#am i going overboard? yes

[protectorking]

Fanfic AU Options Part 2

Welp here we go again, more au's i need to write but don't know where to start, let's get on with the options

Fake It 'Til You Make It (Transfromers Earthspark AU) - Megatron has known that he will never be able to see Cybertron in it's full glory, not with the blood that is on his hands, not with what he has done, but a small taste of it on Earth, with the Terrans and Optimus seems to be enough for him. After the events of Ghost and their mind control he and Optimus must share quarters on the Malto farm, what is he to do when one night during recharge he wakes to find a struggling Optimus, only to learn Optimus has hiding how critical his health has been for centuries and only is now showing it due to the mistreatment Ghost did to their bodies while under their control, now it's a race against time and Megatron is determined to give Optimus his final wish even if it means he has to fake it to make it

?? AU - Orion Pax is a simple ship hand, he works from port to port, ship to ship, helping wherever he's hired, being left in the ports the ships stop at and no longer have use of him, only to be picked up by the next ship, never uttering a single word, many even believe him to be illiterate and mute, it's a simple life, or so he makes it to be, Captain Prowl of the Praxian Navy can't stand the fact this one mech seems to elude all of his attempts of finding out who and where he came from, it does not help he is distracted by the Pirate fleet known as Spec. Ops and it's Captain Jazz, nor does it help that the Iacon Navy Captain Ultra Magnus is breathing down his neck to stop the rising Pirate...Navy....thing from Kaonite from gaining more power, and let's not mention the rumors of Sirens ready to wage war unless their eldest son of the queen is returned to them and why is it everyone is claiming Sentinel Prime of Iacon is an incubus!? (slightly inspired by this fic but not needed to be read to understand)

All The Times Jazz SHOULD Have Known Better - He's a pretty decent mech, he's smart, quick, courageous, strong willed, and overall a decent fighter when push comes to shove, so why is it he keeps screwing up recently, what is he doing wrong!? did he piss of Primus recently?! or is it Primus has forsaken him and he's now he's just one of Unicron's minions without even knowing it, whatever, he's not going to deal with it right now, that will be something he tucks away to deal with later' "BUMBLEBEE NO!" his head snaps hearing the shout, coming out of his thoughts that he had been so lasered focused on instead of the mission, he looks and spots Bee holding the very relic they were after, but the wrong one, without much second thought he's moving he has to protect him, he has to protect Bee! (tottally inspired by THIS comic/art i'm sorry if you don't like being tagged your art is just mwah chief's kiss)

Stone of Secrets (Transformers G1 AU) - D the mysterious Energon artist, able to mold and shape the explosive nature of Energon to fit their ideas of art,or jewlery, wanted by thousands of bots, only the rich could afford, their identity a secret, their class/cassete a unkown, Optimus knows these facts, yet as he stares at the item in his hand he can't help but wonder why he owns such an item, it may be small nothing more than an audio final decoration, humans call it an earing, but why does he only have one? where is it's match? he wishes he could remember his time before being Optimus but his mind is cloudy and his memories are sparse, but each time he looks at this small item, it's as if a heavy weight weighs on his spark, telling him this would end the war, but why? (inspired by an art piece i found ages ago can't find who made it, and the art says not to repost so i can't share it)

Citys and Their Many Quirks (Transformers Prime AU) - Iacon the bustling life of Cybertron, the main center of life and wealth, anybot and everybot wants to be here to become better, but that is not why Megatron is here, he is here for one purpose alone, to get the council to listen to his words, to listen to him, only...they have banned him from doing anything within the city's walls, they mean to push him out, to force him to turn and run, to forget his crusade, and yet...Iacon seems to be on his side, perhaps Iacon is more than it seems, and he must get to bottom of this mystery

[superfruitland]

passage of time

[myreia]

— vi. stay | follow

It is an inevitability, she feels, that they are always a little out of step, a little out of sync. One ahead, the other behind, a shadow to the other’s light. Pulled together not by fate nor by destiny, but by a small series of choices that are greater than the sum of its parts. They will always find each other—to the very end.

[cheaploafs]

late night cuddles

[gaoootic]

I decided to post the guy! I know nothing about this dude but tigers are cool so it's fine. Apparently some promotional (? source needed due to the questionable nature of scenarios depicted) material had him with butterflies. Granted, they probably were more related to another character, but I'll take what I can get when it comes to bare-bones ideas that look mildly cute.

First time actually trying to do pixel art and I go straight into "sure let's try fur shading" wtf bro

Hopefully someone enjoys this!

[doctorweebmd]

speaking of zero-sum game: I recommended it to a friend bc that seemed up their alley bc I LOVED the path to paradise and I needed to spread the joy of your writing

I think it’s going great!!👍 Anyway love your stuff and all the work you put into these is so admirable 💕

LMAO this made me think of this tumblr post, it took me an embarrassingly long time to find it in my reblogs:

babes tell your friend they've reached Level 5 fic there ain't NO other bitches that are as mentally ill about making the physics of imaginary super powers work than ME

but also i love you thank you 😭😭😭 across fandoms too?! crying myself to sleep rn you're too wonderful

[seilon]

pro: ran into a coworker at a bar last night who I don’t really talk to usually (he works upstairs, I work downstairs) and we talked and im pretty sure we were highkey flirting and he bought me a drink and the bar merch shirt i was interested in and thanks to the power of alcohol i guess i asked for his number and he gladly gave it to me and. yeah

con: i have the second worst hangover i have ever had and have been fighting for my fucking life just to eat saltines

[mephestopheles]

Last year I made stockings and cups for family with a little ornament hanging from the straw. Most of this was done in what can only be described as a fit of craft-holiday deadline mania. As, while I finished the stockings early enough the cups and key chains were finished Christmas Eve. I also made 13 gift totes with goodies in them. Each of them contained 1 health potion, a character diary, a leaf pin, a set of dice, a pencil case and a tumbler.

Due to some circumstances, I'm not going that big on gifts in general this year and am instead focusing on one or two things. The game plan as it stands is to make mug rugs and a mug for the majority of the list. I got the mug press for xmas last year and haven't gotten around to using it so this will put it to decent use. To make it easier on myself I'm going to do either initials or a simple merry Christmas or something like that that doesn't require hours of weeding per piece.

For more particular gifts I want to add something special for the others but I think I'm running out of time and I don't want to fuck them up just before Xmas. So I will probably buy some stuff off wishlists. Originally and what I still might do for birthdays and such is make a book of shadows (blank) for one friend, and journal for another, and do one of those rebinding things for another's favourite book. The problem there is I'm not sure if I should do Dune, or Lord of the Rings as both of them are in the top 3 if I'm correct.

[gravegoer]

Hello, how about a part 2 of being Sevika's boss maybe when they got together or something like that thankyouuu and i love all of your ficss thank you making them hehe

Sevika's Boss ꩜ part 2

hi anon, sevikas boss fanfic got a lot of love a while ago so im happy to write part 2 !! let me know if you enjoyed i threw in some misunderstandings for fun here..maybe kind of angst?? its okay tho you make up very quickly PART 1 , masterlist

You and Sevika hung around eachother a lot, I mean that was normal right? She is your second in command afterall.

Personally, you didn't see a problem with it, and nor did Sevika.

She had grown accustomed to your presence and didn't mind all your small, loving touches and annoying jokes.

And yes, sometimes she went a little overboard for you, like what kind of subordinate stays at their bosses house to tend to them whilst they are injured? Or goes out for drinks every weekend? But maybe your relationship was starting to exceed the bounds of boss and employee.

She has definitely warmed up to you more than she did with Silco. She thinks it was your charming personality, or cute outfits, your smile...

Some people might say you sitting in Sevikas lap while you fixed up her arm might be indecency in the workplace, but you found it to be a simple and innocent task.

But this begs the question, what exactly is your relationship?

This is also a question Jinx was starting to ask herself.

"So uh...whats with you and Sevika?" Jinx asked in an almost singsongy voice.

She flipped her gun around in her hand haphazardly while she was sprawled out on your (Silcos) desk.

"What do you mean whats with us..?" You shook your head, mimicking her movements with your pen.

"I meaaan, you guys act like a married couple or something!" She threw her two hands in the air with a 'duh' kind of look plastered on her face.

You pushed one of her braids to the side to pull out a paper from under it. One of Sevikas reports from a recent trip. Her handwriting was an imperfect cursive. Sighing, you put your face in your hand while you held the paper, staring at it diligently.

Jinx looked at you quizically at your lack of an answer. She sharply pushes the paper down with the tip of her gun, "Hey, are you— Oh," She let out a nasally laugh at the paper, "Damn, you got it bad, huh, toots?"

"What? I have what bad?" You slid the paper away and tilted your head at her.

The blue-haired girl sat up and rested a spindly arm on her knee, "You're so in L word with her." She snickered at you.

"Im in—" Your face flushed at your realization. "I am not in 'L word' with her." You raised your hands to do finger quotes around 'L word.'

"Hmmmm, are you sure?" She teased, putting her gun to her chin and looking up in mock thought "I mean, you practically cling to her, you always walk home with her, and plus you talk about her all the time– hell! You talk to her all the time."

You stared at Jinx, now zoning out in thought. What were you supposed to tell Sevika? Does Sevika even think the same way about you? Would that relationship even be appropriate?

"You know what?" You stood up and pointed in Jinx' face, "Im going to do it—"

She attempted to cut you off with a meek,

"Sevikas—"

"Im going to tell her I love her," You continued, Jinx' half attempt to save your ass fell on deaf ears.

You looked up, finger still in the girls face to make eye contact with a very familiar set of grey eyes. Fuck.

Sevikas gaze faltered, and she cleared her throat, bringing a fist to her mouth, "Um. I came to ask you if you wanted to grab a drink, but it seems like you have better plans."

