of the lock and the turn of the handle doesn't even pull you out of your daze, instead you hold your arms out like a mummy and feel around until you find Eddie's clothed back.

You can tell Eddie is laughing by the large breath that passes through his nose and the tell tale sign of him kissing his teeth. Large hands wrap around your wrists, guiding you into the doorway that you can't see.

Your cheeks are warm, the smile on your face is permanent, and the buzzing in your heart makes you feel light on your feet.

"Alright mummy, lets get you into bed." Letting go of his hold on you, you feel him slightly brush past you to close the door. His voice sounds like the way stars look, sparkling and bright, twinkling all around.

You giggle, eyes still shut and your nose scrunched up. "M'not a mummy but I could be if ya want."

Putting your arms out, you lean back and forth on your feet to mimicking what you think is a mummy but looks more like a zombie.

"Baaaaahhhhh, I'm a mummy. Be very afraid." You deepen your voice, dragging the syllables of every word to make them come out slower.

Eddie must be entertained because the sound of a loud raspberry comes from where he stands, the clear sign of him losing the grip on the laugh he'd been holding in.

Cracking one of your eyes open, you hope to find him with rose cheeks and dimples flashing, the look you love so much. Instead you see him, beaming at you without the shine of his canines. It's an admiring smile, one where your eyes go all gooey and your smile is simple yet dipped with so much love.

Opening your eyes all the way, you let your arms down slowly to rest by your sides, a meek look painting your face.

"Did I do good?" You ask, even though you didn't really want his opinion.

"I think you're perfect." It comes out even, smooth like the hilltops in December covered in a layer of the purest snow.

The two of you sit there for a while, soaking up the glow of each other and letting it sink into your souls. For a moment you wonder if he feels it too, the spark that you feel whenever he's around. You wonder if he feels like crying simply because he loves you that much. You wonder if he wishes this whole dating thing wasn't just a lie and that it was true, the same way you wish it was.

Once the moment ends for him, he's clearing his throat to clear any lovesick daze that's left. "I guess we better head to bed, huh?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, you try with everything in your power to not look down where his turtle neck rode up, where the patch of mouth watering hair trails from his belly button to underneath the waist of his pants.

A part of you wishes you stuck it out longer, stayed in your seat at the dinner table just to see him in his outfit longer. He asked you to help him pick it out this morning and when you think back to it, you get flustered with thinking how domesticated it felt. Making him try on different shirts and jumping for joy when he walked out of the bathroom wearing a turtleneck he swore he'd never wear. The khakis you pulled out of his suitcase was the cause of so much laughter and the pink tinge that sat on the rounds of his cheeks.

God, he looked so good, especially with his hair pulled back and the dangled earring that sat in his ear, but now it would all be a memory for you to file away in the back of your brain.

Eddie had already started taking off his dress shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed bent over and messing with the knots that kept the laces together.

The smile that once held your lips high and proud, now weigh down in a sad frown. Even after the success of the dinner and proving everyone wrong, you are now brought back to the reality of what you and Eddie were. Just friends.

"Since I'm a gentleman and I can't see to get these shoes untied, I'll let you shower first." His voice comes out strained from how hard he pulls on the knotted strings.

You don't say anything, quietly nodding your head before shuffling over to your suitcase that sits by the closet. Grabbing a sleepshirt and some shorts, you go to move around the lanky man that can't get his shoes off no matter how hard he tries.

Without a sound, you kneel in front of him, placing your clothes somewhere off to the side. Taking his calf in your hand, you place his foot on your thigh. Delicately, you remove the first shoe and then the next.

"Y'didn't have to do that." It's quiet but not enough to be a whisper, still you shrug.

"I didn't but I wanted to." It seems so simple when you say it, even though deep down inside you wanted that last piece of your fantasy before it goes away for the rest of the night.

"Will you help me with my dress?" You ask him, standing on your feet and turning so that the golden zipper is facing him.

In the mirrored closet door you can see him and how he hesitates for a moment, shaky hands lingering in the air before they close in on the gold slider.

The sound of the metal teeth unlatching from one another fills the room, clouding the unrhythmic beat of your heart. You try to remember the feeling of him on the sacred part of your skin, the way his light touch tickles you and makes goosebumps rise. You want to memorize it like your favorite song, so that when you leave this place and the fake nature of this whole thing goes away, you still have something to think about on those bad days.

It ends too soon for your liking, his hands retracting right back to the sides of his body like a measuring tape. With the fuzz of your tipsy has now wore off but the sting of everything still remains.

Giving him a small smile and muttering a thank you, you hide in the bathroom where the sound of running water hides the muffled cries that leave your throat.

Waking up felt more painful than any hangover you've ever had. The pain of Eddie's bare back facing you was heartbreaking. You force yourself not connect the freckles that litter his skin or trace your fingers along his spine and shoulder blades.

It's a sight you've seen plenty of times and sharing a bed is something you've done more than enough that you're not uncomfortable. Yet your heart squeezes, wrapping itself up in the tightest loop so that it hurts to even breathe.

The sound of his soft snores only makes it worse, imagining what he dreams about and if it's you.

You use all of the willpower that's left in your body, marching over to the small kitchenette that sits in the corner of the giant room. Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you try to focus on the swirl of dark liquid mixing with the coffee creamer and how they mix together so perfectly. Without much of a peep, you slide the glass doors that lead out to the balcony and sit down in one of the plush chairs.

You look out over the mountains of colors, tracing over the lines of trees that go on for miles. Although pretentious, you think Veronica did an excellent job and choosing this location.

Sipping on the hot beverage, you watch the clouds in the blue sky go by, wondering what it would've been like if your sister asked you to be a bridesmaid. You imagine that the two of you would've actually gotten along and maybe even laughed together. You envision what it would've been like to have your mother compliment you in your gown and how it would feel to take a picture with your family where all the smiles were real.

Tears begin to burn the back of your eyes, falling rapidly like a fall rainstorm. The skin of your cheeks burn slightly from the heated trails of water that fall. You're sad and incredibly so. Within the first twenty four hours of being here, you remember how much of an outsider you really are to these people.

Even with the company of Eddie, someone that truly loves you, you still can't help but feel so fucking lonely. To put on the mask you wore for many year back on and pretend that the man standing next to you is yours to claim is harder than any other time you had to do it.

This time you weren't really faking it, the love that you showed to him, the happiness you felt with him was real, just the titles weren't. With the cool fall chill, your coffee has gone cold but your tears keep coming.

"You made yourself a cup of coffee but not one for me, and this is how I find out? That's just mean." Eddie's curly hair pokes out from the small gap in the sliding back door that he's created.

His eyes are squinted from the harshness of the morning sun but his cheeky smile is forever unwavering. Sliding a space big enough for him to go through, he stalks out onto the small space in his plaid pajama pants and a hoodie he must've thrown on.

Trying your best to cover up that you've been crying, you wipe the back of your hand across your cheeks, but Eddie still catches your movements.

Instead of embarrassing you, he sits down in the chair across from you and looks out over the balcony.

"You okay?" It's a simple enough question, one that you can answer with one word and he wouldn't pry for more information to not overwhelm you.

Sniffling, you shake your head yes and then move your gaze to where his is. "No, yeah, m'good. The view really does something for me." You say, chuckling just a bit at your own joke.

Eddie also laughs, only this time it's not as genuine as it usually is, just a hard exhale through his nose.

"Yeah, sure does." He agrees, letting his eyes follow the red and orange of the tree tops.

A calm silence falls over you two, only the sounds of the birds that fly and the ruffle of the leaves can be heard from where you sit. It's peaceful.

"You know, I really thought this weekend would be different." It comes out of your mouth as easy as the breeze that blows. Still your eyes stay trained out in front of you and past the mountains of trees.

Eddie doesn't respond but the hole that he burns through the side of your head with his eyes tell you he's listening.

"When I was little, I used to imagine the day Vee got married. I would fantasize that maybe one day we could be close enough that I could enjoy this day with her and we could be sisters for once." You exhale an uneven breath, moving your sights to the cup that still sits in your hand.

"I just wanted all of us to be a family for once. I wanted my mom to actually act like she liked me, for my dad to say that for once he was proud of who I was, and for Veronica, I just wanted her to say she's happy that I'm her little sister."

Just like that, every single thing you've carried since you were little is now out in the open, whipping around in the wind like the dead leaves. Even with the amount of burden that's been lifted, the pain still remains the same. It all hurts, stabbing you over and over again in the scars that you worked so hard to patch up.

Eddie doesn't say anything and for a moment you don't think he'll say anything at all. You watch him pull out the pack of cigarettes he had nestled in his pocket and place one in between his pretty pink lips.

Another second goes by and he's flicking the wheel of his lighter, shielding the flame away from the wind so he can light it. When the end of the smoke burns red, he takes a big inhale and then lets the cloud of smoke out.

"I know what I say won't matter," He starts before taking another drag of his smoke, "But these people don't fucking mean anything."

"They're you're family and I get that but they don't fucking deserve you, they never have. A fake boyfriend, a new haircut, or a cool job shouldn't define their love for you. They're shitty people who were blessed with an amazing person and they didn't even realize it."

Eddie looks at you the same way he speaks, with nothing but truth. You let the words settle in your mind, letting them soak in, in case you forget.

The tears that once ceased start to flow again, except this time it's from relief. It feels good that someone else sees your worth, to know someone actually holds value to you.

"It kills me that they treat you the way they do, that they can say all those things without batting an eye. I know why you asked me to come here and I know I have a job to do, but man do I want to rip them all a new asshole."

Although he speaks with fire behind the words, you have to laugh from the thought of the actions. The moment you giggle, his own smile forms.

"I hope you know that I love you and when everything is done and over with, we'll give them the bird." To make his point, Eddie raises his middle finger high into the sky.

Repeating his actions, you hold your own finger to the sky and smile happily while doing it.

Letting his arm fall back down into place, he pats the tops of your thighs and stands from the chair.

"That's my girl, now let's get ready for an open bar and free booze." Holding his open palm to you, he helps you up.

The wedding reception was what you thought it would be, drawn out and boring. The only saving grace of the whole thing was Eddie's commentary, the scruff on his face tickling you every time he leaned close to your ear.

A lot of the things he was saying was probably just to make you feel better but you did have to agree, the dress Veronica picked out was a bad rip off of Princess Diana's and it shouldn't have seen broad daylight.

You did however get choked up when the vowels started, not because you were happy with your sister but because you wish that were you and Eddie up there instead.

All and all it was okay, even though one of your brother in law's aunt's wore a hat so big you couldn't see past it most of the time.

The wedding reception though was beautiful. The décor of the manner looked exquisite against the maroon coloring of all the bridesmaids dresses. The tables had beautiful bouquets sitting in the middle and you can't help but laugh imagining your father cutting a check for all of them.

To much of yours and Eddie's delight, there is an open bar that is stacked high with pricey alcohol. Again you laugh thinking about your father having to pay the tab, which you and Eddie will be happy to run up.

So far this is the most the two of you had fun, both laughing and enjoying the company that's around you. The table you've been stuck at is also occupied by other family rejects that enjoy the titles they've been given.

Eddie's hand hasn't left your thigh, which you're more than happy about, and every so often he flexes his fingers squeezing the meaty flesh.

You feel good, the boost from the drinks and the feeling of your best friend makes you bloom like a flower in the spring. You watch as he talks to the people at your table and how his hand moves with enthusiasm. You trace the muscles in his neck and watch his adam's apple bob up and down when he speaks. Your chin sits in the palm of your hand as you watch him be himself like he always is.

He's so beautiful, he always has been, and in this moment he gets to be yours. You don't have to think about what anyone else thinks, you don't have to question how the two of you look from another's perception, because you know that your heart bleeds for him and it always will.

Eddie's your home, he's your best friend, and he's your person. You think back to what he said to you this morning and how he called you a blessing but you think he's wrong. Eddie is the true blessing. He's sweet, he's smart, and he's so fucking caring it's disgusting. Behind all the jagged features and dark clothes, he's nothing but a giant teddy bear that wears his heart on his sleeve.

"Birdie." He smiles at you, all goo and mush it makes your heart skip.

You hum in response, still sitting in the same position, looking at him as if he were a painting.

"You wanna dance?" He blushes, embarrassed by the request and you feel like you're back in junior high.

"You, Eddie Munson hate dancing." You say, scrunching your nose cutely.

Laughing loudly, he nods, "Yeah, I know, but I'd dance with you."

That breaks you out of your daze, breath catching in your throat. "O-oh, yeah. I'll um dance."

Again he stands, holding a palm out to you so he can help you up. Leaning you to the dance floor, you can't help but feel jittery despite the wine that you've consumed.

Once out on the floor, he pulls you into his chest. Strong hands grip your waist through the silk fabric of your red dress and you desperately try to fight the need that rises in your guy.

You stand stiff, unsure of what to do with yourself and Eddie's quick to help you, placing your hands around his neck where they lay contently.

He looks good tonight, even better than last night, and you hate how it makes butterflies flap around in your stomach. The black button up shirt sits nicely on his torso, wrapping his arms so deliciously you want to take a bite out of them. The black slacks he wears fit nicely and you wonder if he had them tailored and you have to ignore the want to undo the sleek black belt with a bright golden buckle that holds them up. Again his hair sits in a low bun and that silver chain peeks out at you from underneath his collar.

"I can't believe you asked me to dance to Ed Sheeran." You say breathlessly, still nervous with being this close to him.

Eddie snorts, lopsided smile forming on his lips. "What, a guy can't like Ed Sheeran and metal? That's gatekeeping, sweetheart." He teases.

Rolling your eyes, you try to ignore that tingle that settles in your cheeks. "Whatever you say, Munson."

"I'm serious, Thinking Out Loud was in my top ten last year." The two of you hold eye contact until you can't take it anymore, both bursting into laughter at his admission.

"That's something you shouldn’t repeat." You sputter at him and he laughs even harder.

"Hey, I like this song, okay?" He defends, still swaying back and forth with you.

Raising your hands in defense, you pull back on your clowning for the sake of your friend. Placing your arms back around his neck, you lean your head on his chest and try to hear the beat of his heart.

The scent of him floods your nose, cologne and smoke, whiskey and linen, and you wish you could bottle it to keep forever.

"Why do you like this song anyway? It's kind of basic." You mutter at him.