Holy shit. She didn't know it was about her. Is that good or bad? You only felt a few seconds of relief before Sevika just turned around and walked out. That was bad.

Jinx whistled, still under the pressure of your pointing finger, "You have some explaining to do."

You fumbled over your words before pushing Jinx' forehead back with your finger. "Ughh.. This is your fault."

You drooped back down into the large chair, putting your head in your hand and heaving a sigh.

"Just go tell her while you still have a chance. She's probably going to be moping around the Last Drop," Jinx got up from her spot on the desk, and some papers fell with her.

"That's my queue to leave, though," She hopped out of the office with a little too much energy, probably on her way to cause more mischief.

You sighed and packed up your stuff, picking up stray papers and shoving them into a random drawer on your desk.

Grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, you pushed open the double doors to your office. It was time to go to the last drop.

poor sevika

Your entrance was signified with the ding of a bell atop the door. Music was playing loudly, and people were swarmed around the bar. Your eyes scanned the nearest areas for Sevika, but as you figures she was nowhere in sight.

She was most definitely in her usual gambling spot. You didn't want to approach her while she was in the middle of a game, so you waited at a nearby table, making sure to stay out of her sight.

You could hear the groans of the men at her table, most definitely losing. Chuckling at this, you watched as a waiter came up to your table asking for your order.

You just asked for a simple whiskey sour, hanging your bag on the back of your chair.

Several minutes (and a few drinks later), you felt someone's eyes on the back of your head. Turning around, you, once again, were met with steely grey eyes. Sevika stood near behind you with her arms crossed. The game had finished.

"You get rejected or something." She deadpanned.

"No—well.. not yet." You turned around in your chair to face her, the metal back of the chair was now settled between your legs.

You held what you thought was your sixth whiskey sour in between your fingers, chin resting on the top of the chair back.

She scoffed at this, turning her head to avoid eye contact. You could have sworn a small blush coated her cheeks. But her frown made you think otherwise, her large forearms tensed before she spoke.

"Oh, so you're waiting for her here."

How cruel of you to profess your love to someone in the place you knew Sevika would be. You probably wanted her to see it, right?

"Yeah, shes already here." You said, still staring at her side profile, tracing the scar on her cheek with your eyes.

The neon lights illuminated her face and brought out every curve and angle. But your thoughts were interrupted by her stern and almost angry voice.

"I should leave then," she started to walk away, but you reached out quickly.

(I dont know why you would do that when she wasn't even in arms length to begin with.) You started to fall forward, you let out a small yelp and held onto the chair, your drink falling onto the ground. You awaited impact, but it never came.

Instead, you were met with strong arms holding the back of your chair up. Sevika was bent over slightly, both mechanical arm and human arm on the metal of the chair. And for the third time, you made eye contact with now very close grey eyes. Her eyebrows were furrowed in shock or frustration- you couldn't tell.

Without another thought, you grabbed her by the collar and pulled her lips into yours. At first, she tried to pull away but eventually melted into the heat of the kiss. She sat your chair back up on four legs, and her elbows lean on the top of the chair, encircling you.

Almost as soon and she relented she pulled away, "What the hell are you doing," She rasped, wiping her mouth with the back of a large hand.

Her lips were still puffy from the kiss, but almost more downturned than before. When you didn't respond she offered a question, "Are you drunk?"

Your lopsided grin told her all she needed to know. She knew she needed to take you home, but she was going to do so reluctantly. Afterall you were going to become someone else's girl, couldn't have her hands all over you like she usually did.

She grabbed you (almost roughly) by the arms and pulled you out of the chair, "How are you going to profess your love now?" She scoffed.

"I just did, was that not enough?" Your words were slurred and you helped her by stepping up with heavy legs.

She furrowed her brows until she came to a not-so-shocking realization. Cursing under her breath she smirked at you. You could almost see the relief wash over her face.

Her thick arm held you by your upper torso as she almost carried you to the doors. She sighed at your stupidness, why not just tell her right away, then you wouldn't have to have gone through all the trouble.

She eyed your glossed over eyes, shaking her head at the dumb smirk that held its place on your face. She could feel the quiver of your body against the cold night wind.

At that she lifted you into her arms, covering you with her cloak. You looked up at her with wide eyes, burying your face in the material. God she wanted to kiss you so bad. But she'd save that for the awkward talk in the morning.

thank you for reading ! yes i see your asks all your fics are on the way I swear !!!! much love

[carebearbussy]

𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙙𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙥𝙚𝙩 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 1.4K

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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You were bored out of your mind.

You were cozied up on Sukunas lap, while the two of you were laying in bed. His back was pressed against the headboard, as he indulged in a book Uraume had gotten him for his research. One of his hands held up the book, and another rested on your hip.

"Next page.", he said, waiting for you to flip the page after every single one. You weren't the least bit interested in the book he was trying to read. But instead, with your head resting on his left shoulder, turned to look at his pretty face. He had his reading glasses on, which really brought out his eyes. You remember when he asked you if he would look good in glasses, and when you had said yes? He got multiple different pairs hand made in your favor. You found it somewhat cute that he reserved your opinion.

You turn the page obediently, but still thinking of something else to do. Of course, being with the man you were head over heels with was enough, but you could do more of course. You noticed his hand holding his book letting go of it, then going to rub his shoulder, a slight discomfort indicated in his face.

"Whats wrong, 'kuna?" You say, looking at the way he rubs his sore shoulders from under his robe. "Nothings wrong, keep reading instead of focusing on my face." He says, clearly noticing your staring. But you couldn't help but stare at the sharp features that grazed his face. And the way his eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed whenever he maneuvered. But then, a lightbulb lit in your mind, and you came up with a brilliant idea.

"You're lying to me. Is it your back? Let me help, how about a massage?" You ask him, not letting a golden opportunity like this pass. He uses his lower set of eyes to look at you, his upper ones rolling in a fake annoyance, then returning the focus onto his book. "Do not make me repeat myself, brat. It is merely nothing." Lies. You knew Sukuna like the back of your hand. His pain was practically your pain. "Pleaseeeee just let me give you a nice massage... I promise it will feel nice!" You say, a fake pout grazing your lips.

"I can just call a servant to do that, foolish woman. And besides, if there was something wrong with my body I would know." He says, still not giving into your proposal. But you were determined. You turn your body around to face him, giving him a curious look before poking into his shoulder blade. "Shit, what was that for?" He says with a slight hiss, awaiting a response. "See! I am fully capable of doing it myself, your back must be sore, big guy."

Looking at you, he sees the way your eyes glisten. Something you know he is weak to. He closes his eyes for a good while, before he made his decision. He closes his book, as he gently picks you up by the waist as places you down on the ground. He then gets up himself, throwing the top half or his robe off to some other part of the room. He then gets on his stomach, placing his head in between his hands.

"Hurry up before I regret my decision."

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"Giving a simple massage does not require so much unnecessary attention."

The bedroom had been meticulously prepared for this moment. Especially since this was something you had wanted to do to Sukuna for a long time. You had candles placed all over the room, as well as white sheets over the bottom half of his body, including the smell of incence blaring through the room. It was overboard, sure, but it was perfect.

"Whatever, as long as your wife is happy." You say, teasingly. "You aren't my wife yet. Don't get too excited woman."

"Maybe not now, but after this it's gonna be on your mind." Doing something this domestic for Sukuna makes you feel so warm inside, as you make it your mission to relieve him of his pain. You rested your body on his back, each of your legs on either side, as you used your thumbs to massage the knots in his upper back. You kneaded each crevice of his back, making sure to pay extra attention to each part.

"Where exactly does it hurt?" You ask him, as his head lays down into the pillows, his four arms resting next to his head. "Figure it out." He says, clearly not wanting to talk all too much. But you knew him too well. You press down on his upper back in his right shoulder blade, and his body ever so slightly shocks up. You smile at this, knowing you found his weak spot. "I'm not gonna hurt you, 'kuna." Reassuring him gently (as if he needs reassurance.) Whenever he was around you, he turned into an adult baby.

Gently rubbing out the knot in his shoulder, you hum to yourself at the reactions his body is giving you. His fingers grip the top of the bedsheets, trying not to give you the satisfaction of his fleeting demeanor. "It feels nice, doesn't it my lord?" You say, a giggle falling from your mouth at the silly nickname.

For you, it feels strange to call him anything but 'kuna'. Usually, if somebody else would refer to him, it would be, "My Lord" or "Sir". But you had a rare exception, which made you feel special.

"Don't call me by that name, brat. And I don't recall telling you to stop." He never wanted to indulge you, but here he was. Letting your hands work absolute magic on his back. To him, you weren't doing a great job. Sure, some handmaiden could do a way better job. But since it was coming from you, it just made it all the better for him.

You look over at your bedside table, and you grab more oil and rub it into your hands, then slowly molding it into the rough skin. Also seeing a boquet of flowers made your head ponder, as you grabbed a flower and picked it. You placed it in his hair, thinking it was cute on him, especially if he didn't notice.

Moving your hands lower on the slope of his back, you traced your finger along the black marks across his back, admiring them in all their beauty. "Kuna, why do you have all of these black marks?" You asked him, genuine curiosity pondering your mind. You see the marks glisten under the coat of oil, making them stand out even more. You massage your hands into the marks, running over them as if they were tracks. "You ask strange questions, little one." He says, as he relaxes further into your treatment. Your hands move lower, as he lets out a gruff groan in response. "Right there, thats it, good job." He says, taking one of his lower hands and guiding your wrist towards where he wants you to go.

Your hand kneads the tight muscle of his back, as you make a sudden stop. "I need to use the bathroom-" You say, but you were disrupted as he grabs hold of both of your wrists with both of his lower arms, and turns his head to the side. "You aren't going anywhere until I say were done. You hear me? Now go ahead and finish your pummeling." You slowly nod at his words, as you continue your tricks on his lower back. "Good girl."

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"Did I do a good job?"

You ask him, as you two lay back in your original position. You snuggled flat atop of his chest, listening to his heartbeat while slightly looking up at him, as his hand slowly played with your hair.

"You did okay, it certainly was not the best."

"You can't lie to me, Kuna. I did amazing, didn't I?"

"I do not like when you make me feel like this."

"...Like what?"

"Weak. You had the King of Curses groaning from your handiwork. You are supposed to be the feeble one, brat."

"Thats just the magic of these hands. They can do a lot more, y'know."

"Go to bed, woman." He said, blowing out the candles, the insence smell still lingering.

"Goodnight, Kuna, love you." You said, earning yourself a particularly aggressive pat to the head.

"Your fondness has no effect on me." He said, a slight smirk not being shown by the dark.

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[kkuzushi]

KRNDJENSIND words cannot express how happy i am when you wrote my "loving scara in the public restroom" request LIKE— AAAAAA THANK YOU SO SO MUCH

Yes i have came to you with ANOTHER REQUEST— imagine reader being so busy because of assignments and scara is over here being a top 1 student who already finished all his homeworks and gets frustrated(also concerned) with you because he thinks you're so stupid to not know/understand this equation/subject and how you're not sleeping and eating that much. And whenever he offers to help you, you refuse and he gets so frustrated that he started insulting you like crazy and now you two started fighting..... One thing led to another and scara found himself pinned on the bed while getting pounded— and and they are still insulting each other while they're at it

So they're kinda like fighting while making love..............

You can ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable... But if you do plan on taking this, THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN🫶🏻🫶🏻

Also can I be 🎐 or 💜 anon? (Incase the former has already been taken...)

“ 𝗚𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗽 𝗦𝘁𝘂𝗱𝘆..𝗶𝗻 ����𝗲𝗱 ”

✦ characters: sub!scaramouche x gn!dom!reader

✦ cw: modern college scara, rival-ish, handjob (giving), slight brat taming, slight humiliation, edging, begging, dacryphilia, cock/strap penetration

✦ word count: 2.199k

✦ notes: I may or may not have gotten overboard with this one.. Apologies for the late submission, but yes, you can be my 🎐anon. <3

✦ Part 1 | Part 2

Hell week has arrived at your university which means it's time for endless study sessions in your room like every normal student would do, unless they’re confident with their skills.

And of course, one of those students was Scaramouche—the one who effortlessly reaches the honor list. Seriously, how does he do it? Either way, that should be the least of your problems. You're over competing with him when it comes to academics.

However, the man doesn't seem to get the hint, always disturbing the peace in your shared dorm everytime he sees you going cross-eyed with the learning materials scattered at your work desk.

Scaramouche leans casually against the doorway, watching you silently for a moment as you pore over your notes. A smirk slowly spreads across his face before he speaks, the teasing arrogance evident in his voice.

“Are you stressing over there again?” He crosses his arms, walking closer and peering at your notes. “I could ace this in my sleep. You know, if you're going to work this hard, at least make sure it's worth it.”

His tone softens just slightly as his eyes flicker over your tired expression. “Just go to bed, you won't be able to surpass me no matter how you study anyway.”

You kept your eyes glued to your notes, not allowing the annoying presence beside you to disturb your concentration. “Bold of you to assume I'm studying to ‘surpass’ you,” You responded shortly after.

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow—if you weren't studying to surpass him, then why are you working your ass off for this? He wouldn't say you're on the same level of intelligence as him but it's not like you were dumb.

But that's what you two were, right? Academic rivals, or at least, that's what he thought.

“Anyway, could you leave? I need to focus here,” Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, remembering he's still in your room.

“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Scaramouche asks, crossing his arms as he looks down at you with a smirk. “Last time I checked, we share this dorm.”

“This dorm, not this room,” You corrected, clicking your pen. “Now leave, your annoying face is distracting me.”

How rude, he's been doing nothing but ease your mind from the stress you're experiencing. Sure he just teases the hell out of you, but can't you be a little more appreciative?

“You're an ungrateful brat, you know that?” He frowned, snatching a page of your notes from your desk. He hummed, taking a good look at what you've written, though it looked like he's just judging your handwriting.

“Who the hell needs to take notes in math? Just remember the formula and you're good to go,” Scaramouche complained. Was he just sugarcoating the question “are you stupid”? You could almost hear those same exact words in between his statements.

“Well unfortunately, not everyone is like you,” You argued before extending your hand, gesturing for the note he's still holding, “Now give that back.”

Scaramouche hummed, his eyes flickering over to you and the paper he’s holding before his lips curled upwards again. “And if I say no?” He grinned, keeping the item out of your reach.

You could almost feel a vein appear on your forehead—irritation wasn't an unfamiliar feeling when it comes to dealing with your roommate. You pushed yourself up and reached for the paper but Scaramouche was too quick to pull it away.

“Scaramouche!” You called out, the frustration in your tone becoming more apparent. His grin widened, enjoying your helplessness in this situation, “Too slow.”

You make another attempt to reach for it, lunging forward with determination, and to your misfortune, Scaramouche pulls away at the last minute—a sharp, ripping sound coming from the material, tearing down from the middle, leaving the both of you with a piece.

Scaramouche was stunned for a moment, it wasn't part of his plan to rip out your notes. His smirk falters but he composed himself, swallowing the guilt, “That was clearly your fault. If you asked nicely, I would’ve–”

Before he could finish his sentence, he found himself tumbling backwards onto your bed, the mattress creaking from the sudden weight. “Hey–! What the fuck was that for?!” He retorted, supporting himself on his elbows.

You approached him on the bed, one leg sliding in between his, your knee pressing lightly on his crotch. His eyes widened slightly from the contact, but he hid it with a scowl. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked in a low tone.

“You think you can just waltz in here,” You pressed down your knee, feeling his member throb. “Disturb me while I'm studying, then ruin my notes for fun?” You added more pressure, watching his adam's apple bob as he gulped.

“You think I did that on purpose?!” He argued, his cheeks puffing with red tint. The tension’s getting to him and he can't say he doesn’t like it, but that doesn't make it less embarrassing. “I would've given it back if you begged,” He added, grabbing your shoulders to push you away with an obvious half-hearted strength.

“Begging, huh?” A malicious smirk appeared on your lips. Your hand reaches for the waistband of his sweatpants, revealing his garment that's now outlining a bulge.

“Hey! Don't you dare–” Scaramouche attempts to push your hand away, but you were quick enough to pin his wrists above his head. Now he was fully trapped beneath you, the warmth on his cheeks deepening as he scowled at you.

“Can't you be cooperative for once?” You huffed, now taking his boxers off. He wriggled his hips to make things difficult for you yet it only assisted in removing his garment. His cock springs out, arousal evident with how hard he already got.

You eyed him, watching his reaction once your hand was wrapped around his length, pumping to and fro. The indigo-haired boy bit his lip, suppressing his sounds, though soft whimpers escaped.

“There's no need to be shy.”

“I'm not! You're just bad at giving handjo–ohmmFuHK–♡”

“You talk too much,” You grumbled and picked up the pace. A bead of precum instantly leaked out from the head of his cock, allowing your hand to slide easily on his shaft.

Scaramouche gritted his teeth, unable to protest any longer in fear of moaning accidentally as soon as he opens his mouth. With how vulnerable he felt in this compromising position, he felt himself getting closer to edge, quicker than he usually does.

“Shit– hah.. ‘m gonna..♡” He murmured, closing his eyes as he accepted the inevitable defeat—until your hand stopped, forcing his climax to go back down.

His eyes shot open, not expecting for you to deny him release. “Why’d you stop??” Scaramouche asked frustratedly, his hips bucking to your palm to create friction.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, “You didn't expect to cum so easily, did you?” you teased. A baffled expression appears on the indigo haired man’s face, his eyebrows furrowing down.

“Hm, maybe if you begged,” You cooed, using his previous words against him as you start stroking his cock once more, “I might just consider it.”

His eyes widened a little more, begging? You must be out of your mind if you think you'll get the Scaramouche to beg, much less for a release.

But things aren't working out to his favor. Your hand around the length, the relentless pace returning as his hips snapped from the sensation. Scaramouche could no longer argue; the pressure mounting inside him was too much, threatening to explode once again.

“Too fast– ngh– gonna..! ♡” he whimpered, eyes squeezing shut as his body tensed, unable to hold back the impending release. Just as he felt himself teetering on the edge, your hand abruptly stopped again, “Didn't I say you should beg?”

His eyes fluttered open, a mixture of frustration and desperation on his face. “I never agreed to do that,” He huffed, wiggling his wrists out of your grip.

Seems like a simple handjob won't do the trick. Deciding to take it up a notch, you pulled your own pants down. The blush on Scaramouche's face tripled, “What are you planning?” He asked in a sharp tone though he can't deny how his cock throbbed at the sight of your own.

“Don’t play stupid,” You sneered, grinding the head on Scaramouche's ass, pressing your body against his to spread his legs; your free hand moved to his hips, supporting your position.

His eyebrows furrowed further to your comment, lips quivering as he slowly engulfs your length. Once you full bottom out, Scaramouche tried to relax, his breath coming with uneven huffs as he adjusted to the intrusion.

“You look cute underneath me like this,” You teased as you started to thrust into him at a languid pace. A gasp would leave his mouth every time you'd rub him deeply inside—If he could, he'd grab onto you or the sheets to ground himself, but with his wrists still pinned down by your grip, all he could do was accept the sensation.

It wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He's a patient man and you'll start to get needy soon, Scaramouche thinks to himself. Unfortunately, this was a game he was losing. “Would you stop playing around!?” he hissed, the desperation seething with every word.

You kept the agonizingly slow pace, dragging out every second, watching him writhe with need. Every teasing thrust had him gasping, his body trembling with anticipation, yet you refused to give him what he wanted.