His shoulders lift in a shrug, and he takes a moment to respond. "Honestly, I like it cause it reminds me of you."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you remove your head to look up at him.

"Wha'do you mean?" You mumble, eyes searching his for some sort of answer.

Looking bashful again, red tints his cheeks and ears in a blush. Sticking his tongue out to wet his lips, he hesitantly answers.

"I always felt like he said everything I couldn't, ya know? Everything I ever wanted to say to you, he put in a song."

It feels like the whole world stops, that time freezes and it's just the two of you. You're in shock and for some reason you can't wrap your head around anything he's saying.

"What?" You say harshly and again he shrugs, shying away from your burning focus on him.

"Reminds me of you and everything I ever felt about you. I always wanted to call you mine but if you hadn't noticed, I'm a chicken shit."

You don't say anything, instead you stare at him with your mouth wide open. Eddie starts to loose his cool, frantically flexing his fingers against the material of your dress, looking around at anything but you.

"Sorry, I - shit, I really fucked this up," He doesn't get to finish his sputtering apology because you quickly smash your lips into his.

His lips taste like brown liquor and chapstick, like love and forever, and you can't believe you waited this long to experience it. Two heart sync as one, two people fall together like the leaves outside, and anxieties are finally laid to rest.

You hate that you pull away first but the need for air is too much. Eddie bends enough so that his forehead leans on yours, both looking into each other eyes living in the moment of your blissed out hearts.

"Tell me if I'm being too forward but do you wanna get out of here?" He flirts and you respond simply by pecking his lips once more.

"Thought you'd never ask."

thank you all for reading!!! love you guys <3

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #honey's birthday bash #honey's holiday celebrations

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ficreadingchallenge · 5 months ago

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This is a low key summer reading challenge specifically for fandom. All you have to do to participate is get a bingo card, read a fic, leave a comment, and mark that square off on your card! We hope this will encourage you to step outside your go-to fandom paths and find something new and amazing.

The challenge will run from June 20,2024 to September 22, 2024.

Your friendly mods are @carcrash429 and @therealjambery. Now get reading!

FAQ below the cut.

Multi-fandom Summer Reading Bingo FAQ

Q: What's all this, then? A: This is a low key summer reading challenge specifically for fandom. All you have to do to participate is get a bingo card, read a fic, leave a comment, and mark that square off on your card!

Q: How do I sign up? A: Fill out this form!

Q: What are the dates of the challenge? A: This year the summer reading challenge starts on the summer solstice, June 20, 2024. You have until the fall equinox, September 22, 2024 to complete your bingo card.

Q: Who can participate? A: Anyone who reads fanfiction!

Q: Can I get a text-based bingo card instead of an image? A: Absolutely, please let us know you’d prefer that format when you sign up.

Q: Do I have to leave a comment to complete the square? A: Yes. I mean, we're not going to check up on you or anything, so it's the honor system. But let's give creators some love, shall we?

Q: Can I listen to podfic instead? A: Yup! The comment rule still applies, though.

Q: What if the thing I'm using to complete my square isn't on AO3? A: That's fine. You can reblog on Tumblr, leave a comment on a blog post, or otherwise let the creator know you enjoyed their story/art/podfic.

Q: What sort of things are on the bingo card? A: You can see our full list here.

Q: What if there is one of my triggers or something that squicks me on the list? A: Just let us know when you sign up and we'll make sure you get a card that doesn't have those things on it.

Q: What do you mean by [fill in the blank]? Does this fic count for that square? A: It's up to your interpretation - we wanted to leave things as broad as possible. If you're really stuck, send us an ask and we can talk about it!

Q: What do I win if I get a bingo? A: The priceless satisfaction of a job well done. Also, we might have something special for you at the end. Guess you'll have to participate to find out.

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#summer fic reading challenge #sfrc 2024 #fandom events

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headcaasefiction · 1 month ago

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Kinktober 2024

Day 4: Humiliation/Praise

(Dracule Mihawk/AFAB!Reader)

Minors Do Not Interact

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 12,350

Summary: Y/N is a student at Dracule Mihawk’s academy for swordsmen, and harbors a massive crush on him. She is a teacher’s pet, his star pupil, and she would do anything for him. Things become heated when Mihawk begins to push and test her limits, both publicly and privately.

Warnings: Non-negotiated Kink, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, DubCon, Student/Teacher relationship, Drinking, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Mentions of Anal, Spanking, Sir Kink, Dominant/Submissive, Biting/Marking, Pet Names.

Author’s Note: Well…October has been kicking my ass. I had so many fics planned for Kinktober (I still do, they will get written eventually, just not all in October) and then I got sick. Then this one completely got away from me, it’s twice as long as I ever intended it to be. I also know that it’s not the 4th, but this was the 4th prompt on my Kinktober list, so I’m not going to worry about the dates lining up. Anyway, I hope this 12,000+ word fic makes up for my absence lately. I love you all and hope you enjoy!

You have been a pupil of Mihawk’s Academy for just over a year now. There is yourself, and fourteen other students who live with him in his castle on the grounds of Gloom island, all learning the art of Swordsmanship together.

Mihawk is a brutal master, who expects nothing less than complete and utter devotion, discipline, and concentration from every single one of his students. At the beginning of the year there had been twenty in the group, now only fifteen remain. The others either left on their own accord, or at the very worst, were personally cast out by Mihawk himself.

You swore you would see your training to the very end, no matter how many years or even decades it took, swore you would stop at nothing in order to be his most dedicated student.

Every day you wake before the crack of dawn; you clean and nourish yourself, perform your warm up exercises, clean your sword, and then wait patiently at the training grounds with a copy of a book you have previously seen him read. Every day, you are the very first to arrive, and the last to leave every training session.

All of your fellow swordsmen tend to poke fun at you for your rigid regime, especially because you know you are not the strongest pupil at the academy. You rely more on defense, your offense lacking brute strength, but making up for it with how physically fast and quick-witted you can be during sparring matches.

Above all else, they call you a teacher’s pet. Though that’s very easy to tell, seeing as you hang onto Mihawk’s every word, are the first to volunteer for any new exercises or demonstrations, and meticulously practice the routines and techniques until you can’t physically hold your sword any longer.

A few, who you do consider to be your friends, have even figured you out.

“You like him, don’t you?” Maryelle had asked you one night, with a playful gleam in her eye, causing your cheeks to burn a deep shade of crimson red, “Look, I get it. He’s sexy in a scary kind of way.”

Your other friend, Hari piped in as well, “I guess that’s why I don’t get it,” he shrugged, “He’s such a stoic hardass. Yeah, he’s the world’s greatest swordsman, and a good teacher, but he freaks me out.”

You had laughed, still a bit embarrassed, but you admitted, “A little, but I also think he’s brilliant, and beautiful…”

It is the highlight of your entire week if he even casts a spare glance your way, those piercing golden eyes sending shivers up your spine… but during one session, just a week ago, he did something that you’re pretty sure made your entire year:

While he was wandering the training grounds, watching each student practice the new blade technique he had just taught, he paused to observe you. You held your gaze straight forward, trying to pretend like he wasn’t there, just focusing on controlling your legs, arms, and sword down to the smallest detail. After you completed the movements several times, he approached you, getting so close you could feel his warm breath tickle the shell of your ear, as he lowly whispered, “Good girl.”

He walked away as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The interaction left you stunned, breathless, with an ocean of heat roaring in your blood.

That night you touched yourself; rubbing your clit and stuffing as many of your fingers in your wet, greedy cunt as you could manage. You imagined he was at the foot of your bed, lounging in a chair, arms and legs crossed, glowing eyes gazing at you as he told you, “Good girl…now cum for me.”

The next day, you were noticeably distracted. Instead of listening intently to the lecture Mihawk was giving, you were paying far much more attention to the color and fullness of his lips, the sharp, devilishly handsome angle of his jaw and cheek bones, the firm tautness of his bare chest and abdomen, and how his tall, broad figure would look leaning over you as he thrust into your –

“Y/N.”

His booming voice had violently snatched you out of your daydream, leaving you dazed and horrified as you noticed that every single one of your classmates’ eyes were focused on you. Your entire body flushed, and you could’ve sworn that the tips of your ears were burning off.

“Y-yes, Sir?”

“Would you be so kind as to demonstrate the shikake-waza and oji-waza I described at the beginning of the lesson?”

You had no idea what he was talking about, not a single clue. His eyes were burning holes into you with unblinking, direct contact. The courtyard was completely silent, except for the faint sounds of birds chirping in the trees. You felt as though you would be crushed under the unbearable weight of the shocked expressions of your peers as you sheepishly stuttered your answer, “I-I can’t, Sir. I do not know them…”

“Were you or were you not standing there as I myself, demonstrated them this morning?”

You were so embarrassed you thought you might faint, you bit your lip before responding, “Yes, I was standing right here.”

He stalked towards you, leaning down just inches from your face, “No point in coming so early if you can’t even bother to pay attention. No one likes a performer, Y/N.”

With that he turned on his heel and walked back to the center of the courtyard, leaving you trembling, and nearly in tears. The hushed whispers of your fellow pupils ringing in your ears as the lesson continued on, Mihawk calling on another student to perform what you could not.

The following days after, you were determined to get back in his good graces. He had been impressed with you before, had called you a good girl, and you refused to let one slip up ruin everything you had worked so hard for. But that was proving to be more of a challenge than you previously thought.

Throughout the rest of the week you seemed to have a target on your back, and Mihawk’s hawk-eyes were completely locked in on it. No matter how hard you tried, nothing you did was good enough for him. Your stance was lousy, your posture was poor, your movements too slow, your techniques not accurate, your sword not sharp enough. The list continued, with every single criticism said loudly, and within earshot for the entirety of your peer group to hear.

“Y/N, what did you do to piss him off so badly?” Maryelle had asked, brow furrowed with concern, “I’ve never seen him be this hard on someone before… do you think he’s going to throw you out of the academy?”

You shook your head, feeling defeated. You were exhausted, both physically and emotionally, “I really don’t know… I didn’t mean to zone out at the beginning of the week, I’ve just had a lot on my mind I guess.”

Hari patted you on the shoulder, and with a surprisingly sympathetic tone, he said, “I doubt he’s going to kick you out, he probably would’ve already done that by now. Maybe he’s just pushing you super hard so you unleash your true potential or something.”

“You’re probably right. I can’t afford to slack for even a moment, I know I can do better.”

“Soo…do you still have a crush on him then?” Maryelle teased, poking you in the side.

“Shut up,” you grinned, your cheeks glowing a light pink as you gently shoved her by the shoulder.

That had made you feel a little better, kept your spirits up and reignited your will power. You were going to impress him and show your worth even if it fucking killed you.

Training was still extraordinarily tough though, and it was well established at this point that Mihawk was picking on you in front of everyone when he forced you to spar with five of your classmates in a row one morning.

You panted hard as your chest heaved with exertion; heart beating in your throat, hair wild and dripping with sweat, and more than a few cuts and bruises littered your skin.

“Again.” He demanded, motioning at another student to come forward.

Your fellow pupil looked more than a little concerned, hesitantly glancing between you and Mihawk before taking her stance, sword in hand. Even out of concern for your safety, no one was willing to challenge the teachings of their master.

Without another word you lunged forward, swords clashing as you tried to dive in between her waist and arm to twist the blade from her grasp. It was an attempt to end the fight as quickly as possible, as you were not sure how much longer you could last. But you failed the disarm, her hand hooking under your armpit and flinging you over her shoulder before throwing you to the ground, knocking the wind out of you.

You groaned in pain, struggling to get air into your constricted lungs, while little black spots dipped in and out of your vision, one hand blindly groping the ground for your sword that you could not find.

Suddenly Mihawk was looming over you, tall, broad, and terrifying, almost how he looked in your nighttime fantasies and daydreams. Your sword was gripped in his hand, and he had a stern and disappointed look that shadowed over his face. He tsked at you, bringing the tip of your blade to your chin to slightly lift your head up towards him.

“Is that all you have left in you?”

You bit your lip, chest still heaving to catch your breath, fingers gripped tight in the grass beneath you as a single tear slid down the side of your face. You had no words, you just gently shook your head, and squeezed your eyes shut in defeat.

“Pity… go clean yourself up. Meet me in the ball room after lunch. Bring your sword.” He then drove your sword into the ground close by your shoulder, turned his back, and began to walk towards the castle, “Class dismissed.”

The rest of the students cleared out of the courtyard almost immediately, some gave you looks of pity, others completely ignored your pathetic, sprawled out body and rushed inside, grateful that they were not the object of Mihawk’s wrath.

Hari and Maryelle were the only ones that stayed behind with you, grabbing your sword and helping you to sit up as you began to sob. This was more than embarrassment, this had gone so much farther beyond that point now. You had never felt so utterly humiliated in your entire life, and now you had to face him alone later that afternoon.

Maryelle held you as you cried, arm wrapped tight around you as you limped and leaned against her back to your room, Hari carrying your sword for you with a hand softly placed on your back.

“He’s a prick, Y/N.”

“I know, I know,” you cried, sitting on the edge of your bed with your head in your hands, “I just want him to like me!”

Later that afternoon, after you cleaned yourself up, soaked your aching limbs in the tub, and bandaged your minor wounds, you joined Maryelle and Hari in the dining hall for lunch. When you entered, an uncomfortable silence hung in the room, followed by a surge of hushed tones and whispers as you walked to your seat.

Both Hari and Maryelle rolled their eyes as you sat down next to them, “Ignore them, they’re assholes.”

You began to pick at your food, trying your best to calm your frazzled nerves, “I know, they’re honestly the least of my worries right now.”

“…what do you think is going to happen?” Maryelle asked softly.

“I have no idea. He could throw me out, he could scream at me, he could fight me, he could kill me…”

Hari’s eyes went wide, and he grabbed your hand, “Y/N, he’s not going to kill you… everything is going to be okay.”

“I sure hope so.”

Once the clock in the dining room chimed 1:00, signaling the end of the lunch hour, you nervously made your way across the castle, and finally ended up outside the large and lavish doors of the ballroom. You had only ever been inside the room once, and it was back when it was your first day on the island. He had lined the entire class up and gave a speech about what he expected out of each and every one of you, how his word was law, and that you all would only be allowed to stay as long as he personally wanted you to.

Before grabbing the large brass handle, you hesitated, anxiety flooding your nervous-system, your pulse thumping in your ears. What if he was going to ask you to leave? And then tell you what a disappointment and waste of time you were all of these months?

Instead you shoved down the racing thoughts, gripped your sword tight, put on a brave face, and opened the door.

He was waiting for you on the far side of the room, seated in a plush red velvet and wood chair reading an old leather bound book.

“Come in.” He ordered, with a subtle flick of his hand, not even looking up from the page.

You closed the door behind you and walked toward him, posture straight, shoulders back as you held your head high, trying to act like you weren’t scared out of your wits. You stopped in front of him, crossing your arms behind your back to wait for further instructions.

After he finished reading his page he placed a bookmark to save his spot, and then he finally looked up at you, eyes as piercing and frightening as ever.

“Do you know why I asked you here today, Y/N?”

You tried to swallow a lump that suddenly formed in your throat, your mouth dry. You cleared your throat and spoke up, “B-because I was unable to finish my sparring match today?”

Mihawk closed his book and set it aside, rising from his seat to his full height to tower over you, and look you straight in the eyes, “No, not because of that.”

He stepped even closer, forcing you to crane your neck to hold his gaze, refusing to back down from the slight advance.

Your brows furrowed, your hands clenching and unclenching with a touch of nerves and confusion, “Do you… do you want me to fight you, Sir?”

It was nearly impossible to read the expression on his face most of the time, always so stoic, stern, and serious, so this time you were taken aback by the slight smirk that graced his face for a moment. He turned around, placing his hat on the same side table where he put his book, before walking over to a rack that held several variations of swords. He pondered them for a moment, then picked up a long, slender rapier, one that was quite similar to your own.

“You’re a good fighter, Y/N, but a sword fight would be very one-sided, I’m afraid.”

The way he put that was odd, you thought, while you watched him gracefully swish the sword in a sharp arch over his head, testing the balance of it.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I’m a little bit confused…”

Suddenly, without warning, he lunged at you; the tip of his blade piercing through the air at lightning speed, and it was like you were seeing it happen in slow motion. Without even thinking, you ducked out of the way, rolling back and to the side to create some distance between the two of you.

You leaped up onto your feet, extending your sword just above your head in time to parry his next attack, the clash of metal ringing throughout the room. He swung at you again, narrowly missing your shoulder as you spun around, twisting low to the ground to aim for his knee. He blocked that too, exerting his weight and tremendous strength through the blade, sending you sliding back on the marble floor onto your knees.

“Good, very good,” he drawled, standing up straight once more from his attack position, “Even quicker than this morning, I see.”

You breathed slowly, in through your nose and out of your mouth, trying your best to steady your heart-rate. He had truly taken you by surprise, and you were almost sure you would’ve been dealing with a rather painful puncture wound had you not stepped out of the way in time.

From your new position on the floor, you realized he had barely moved, but somehow had managed to get you to three separate points in the room, all within 10 to 15 feet of each other. Yet he just stood there, looking at the blade he held in his hands, as if he were bored.

That image of him lit a fire under your ass. He was just toying with you, toying with you like he had been doing all damn week, and he looked good while doing it. This stupid man, who was the object of your desire, who you gave up your entire life for to follow his teachings. This stupid man whose approval you craved more than anything else on earth, whose hypnotic voice had crippled your year long streak of concentration, and resolve with only two words. This man, who was so stupid, and tall, and handsome, and perfect and it made you want to scream.

In a sudden fit of rage, a pure lapse in judgement, you rose to your feet and ran at him full force. You darted your blade out forward, first to his right, then left, and up towards his neck while simultaneously crouching down to kick out your leg, a vain attempt to push him off balance. None of it worked; he blocked and out-maneuvered every single slash, blow, and limb that you swiped at him, while not even breaking a sweat.

With an angry shout, you rose your blade above your head to slash down at him one more time, a stupid, childish move that left you extremely open and vulnerable.

Before you even knew it, he parried you, knocking your sword straight from your grasp, causing it to scatter across the room. Then with another sudden movement, he snatched both of your wrists up in one of his large hands, shoved you against the nearest wall, and pinned them above your head.

You expected him to point his blade at your throat, demand that you beg to stay, or possibly tell you to pack your things and get the hell out before he decided to kill you. But he said no such thing, instead he just ended up surprising you again.

“I think that’s quite enough of that,” he said calmly, setting the sword aside to lean on a nearby bookshelf while one of his knees slid between your legs, making your eyes go wide.

Heat shot through you, sparks of pleasure licking up your insides as he gazed down at you. He was close, so close you knew he could see the deep blush that covered your face and neck; so close that he could see your dilated pupils, blown wide with desperate need.

You panicked, attempting to free your arms and squirm away from him before he could figure out how your body was reacting. But it was no use, his grip was too strong, and his other free hand rested on the wall by your waist. He had caged you in, leaving you completely open to him with nowhere to run to or hide.

“Sir p-please, I’m sorry… I – please don’t make me leave…”

And just when you thought nothing else could shock you anymore, once again you were wrong. Dracule Mihawk smiled at you; a teasing, condescending smile, but a smile none the less, as he inched his knee even further between your legs, “Why would I make you leave when I have you exactly where I want you?”

You were at a loss for words, only an involuntary whimper fell from your lips as you went slack, surrendering all will to his control, ready for whatever he was going to do to you.

“You’re one of my star pupils, Y/N,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over your collarbone, leaving goosebumps in their wake, “Your devotion and dedication have not gone unnoticed this past year.”

It felt like your entire body was vibrating on a molecular level, little bursts of heat rolling through your stomach, making your clit throb, aching to be touched. Your eyes fluttered shut, burning every single detail of this moment into your memory.

He pressed himself fully against you, making you gasp as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, “But you can’t scrape by on book smarts and quick reflexes alone. I expect great things of my favorite student.”

You looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, feeling punch drunk and dizzy from his close proximity, “I’m your…favorite?”

In response he smirked at you, his hand finding your waist, thumb grazing over your hipbone, “I know I’ve been cruel this week, but I cannot let the others suspect my favoritism. Let’s keep this between us, yes?”

You nodded dreamily at him as soft shivers tingled under your skin where he touched you, your fingers twitching slightly in his grip, “Y-yes, Sir. I promise I won’t tell anybody.”

“Good girl…” He breathed, and that almost made you cum right then and there. Instead, you bit your lip, trying to stifle the small whimper that poured from your lips.

Finally, he released your hands, causing them to drop weakly to your sides; your knees almost buckling beneath you as he backed away.

“Your training will only get more difficult from here on out, expect to be on your guard at all times now. I don’t want you getting too comfortable.”

He left you dazed as you leaned against the wall, trying to get your bearings while he sat back down in his chair to continue reading his book.

“That is all, Y/N. You are excused.” He said with another wave of his hand, as if your interaction had never even occurred.

With a weak nod you pushed yourself from the wall, your knees still quivering with excitement as you walked past him, picked up your sword, and gently closed the doors behind you.

“Sooo, what happened?” Maryelle had asked as soon as she saw you wandering the corridors hours later, “Are you okay?”

All you could do was shrug, with a gentle shake to your head, attempting to be as nonchalant as possible, “Nothing, we just talked.”

“You just-…you just talked?”

“Yup… we just talked.”

You avoided anyone else for the rest of the day, opting to hike up the hills and train by yourself to relieve your confusion and pent-up frustrations. Later that night, as you got ready for bed, you touched yourself in the shower, biting your wrist while you whimpered and moaned his name, pretending your fingers were his fucking into you while he had you trapped against the wall, fingertips torturing your clit.

The memory of his warm breath tickling your neck, and firm body pressed against yours lulled you to sleep, with those two words echoing in your mind, “Good girl…”

It was finally the end of the long, tortuous week you had endured. As usual, you got up and performed your morning rituals, reading in the courtyard of the training grounds as your peers began trickling in to join you. But much to your and your classmates’ surprise, instead of the normal training session with Mihawk, he announced that he would be going on an excursion for the next week. It had been months since any of you had gotten a break, and he made it a point to tell everyone to actually enjoy the time off.

“My presence is requested by orders of the World Government, which means I will take leave for a week. I suggest you all continue your training on an individual level, but also request that you relax your bodies and minds. One cannot remain sharp without easing one’s troubles every now and then. I only ask that you do not burn the castle to the ground. Anything out of place upon my return, and well…let’s not find out what I would have in store for you all. Class excused.”

As soon as Mihawk left the courtyard, with a swoop of his long coat, and the shadow of his tall figure disappearing down one of the corridors, the entire class bursts out in celebration. Some jumping up and down, cheering and yelling, others immediately beginning to plan for a party and dinner.

Hari and Maryelle come up to you, beaming with excitement.

“A whole week, Y/N can you believe it?!” Maryelle gushes, grabbing your hand to walk along with them, “At least you’ll get a break from his royal jerkiness, yeah?”

“And there’s already a big dinner party being planned for tonight, you’re coming right?” Hari asks.

You were excited to spend more time with your friends, and after the hellish week you had just gone through, you were grateful for some time off, some relief. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that you wouldn’t be seeing Mihawk for an entire week, especially after the tantalizing moment you shared with each other in the ballroom yesterday.

With a forced smile you squeeze Maryelle’s hand and wrap your arm around Hari’s shoulders, trying to cover up your disappointment, “Of course I’ll be there! How about we hit the wine cellar as well? I doubt he’ll miss a few of the not-so-vintage bottles.”

They both grin deviously, clapping you on the back, “Now that’s what I’m talking about, you deserve to let loose a little. Maybe we can even find someone to take your mind off that lousy Hawk-eye.”

You roll your eyes, the three of you following the stream of people back into the castle, a glint of knowing in your eye, “You can try, but I doubt it.”

It was now several hours into the evening festivities, Mihawk has only been gone half the day and already the entire class has taken over the dining hall and common room. A few people have even found a set of instruments and are busy keeping a small group dancing. Some are scattered in small circles drunkenly chatting away, others off in pairs, shamelessly making out in the darkened corners of the room, or sneaking away to the dorms for a quickie.

At the beginning of the night you had been glued to Hari and Maryelle’s side, but as the three of you continued to down glass after glass of the rich red wine Mihawk kept the castle stocked with, you could tell that your presence was getting in the way of their drunken flirting. So you left them sitting together on a couch, Maryelle halfway in Hari’s lap.

You pick up your wine glass and make your way back to the kitchen, searching for an unopened bottle to nurse for the rest of the night.

“May I tempt you?” You hear a low voice ask you from behind.

You turn around, and are met with one of your classmates named Raegan, a tall, blond, decently handsome, and talented swordsman you have sparred with on a few occasions. He’s uncorking a bottle, and smiling down at you as he gestures toward your empty glass.

“Oh please! Thank you.” You smile at him, a slight blush on your cheeks as you give him a once over while he pours you a hefty glass.

“Are you enjoying the night, Y/N?” Raegan questions, tone calming and polite, and thankfully not overly intoxicated like almost everyone else.

“I am!” You nod, taking a sip of your wine, “It’s been one hell of a week, so I’m glad we can all relax for a while. Plus it’s so nice to casually socialize, it seems like the only thing we ever talk about is training.”

“I agree with you there,” he laughs softly, leaning closer to you, “Well, you deserve a break after the hard time he’s been giving you recently. I’m assuming everything went okay when you saw him after lunch? A lot of us we pretty worried about you.”

Your heart-rate elevates slightly at the mention of yesterday’s meeting with Mihawk, your cheeks turning an even darker shade of red as you try to push the memories to the back of your mind.

“Y-yes, it went fine. We just had a talk is all, about-… about me making sure I’m living up to my potential,” you stammer, a little flustered.

Raegan leans down, looking closely at your face while he presses the back of his hand to your forehead, “Are you feeling alright? You’re looking a little red, and you feel warm.”

The gentle gesture catches you off guard, causing a small swarm of butterflies to flutter in your stomach for a moment. You’re flattered by his concern, and it has been such a long time since you’ve allowed yourself to freely flirt with anybody, that you forget about your unrequited crush on your teacher for just a moment. So much of your attention has been focused on Mihawk that you forgot to look that way at anyone else.

“Yeah, I’m fine…it’s just the-…it’s just the wine is all.” You giggle as his hand leaves your forehead, fingertips ghosting down the side of your face as he pulls away.

He smiles at you again, picking up the bottle while he nods toward the common room, “Good. Care to sit and finish this off with me then? I’d love your company.”

“Absolutely.”

He leads you out of the kitchen, and you find an unoccupied couch in a back corner, where you can actually hear each other talk.

As the night continues on, and the warm intoxication from the wine begins to settle in, you notice that you have been inching closer and closer to Raegan for the last half hour. Your thighs pressed flush against one another as you flirt shamelessly, touching his leg when you laugh at one of his jokes.

The wine continues to feed your courage, and you find yourself almost half in his lap, his large hand finally settling on your thigh, giving it a warm squeeze.

“I’m glad this happened tonight,” he says, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your inner thigh, “I’ve always wanted to talk to you more, but you’re always so concentrated on training… I never thought someone like you would ever give me the time of day.”

You blush, softly tracing the back of his hand with your fingertips, “I get a little lost in it sometimes… what do you mean someone like me?”

“Someone so dedicated, so humble, and talented…” he leans over and murmurs in your ear, causing a shiver of excitement to run down your spine, and a stirring of butterflies in your tummy, “Someone so absolutely gorgeous.”

You sigh, heart fluttering, Fuck it’s been so long, I need this… His face is so close to yours, shadowed with an intense longing, his gaze looking down from your eyes to your lips. He cradles your jaw in his hand, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip before his eyes flutter shut and he guides his lips to yours.

You sink into the kiss for a moment, your hands gripping at his shirt as your body screams at you for more. But after a few moments you break away, a sudden odd feeling washing over you as Mihawk’s face flashes in your mind.

“I-I’m so-so sorry, Raegan I -,” You stammer, feeling confused and flustered while you gently push at his chest to create some distance.

He looks a little hurt, but mostly concerned as he immediately stops touching you, “It’s okay, really Y/N, I came on a little too strong – …”

“I just need to get some air real quick, okay?” You pick yourself up off the couch and begin to retreat to the hallway, “I’m just going to use the restroom, I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting to hear his reply you stumble out of the common room, away from his sincere eyes and warm touches, feeling a little queasy as you head toward the restroom. There’s a weird pit in the center of your stomach now where pleasure used to be, and you can’t help but feel as if you’ve somehow done something wrong.