Scaramouche's frustration finally reached its peak, patience snapping as he growled through gritted teeth. “If you’re going fuck me, then fuck me properly!” He spat, his indigo eyes narrowing in aggravation. “Or are you so incompetent that you can’t even do this right?” His voice trembled though still attempted to argue.

You raised an eyebrow, your amusement only growing at his outburst. “Bold words,” you smirked, leaning down to kiss his neck, “for someone who’s trembling.”

“Youhnn♡... jerk!” Scaramouche retorted, his voice laced with both frustration and embarrassment as his body trembled beneath yours again. “Fucking brat..” he added, breathless as his chest heaved with every sharp inhale, his emotions threatening to spill over completely.

“Ironic,” You laughed. Scaramouche’s frustration mounted as his head fell back against the pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the watery sensation. He couldn’t stand this anymore. The humiliation, the teasing—it was too much.

“Shut up...” he whispered, voice trembling as tears began to well in the corners of his eyes. His breath hitched, and despite himself, a frustrated sob broke through his chest. “Shut up and just–just fuck me already!” His voice wavered, filled with desperation.

The word left his lips before he could stop it, and the moment it did, Scaramouche’s defiance shattered completely. He was crying now, tears mixing with frustration as his body gave up the fight. “Fuck me properly already.. please..!” He whimpered, the last word coming out unexpectedly.

You didn't think he'd cry from desperation but it was definitely a beautiful sight. Just having the ever so prideful and arrogant Scaramouche trembling, crying, and begging underneath you.. it was like you're on top of the world already.

Finally getting what you wanted, you firmly grabbed his hips and gave him one rough thrust, to which he responded with a choked out gasp. “Like that?” You murmured.

“Yes!♡ Ohngh god.. more! ♡” He moaned, his back arching with how precise your cock has hit his sensitive prostate. You've been teasing and edging him for too long, it feels like he's about to crumble just this very moment.

As you continued fucking his ass with more enthusiasm, Scaramouche could no longer stop his wanton moans. “More, please..hah–♡” He begged though still quite with a demanding tone, “Don't you–mmngh♡♡–dare stop..!”

You feel him slowly tightening around your length, his climax building up once more.

“I'm close–”

“You know what to say.”

“..let me cum.. please–AHnggh!♡♡”

How does the word ‘please’ sound so good from his mouth? It only motivated you to finally let him get his release, pounding him vigorously without a break. The overwhelming sensation has his legs shaking, and with one last scream– “C-Comingghmmm..!!♡♡♡”

Ropes of thick cum shot out, landing on his stomach. He whimpered and panted heavily, all energy he had earlier now extinct. You continued to thrust a little more before your own orgasm joined him, your body slowly collapsing on top of him.

The two of you stayed there, bodies sticking with sweat and other fluids. “I'm still not letting you off the hook about my notes,” you wheezed, managing a tired grin.

“I have some.. in my room,” he muttered, his voice weak and a little hoarse. He was still catching his breath but his usual sharpness had faded, replaced with exhaustion and a hint of embarrassment.

“In math? I thought you didn't need that,” you smirked as you brushed a few strands of hair away from his face. “You better not be lying, or we’ll be doing this all over again.”

Scaramouche let out a quiet scoff, his usual attitude barely making a comeback. “As if you’d complain.”

[catfortress]

Welcome to Cat Fortress Blog !

• • • Here is simply where I will post drawings and possibly animations regarding my TF2 fan AU, Cat Fortress !

• • • Main Acc: @evangelina830

Basic stuff!

• No NSFW asks pls (bloody, yes ! But no sensitive topics or lewd reqs pls.)

• Asks open in April!

• Silly requests are encouraged, but please don’t go overboard ! (U know what I mean…,)

• Yes I will draw ship art ! :D dont be shy.. (I love to draw silly cats holding hands.. so yes please! As long as the ship isn’t gross…)

Also I am not super fast with asks lol I appreciate your patience!

Enjoy your visit…. =^.^=

More info under!

Tags I will use!

• #:3 - Artwork

• #:V - Doodles

• #:0 - Animation

• #:D - Answers

• #:] - (Fan?) Artwork

• #:> - Characters

• #:P - Cats info

Names!

• ⚾️Scratch - Scout

• 🪖Biscuits - Soldier

• 🔥Zoomies - Pyro

• 💣Demomew - Demoman

• 🥪Fluffy - Heavy

• 🛠️Enginya - Engineer

• 💉Meowdic - Medic

• 🎯Snipurr - Sniper

• 🚬Snap - Spy

• 📁Ms Pawling - Ms Pauling

Others so far ofc…

• 🎙️Adminhisstrator - Administrator

• 🩵Scratch’s Ma - Scout’s Ma

• 🪻Zhanclaw - Zhanna

• 🥀Beanislava - Bronislava

• 🌾Yawna - Yana

• 🫐Fluffy’s Mama - Heavy’s Mama

• 🥾Saxton Tail - Saxton Hale

• 🫒Charles Kneading - Charles Darling

• 💚Maowgaret/Maowggie - Margaret/Maggie

• 💀Whiskers - Merasmus

• 🐟Fried Fish Tramp - Fried Chicken Tramp

• 📋Furball - Bidwell

��� 📕Fuzzy - Reddy

• ✈️Trots - Jerry

• ❤️Redmond Meoww - Redmond Mann

• 💙Blutarch Meoww - Blutarch Mann

• 🩶Gray Meoww - Gray Mann

• 🎀Olivia Meoww - Olivia Mann

• 🎈General Patton Dough - General Patton Doe

• 🧸Georgia Washington Dough - Georgia Washington Doe

• 🎤Tomcat Jones - Tom Jones

• 💜Mrs DeGrowl - Mrs Tilly DeGroot

• 🌷Mrs Mowndy - Mrs Mundy

• 🍅Mr Mowndy - Mr Mundy

• 🍷Loaf-Nah - Lar-Nah

• 🍵Furr-Bel - Bill-Bel

This blog is still quite new - stay tuned ! Mrow….

[onlyhereforthestories]

Mimosas and Friends (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Day 19! I like the idea of this one but not sure I like how it has turned out. I am not going to lie i had to get some help with the secret santa gits and the mimosas!

The morning sun peeked through the frost-covered windows, casting a warm glow across your living room as you rushed between the kitchen and dining room, setting out the final touches for the Christmas brunch. Holiday music drifted softly through the apartment, mingling with the scents of cinnamon, warm syrup, and fresh coffee. You could feel the holiday spirit bubbling within you as you arranged a plate of croissants and pastries, making sure everything looked perfect.

“Need any help in here?” Alexia’s voice drifted from behind you. She appeared in the doorway, wearing a soft green sweater that matched her eyes, her cheeks slightly pink from the chilly morning air.

You smiled, appreciating her festive choice. “Yes, please! Can you bring out the fruit salad and maybe set the glasses? I think that’s all that’s left.”

She gave you a playful salute, grabbing the fruit bowl and placing it in the centre of the table, adjusting the dishes with a small jiggle as she danced to the music. Alexia had been excited about hosting brunch for your friends all week, even coming up with ideas for a holiday mimosa bar and picking out little decorations to give the place an extra cozy feel. The kitchen table was decked out with poinsettias, mini holiday wreaths, and sparkly gold place cards. You were so proud of what you had both done, it was simple, warm, and perfectly festive.

“Everything looks amazing,” she said, glancing around with satisfaction. “Do you think we went a little overboard with the decorations?”

You laughed, nudging her lightly. “It’s Christmas! I think it’s just the right amount of overboard.”

Alexia’s eyes sparkled as she gave you a quick kiss on the lips, lingering a little longer than you expected before pulling back. “I’ll start the coffee maker so we’re ready as soon as they get here. You know how much Mapi and Marta need their caffeine.”

Just as she pressed the start button, you heard the buzzer. Your friends had arrived, and the excitement of the holiday gathering filled you both as you headed to the door together.

Mapi, Caro, Frido, and a few more friends stepped inside, bundled up and cheeks flushed from the chilly December air. They greeted you with hugs and exclamations over the decorations, the inviting warmth of the apartment, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting from the kitchen.

“Oh, this place looks incredible!” Mapi said, wide-eyed as she took in the setup. “And you even set up a mimosa bar? That’s it, you two are officially the hostesses of the year. And you must host every time, me and Ingrid well, Ingrid would never be able to beat this on her own.”

You couldn’t help the burst of laughter that came tumbling out when Mapi stumbled forward from the hit to the back of her head she received from Ingrid. You really loved your friends, and you were so glad you could all make this day happen around your busy schedules.

You exchanged a grin with Alexia as Frido helped herself to a cranberry-orange mimosa, raising her glass in appreciation. “To Christmas brunch with the best hosts!” she said, grinning.

“To Christmas brunch!” everyone chimed, clinking glasses before settling around the table, diving into the spread of pastries, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit.

Everyone settled into the tightly packed dining room, exchanging excited chatter and laughs as they filled their plates. The warmth of the food, mixed with the holiday décor, brought an unmistakable festive energy to the room. Frido and Mapi were already diving into the mimosa bar, experimenting with cranberry juice and orange zest to create their own “perfect holiday drink.”

As everyone settled in, you and Alexia took your places side by side at the table, watching as your friends tucked into the meal you’d both worked so hard to prepare. You couldn’t help but feel a glow of pride at the satisfied murmurs and eager “Mmm” sounds that filled the room.

“I have to say,” Mapi spoke through a mouthful of French toast, “this is the best decision we’ve made all month. Top-tier food, top-tier company.”

“Oh, and don’t forget top-tier decorations!” Patri teased, reaching over to pinch one of the mini wreaths adorning the table. “I love that you two went all out. It feels like we’re in some kind of cozy Christmas movie.”