Get a grip… you mutter to yourself while you enter the washroom, looking at your reflection for a moment; lips plump from kissing, hair a little wild from where he ran his fingers through it, and cheeks tinged a rosy-pink, both from your excitement and the amount of wine you have consumed.

You relieve yourself and wash up, trying your best to empty your mind. Mihawk wasn’t here, and there was nothing between the two of you anyway. On the other hand, there was a hot, sweet, guy your age in the other room who seemed more than interested in fucking you tonight, and you have every right to indulge in that.

I expect great things of my favorite student… his voice lingers in your memory, and you shake it away as you splash cool water on your face to calm your nerves, before drying your hands and heading back through the corridor.

It’s well into the night, and only a faint trace of light illuminates the dark hallways; a hint of moonlight shining through the windows, and a very distant orange glow from the candles lit in the dining room.

You don’t realize how drunk you are until you’ve left the bathroom, the buzz dulling your vision and coordination as your hand slides against the wall for support. Carefully, you put one foot in front of the other, trying to concentrate on not stubbing your toe or knocking something over.

All of a sudden you feel a shiver go up your spine as a shadow moves out of the corner of your eye, startling you. You spin around, scanning the darkened space in a panic, expecting to have stumbled upon one of your classmates, but no one is there.

With your brow furrowed in confusion, deciding that it was just a trick of the light along with your inebriation, you turn back around to continue forward.

That’s when you feel an arm circle around your waist, pinning your arms to your sides, and a hand grip tightly over your mouth.

Your eyes go wide and you try to scream, but the air is squeezed out of you when you are pulled further back into the hallway; the faint noise you squeak out muffled behind their palm, the heels of your boots dragging silently across the carpet.

Whoever has a hold of you is significantly taller and stronger than you, your struggles doing absolutely nothing against their sheer size and brute strength. Your mind goes into panic mode, the weight of drunkenness slowing your reflexes and sapping away your energy, all ounce of your training gone as you squirm in their arms helplessly.

“My, my, what do we have here? Has a little rabbit lost it’s way?” A deep voice teases, tightening their grip around you more to get you to stop wiggling, “I’d be careful with how you move, little one, I might not be able to control myself,” he purrs into your ear, pressing his pelvis into your ass.

You can feel the bulge in his pants harden as he grinds into you. Heat rushes into your cheeks, flooding through your veins as you whimper into his hand, terrified and turned on at the same time.

“Lucky me, it seems like my little rabbit has had too much to drink,” he drawls in your ear, making your heart thump wildly in your chest, “Makes you nice and pliant for me, doesn’t it? So easy to take advantage.”

He finally removes his hand from your mouth to thread through your hair, forcing your head to the side so he can kiss and bite, sucking dark marks into the tender flesh of your neck.

You go slack in his arms, your strength depleted as you surrender to his will, “P-please, don’t… I-I have someone waiting for me, I won’t tell anyone…”

He licks the shell of your ear, pressing you firm between him and the wall, your back slightly arched, one of his feet kicking your legs a part, “Hmmm, and who would you even tell that would actually believe you?”

Nervously you swallow the lump in your throat in an attempt to sound normal, and not the mixture of scared, horny, and disoriented that you actually feel, “I would tell Sir Mihawk, he-he cares for me, he would believe me. So just let me go, and I promise not to tell him.”

“Is that so?”

To your surprise you are flipped around, your back hitting the wall with a dampened thud as your hands are pinned to either side of your head. In the darkness you see two golden orbs peering down at you, your vision adjusting to the faintly shadowed face of Mihawk.

“Sir?!” You exclaim, completely shocked, “But-but you said you were leaving-…”

“What did I tell you the other day, Y/N, hm?” His grip is tight against your wrists, and his sharp features look even more intimidating and angry in the shadows of the moonlight, “What did I make abundantly clear?”

You wrack your hazy mind for what he could be speaking of, but you can’t seem to think of it. All you can remember is how he felt against you, warm and firm and tantalizing, just as he does now, your body aching to be touched as he whispers to you Good girl, Good Girl, Good Girl…

You bite your lip and press your legs together in desperation, your fingers twitching while you whine, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember…”

“Forgotten already?” He sneers, with a sharp suck to his teeth, “How very disappointed I am in you, Y/N. I’m not gone for even a day and your discipline has completely slipped away. I told you, be on your guard at all times.”

Mentally you slap yourself and squeeze your eyes shut to avoid looking at him, shame sinking into your stomach.

“I warned you not to get too comfortable, that I expect better of you. But what do you do once my back is turned? Get drunk and prowl around looking to get fucked? You think I don’t know what is going on inside my own castle? I know Raegan is waiting for you, waiting to take you to his bed.”

Your eyes snap open wide as you shake your head, “No, no! He-he was nice to me, but nothing hap-…”

But he cuts you off again, and you could swear that he sounds jealous, “Is he the reason why I catch you daydreaming in the middle of training?”

He’s flush against you now, his knee pressed up in between your legs, making you gasp as it nudges your clit through your pants, soaking your panties. His eyes are piercing down at you through the dark, his warm breath ghosting over your lips, his mouth just inches from yours.

“No, Sir, not him. He’s not the one I’m thinking of…”

A moment passes and you see a light flash in his eyes, sudden and intrusive before his lips collide with yours, hungry, possessive, and raw. He nips your bottom lip, causing you to cry out at the sharp pain, silencing you with his tongue as it greedily licks into your mouth.

Pleasure sings through your body, his wicked lips leaving trails of electric ecstasy in their wake while he swallows every gasp and whimper you breathe into him, before finally pulling away.

One of his hands snatches both of your wrists, pinning them above your head while he trails kisses down your neck to your collar bone. His free hand reaches under your shirt to caress up your belly, before cupping one of your breasts in his hands, his thumb and forefinger tugging on the sensitive bud of your nipple.

A moan tears itself from your throat, and you bury your heated face into the side of your arm, embarrassed at how eagerly you are reacting to him, like melted putty in his hands.

He groans softly in response, nipping at your earlobe as his hand wanders further down, fingertips dipping below your waistband.

“Tell me no,” he murmurs, unbuttoning the fly of your pants, and inching down your lower stomach, “Tell me no and I’ll stop.”

The pad of his middle finger caresses you, glides along your slit and up to your aching clit, rubbing little circles through your soft, wet panties. Warmth pools in your tummy, throbbing down to your needy cunt as more slick dribbles out to trail down your quivering thighs.

You’re both staring at each other, half-lidded and slack-jawed, desperate for more as your breath mingles together while he teases you mercilessly.

Tell me no and I’ll stop…

But you don’t want him to stop, only want him to take it further; want him to rip your clothes off, dip his fingers inside, then fuck you so hard against the wall that the entire castle hears you cum on his cock.

The thought makes you ache as you whimper, “Mihawk.”

He smirks down at you, pleased with your reaction while he suddenly withdraws his hand from your pants, making you moan in frustration, “No wait, please don’t stop…”

Your hands are released when he kisses you once more, before backing away to give you space, leaving you wanting.

“I’m afraid our time is up for the night, little rabbit. Meet me in my quarters upstairs after sundown tomorrow, tell no one I am here. Do not be late.”

And just like that he melted into the shadows once more, gone just as fast as he had appeared to you. You have no idea how long you have been gone, the interaction feeling both lightning fast, but also like it had transpired over the course of hours, suspended in time.

Your fingertips brush over your tingling, kiss-swollen lips, the remnants of his touch lingering all along your body; yet being all alone in the dark made it almost feel like it was just a dream.

Slowly you pull yourself together, buttoning back up the front of your trousers and smoothing down your hair and blouse. You glide your hand along the wall again, faster this time since your eyes have adjusted to the darkness.

You walk back into the common room, surprised to see that the celebration has not died down yet, and that Raegan is still waiting for you on the same couch, nursing the same bottle of wine.

His eyes brighten a little when you sit down by him again, though this time you put a little distance between the two of you.

His expression is soft and full of concern as he says, “Hey, Y/N are you okay? I was just about to come looking for you.”

You smile and nod, raking your fingers through your hair a little nervously, “Yeah, I’m so sorry, I had way too much wine…look Raegan, I didn’t mean to - …”

He holds his hand up, cutting you off, “Y/N, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I came on too strong. I just…I really like you.”

You’re flattered, truly you are, but after what just occurred you know there’s no possibility that anything could ever happen between the two of you now. Dracule Mihawk had laid a claim, and there was no way you could go back.

“Raegan, I like you too. You are gorgeous, seriously, and so sweet…but there is someone else, and that’s not going away any time soon.”

“I understand. They’re lucky whoever they are.”

You smile in response, picking yourself up from the couch once more, your buzz now fading into the realm of exhaustion, “I had a great time with you tonight, but I need to go to bed before I end up on the floor.”

He chuckles, holding his glass up in a toast while you begin to walk towards the doorway, “That’s where I plan on being at the end of the night. Goodnight, Y/N.”

The next day you wake up hung over, two hours past when you normally rise, regretting how much you drank the previous night. You make your way to bathroom, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you turn on the faucet and splash your face.

You look in the mirror, your eyes growing wide when you notice the dark red and purple marks littering up the side of your neck and spread down to the hollow of your collarbone. You groan in frustration, realizing you will have to wear turtle-neck shirts and scarves for the next week to avoid anyone seeing them.

The events of last night rush back through your memory, leaving you reeling. It had all seemed like one big magnificent dream, a perfect fantasy that your mind created. But the evidence is littered all over your skin, and in a moment of panic you remember that you promised to meet him later tonight.

What could he possibly want? Had last night been some sort of trick, some sort of test that you had possibly failed?

For the rest of the day you try your best to not agonize over what awaits you in Mihawk’s study tonight. You take an extra long bath, scrubbing away your hangover, and then sneak down to the dining hall for a late breakfast, with the hopes that you won’t run into anyone there. You’re in luck, as it seems all of your classmates are still sleeping off their night of debauchery.

You pack a small bag and head up to the hills behind the castle to be alone, where you read, eat toast and jam, and practice a little bit with your sword. Eventually the day has gotten away from you, and you are shocked when you realize that the sun will set in less than an hour.

Anxiety quickens your heart beat while you gather your things and make your way down to the castle again, admiring the sky bathing the island in reds, oranges, pinks and purples. You wish it wouldn’t end, because for all you know it could be the last time you see the sunset on Gloom island. For all you know you made a terrible mistake last night and he would be throwing you out.

You walk quickly through the hallways, avoiding every single person you pass until you get to your bedroom. You put your sword away in your closet, and give yourself a once over in the mirror. With a sigh you gather your courage, pushing down the mixture of fear and excitement that rolls in your stomach as you make your way up the stairs.

The last bit of light has faded beyond the horizon of the island, shadowing the castle in a dark, eerie blue that creeps in from the hallway windows of the upper floor. You had never been in any of the rooms up here before, everyone knew the top floor was out of bounds to the students, that it was all private to Mihawk.

At first you were not sure which door to knock on, seeing as he hadn’t been very specific. But that’s when you saw a faint strip of light glowing from under a massive set of ornately carved wooden doors.

Slowly you walk up to the doorway, your heart beating in your throat, palms sweaty from nerves. After a moment of hesitation, you squeeze your eyes shut and knock twice.

The light between the cracks of the doors flickers slightly before they open, revealing Mihawk’s piercing eyes staring down at you. He opens the door all the way once he sees that it’s you, and steps to the side to allow you in.

“Please, come in Y/N.”

You bow your head a little, ducking past him in an attempt to hide the blush that’s deepening across your cheeks, his eyes never leaving you. He closes the door behind you, making goosebumps erupt across your skin with a flash of excitement as he brushes behind your back momentarily, before walking over to a chair by his fireplace.

You look around the room, taking in how gorgeous it is. It’s just his style, all black and red velvet, lavish four post bed, intricate rugs and a large fireplace that lights the entire room a glow. It looks overwhelmingly romantic.

“Uhm, Sir?” You say, lacing and twiddling your fingers together nervously, “Did I…was last night some kind of test?”

There is a pause in the air while Mihawk pours himself a glass of wine, swirling and savoring it with a gentle sip, before his eyes lock onto yours, predatory and serious.

“A test? What kind of test would that be, hm?”

He moves toward you, slowly, his tall form casting a long shadow over you. You bite your lip, and inch back subconsciously, unable to look him in the eyes as he continues his advance.

“I-I’m not sure…” You mutter, glancing up to see him circle around you, “This past week has been so-so… confusing.”

He smirks down at you after taking another sip of his wine, nonchalantly swirling it, eyeing the red liquid as if bored; as if he had no clue how questionable and different your relationship had been lately.

“Whatever do you mean, Y/N? I think I’ve made my intentions abundantly clear.”

Your brows furrow together, and you wipe your perspiring hands against your shirt as he continues to circle you like a hawk, “You’ve been testing me, I’m sure of it…testing my will-power, my patience.”

Mihawk stops in his tracks behind you, and you feel an electric shock pulse up your spine when he caresses the back of your shoulders, making you gasp softly in surprise when he murmurs in your ear, “Is that so? Well then, how do you think you’re doing so far?”

You shiver, eyes fluttering while his fingertips continue their gentle exploration of your neck, hair, and shoulders, “You haven’t thrown me out yet… do you test all of your students this way?”

Your body goes lax when you feel his arms snake around your waist, pressing the front of his body to your back, his lips brushing along the shell of your ear, “No, just you… I knew you were special the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

You shut your eyes and bite your lip, your heart thumping so loud you can feel it in your ears. With a slight moment of hesitation you slowly bring your hand up behind you, and dare to run your fingers through his thick, dark hair. You hear him sigh, and his head relaxes on your shoulder as the two of you hold one another; but it doesn’t last long as he withdraws from you, wandering back over near the fireplace to sit in his black velvet chair.

His eyes are back on you with that predatory look once more, gazing at you over the lip of his wine glass while he takes another sip, un-blinking.

You’re speechless, your skin tingling where he touched you, your core fluttering as you press your legs together, wetness flooding your panties. His eyes look you up and down, his pupils blown wide, making you blush when it looks like he’s enjoying watching you squirm.

Suddenly he puts his wine down, and sits on the edge of his seat, elbows on his knees, looking you in the eye and firmly saying, “Take off your clothes.”

Your eyes go wide and your mouth opens in shock, thinking he can’t possibly be serious, “Wh-what?”

“You heard me, Y/N. Take off your clothes.”

You fold your arms tight to your body, and bite your lip, shaking your head, “Is this… this is another test isn’t it?”

“I wonder, or do you think we’re possibly past that now?” He drawls, one of his eyebrows quirked up in a faux-puzzled expression, “Now I don’t like to be kept waiting, Y/N. I said take off your clothes.”

Heat floods you head to toe, head reeling, his authoritative words ringing in your ears. His eyes are fixed on you, stern and swimming with impatience.

Your body slightly trembles as you play with the hem of your shirt, debating on whether or not you are going to obey him. You’ve never disobeyed an order from him before, and your body aches for him, is screaming at you to strip and offer yourself. But there is still a seed of doubt in your mind, a fear that if you blindly debase yourself for him that he will be disgusted by you.

In the end, your carnal desires win when you lift your shirt over your head and drop it to your feet, your boots and pants coming off next until you are left in your bra and panties, skin tinged pink with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment as he stares at you.

“Come here,” he beckons, twitching his fingers in a come-hither motion, his yellow eyes almost black while his blown-out pupils rake over your body.

You obey, stumbling forward slightly, your knees knocking together while you look at the floor to avert his searing gaze. You stop about a foot away from him, the heat from the fireplace warming you, the light from the flames dancing along your exposed skin.

Finally you look up at him once more, the fire flickering back in his eyes, making him look even more dangerous than he normally does. He takes a deep breath, his teeth raking his bottom lip before he says, “Take off all of your clothes.”

You shiver at his tone, deep and serious, a wave of arousal rolling through your tummy. You expected that he would ask this, but in the back of your mind you didn’t think he would go this far.

Every limit you ever thought you had is surpassed the moment you unhook your bra and abandon it on the floor, your breasts perking up as they are exposed to the open air; your panties soon after being tugged down your legs and kicked away.

Mihawk is on the edge of his seat, staring you down with a possessive and heated look when he finally speaks again, “Now, get down on your knees.”

You blush furiously, but comply, sinking down to your knees on the plush carpet in front of him, covering your breasts with your arms and pressing your thighs together to maintain some level of modesty.

That makes him smirk, a light laugh exhaling from his lips, “Don’t be shy, be a good girl and spread your legs for me, then put your hands behind your back.”

You whimper, your limbs shaking a little when you sit up on your knees and spread your legs, revealing your glistening pussy while you cross your arms behind your back. There’s no going back now, no where to hide yourself as you kneel completely bare before him.

Mihawk licks his lips in response, giving you a once over, looking like a hawk about to devour his prey, but only after playing with it just a little.

“You like this, don’t you, Y/N?” He asks with a devious smile while he eye-fucks you, paying special attention to your chest and cunt, reveling in how delirious with arousal you’ve become.

You bite your lip, your body trembling as heat licks up your insides. In response to his question you nod, no use lying about it now that the want is fully on display, leaking out of you.

He grins and gets up from his chair, circling around you once more before he leans down on one knee to get eye-level with you, gently grazing his hand along your collarbone, before tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“If I feel between your legs, how wet are you going to be for me? Or should we just wait to see if you make a mess of my carpet?”

You bite back a moan, your nails digging into your forearms behind your back, your heart pounding wildly in your chest, your clit throbbing at his words. The fear of him being right shoots heat right through your veins, and at this rate you would start dripping. The thought visibly flushes your face and the tips of your ears a dark crimson color.

His hand is now on your thigh, creeping further and further towards your slick center, his lips ghosting along the underside of your jaw as he does so, making you shiver with need, “Would you like me to check?”

You let out a shaky breath when he pulls back to look into your eyes, pondering and searching for any hesitation while his fingers continue their journey, “Tell me no…” He says, just like he said in the dark hallway the night before, “Tell me no, and I’ll stop.”

His face is even closer to yours now, the ghost of a kiss just an inch from your lips. You shake your head, pressing your forehead to his, pleading, “Please… Please don’t stop.”

He caresses one of your breasts, thumb stroking over a hardened nipple, causing you to pant, your breath tickling over his face, his other hand gripping your hip, “Tell me, little rabbit… why have you continued to humiliate yourself for me this entire week? Why have you let me treat you this way in front of the others, and in private?”

“I-I…” You try to find the words, your mind numb with pleasure, your nerves alight as his touch electrifies you, and then the realization even surprises you, “I like it. I like the way it makes me feel. You’re my teacher, my master, my Sir… I like it when you control me.”

His smile is wicked, pleased with your answer, and that’s when he finally touches you, just barely, and your pussy is dripping slick. You whine as ecstasy rolls through your body, his fingertip exploring your drenched folds.

“What a naughty rabbit you are… I knew what a good, little pet you would be the first time I ever saw you,” He purrs in your ear, spreading your wetness around your stiff clit, “Perhaps I should have the other students come in, since you like this so much. Have them watch and learn what it’s like to be truly obedient.”

Your eyes widen in horror, your body uncontrollably trembling in his hands, but still you hold your position, “N-no, Sir, p-please don’t!”

It’s then that he kisses you, never once stopping his exploration; the movements on your clit increasing while he ravages your lips, his slick tongue invading your mouth to slide over your own wet muscle. You keen into his mouth, opening even wider as you drink each other in with wild abandon.

He finally breaks away, chuckling lowly, “Just teasing you, pet, I wouldn’t dream of it. From here on out you are mine. All mine. Is that understood?”

You nod, dazed as you press your face into the side of his neck, “Yes, Sir… that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Your fate is sealed with another kiss when his fingers finally enter you, curling up to fuck into that sensitive spot inside that makes you see stars. You cry out into his mouth as he alternates between scissoring his thick fingers into your cunt, and rubbing them over your clit, rocketing you hard and fast towards your orgasm.

“I’m sure those poor knees of yours are getting awfully sore, darling. I’ll reward you and make all of the aches and pains go away if you can cum just like this.” He says, lips brushing over your ear, his goatee tickling your jaw.

You moan, your head thrown back while he begins to nip and suck at your neck, leaving marks of pleasurable pain in his wake as he keeps continuous pressure on your clit, rubbing small circles into the wet bundle of nerves. Heat and pressure is slowly building in your tummy, a tight knot threatening to snap as pure rapture bleeds through your body, pumping hot in your veins.

“Mihawk, Sir… plleeeeaase.”

“Mmm, such a good girl. So soft, and pliant and wet.”

His praise fuels the fire in your belly, your thighs shaking with desperation as his fingers never cease their relentless pace; a little puddle of your arousal coats his hand and dampens the carpet below. The pressure continues to build, your skin flushed pink, your warm, drenched cunt clenching around nothing when his fingers overstimulate your clit.

“You’ve been such a good girl, my little rabbit. You deserve to feel good after all I’ve put you through. Now cum for me.”

You pant into his neck, chest heaving as you whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as the pressure inside you overflows, tension snapping. You twitch in his embrace while your orgasm overwhelms you, feeling yourself flutter and gush on his hand, your entire body pulsing in time with your rapidly beating heart.

“Messy little thing,” he teases, extending the fingers he used to pleasure you to your lips, “Looks like I was right about you making a mess. But don’t worry about that now, be a good girl and clean me up.”

You suck on his slick digits obediently, trembling from your orgasm while pressed flush against him. He pulls apart your arms that have been folded behind your back, nudging them to wrap around his neck. After cleaning your wetness from his fingers he cradles your face, pressing tender kisses to your mouth and cheeks.

“So perfect, you did so good for me, Y/N,” he coos while he gathers you up in his arms, getting you off the position on your knees to his lap, “Always so perfectly obedient, doing exactly what I say.”

His praise puts you on cloud nine, adoration and devotion radiating through you; still aglow from your orgasm as you snuggle to his chest. He picks you up and swiftly begins to make his way over to his bed, reigniting your excitement and arousal for the reward he promised you.

“And good girls who listen…” He says, before throwing you onto the bed on your back, and immediately gripping your thighs to pull them a part, “…get rewarded for their impeccable behavior.”

He towers over you on the edge of the bed, almost folding you in half, your ankles close to your ears. His hands have you spread open wide, leaking cunt on full display, thumb toying with the hood of your clit before he licks up your slit.

You gasp out a whine, your hands flying to tangle in his hair. His eyes are fixed on yours, half-lidded, pupils still blown with insatiable desire while he eats you out, alternating between lapping at your clit and tonguing your drenched opening.

Your second orgasm hits you by surprise, his expert ministrations flooding you with euphoria as you bite your lip to keep from screaming; your nails digging firm against his scalp while you rut against his face.

“Mm, exquisite,” he hums once you’ve gone slack again, twitching in the afterglow while he crawls up your body, “I think your delicious cunt was made for my tongue.”

His black facial hair glistens in the firelight on his jaw when he licks his lips, leaning over you till you are face to face once more, breath mingling, “I’m sure it was made for my cock as well.”

“Sir please!” You sob, keeping yourself wide open for him, “Please, I need it so bad! Please fuck me…”

He grins down at you, face darkened by the flickering shadows of the room, caressing your cheek, and wiping away a stray tear that falls from the corner of your eye. Then he kisses you, all tongue and teeth, wet with your spit and slick on his lips.

Once he pulls away he sits back up, thumb hooked into the waistband of his pants, the outline of his cock bulging against his leg. You whine once more, squirming with need, and when he takes off all of his clothes it makes you throb. He’s the biggest you’ve ever seen: long, thick, and heavy, red at the tip and leaking precum.

“I know, little rabbit, I know,” He says lowly, stroking himself while he positions between your legs, “I’ll give it to you. Are you going to be a good girl and take it all?”

Your eyes are wide, your body shaking. It’s been a long time since you’ve had anyone inside you, and never someone his size before, but you nod, “Yes, Sir, I-I can take it...”

“Good girl.”

And then he’s pushing into you, stuffing the tip of his dick into your dripping cunt, and even with the amount of lubrication your body has created for you, the feeling of being split open sucks the air right out of your lungs. He grabs your legs and hoists your ankles over his shoulders, driving his hips down with a quick thrust to fully sheath himself inside of you. The motion makes you cry out and claw at the bedding, your body completely encased by his as he folds you, then begins an utterly ruthless pace.

Never have you been so full before, stretched to capacity while he fucks into you, staring down at you with fierce concentration, as if he were dueling you in a swordfight. He watches you fall apart entirely, tears streaming down your face while you cry and whimper his name, and every other little sound of pleasure and pain in between.

His cock touches every inch inside of you, pounding your G-spot with a fierceness that makes you feel like you are going to black out. Every cell in your body seems to scream and sing in unison when he finally reaches down and flicks at your clit, sending you into an immersion of pain and ecstasy that you didn’t know could possibly exist as you cum hard around his cock.

The two of you pant in unison, him stilling inside of you to give you a moment to come back to reality once more. Your body is thrumming with overstimulation, blood rushing wildly through your veins as his face swims in your vision. He’s biting his lip, concentrating on not cumming inside of you as he begins to pull out of your slick heat.

“Such a good girl for me, taking my cock so well,” His praise washes over you again, easing the ache of his dick withdrawing from you, “But I’m not through with you yet, little rabbit.”

Suddenly your legs are removed from their perch on his shoulders, and you cry out when you are flipped over onto your stomach. He manhandles you onto your hands and knees, soothing his hand along your spine so you arch your back.

“I think I’ve been more than generous with my reward, don’t you?”

He grabs you by the hair, forcing your head back so he can look into your eyes, making your back arch even more. You whimper at the rough treatment, exhausted from the amount of pleasure ripped from your body, but obediently you look into his glowing eyes and nod.

“Y-yes Sir, thank you, thank you so much.”

He grins his devious smile once more, kissing you hard on the mouth before releasing your hair and withdrawing behind you, “I think that means I deserve my own reward then.”

Without warning he slaps you on the ass, making you gasp in surprise and shrink a little onto the bed.

“Tsk, tsk,” he vocalizes with a suck to his teeth, gripping your hip so you return back to your position, “None of that, you want to make your Sir feel good, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m sorry!” You cry, burying your face into the sheets, “I’ll be good.”

He caresses your hips and massages the small of your back, before you feel him spread the cheeks of your ass and rub his cock over your puckered hole. The sensation makes you stiffen, but you resist the urge to shy away.

“Such a gorgeous ass, I’m sure it would feel like heaven to have it sucking around my cock.”

The thought simultaneously turns you on and makes you want to cry. Taking someone back there was something you had never done before, and thinking about him impaling you on his huge cock tonight after already being so tired and used, terrified you.

He continues to rub his dick through the cleft of your ass, as if waiting for you to respond. Not wanting to disappoint your Sir, you gather your courage, and turn around a bit shyly to look at him, tears glistening in your eyes.

“You can do whatever you want to me, Sir… I just want to make you feel good. You can…y-you can fuck my ass, if that’s what you want.”

Mihawk’s jaw tightens and he groans, his eyes seeming to flash before he licks his lips, “You truly are the sweetest pet a man could ask for. While that offer is tempting, rabbit, I will not do it tonight. I do not wish to hurt you, that is going to require some training, and believe me I will be training you. But for now…”

He maneuvers himself swiftly, dragging his tip through your pussy folds, coating his cock in your slick before thrusting into you once more, bottoming out. You moan into the bedsheets, spreading your legs further as he begins to fuck you from behind, his hips snapping fast and hard, loud sounds of skin slapping each other filling the room and ringing in your ears.

“From now on you’re mine,” he pants, his fingertips bruising into your hips and thighs, “If anyone else touches you again, I’ll fucking kill them.”

You whine in agreement, unable to use your words while your body is pounded into the bed, rattling the entire structure, slick dripping down your thighs as his balls slap against your clit.

“My perfect little student, so good for me,” He growls, grabbing your hair again and slapping your ass, his hips beginning to stutter, his speech becoming more frenzied, “Say you’re mine, say who punishes, fucks, and lets you cum.”

“I’m all yours! I belong to you!” You cry out, your neck straining back, eyes fluttering as he continuously fills you from head to base, “Mihawk, Mihawk!”

“Little rabbit, all mine. Mine to use, pleasure, and humiliate. Because. She. Likes. It.” He enunciates the words with four sharp, drawn out thrusts of his cock, “And if you don’t cum on my cock right now, you won’t for another week. That’s a promise.”