Alexia laughed, a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “What can I say? I don’t do things halfway,” she replied, giving your hand a gentle squeeze under the table. “Especially not when it’s Christmas.”

As the conversation drifted to light hearted topics, everyone sharing stories of past holiday memories, you took a moment to just look around the table. Friends sharing laughs over gingerbread pancakes and eggnog-flavoured lattes, plates of pastries disappearing under happy chatter. It was exactly the kind of holiday moment you’d envisioned when you and Alexia had decided to host this brunch.

“Alright, holiday confession time,” Mapi announced, setting her fork down and pointing at each of you in turn. “What’s the best, or most embarrassing, Christmas present you’ve ever received?”

Alexia groaned playfully, glancing at you with a mock-warning expression. “Do you really want to go there? Because I’ll tell them about that Christmas sweater.”

“Oh, please do,” Claudia jumped in, her eyes widening with anticipation. “I want details.”

You shook your head, trying not to laugh. “It wasn’t that bad!” you protested, though the memory of the sweater, a handmade creation from a well-meaning relative, was enough to make your cheeks burn red.

“Oh, it was legendary,” Alexia said with a laugh, leaning back and giving your friends a vivid description of the neon-green monstrosity with flashing LED lights and a battery pack. “She wore it to my family’s Christmas dinner and accidentally leaned back, setting off the lights. Everyone thought it was intentional. It was iconic.”

The table erupted into laughter, and you covered your face, smiling despite yourself. “Okay, fine, you’ve got me. But what about you, Alexia? I distinctly remember a certain singing reindeer hat…”

Mapi and Patri’s curiosity was instantly piqued. They leaned forward, and with an exaggerated sigh, Alexia explained how her sister had once gifted her a fuzzy red hat with antlers and a button that, when pressed, played a very off-key version of “Jingle Bells.”

The light hearted exchange continued, each of you sharing funny or sentimental memories, creating new ones together as you teased and laughed over your food and drinks. Someone switched the playlist to a mix of holiday classics, and you all joined in on an enthusiastic, but slightly off-key, rendition of “Last Christmas,” singing with your whole hearts as if you were on stage rather than around a breakfast table.

As the plates emptied, Alexia got up to refill the coffee pot, catching your eye with a gentle smile. She paused, watching you for a moment as you leaned across the table, laughing at something Mapi said. She placed a soft hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“This turned out even better than I thought,” she whispered, her voice low enough that only you could hear.

You smiled back, heart warmed by her expression. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

With a quick wink, she moved back to the coffee station, and you turned your attention back to your friends, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you.

After a few more rounds of coffee, and even a spontaneous and slightly competitive mimosa-mixing contest, everyone leaned back in their chairs, looking happily full and relaxed.

“Okay, I have an idea,” Alexia announced, standing up and grabbing a small basket from the counter. “It wouldn’t be a proper holiday brunch without a little Secret Santa action, right?”

Your friends perked up, exchanging surprised and excited glances as Alexia handed out small envelopes to each person. Earlier in the week, she’d put together little “gift vouchers,” fun little coupons that each friend could cash in for things like a coffee date, a game of football, or even something silly, like “One Free Favor (No Complaints Allowed).”

She handed one of the envelopes to you last, a secretive smile on her face as you opened it. Inside was a handwritten note in her familiar scrawl: “One day of your choice, anywhere you want. I’ll make it happen.”

You looked up, grinning, and Alexia shrugged with a playful smile. “Can’t have my favourite person missing out on the fun,” she said, her tone warm.

One by one, each person shared what they’d received, laughter filling the room as they joked about how they’d “cash in” their favours. Frido declared she’d be calling in her “Free Dinner” voucher immediately, while Mapi, in typical style, was already making plans for her “One Free Dance Session” from Alexia.

As the brunch slowly wound down, the group lounged around the table, nursing their drinks and sharing more stories, reluctant to let the day end. Eventually, as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the conversation shifted to everyone’s holiday plans and the promise to gather again soon.

After the last friend left, the apartment felt quiet but wonderfully warm, still glowing with the energy of shared laughter and friendship. You and Alexia exchanged a tired but happy look, both of you lingering in the contentment of the morning.

“That was perfect,” you said, leaning into her, your arm slipping around her waist as you both looked at the remnants of the brunch.

Alexia sighed softly, her arm around your shoulders as she pressed a light kiss to your forehead. “It really was,” she murmured. “We’ll have to make this a new tradition. Just like this, every year.”

[mingi-s-dimples]

Save the best for last - OT8 ATEEZ

KINKTOBER DAY 30, REQ. BY anon (last day!!!)

~"domot8 x freader where atz is mafia/ceo! reader is in a relationship with san but they are both okay in letting the other members join in the fun..;) however san likes to talk dirty in a way with hints of possessiveness to remind reader even though the other 7 fucks her, she’s still his hehe he also loves watching the members wreck the reader btw…. pls make it as filthy and kinky as possible! really go crazy with it! some ideas(if it helps-i hope it’s no burden): dirty talk, hair pulling, spit, multiple creampies, dp, squirting, exhibitionism, voyeur, choking, big dick!, bulge kink, mirror sex(?) and so on….. 😅" - I hope it's crazy enough for you anon.. for me it sure was 😂🤍

pairing: bf mafia ceo!san x gf fem!reader x ot7 (the other members) subordinates of San

genre: 18+, pure filth, gang bang

summary: San's men want to have your way with you and ask for permission and.. when San also sees you'd be eager to do it, he saves himself for last only to remind you who you had always belonged to.

wc: 8.4k (I am so sorry I went fucking overboard 🧍‍♀️)

warnings: okay prepare, mafia!au, gang bang, foursome, 5some, double penetration, multiple creampies, dirty talk/degradation (only from San), she sucks two at the same time, she takes two&two at the same time (hence the 5some), spitting, hair pulling, mirror sex, exhibitionism, dacryphilia. voyeurism, possesiveness at its finest, choking, big dick!san, bulge kink, squirting, lots of cummm, unprotected, for sure forgot something (it's 4:40 am at the time I post this), completely consensual, will definitely edit later.

Author's Note: Oh my fucking god holy fuck this was a damn ride. It was INTENSE. I went damn overboard with some of the details upsi, I had to. Gave everyone at least some attention 🤗 no one was left out (poor reader fr). This is my first ot8 fic. I hope you enjoy this, love u anon and I'm so sorry I am 2 months late 💀💀💀 life was erratic. Oh and.. Merry Christmas, everyone! Fluff fic coming right after this menace. From one extreme to another I guess 💀

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and doesn't represent the reality of the members in any way.

The soft hum of the city buzzed faintly outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of San’s office. Late evening sunlight poured into the room, bathing everything in golden hues as you perched on the edge of his sleek, black desk. Your legs swung idly, the sound of your heels lightly tapping against the wooden surface filling the otherwise quiet room.

San sat behind his desk, engrossed in the papers spread before him. His sharp black suit hugged his frame perfectly, exuding authority as he worked in focused silence. You let your gaze drift over him, taking in the way his jaw tightened every so often when he read something he didn’t like. Even when he was deep in work, San had a presence that could dominate a room without him uttering a single word.

But today, you weren’t in the mood to let him bury himself in paperwork.

“San,” you called, dragging out his name in a playful lilt.

His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, a flicker of amusement flashing in them before he resumed scanning the document in his hands. “Yes, darling?” he asked, his voice low and velvety, though there was a clear undertone of distraction.

You leaned forward, resting your palms on the cool surface of his desk, your tone turning teasing. “You’ve been working all day. Don’t you think you deserve a break?”

San’s lips curved into a small smirk as he set the papers down and leaned back in his chair, his arms folding across his chest. “Is that so? And what exactly do you suggest I do on this ‘break,’ hmm?”

You feigned a thoughtful expression, tapping your chin dramatically. “Well… I could think of a few things.”

Before he could respond, the door to his office suddenly swung open, breaking the charged atmosphere between you. The sound made you jump slightly, and you instinctively straightened up, your gaze snapping to the intruders.

The other seven members of the group filed in one by one, their casual but confident demeanor filling the room with a new kind of energy.

“Interrupting something?” Jongho’s voice was the first to break the silence, his eyebrow raised as his eyes darted between you and San.

San’s expression didn’t falter, though the slight twitch of his jaw gave away his irritation. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he replied coolly, leaning back further in his chair.

Wooyoung, ever the bold one, grinned as he sauntered over to the desk, his sharp gaze flicking over you with clear amusement. “Doesn’t look like ‘nothing,’ though,” he teased, leaning casually against the edge of the desk beside you.

“Wooyoung,” San said, his tone holding a warning, though his posture remained relaxed.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Wooyoung’s antics. “Do you ever know when to stop?” you asked, though your tone was more amused than annoyed.

“Not really,” Wooyoung admitted with a wink, his grin widening.

The rest of the members settled into the room, each finding a spot to sit or lean as the tension in the air shifted. You could feel their eyes on you, curiosity and mischief glinting in their gazes. It was impossible to ignore the magnetic energy they all carried; it was part of what made them so formidable as a group.

“Do we have business to discuss, or did you all just come to disrupt my evening?” San asked, his tone laced with dry humor as he gestured for them to get on with whatever they came for.

Hongjoong stepped forward, ever the leader, his expression calm but knowing. “We wrapped up the last deal earlier than expected, so we thought we’d drop by,” he said smoothly, though the subtle smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his intentions.

“And by ‘drop by,’ you mean make yourselves comfortable in my office?” San quipped, his gaze flicking between them.

Yeosang, who had been silent until now, let out a soft chuckle. “You can’t blame us, though. You’re the one who keeps all the interesting things hidden in here.”

His words carried a double meaning that wasn’t lost on anyone in the room. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you glanced at San, who still looked completely unbothered, though his hand had started to drum lightly against the desk.