He reaches down and slaps your clit, once, twice, then three times, each one harder than the last while he pumps into you. Your eyes roll back into your head, your body buzzing as it takes control for you and obeys him, your pussy pulsing and gushing around his cock while you cum for the last time.

The feeling of your pussy clenching and releasing does him in; with a bite to your shoulder and a deep moan he empties himself inside of you, splashing his hot cum inside your velvety womb.

Bliss overtakes you when you collapse onto the plush bed, cheek pressed firm into the silk sheets while Mihawk pants against your neck, riding the aftermath waves of his orgasm.

After a few moments of composing himself, he comes back to reality; with gentle words and soft kisses he unsheathes himself from your body, and wraps you in his arms.

“Y/N, dear Y/N, are you alright?” He asks softly, brows furrowed with concern.

You’re an absolute wreck: cheeks flushed, skin damp with sweat, eyes shut. But your heart-rate has begun to return to normal, your breathing evening out while you press your face to his chest.

“Yes, Sir, yes… so good, so very good…” You smile, happy, giddy, and exhausted all at once. Sticky between the thighs, but relaxed and satisfied.

He kisses you on the forehead, smoothing back your wild sex hair for you, tucking the stray hairs out of your face.

“It seems like we have a lot to talk about, Y/N… I meant when I said that I intend for you to be mine.”

The confession makes your heart flutter, warmth and adoration surging through your veins as you turn over to face him, “I would very much like to talk about that, Sir…”

Another one of his devious smirks lights up his eyes, his hands groping over your thigh and ass, “Good, we’ll have all week to discuss the details, all by ourselves, my little rabbit.”

You give him a puzzled look, “What do you mean all week, Sir?”

He looks so smug, so pleased with himself while he stares you in the eyes and gazes over your face; his thumb tracing over your bottom lip, causing your mouth to slightly part.

“Did you tell anyone that I have not left the castle?”

“No, of course not,” You answer earnestly, wanting him to know you would never disobey his orders.

“By chance did you tell anyone where you were going?”

“N-no…”

The realization hits and you feel embers of arousal ignite in your core, your mind reeling with the promise of untold pleasures.

“Then for 6 more days, pet, you’re all mine. All mine, to play with, and more.”

Main Masterlist

#mihawk x reader #x reader #dracule mihawk #mihawk #fanfiction #one piece #one piece fanfiction #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #mihawk smut #one piece x reader #one piece live action fanfiction

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autisticempathydaemon · 6 months ago

Text

Hello... again! Are you hyperfixated on RedactedAudio?

Do you want (need) to know who to follow to cultivate your dashboard and feed your gremlin brain good, good boyfriend roleplay content and my first recommendation post of magnificent fan-artists and fan-writers wasn't enough dopamine for you?

Cool, I’ve got you, and I’ve got even more hyperlinks. Buckle up.

(Note: This is by no means a comprehensive, objective, or complete list, as I have biases and favorites and limited time. If you feel I've missed someone, please feel free to reblog with your additions! I just would have loved a guide like this when I got into the fandom back in August 2022 and wanted to spread some positivity~!)

Fanfiction:

@agentplutonium: they/them

Pluto is just one of the many gorgeous people who've migrated to Tumblr now that Twitter is, ya know, on fire. I've been following them on Tiktok for ages, and I'm so pleased they joined us on tumblr now! Highlights: "Constant" and "Inconvenience" mean the world to me, because there are just not enough aspec headcanons in the fandom, we could always have more.

@angelicaether: they/them

Aether is a fucking gem unto this fandom- not only do they run Sky Side, a friendly, closeknit (hehe) server for 21+ Redacted fans but they also were who we have to thank for Redacted Kinktober 2023, bless them~ Highlights: New Job Posting is magnificent if you’re in the mood for some David/Angel smut today and this cute couple crossover fic if you’re feeling more SFW!

@caelumsnuff: they/them

Phoenix is magnificent, creative, and endlessly sweet. I also respect the hell out of anyone that can take the anon hate that they get with as much grace and attitude as they do /gen /pos Highlights: I love this gift for the Quinn-fuckers they wrote, I do, but I have to admit I'm partial to the Imperium!Vincent/Imperium!Asher piece they did, because their tension and hatred was just too palpable to deny, I needed it.

@empydoc: any pronouns

Empy's Soul Eater AU has not only taken over my life but has also got me deeply wanted a Soul Eater rewatch. God forbid xe succeed because this post has already been delayed enough /j Highlights: I love the Marcus/Asset post, because that's my favorite pairing but also because Asset as both an android and a weapon is so, so interesting. Blake/Bestie's is also a particular gem, because being a meister just gives him a new dimension to his manipulation and I love it.

@floofdeloop: she/her

Not only is Floof a beloved fic writer but she's also one of the adored DJs of the fandom. Are you really a fan if you haven't looked up Redacted on Spotify and saved all her playlists? /j Highlights: Her whole playlist page is literally so good, but I love the cute, domestic vibes of this Geordi one or the tragic, angsty, Britrock vibes of this Porter playlist~!

@joshusten: they/them

Sten is one of if not the writer that comes to mind when you're looking for amazing Guy/Honey content! Highlights: Bitter Melon is my personal favorite of their work; what can I say? I'm a sucker for a little jealousy in my fics. You also can't miss Honeysuckle, their most recent piece which gets into Guy's canonically less-than-pure mind~

@pinksparkl: she/her

Gosh, where would we be without her? Pink never has a bad word or thought for anyone and just persists in being a delightful, sweet presence in the fandom. Highlight: I can't decide what I'm more obsessed with- their Adam-centric fic exploring the Progeny/Maker bond or their nsfw Gavin-centric with his tail exploring Freelancer nudge nudge wink wink

@redlikeredacted: they/them

Just as their blog says, they are the CEO of Dasher. In my head, they are the president of both the David/Asher and the Autistic!David fan clubs, and I'd vote for them a second and third term okay I love Red Highlights: Their "David bottoming for the first time" fic is everything to me okay I am here for nothing but this except maybe this Milo fic where he gets Aggro~

@teafairywithabook: she/they

A lovely writer, voice actor, and person, Cheri does it all! With a whole 34 Redacted works on AO3, they are a must-follow. Highlights: I'll provide the masterlist of previously mentioned works, but I must recommend her nsfw Avior/Starlight fic keeping us sated until we finally get an Avior BA and their fic of Alexis's POV of Sam's turning I couldn't not okay I'm just a person I have biases

@tepid-judas: he/they/it

My favorite Adam stan, my friend, and the person who converted me into an Adam/Brighteyes shipper, I thank Judas every day for that. Highlights: I love their series of epistolary fics, because who doesn’t love a good letter, but I would be remiss if I didn’t rec his DAMN polycule plus Xavier fic cause fuck canon let's add frosty the snowman to the orgy /lh

@themonotonysyndrome: she/her

Lady, my dearest friend and greatest foe~ How else do I describe the gorgeous, sociable, friendly person who bought Alexis/Christian into the world and ruined my life? (affectionate) Highlights: Let these two assholes in love take you on a ride, fall in love with them too. If that's not your vibe, I cannot recommend enough her insane, gen z Bright Eyes being an absolute fucking terror /pos

Fanart:

@androgynouspenguinexpert

Can YOU believe Penguin's only been posting art since, like, December? I certainly can't, because it's like they've drawn every boy at this point and each is as smoochable and adorable as the last. Highlights: Their Porter is one of my favorites; what can I say? Who can resist this high ponytail and cape combo? I also love their Hush, cause look at him~! He's adorable! Penguin gives all these boys such luscious, floofable hair; I love them!

@cute-brainz: she/they/it

Kindly, lovingly, respectfully, Cute's listeners designs reduce me to a sniveling, simpering puddle of a simp. I become nothing but a humble, simple straight man, and none of you came blame me good god their listeners are hotter than all the redacted men- Highlights: Like, look at their Lovely: the hair, the singlet, the VIBES? Fuckin irresistible; like Vincent, I'd give them anything their heart desires. And their ANGEL? The MINUTE David Shaw fumbles that bag, I'm on my knees with a ring hello earth angel will you be mine

@darling-solaire

Darl has been posting art for only a month and a half at the writing of the post, and yet I feel like I've loved their Solaires for forever. They, as a unit, are hot and tragic as fuck, and I love them. Highlights: I am obsessed, particularly, with the Solaire family portraits, but maybe that's because my girl Alexis is up there, and I love her. There's also this bust compilation of more Redacted boys in case you didn't find your favorite in the Solaires~!

@free-boundsoul: she/her

Okay so, like, vibe with me did you ever love Lisa Frank products with the bright, saturated colors and sparkling eyes but wish instead of cuddly animals that there were really hot men? Then Savvie is the artist for you~ Highlights: One, it's fun to see a Regulus that's not blue, okay? It's thinkin outside the box. Two, the CRACKS? WITH THE GOLD PEEKING THROUGH? I'm inconsolable my god. Speaking of daemons, Fool!Gavin is sort of everything to me. He's just really rocking that sweater vest!

@hotmcrodz: he/they

I know for a fact that I'm not the only one obsessed with the way Jai draws human anatomy. I have unironically seen a Jai piece in the tag and gone "WOWZA" like I'm Jim Carrey in The Mask; that's what they do to me. Highlights: This Milo was one of the pieces that made my eyes pop out my head like a cartoon wolf; I think it's the shirtlessness plus the muscle pose. I just couldn't handle it. I also reacted like that to their Babe because I am an equal opportunity pervert /hj

@izzuku: he/they

Izzuku designs characters with the most realistic and gorgeous body types; like, I love the soft jawlines and how warm and touchable they draw skin. Every Izzuku design is kissable as hell. Highlights: I have to recommend his Regulus and Hush designs, obviously, they're my favorite men. However, I can't let the world go by another rotation without recommending this special Halloween version of Vincent~!

@kilarthmac: she/they

In case we needed another reason to love and appreciate the iconic timestamping account we all recognize from the Redacted comments, we cannot neglect their fanart! Highlights: Like, look at this brought-back-wrong Vega! This Hush with his cute face and off-putting air! He's so cute and so weird! I also love this piece they've done for one of my favorite rarepairs, Imperium!Lasko/Adam~

@latenightsleeper: he/they/it/she

My kinfolk and my beloved, one of the few people who understand me and the vision that is beautiful, blonde, dumb and lovable Christian. They will give you so many feelings about Darlin and Christian, and they will cause you agony /pos Highlights: Obviously, I'm obsessed with the Tank/Christian art like this one (Christian is just so cuuute), but we're all obsessed with this Sam/Darlin animatic set to Eat Your Young.

@maxpaulll

An amazing artist that I'm so glad we managed to get to migrate to Tumblr from Twitter so I could put them on this list~ Highlights: I am obsessed always with their Indigenous character designs, especially David. Like, look at him, he's indescribably beautiful, outshone by no one except maybe Max's Imp!Vega, because oh my god look at him~

@nortyourself: she/her

I don't think there's anyone who's not obsessed with at least one of Rachel's pieces; like, I believe she'll get to every Redacted man with the speed and beauty she works. Even Reticuli has gotten the Rachel treatment and been made hot af. Highlights: Technically, this Imperium!Damien just takes me breath away; like, it would be blown up and framed in his palace (for all of his short and tempestuous reign). Personally, her Hush has a dear and special place in my heart. He's just my favorite~!

@penncilkid: any pronouns

One of the most gorgeous and darling and non-stop creators in the space! They're a true triple threat, kicking our hearts in the butt with their art, their writing, and their audio roleplay series~ Highlights: With so many mediums under their belt, it's so hard to choose. If you're looking for purely Redacted content, their art is prolific and so creative, I've got to share the whole gallery. If you're in the market for a new VA to fall in love with, you've got to check out their youtube channel~!

@pycth: any pronouns

I dont have anything creative or profound to say here- all of pycth's designs are smoking hot and would render me selectively mute with a glance, 'nuff said. Highlights: How can I PICK? Ugh, hottest of the hot that comes to mind has got to be their President Moore art; like, this pose isn't FAIR. On the other end of the spectrum, if you want your heart kicked in the butt, I don't think any of us are over this Sam piece or ever will be.

@rainingcatsandjune: any pronouns

Another new artist who's only been here since April, and yet- I would die for his and his fine-ass, touchable Sam. Like, hell, render any man pretty like that, and I'll die for him. That's how pretty this art is. Highlights: Like, look at him. How does one do anything but look at him, especially in this pose? Again, look at him! Look at the hands. The soft, touchable glow and how it lights and shades his and Darlin's skin. The broad shoulders good god~

@sainthowlzon: they/he

You can't turn a corner on tumblr without seeing some of Howl's adorable Scribble Dolls or Icons! (Or any other social media actually. I feel like I've deffo seem some of Howl's icons on Tiktok too.) They're cute, they're iconic, and there's one for almost everyone! Highlights: Here's that full set of icons for your perusal; my personal favorite is Asset's. And here's the full set of Redacted Scribble Dolls; my favorite is Regulus, I think, because of his freaky vibes, but it's so hard to pick!

@sincerelywhistler: any pronouns

Like everyone with a working set of eyes and a beating heart, I am obsessed with all of Wes's designs; like, who wouldn't fall in love at first sight with all those beautiful and often shirtless people? Highlights: There's honestly too many to pick from, but I'll TRY. Their Gavin is an absolute must, I share it with the Discord on sight, he's that it girl if you will. Oh, and one cannot neglect Avior's HBS piece; I'm not even an Avior girlie, and I was like daaaaaamnnnnnnn~

@slushiepizza: they/them

Where would all the guy-lovers be without Slushie and their absolute cornucopia of Guy and Honey delights? Like, where else would we get our homemade, MacGyver'd serotonin? Highlights: The "Everyday" series is everything to me, and I mean everything; Guy has become too relatable and has struck me right in the heart. If you're not in a Guy mood, I'm also in love with their older, cozy Anton~!

@s0lairee: she/they

Jo's style is just so clean, so cute, and I really love it when they play with lighting in their pieces. Like, we are almost, almost there to making me stan Vincent if you're gonna drape him in moonlight like that... Highlights: ...thought, if I had to pick, I'd probably lean more towards Vincent's partner. They're rocking the red eyes, I love them! I'm also obsessed with their freckle-y, sweet Lasko, because who isn't?