Seonghwa, ever the smooth talker, decided to chime in. “You know, San,” he began, his tone light but calculated, “for someone who’s so protective, you seem awfully relaxed about leaving her alone with us.”

San’s smirk returned, his dark eyes locking onto Seonghwa’s. “Relaxed? Who said I was relaxed?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

“Then again,” Wooyoung piped up, his grin downright mischievous now, “maybe you’re not as possessive as we thought.”

The words hung in the air, the challenge in them clear. You glanced at San, curious to see how he would respond. To your surprise, he leaned back in his chair again, his expression calm but dangerous.

“Possessive?” he echoed, his tone laced with amusement. “Oh, I am. Make no mistake about that.”

His gaze shifted to you, his eyes softening slightly. “But I also trust her. And I trust all of you… to a degree.”

The unspoken invitation in his words made your breath catch. The room was silent for a moment, the weight of his statement sinking in before the playful tension returned.

“Well,” Hongjoong said, breaking the silence, “that’s quite the declaration.”

San’s smirk widened, his confidence unshakable. “It’s not a declaration. It’s a fact.”

The others exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from amusement to intrigue.

“Does that mean we can—” Wooyoung began, but San cut him off with a raised hand.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said, though his tone was more teasing than serious. His eyes met yours again, and you could see the glint of amusement in them. “After all, it’s not entirely up to me, is it?”

The attention in the room shifted to you, and you suddenly felt the weight of their gazes. San’s question was clear—this was your choice as much as it was his.

Your mind raced, the charged atmosphere making it difficult to think clearly. But as you looked at San, his calm confidence grounding you, you realized that you trusted him completely.

“Well,” you began, your voice steady despite the nervous energy coursing through you, “I think… it could be interesting.”

Your words hung in the air for a moment before the room erupted in a mixture of laughter and teasing remarks. San’s smirk turned into a full grin as he reached out to take your hand, pulling you closer to him.

“Interesting, huh?” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You nodded, your heart racing as you met his gaze. “As long as you’re okay with it,” you added, your voice soft but sincere.

San’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded. “I’m more than okay with it,” he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

The room buzzed with excitement as the others began to discuss the details, their playful banter filling the space. But your focus remained on San, his steady presence anchoring you as you stepped into uncharted territory together.

The tension in the room grew thicker as San gave the subtlest nod, his eyes never leaving yours. His hand cupped your cheek tenderly, grounding you amidst the teasing grins and playful energy that radiated from the others. The question in his gaze was quiet but clear: *Do you trust me?*

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but laced with certainty.

San’s lips curled into a soft, almost mischievous smile. “Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then let us take care of you.”

Yunho was the first to move, his large hands brushing over your shoulders as he leaned down to meet your gaze, his warmth both reassuring and electrifying. “You really are something special, you know that?” he said, his voice honeyed with praise. “We’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, but only if you’re ready.” His thumbs rubbed gentle circles into your skin, his touch comforting yet deliberate.

Mingi crouched next to you, his height even now making him an imposing figure. His grin was boyish, yet his tone carried a teasing edge. “San really is lucky, isn’t he? But I think tonight, you’re luckier.” His fingers brushed against your hand, holding it loosely as if offering silent reassurance. “We’re going to treat you like the queen you are.”

Their words made heat rise to your cheeks, and you felt San’s hand slide from your cheek to your waist, steadying you. His presence was a calming anchor even as the others moved around you with measured anticipation. “Remember,” San murmured into your ear, his tone a mix of possessiveness and care, “you can stop this anytime. But if you trust me, just let go.”

Your heartbeat quickened, but you nodded, the warmth in his voice giving you courage.

Hongjoong’s voice cut through the moment, calm and composed but carrying an edge of excitement. “We’ll take it slow,” he said, his sharp gaze locking with yours. “Just follow our lead.”

Together, they began to guide you, their movements deliberate yet unhurried. San was the one to lift your chin, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. He murmured, his voice steady, “Let them see the side of you only I’ve had the pleasure of knowing.”

Your shirt was the first to go, the fabric slipping from your shoulders under Mingi’s deft touch. He let out a low whistle, his eyes twinkling with admiration but never crossing into disrespect. “You’re stunning,” he said, his voice reverent. Yunho, standing behind you now, pressed a hand to your lower back, his touch firm yet gentle.

Yeosang’s quiet presence was next to catch your attention. He knelt beside you, his fingers brushing over your wrist as if asking permission before helping with the next piece of clothing.

The air buzzed with anticipation, but no one rushed you. Each movement, each touch, was careful and deliberate, designed to put you at ease. San stayed close, his hand a constant presence on your waist or shoulder, his protective nature evident even now. “You’re doing so well,” he praised, his voice rich with affection.

Mingi’s teasing came back as he tilted his head, his eyes raking over you with playful admiration. “You’ve been hiding all this from us?” he joked, though his tone carried genuine awe. “Not fair.”

“She’s breathtaking,” Yunho agreed, his voice warm as his hand brushed against your arm. “San’s been keeping the best things to himself.”

San smirked, his possessiveness flickering through despite the shared moment. “Don’t forget,” he said, his tone low and dangerous, though his eyes softened as they met yours. “She’s still mine.”

Wooyoung laughed, breaking the tension with his lighthearted energy. “We know, we know,” he said, throwing his hands up dramatically. “We’re just borrowing her for tonight.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics, the sound breaking through your initial nervousness.

As they continued to undress you piece by piece, the warmth of their attention made your skin tingle. Every movement was accompanied by a murmur of praise, a gentle touch, or a soft reassurance. They were in no rush, savoring every moment and ensuring you felt cherished and adored.

San knelt beside you as the last piece of fabric was removed, his hand cupping your face as he pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with so much love it made your heart ache. “And you’re safe.”

The others watched the intimate moment, their respect for San’s bond with you evident in their quiet stillness. When he finally pulled back, his smirk returned, his possessive streak shining through. “But don’t forget who you belong to,” he added, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip once more.

As you settled back against the desk, the warmth of their gazes enveloped you, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of heat flow through you.

San’s voice was the last thing you heard before they began. “Let us show you just how much you mean to us.”

The living room was bathed in warm golden light, the soft hum of conversation filling the air. As the group carried you from the office to the shared space, their laughter and teasing remarks created a sense of playful camaraderie. The room, spacious yet intimate, had an air of familiarity that contrasted with the charged tension lingering among them.

They gently set you down on the large sectional couch, its plush cushions yielding to your weight. Wooyoung leaned over from one side, his mischievous grin ever-present as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. "Look at her," he mused, his voice a touch lower than usual, "so perfect and so pretty like this."

Mingi, who stood behind you, chuckled softly. "She’s even more stunning up close," he said, his large hands resting lightly on the back of the couch. His eyes glimmered with mischief, though there was a noticeable gentleness to his movements. From the corner of your eye, you could see Hongjoong to your right, already rolling up his sleeves, his sharp gaze focused entirely on you.

San remained standing near the edge of the room, his arms crossed but his expression unreadable. The corners of his lips twitched upward slightly as the three members began to close in. "Remember who’s in charge," he said smoothly, his deep voice cutting through the quiet murmurs. "You can admire her, but don’t forget that she’s mine."

Wooyoung smirked, exchanging a glance with Mingi and Hongjoong. "Of course, hyung. But you wouldn’t mind if we… made her feel special, right?" he teased, his voice playful yet testing boundaries.

San’s dark eyes flicked toward you, searching your expression. "Do you trust me?" he asked softly, his tone steady and grounding amidst the lighthearted chaos. His gaze held yours firmly, waiting for your answer.

You nodded without hesitation, your voice barely a whisper. "I trust you, San."

A satisfied hum left his lips. "Good." He gestured with a slight nod, granting the others permission to proceed. "Don’t forget—she’s precious. Treat her that way."

Wooyoung, ever the bold one, began by brushing his lips lightly along your temple, his fingers trailing down your arm in feather-light strokes. "Precious is an understatement," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver through you.

Mingi leaned in from behind, his hands settling on your shoulders. His touch was firm but reassuring, a contrast to Wooyoung’s teasing.

Hongjoong’s approach was quieter but no less impactful. He crouched beside you, his sharp eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort. His hand found yours, his fingers curling around yours in a silent gesture of reassurance.

As the three surrounded you, their touches and presence seemed to envelop you entirely. Wooyoung tilted your chin upward, his lips ghosting along your jawline before trailing to your collarbone. Mingi’s hands, broad and warm, began to massage your shoulders, easing any lingering tension. Meanwhile, Hongjoong traced idle patterns on the back of your hand, his quiet attention grounding you amidst the overwhelming sensations.

The other four—Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, and Jongho—watched from the nearby armchairs, their expressions varying from amusement to curiosity. Yunho leaned back casually, his long legs stretched out as he exchanged knowing smirks with Seonghwa. "They’re starting strong," Yunho remarked, his deep voice laced with humor.

"Can you blame them?" Seonghwa replied, his tone lighter than usual. His sharp features softened as his gaze flitted toward you, a hint of fondness in his otherwise composed demeanor. "She has that effect."

Yeosang tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "San’s holding back more than I expected," he mused, his words eliciting a chuckle from Jongho, who simply nodded in agreement.

San, still standing apart from the group, exuded a quiet authority. Despite the teasing commentary from the others, his eyes never left you. "Remember your place," he reminded the group lightly, though there was no malice in his tone. "She’s mine to love and protect."

"And tease," Wooyoung quipped, pulling back briefly to glance at San. "You said it yourself, hyung. She’s precious. We’re just appreciating her beauty."

San raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifting back to you. "Just don’t forget who she belongs to," he said finally, his voice calm but firm.

As if to emphasize his words, Wooyoung leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Even with all of us here, you’re still his, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice dripping with playful reverence.