@strawberrybouvine: he/they

The artistic equivalent of gourmet candy, I am absolutely obsessed with the gorgeous colors of Jasper's art and cannot get enough of the sweetness! Is this sugar running through my veins or unparalleled cuteness? Highlights: I'm not even a David stan but, like, jesus christ, the long hair and hairy chest makes me want to go feral. Don't even get me started on the cuteness of his chibi art, I really will start foaming at the mouth.

@theflowersaremine

I don't know exactly what medium Haylin uses or what colors or effects they use, but goddamn it makes those men so dreamy. I'm not even a Sam stan, but that's a smoochable man right out of Gilmore Girls /pos Highlights: Like, are you seeing the Gilmore Girls vision? That's a handsome man from a wholesome show geared for women- almost as handsome as this art of David. I see this smile in my dreams; it's so beautiful.

@venuslove-28: any pronouns

Venus's art is strawberry and vanilla soft serve injected straight into my heart; it's so familiar and cute, so charming, and I want to stim and bounce in excitement when I see it. Does that make sense? It'll make sense when you see it. Highlights: Personally, I have never and I will never stop thinking about this Huxley, I am simply not capable. Their Avior is also cuter than all get-out, I must admit.

@wingless-cupid

I don't think anyone does cute and colorful and pastel and kawaii quite like Cupid. You can't help but look and admire all the eye-catching colors and then want to hug their cheery, dynamic characters! Highlights: I'm highkey obsessed with their Freelancer and DAMNily and all their d(a)emons in general. Like, look at this! Minh is such a cutie and a simp, I love them! I'm also constantly thinking about this art in particular, because look at all these PRICELESS EXPRESSIONS!

@yoteako: he/it

Would you like stunning, high quality art and tragic, old man yaoi on your dash? That's a silly question; of course you do which is why we're going to follow and love on Yote. Highlights: See how beautiful, doomed, and intimate this multi-page comic is about two characters who've never canonically spoken? That's devotion. On the less forsaken side of the narrative, their Gavin/Lasko ship art is embedded into my heart.

If you’re reading all the way here, I hope you found the post helpful and smiled while making your way through it! Or both! The RedactedAudio fandom is truly one of my favorite spaces on the internet; it’s so intimate and creative, and I’ve found some amazing, perfect friends here, so I hope you will too 💖

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted

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prael · 2 months ago

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Kinktember 2024 - A Retrospective

What. A. Month. I want to start with my gratitude to every single person who read, commented, liked, reblogged, sent asks, discussed, and otherwise interacted in any other possible way with this whole shebang.

To close it all out, I want to give some of my thoughts and peel back the curtain a little on Kinktember.

Some Facts

168,396 words. One hundred and sixty-eight thousand, three hundred and ninety-six words. Averaging at 5,155 words per fic. Wow.

52 unique idols made an appearance and four were featured on more than one occasion; Wonyoung, Karina, Chaewon and Sakura are the four idols who hold that prestige.

Writing time on these pieces varied heavily, while I attempted to constrict myself to writing each fic in a single day, some of them got far beyond initially planned, with the most amount of time being spent on day 18, the IU fic. That one took roughly a total of 20 hours including editing. The quickest was as short as a 2-hour turnaround on days 14 and 15 (Chaewon and Youngeun).

Special Thanks

I’d like to take a moment before giving my personal thoughts to make a special token of gratitude to certain people. While there has been so much support from so many people and I would love to shout everyone out, I’m limiting myself to just a few.

Firstly, to @maemisnippets for the message on 14/07/2024 that was simply “Stand and carry” in reference to Youngeun. That single simple message became the catalyst for this entire Kinktember.

Secondly, to @midnightdancingsol for taking the time to help me make the initial plan for all the days of Kinktember and making many great suggestions that spawned a lot of these fics. Also thank you to everyone else for your suggestions and ideas.

Finally, to @capslocked for a great many things, from discussing details as small as how to format my posts to everything else you did.

Your Questions

Did you set yourself a time to do each one like a challenge to finish each to make it manageable? I gave myself 1 day per fic, whatever time I could spare during that day would be all I had to complete it, I think for around 27 of them, I managed to stick to this schedule. Some of them did spill over into a second day, such as the longer ones like IU.

How the hell did you find the motivation/inspiration to complete the whole thing? Honestly, I found it incredibly fun. I think I often get stuck in bigger projects and my brain gets all foggy, but with all of these fic being quick and snappy, I never got that feeling. Things kept being fresh and exciting and I was pretty much always looking forward to jumping into the next fic.

How did you approach choosing your kinks? / How did you come up with more of the exotic kinks? First I started with the obvious ones, the ones that instantly came to mind, and just threw them into a list. There are some niche ones that I always wanted to write too, but never had a reason to, such as electrophilia and vicarphilia. So even the more ‘exotic’ choices, I was acutely aware of. Then to round it out I did a little research online and pulled together a list of ‘potential’ kinks, which allowed me to fill out the missing slots.

Did you find varying each entry to be easy or difficult? What went into your thought process when it came to setting up each of the entries and the kink involved? Collecting a list of varied kinks was rather easy, at least initially, once I cut that down to the ones I would like to write, I ended up with a few spaces, and those final few became really difficult. But that’s why it’s great to have a community to lean on and ask for ideas. The thought process wasn’t really anything special beyond that. I just created a list and then picked out what I wanted to write, and then decided on idols to feature in each one. This leads nicely onto the image below, I scraped this initial list from a DM with another writer. As you can see, the initial list I put together on day one contained a large number of the ideas that made it into the final cut. This also serves as an answer to the questions on what ideas I decided to drop.

How did you match the featured idol(s) to the kink you have planned? Was it based on their idol personality? Or was it just random? I approached it in a similar way to how I would with most other fics, where if I think an idol’s personality lends itself to the fic, then I will do just that. Of course, it’s impossible to be really accurate and I had to take some creative liberties where needed. Although, on some occasions, I did just throw an idol in there and write her without thinking about her actual personality too much. This usually happens with idols I know less about.

I'm curious how you went about writing some of the more nicher kinks like electrophilia? The simple answer would be to say that I approached it the same way as I did every other fic. None of the kinks required me to do any further research as they’re all kinks that I’m familiar with and am interested in. So in the end I just wrote what felt right.

Was there an idol that you started liking after finishing writing her? For the sake of my own enjoyment/motivation, I only chose to write idols I already liked. Though I would say that writing the Shuhua fic made me a lot more attracted to her than normal. I could also possibly put IU here too, since she’s not really on the forefront of my mind, but became much more so after writing her.

Was there an idol in particular that you 'wanted' to write, but ultimately switched it to a different idol instead? REI. How did I not write REI?! She was in the original draft list where I was going to do some form of bondage piece, but ultimately all the ideas I had for it were absorbed into other fics.

This feels like a good point to share this initial list I completed with Sol while planning. A lot of this remained true to plan, but you may spot some changes.

Now that it's done are you glad you did it or did you end up regretting your decision at some point? Overall, I’m happy and proud and think it was 100% worth it. I relished the challenge and it took me out of my comfort zone. Right now, the only regrets I have are the fics where I know I could have done more/better but I know that I have to accept that I did the best I could in the time constraints. There were times along the way when I had my regrets and wondered if I should even have bothered, particularly when a fic wasn’t well received, but I know now I had just to accept that.

Do you feel more familiar with your style/voice as a writer, if so: what have you discovered? Did you learn anything from this writing-wise? Discovered some new writing styles and possibly improved some? I think the most important thing I took away from this is how important it is to just get words down on the page. I have spent time previously stuck in my own head and grinding to a halt in a fic when trying to make things work. Kinktember simply wouldn’t allow that, so I had to adapt. I learned to be ruthless by deleting the things that didn’t work and pushing on without trying to be overly perfect. I don’t think I developed my ‘voice’ or style too much because I believe it did have to take a backseat at times in order to maintain pace. However, I did get the opportunity to try new things, such as FxF and writing for a gender-neutral reader and also varying the pacing within the fics. Fics such as the Kkura one where I cut together four short, connected scenes really suited the concept and were very fresh to write.

Which fic do you think the idol and the kink are a 'perfect' match? Maybe in terms of reader reception or how quickly you got into the flow state when writing it? Well, I wasn’t sure at the time, but I was told that Karina and dressing up as a maid worked really well. I also think there were a few really obvious combinations that I leaned on, such as spanking Chaewon and having Ryujin and Yeji scissor, or having Minju be a doll. Those are ones that just instantly clicked for me and I thought to myself it was a perfect match. I would say I entered the biggest flow state when writing the Moka x Yunah, I found it incredibly hot, so much so that I finished the fic and then when going to edit, I wrote the second scene. Idk I’m just really down bad for Moka rn. Also, I hear that I really nailed the Yunjin/Kkura/Chaewon dynamic, so probably that one too.

Is there a fic that you would have written regardless but just so happened to be included in kinktember, if that makes sense? I never really know what I’m going to write next until I’m writing it, and I never know if it will be posted until I post it. This makes it hard for me to really guarantee that anything in Kinktember would one day come to fruition. The closest to it would be part 2 of the Minji fic, How Sweet To Be Alone. I always wanted to follow up on it, so being able to add it as a kinktember fic became a bit of a perfect storm. There are other fics too that I always wanted to write, and maybe I would have one day, but kinktember made it a reality.

Would you do kinktember(or any other variant) again? Would you recommend writers to try it at least once? I would say I’m more likely to do it again than I am not, but I can’t guarantee it. As for recommending it to other writers… the honest answer is no. I feel that it goes against so many of a writer's natural instincts. It takes over your life. It consumes your time. You’re forced to work unnaturally hard and you’re forced to reduce your standards. I don’t think it’s healthy for anyone to push to do something like this.

Finally, throughout the month I had so many nice asks that I couldn't respond to, but I read them all and appreciated them all so much.

#asks #kpop smut #kinktember

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elle-thereafter · 2 months ago

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Perc'ahlia Smut Fic Recs

After S3E3 of The Legend of Vox Machina dropped the stats on my smut fics jumped overnight which was entertaining. Which strongly indicates a lot of you are looking for some sweet Perc'ahlia smut to follow-up the delights provided to us by the animated series.

Myself and some folks from the Perc'ahlia Week Discord server are very happy to provide a list of our favourites. Some of these (including some of their summaries and tags below) will contain spoilers beyond tLoVM S3E3 so tread lightly into the cut if you care deeply about spoilers. Assume every single one of the fics below contains explicit sex between Percy and Vex. I've included the AO3 summary and the helpful Additional Tags from AO3 to help you zoom in on your favourite thinigs and avoid the things you're less fond of.

After Dinner by Lycaboros

Summary: Vex has some definite ideas for this evening's activities. AO3 Tags: Sex Toys, Toys, Riding Crops, Teasing, Orgasm Delay/Denial

Bathing for Fun and Profit by ViciousRhythm

Summary: The bath sex we all know happened and the sex on a pile of money that Vex'ahlia deserves. AO3 Tags: spoilers for episode 81, Bath Sex, Incredibly self indulgent, sex on a pile of money, PWP

the beast you've made of me by seimaisin

Summary: Vex finds herself transported to her very first Wild Hunt. Percy and Orthax are determined to make her first time a memorable one. AO3 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Werewolf Sex, Tentacles, Bondage, Animal Transformation, Chases, Dominance, Consensual Non-Consent, Erotic Horror

before those hands pulled me from the earth by worth_the_risk

Summary: Vex knew the gods were still living, sequestered behind the Divine Gate as they may be. She knew their interactions with those who still walked Exandria were limited, but purposeful. She had never had reason to thank any of them. Now, she may have to consider it. AO3 Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Explicit Consent, Risk Waxes Poetic About Scar Tissue Again, Past Character Death, Canon Compliant, If you're here from TLoVM and have not listened to C1 here there be spoilers, Scars, Cunnilingus, Love Confessions, Campaign 1 Spoilers through Episode 72-74-ish?, Vaginal Sex

charmeause by anonymous

Summary: Percy takes the material of the hem between his fingers and absently feels at the embroidery, eyes locked onto her and her scrunched nose of confusion. “When you said you’d be right back, my mind had gone to those little rabbit slippers, not… lingerie.” AO3 Tags: Lingerie, PWP, Cunnilingus, Post-Canon, established marriage, Gratuitously sweaty Percy, Stripping, Houston they're in LOVE, Blow Jobs, Light Dom/sub, Fluff and Smut

Comparative Anatomy by Shippeh

Summary: Percy drags Keyleth to a frat party on an errand to find numbers for a project, and ends up discovering something (or someone) a lot more interesting. AO3 Tags: College AU

Control by subtropicalStenella

Summary: Percy needs to sleep, and take better care of himself, but he's also a stubborn bastard and needs to be tricked into it. AO3 Tags: Dirty Talk, Mutual Masturbation, Fantasizing, Multiple Orgasms, Erotic Electrostimulation, Prostate Milking, Overstimulation, Praise Kink

Courage To Go On by subtropicalStenella

Summary: It's That Scene, because we love to fill in fade-to-blacks and I love the powerplay of "I open the door, COMPLETELY NAKED." but also I love damaged people and working through that damage. AO3 Tags: First Time, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Desk Sex, Light Dom/sub, Light Bondage, Introspection, deliberately ignoring that introspection, Banter as Foreplay

darling, so it goes (some things are meant to be) by mischiefseven

Summary: It's the night before the fight with Vorugal, and Vex has left too much unsaid for far too long. AO3 Tags: Past Character Death, Love Confessions, Life-Affirming Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Debauchery by ladyofrosefire

Summary: If one knows where to look, there is a shop in Emon where one can find all manner of delightful things. Vex lures Percy into it one afternoon while they’re in the city for business. Or: Percy gets pegged. AO3 Tags: Pegging, Sex Toys

Deifying (flew like a moth to you, sunlight) by ladyofrosefire

Summary: Percy and Vex share a lazy morning shortly after their return from Pandemonium. AO3 Tags: Episode: the Search for Bob Spoilers, Cunnilingus, sun freckles, mild blasphemy, Morning Sex

Disciple by ladyofrosefire

Summary: Vex has a new house, new boots, and a very attractive partner who wants to please her in every way he can. That's a recipe for an excellent night. AO3 Tags: BDSM, Dom/sub, light boot worship, Cunnilingus, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Domme!Vex, Riding, Praise Kink, Fellatio, Verbal Bondage, Aftercare, PWP

everyone can see (few can test by feeling) by mischiefseven

Summary: Vex needs distraction. Percy is delighted to oblige. AO3 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Inappropriate Use of 16th Century Italian Literature

everything has changed (and now it's only you that matters) by rozegold

Summary: Vex takes care of Percy after his second brush with death. AO3 Tags: Blow Jobs, Post-Chroma Conclave