The room was growing warmer, the air thick with an electric charge that seemed to pulse between everyone present. The soft rustling of fabric caught your attention, and your eyes flicked over to the four members who had been watching from the sidelines. Slowly, one by one, they began to shed their shirts, their toned torsos coming into view. Each movement was deliberate, as though they wanted to savor every second of this shared moment.

Yunho, the tallest of the group, was the first to approach, his steps unhurried and confident. His broad shoulders and defined chest were illuminated by the soft light of the living room. His gaze flicked down to you, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "I think it’s our turn now," he said, his deep voice sending a shiver through you.

Seonghwa followed closely behind, his elegant movements almost hypnotic. His sharp features softened slightly as he looked down at you, a gentle fondness in his expression. "Don’t worry," he murmured, his voice smooth and calming. "We’ll take good care of you."

Behind them, Yeosang and Jongho exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. Yeosang, with his quiet intensity, began to unbuckle his belt, his fingers moving with a casual ease. Jongho, ever the composed one, ran a hand through his dark hair before stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

The three members who had been close to you—Wooyoung, Mingi, and Hongjoong—reluctantly backed off, their hands lingering on your skin for a moment longer before they stepped away. They moved to the side, their breathing still heavy as they watched the scene unfold. Each of them began to undress, their movements slower than necessary as if they wanted you to notice every detail.

Wooyoung leaned casually against the armrest of the couch, his bare torso gleaming under the soft light. "We’ll let them have their fun," he said, his voice teasing. "But don’t forget—we’re next."

Mingi crossed his arms over his chest, his sharp jawline set as he watched intently. "Take your time," he added, though the hunger in his gaze betrayed his impatience.

San remained standing apart from the group, his suit still perfectly in place. The contrast between his composed exterior and the evident strain in his pants was almost too much to bear. His dark eyes drank in every detail of the scene, from the way you sat on the couch, your hands trembling slightly, to the way the members circled you like predators waiting for their moment to strike.

You glanced up at San. His lips curved into a small, approving smile. "Enjoy yourself," he said softly, his voice steady despite the clear tension in his posture. "But remember who you belong to."

The four of them seemed to come to a silent agreement, their eyes flicking between each other as they decided how to proceed. Finally, Yunho spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the quiet tension. "Let’s start simple," he suggested, his gaze dropping to your hands.

"Two and two," Jongho added, his voice steady. His dark eyes softened slightly as he looked at you. "If that’s okay with you."

You nodded, your heart racing as they took their places. Yunho and Yeosang each took each of your hands, their fingers brushing against yours as they guided your movements. Their touches were firm but gentle, their eyes never leaving yours as they made sure you were comfortable. They took off their pants completely, followed by their briefs. Their cocks sprung out and your hands instinctively went for their lengths. You looked up at them, then down at the position you were in. Legs slightly spread out, your cunt dripping with arousal on the blanket that was on the couch, the two men in front of you and their cocks in your hands. You took a deep breath and started to move your hands, stroking their lengths slowly, at first. Yunho's cock was already dripping with pre cum, making the perfect lube for his hand. For Yeosang, you spit in your hand and started lubing it up. He quietly groaned at the sensation, satisfied with your way of lubing him.

“Yes… that's it, sweetheart..” Yunho whispered, his head slowly falling back as your hand started to move more rapidly, your thumb rubbing over the tip, putting pressure on it.

Yeosang was already out of it, his breath heavy as he was hardly holding back from pushing your hand further on his cock. He waited and waited until he couldn't anymore.

“Fuck it..” his hand hand hovered over your head, hesitating for a moment. He looked at you and tried to back up, but Yunho interrupted his move.

“That's such.. a great idea, Yeosang..” he said, his eyes gazing over you. “But only if y/n and San are good with it, of course…” he said and all 3 of you looked at San. He suddenly had his pants unbuckled, his hard cock straining against his briefs. He nodded, his hand now lazily rubbing it through the cloth. He was turned the fuck on with this situation, the fact that he was observing you so patiently, waiting for his men to have their fun with you and use you as they pleased, as their fuck toy.

“Boss is okay with it.. but are you, y/n?” Yeosang said, his hand hovering softly over your cheek, making you look up at him.

“Y-yes..” you whispered and he didn't hesitate any further, his hand guiding your mouth to his cock. You instinctively started sucking on the dripping tip, kissing and licking circles all around, from the tip to the base of his cock then all along his shaft. As you sucked him off up and down slurping and putting pressure with your tongue and lips on the tip, his hand slowly started pushing your head on his cock. He let you get used to his size, your lips stretching slightly as he pushed further.

“Ah fuck, Yunho.. her mouth feels so good.. you gotta-you gotta try this” Yeosang said breathless, catching the other men's attention. Yunho smirked and waited for his turn.

Aa you bobbed your head up and down on Yeosang’s cock and stroked your hand on Yunho's on your left, you started to focus on making Yeosang cum first so you could suck Yunho off, too. Within a few more licks of your tongue and hard sucking on the tip he came down your throat, making you slightly choke on his huge load. Yunho chuckled, satisfied at the view of you choking and couldn't content his excitement at being sucked off by you, that he slowly moved Yeosang from your face - who was panting still - and harshly tilted your chin up so that you could take his cock in your mouth.

“Can I join in, too?” Jongho said, his cock already heavy and dripping in his hand.

You nodded briefly while sucking on Yunho's cock and he joined in… but he didn't joke when he said he'd *join in*. He made his way right in front of you and switched places with Yunho for a moment until he was satisfied, then after you sucked him off for a moment he exchanged glances with Yunho and they came to a silent agreement. Yunho, *slowly* made the tip of his cock fit at the same time with Jongho's and you started to suck both simultaneously.

Yunho’s hand tangled in your hair, barely resisting from mouth fucking you. He softly pulled you towards his pelvis, both cocks filling up your mouth good. Jongho whined at the sensation, his head lolling back in pleasure.

“Yeah.. that’s it, darling..” Jongho said, his ragged breath giving away the fact that he was damn close. Yunho was too, his hand pulling your hair softly backwards only to thrust powerfully in your mouth. Each of them fucked your mouth prettily until they came down your throat, filling your mouth with their cum. Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes, the feeling of being stretched by their cocks only amplifying the pleasure and arousal growing in your belly.. and between your legs.

You had just finished with Jongho and Yunho, your hands still trembling slightly as they stepped back, their satisfied expressions lingering as they caught their breath. The room was filled with a heavy scent. As they backed away, the other four men—Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, and Wooyoung—moved forward, their eyes locked on you, filled with a mix of hunger and anticipation. The air grew heavier, the tension palpable as they closed in on you, ready to claim their turn.

But before they could make their move, a voice that brooked no argument cut through the silence.

San stepped in front of you, his presence commanding, and with one smooth motion, he cupped your face in his hands, his touch tender yet possessive. His gaze softened as he looked down at you, but his words were sharp, like a warning.

"The next man to make a move without her permission will regret it," San's voice was calm but held an undeniable authority. He leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving yours as he asked, "Tell me, who do you want?"

You felt your heart race, the pressure mounting as the room fell deathly quiet. The other men—Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, and Wooyoung—shifted uncomfortably behind San, their whispers of complaint barely audible. "This is taking too long," Hongjoong muttered softly. He's gonna make us wait?" Seonghwa sighed in frustration, his voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't fair." Even Mingi and Wooyoung exchanged glances, their impatience palpable, but they dared not protest further. They knew better than to challenge San’s authority.

A bead of sweat trickled down your temple as you stared at San, unsure of what to say. The choice was overwhelming, and the silence seemed to stretch on forever. You opened your mouth, but the words caught in your throat. "I... I..." Your voice wavered, and your hands shook as you glanced at each man in turn.

Finally, with a stutter, you managed to say, "M-Mingi."

San’s lips curled into a small, approving smile. "Good choice," he murmured, backing away just enough to allow Mingi to step forward. His praise made your chest tighten in both relief and anticipation.

Then San turned to the others, his gaze cold and decisive. "Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Wooyoung," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Back off. Stay with Yunho, Jongho, and Yeosang until she's done. She'll decide what to do next."

Reluctantly, the remaining three men complied, their disappointment clear, but they knew better than to defy San’s orders.

The room quieted once more as Mingi stepped closer, and the weight of your decision settled in. He positioned himself to your mouth and let you take the lead for a moment.

Mingi stepped forward, his eyes dark with desire as he knelt before you, his towering frame somehow softening with a nervous yet eager energy. His hand trembled slightly as he guided his cock to your mouth, the warmth of your breath against him drawing a shuddering moan from his lips. He wasn’t shy about making sounds; each gasp and whimper escaping him felt raw, his pleasure uninhibited. “God… you’re so good,” he murmured breathlessly, his voice catching as you dragged your tongue along his length in a slow, deliberate motion. The way you swirled your tongue and teased him at the tip had him bucking his hips slightly, his hands gripping your shoulders for balance as his knees threatened to give out. Every lick, every motion from your mouth sent Mingi spiraling closer to the edge, his moans turning into desperate whines that filled the room. Every sound that escaped his throat gave you energy to suck him more, deeper, faster, sloppier, even if his huge, girthy cock was making you choke on it with every deeper thrust. “Y-you’re… gonna make me—” he stammered, and before he could finish his sentence, his climax overtook him. His body tensed as he came, the sound of his loud, unrestrained moan echoing through the room.

Panting heavily, Mingi stepped back, his legs shaky as he tried to steady himself. You wiped your lips, your own breath coming in short, heavy pants as the intensity of the moment settled between you. For a brief moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the shared experience thick in the air.

Mingi finally broke the silence, offering you a sheepish smile. “That was… incredible,” he admitted, his voice still husky. “But what do we do now?”