The Feathers in Her Hair by pagerunner

Summary: When Vex starts making changes to the distinctive feathers she wears, Percy begins to suspect she's sending him a sign. Perc'ahlia fic, written between episodes 62 and 63, but without specific spoilers. AO3 Tags: None

A Game of Later by thereafter

Summary: An evening at the opera escalates. Some things are better left unresolved, at least for a little while. Shameless smut, in three acts. AO3 Tags: Cock Warming, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Dynamics, Public Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn IS the plot, Vex'ahlia is a Little Shit, Percival is also a Little Shit, they are both little shits

Get your hands dirty by umwelt

Summary: It’s not his handwriting. He hasn’t seen ink in weeks, too scrapped for coin for the luxury. The P starting at the base of his hand, affording the traitor his distinction, his name eating up the space of the pad of Percy’s left thumb. Opens his palm. Yes - on the inside of each finger, a name: Doctor Ripley. Lord Briarwood. Lady Briarwood. Sir Kerrion Stonefell. AO3 Tags: Whump, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Percival "Percy" de Rolo III Has Issues, Traumatized Percival "Percy" de Rolo III, Campaign 1, Mutual Pining, Alternate Universe, Percy is the pact weapon AU, Magical Tattoos, me: so. tattoos hot. percy hot. the list hot. what if… all three??, Mild Gore, Injury Recovery, Magical Prosthetic. sort of., henna, Rated for smut in last chapter, Comfort Sex, Woman on Top, None of the angsty tags apply to the sex, Follows Campaign 1 with some extra TLOVM ~flavor~ in places

Grey by percivalium

Summary: There’s a rumble of gruff voices at the table as various other diplomats react to Daventine’s outburst. Silverware clatters, glasses and crystal goblets tink and the general hubbub of the biannual trade route summit create a very unique mashup of noises in the dining hall. And Vex’ahlia couldn’t give a single shit about any of it. AO3 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, Quickie, Sneaking Away to Fuck During Dinner, Established Relationship

hard to talk (when i'm with you) by percahlia

Summary: Percy's pretty sure at this point that his wife's favorite hobby is showing up and knocking the breath out of him, one way or another. AO3 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Blow Jobs, Desk Sex, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, domestic sex, Post-Canon, Semi-Public Sex

Have some fun tonight by steelneena

Summary: Ever since that night at the lake, Percy and Vex have made a habit of getting carried away rather often. But it’s really whose house – and more importantly, whose bedroom within said house - they’re in that makes things…tenuous for Percy. It just so happens to be Vex’s dad’s house. And they just so happen to be Vex’s dad’s bed. In Percy’s defense, Vex hadn’t exactly told him until it was too little too late. AO3 Tags: Early 2000's aesthetic college halloween party, to keep with the theme, Mirror Sex, Accidental Voyeurism, brief mention of recreational drugs, Percy is relatively inexperienced still, Vex is very loving, Vaginal Sex, Biting, Dom/sub Undertones, stupid halloween jokes and passtimes, may have been lightly influenced by Scream, Playful Sex, love is best kink

How the Other Half Lives by sabinelagrande

Summary: Percy knows what he likes. He thinks so, anyway. AO3 Tags: Femdom, Dom Vex'ahlia, Dom Percy de Rolo, Sub Percy de Rolo, Under-negotiated Kink, Floor Sex, Self-Discovery, 094-e095 Timeskip, Dom/sub

If You Wanna Be Mine by ViciousRhythm

Summary: For all that Percy can sometimes be really eloquent, he's sometimes really…not. AO3 Tags: Car Sex, just barely touches on dom/sub dynamics, Modern AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Humor

I'll Shout From the Mountains (Love Looks Good on You) by Aesthetic_Pigeon

Summary: Vex is tired of Percy working late into the night and decides to set things right. AO3 Tags: Episode: c01e095 One Year Later…, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Praise Kink, Coming In Pants, Percival "Percy" de Rolo III Has a Tremor, Idiots in Love

Insight Check by percivalium

Summary: Grey Hunt patrols are long, a bit tedious and solitary. Vex'ahlia must find ways to entertain her brain while performing her Grey Hunt duties out in the Parchwood. One defiantly un-ladylike thought may have caused her some brainrot… and she needs to find a certain Lord of Whitestone to make it a reality. Hopefully he believes her when she claims otherwise. AO3 Tags: Episode: c01e095 One Year Later…, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Some Plot, Surprise Blowjob, Torn Clothing, Manual stimulation, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Desk Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Clothes-on Sex, Doggy Style, Hair-pulling, Consensual Kink, Top!Percy, Vex Hands Over the Reins, Ball Massage, Praise Kink, Implied Consent, Mutual Masturbation, Hand Jobs

I wanna make you hungry (then I want to feed you) by writerthewriter

Summary: Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III was not a religious man, yet for one so faithless, he spent an awful lot of time on his knees dedicated to worship. aka the one where percy really loves going down on his wife. AO3 Tags: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, percy likes going down on his wife, Vaginal Fingering, Masturbation, Face-Sitting, Light D/s Dynamics

Jumping the Gun by LadyOfSnakes

Summary: Percival has done something very stupid and very dangerous. Vex is not okay with this. Spoilers through episode 73. AO3 Tags: First Time, Angry Sex, Oral Sex, Explicit Consent

A Lesson in Manners by pagerunner

Summary: Vex may usually be the one to call the shots where intimate matters are concerned, but that isn't to say that Percy doesn't have his own ideas. This one might prove to be especially captivating. Spoiler warning for a couple details post-episode 94/early 100s. AO3 Tags: None

Lost in the Woods with You by Her_Madjesty

Summary: When Percy stumbles away from the group, it’s…mostly by accident. AO3 Tags: Sex Pollen, Feywild Arc, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex

Point Made by sabinelagrande

Summary: An argument is interrupted. AO3 Tags: Post-Chroma Conclave, Vaginal Fingering, Percy makes that +6 DEX work for him

Press by modal_contingency

Summary: Vex is unfailingly good at reading people, and Percy can be the easiest of reads. AO3 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Dom/sub, Dirty Talk, Begging, Breathplay

The Private Games We Play by pagerunner

Summary: After game night ends, Vex and Percy decide to delve more deeply into what went on during their explorations of a certain tavern cellar. Yes, this means pretty much what you're thinking. Set just after the post-episode-115 one-shot helmed by Grog. AO3 Tags: Post-Campaign, Grog's one-shot, the meta is strong with this one, and i should not be entrusted with such inappropriate interpretations of game mechanics

A Private Vex Tape by inheritanceofgeek

Summary: Percy has been at the International Convention for Technological Innovation for 4 days and is already going stir crazy with how much he misses his wife. Lucky for him, Vex'ahlia is an innovative woman who misses him just as much as he misses her. And hey, what are webcams for if not to record home made sex tapes? AO3 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Sex Tapes, Mutual Masturbation, Sex Toys, Vibrators, Married Life, Mentions of Taryon Darrington, That 7 hour time difference hurts me too, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Fluff and Smut

Put your arms around me, baby by steelneena

Summary: He's not quite sure how he ended up here. He, Percival de Rolo, of all people, who hadn’t wanted to stay in Emon for the summer, who’d wanted to go back home after his year exchange ended, remain cooped up in his room at home with his experiments and his books, was naked in a lake at night, kissing a beautiful woman – also naked – in his lap who could, if he was quite honest, do far better that his wiry, nerdy, early-gone-white self. AO3 Tags: Skinny Dipping, First Time, Hand Jobs, Virgin Percy, Love Confessions, Modern AU, kind of a college au, slight D/s overtones, love is kink, Enthusiastic Consent

remember me love, when i'm reborn by worth_the_risk

Summary: After Elysium, before the Core Anvil, before - well, before. AO3 Tags: Campaign 1, Spoilers through C1E106: The Endless Atheneum, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Life-Affirming Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Established Relationship, Introspection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, anticipatory grief

Respite for the Restless by pagerunner

Summary: It's been a difficult, troubling day. Sometimes the best you can do is reach for each other. Percy/Vex vignette, set at the mansion after episode 106. AO3 Tags: None

Satin and sweat by umwelt

Summary: Vex bites Percy’s lip in the hopes he gets the message. His fingers slow, only movement at all because she can feel every twitch deep in her cunt. Sorry - she, the lady robbed in a magpie’s iridescent blacks and whites, hostess of the soirée, bites the lip of this bespectacled owl of a man in the hopes he gets the message. It is a masquerade, after all, and one should keep up appearances. AO3 Tags: Campaign 1, Could be an AU could be canon compliant who knows!, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Vaginal Fingering, Hand & Finger Kink, Quickies, Semi-Public Sex, Clothed Sex, Shameless Smut

scarcely can speak for my thinking (what you'd do to me tonight) by worth_the_risk

Summary: “Is it terrible that we are abandoning our best friend’s first state birthday dinner?” The airy tone of her voice suggested she had already divined precisely how she felt about it. “I think Keyleth will forgive us for the excursion, if she even notices our absence.” AO3 Tags: Secret Marriage, Quickies, Cunnilingus, Blow Jobs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Campaign 1, Spoilers through Episode 95: One Year Later…, Spoilers for The Legend of Vox Machina, Vaginal Sex, Established Relationship, Competency Kink

Second Watch by threepwillow

Summary: Depleted spell slots and some near-death experiences leave an abridged, mansionless Vox Machina camping out under the stars; but now Vex'ahlia's husband is in a mood, and who knew gnomes were such light sleepers? AO3 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Hand & Finger Kink, That 22 Dexterity Tho, Post-Canon

Seen by subtropicalStenella

Summary: Percy acts smooth but it's a mask over an excitable, anxious dork and we love him for it AO3 Tags: Teasing, Cock Tease, Prostate Massage, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, Percy has some internalized prudishness and it's adorable, and he's an anxious dork, Dirty Talk, Masturbation, Titfuck

someone ought to corrupt you on the dance floor by blackglass

Summary: It's Senior Week and the twins' birthday and Vox Machina is headed to the club to celebrate. With only a week left until they all graduate and go their separate ways, Vex decides she's done with wondering "what if?" Percy is not prepared for what's about to hit him. AO3 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Porn with Feelings, Racebending, Everyone in Vox Machina is multiracial, except percy, Palest white boy to ever be a pale white boy, Background Vax/Gilmore, Background Kash/Keyleth, Clubbing, Grinding

Spoiled by thereafter

Summary: Percy schemes. Vex'ahlia is spoiled. AO3 Tags: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay, Porn with Feelings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Softdom Percy, Vex Gets Spoiled

Stand and Deliver by ladyofrosefire

Summary: Percy really just wants to get ravished by a famous outlaw. Vex. He means Vex. AO3 Tags: Sexual Roleplay, Gun Kink, Outdoor Sex, Consensual Kink, Consensual Non-Consent

the sweetest distractions by rozegold

Summary: Coaxing Percy out of his workshop is something Vex has become very good at over the years, but sometimes she has to fight dirty for his own good. AO3 Tags: Fluff and Smut, Domestic smut, Happily Married Banging, Several Years Post-Campaign, Vex In Percy's Coat, Unconventional Usage of Percy's Workshop

take a step that is new by Griftings

Summary: Or, the one where Vex is enthusiastic, Percy is unsure, and… well, basically there's a threesome. With Jarett. AO3 Tags: Fluff and Smut, Crack, Threesome - F/M/M, PWP, Sort Of, like there's sort of a plot but it's honestly almost entirely just sex

Taking a Break by Lycaboros

Summary: Percy is TRYING to get some work done. It's not working very well for him. AO3 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Interrupted Sex, Rough Sex, Desk Sex, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, post campaign one, Edging

a teaching moment by rozegold

Summary: Percy's eager to branch out and, well, how can Vex say no to that? AO3 Tags: Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Strap-Ons, Vex Teaches Percy About Blow Jobs, Finger Sucking, Percy's Got A Bit Of An Oral Fixation

under your moonlit gaze by seimaisin

Summary: Vex, Percy, the hot springs, and sex. With a brief interruption from Scanlan. AO3 Tags: Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Unwind already by unknownlifeform

Summary: Percy gets pegged by Vex for the first time. Things that help this activity: Percy relaxing and unclenching. Things Vex has to coax Percy into doing: AO3 Tags: Pegging, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Established Relationship, First Time Bottoming, Porn with Feelings, they are in love your honorand also they are silly!!, this is a being stupid during sex propaganda account, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

we are learning to make fire by mischiefseven

Summary: The citizens of Whitestone celebrate Winter’s Crest. Their lord and lady have a much more personal celebration of their own. AO3 Tags: Married Sex, Desk Sex, Cunnilingus, newlyweds, Fluff, Consensual Kink, Explicit Consent

whatever you do (do it for me, baby) by mischiefseven

Summary: Percy finds something that belongs to Vex. After testing, he takes it upon himself to make some improvements. AO3 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Dildos, Mutual Masturbation, Pegging

what she wants by rozegold

Summary: Vex has discovered quite a lovely thing because of her relationship with Percy: ladies get what they want. Except sometimes, they don't. AO3 Tags: Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Vex Can Dish But She Can't Take, Percy Gets Some Payback

when the wicked play by seimaisin

Summary: Vex and Percy only know each other online, through their favorite video game. They're both taken by surprise when their flirty, competitive relationship turns into a long-distance erotic game. Except, it may not be as long-distance as they think, and Percy is definitely more than Vex realizes. His family's fame leads them to a real-life collision, and suddenly everything is way more complicated than it seemed on the internet … (abandoned but fun) AO3 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Nude Photos, Online Friendship, Cybersex

you'll never know unless we go by sabinelagrande

Summary: Nothing about this goes right, but it's perfect. AO3 Tags: Rough Body Play, Rope Bondage, Resistance Play, Hair-pulling, Rough Sex, Maledom, Dom Percy de Rolo, Sub Vex'ahlia

#cr fic recs #cr fic #critical role fic #perc'ahlia #cw: sex #spicy reading #for all you newcomers to perc'ahlia #cr fanfic #critical role fanfic #the legend of vox machina #tlovm season 3 #tlovm spoilers

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