Before you could answer, San’s familiar voice cut in, smooth and commanding as ever. “I’ve got an idea,” he said, stepping forward with his trademark confidence. His gaze flicked between you and Mingi before landing on you, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“How about this,” San began, his tone low and almost teasing. “You take Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Wooyoung, and Yeosang next. All at once. Then, when they’re done…” He glanced over at Yunho, Mingi, and Jongho, his smirk widening. “You’ll handle them. Together.”

His words sent a ripple through the room, the other men exchanging glances, their expressions a mixture of excitement and anticipation. San’s smirk deepened as his gaze returned to you, his voice dropping even lower.

“And when that’s over,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes locking onto yours, “it’ll finally be my turn.”

San’s tone held a sense of finality, his dominance undeniable as he stood tall before you. “The best things,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “are always saved for last.”

The tension in the room was palpable, every man’s gaze now fixed on you, waiting to see how you’d respond. San’s command lingered in the air, his natural authority unmistakable as you tried to steady your racing heart and prepare for what lay ahead.

Your lips trembled, the weight of anticipation heavy as you stood surrounded by three of them—Seonghwa, Yeosang, and Hongjoong—each waiting, their eyes fixed on you. Finally, you stammered, “Y-yes,” the word escaping in a breathy whisper.

San’s gaze softened, pride shining in his dark eyes as he stepped closer to you. Gently, he cupped your face, his thumb tracing slow circles against your cheek. “That’s my good girl…” he murmured, “or should I say… good slut?” his voice low and rich.. His lips quirked into a smirk as his gaze flicked briefly to the men nearby. The sudden word he said made your eyes widen, surprised he hasn’t used those type of words yet.. as he always uses them when there is just the two of you.

“If you want the chance to be with me tonight,” he continued, his voice smooth and commanding, “you’ll be a good girl for them first. Take care of them. Do you understand?”

You nodded, your breath catching under the weight of his intense stare. “Good,” he said, stepping back and motioning toward Seonghwa, Yeosang, and Hongjoong. “Go on, show them what my good, little slut is capable of.”

San moved aside and as soon as Seonghwa approached you first, his movements slow and confident, San stopped and turned around. “Ah… I almost forgot. Listen carefully," he growled, his voice low and laced with a deadly calm that sent a chill through the air. "She’s mine. The only one who has the right to speak to her like that is me—and even then, it’s only because she allows it. If I catch so much as a whisper of disrespect from any of you, there won’t be warnings, there won’t be second chances. I will make you disappear, and you all know pretty damn well how I take care of people that cross my words.”

“Got it, boss!” all of them said in unison, clearly spooked by his words, but with a good reason.

Seonghwa stepped in front of you. His strong arms slid around you, pulling you firmly against him with your back pressing to his chest. “You’re stunning,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. Yeosang stepped in next, his hand grazing along your thigh before resting on your hip. His fingers trailed up, featherlight, before settling in place. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your temple.

Hongjoong followed, stepping to your side with a teasing smirk. His fingers traced the line of your jaw, tilting your head gently toward him. “You’re safe with us,” he murmured, his voice low and steady before capturing your lips in a kiss that was as consuming as it was gentle.

Their touches surrounded you, each of them focused on you as the last layers of fabric were shed from their bodies, leaving only warmth and closeness between you. The atmosphere was charged, the air electric as anticipation built around you.

Seonghwa adjusted his hold, his arms sliding beneath your knees to lift your legs effortlessly, pressing them against your chest in a mating press. His chest was firm against your back, his grip steady and sure as he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on the side of your neck. The new closeness made your breath hitch, heat flooding your senses as you leaned back into him.

Yeosang and Hongjoong steadied you on either side, their hands gliding along your thighs and hips, their touches reverent yet deliberate. Yeosang’s lips brushed against your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin, while Hongjoong whispered your name softly, his voice sending sparks through you.

As Seonghwa positioned himself right under you and began to move, his breath caught, a low groan escaping him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His cock thrusted deep in your ass, his movements deliberate and controlled, each shift of his body sending a wave of warmth coursing through you. Hongjoong soon joined, his body aligning with yours as he ligned his cock to your folds, rubbing it up and down for a couple of times before sliding right in, his quiet gasps mixing with Seonghwa’s.

Yeosang’s steadying hands roamed your sides, offering a grounding presence amid the growing intensity. His kisses traced a path along your shoulder, and his voice was a soothing counterpoint to the fervent rhythm the others set.

The synchronized motion between Seonghwa and Hongjoong was overwhelming, each of their movements filled with purpose, their breaths shallow and mingling with your own. Seonghwa’s grip on you never faltered, his strength keeping you secure as he murmured against your ear, “You’re perfect..”

Their closeness was intoxicating, and the connection shared between the four of you was more than physical—it was a deeply intimate expression of trust, affection, and unspoken understanding. Each kiss, each whisper of praise, and every deliberate movement spoke volumes, leaving you surrounded by warmth and devotion.

Yeosang shifted with purpose, his hands smoothing over your sides with deliberate care before he moved to position himself beneath you. His movements were careful yet assertive, his hands guiding your hips as he thrusted himself in your cunt, his body perfectly aligned to support you. His chest rising briefly as he murmured, “Let me take care of you, too,” his voice low but filled with steady confidence. The feeling of being filled by both Yeosang’s and Hongjoong’s cocks was damn overwhelming and pleasurable, tears falling down your cheeks as you were held up by the 3 boys. But.. one was missing.

The room pulsed with heat, your body trembling from the overwhelming sensations of Yeosang’s deliberate rhythm beneath you and Hongjoong’s teasing precision. Every sound, every touch, had you teetering on the edge, your breaths hitching as you tried to keep up with the intensity.

“Forgot about me for a second, huh?” Wooyoung’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and playful, though the hunger in his eyes betrayed just how impatient he had been. He stood near you and the boys, watching you.

Your eyes flicked to him, and the moment they met his, he was already moving. Whatever remained of his clothes was gone in an instant, hitting the floor without hesitation. “You look so good like this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as, his hands ghosting over your trembling thighs.

Yeosang let out a low chuckle, his grip on your waist tightening as he adjusted his angle. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

“You have no idea,” Wooyoung replied, his hands sliding up to your hips, brushing against Yeosang’s as he steadied you. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck.

Hongjoong smirked, his fingers caressing your thigh as he watched Wooyoung with quiet amusement. “Don’t overwhelm her right away. She still needs to be in shape for whatever boss wants to do with her later.”

But Wooyoung was unrelenting, his lips trailing down your neck to your shoulder, his kisses growing more insistent. He looked at Seonghwa as he guided his cock into you. The stretch was overwhelming, the new sensation pulling a sharp gasp from your lips as your body adjusted to the addition… in your ass, right where Seonghwa had been fucking you for a while. Wooyoung let out a low groan, his forehead pressing briefly against your shoulder as he steadied himself. “You feel… unreal,” he whispered, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Seonghwa, who had been quietly observing, started to thrust in sync with Wooyoung, filling you up. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice soft and commanding as his lips brushed your ear.

Wooyoung’s movements were slow at first, his hands steadying you as he found his rhythm.

The room was thick with heat, your body trembling as Yeosang and Hongjoong moved in sync, their rhythm pushing you closer to the edge. Their hands gripped you firmly, Yeosang’s nails digging into your waist while Hongjoong’s fingers tightened on your thighs. The pressure inside you was almost unbearable, but it only heightened the pleasure coursing through your body.

“Just like that,” Hongjoong groaned, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, his release spilling into you in hot waves. A cry ripped from your lips as Yeosang followed, his grip steadying you as he filled you to the brim, the sensation overwhelming.

Behind you, Wooyoung let out a low growl, his chest pressed against your back as Seonghwa whispered praises into your ear. Their movements were relentless, each thrust drawing out another moan from your trembling body.

“You’re perfect,” Seonghwa murmured, his voice strained as he sank deep inside you, his warmth joining Wooyoung’s as their releases filled you in unison. The sensation of both of them spilling into you left you breathless, your body tightening as your climax crashed over you in a wave of blinding pleasure.

A broken sob escaped your lips as you felt everything—every stretch, every pulse of warmth as they stayed inside you, their hands soothing you as you shuddered in their arms.

“S-so full,” you whimpered, your voice shaky as tears slipped down your cheeks, your body utterly spent yet tingling from the overwhelming sensation of being completely filled.

Their warmth surrounded you, grounding you as you came down from the high, your body still trembling but utterly sated.

The weight of San’s gaze lingered on you, dark and full of unspoken hunger. He stepped closer, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. “So needy,” he murmured, his voice low and full of heat. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his piercing stare. “One more round, sweetie. That’s it. Then you’re all mine.” His thumb brushed over your trembling lips as his tone dropped further. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you after watching this, you little slut.”

Before you could respond, San stepped back, and Mingi’s hands slid to your waist. He pulled you closer, his large palms steady and grounding as his lips found your neck. The soft press of his mouth left a warm trail, and the quiet groan he let out sent a shiver through you.

Behind you, Jongho’s touch was firmer, his hands gripping your hips as his breath fanned against your shoulder. He didn’t speak, but the heat of his presence and the deliberate press of his lips to your skin left you breathless.

“Just like that,” Yunho murmured, his deep voice a soothing contrast to the desperate need in his eyes. His fingers grazed along your jawline, tilting your face toward him.

You gasped softly, overwhelmed by the intensity of their touches and the way they surrounded you. San’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding yet dripping with a dark fondness. “Good girl,” he said, his tone rough as he leaned in to press a fleeting kiss to your temple. “Now let them have their moment, because after this…” His words trailed off, his smirk growing wider. “You’re mine.”

As the 3 boys started fucking you relentlessly, breaths mingling together and whines escaping your chest, they stopped suddenly. You didn't realise why until your sweet boyfriend stood right in front of you. San’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. “Stop.” The single word carried enough weight to make Mingi and Jongho halt mid-thrust, their movements freezing as their eyes turned to him. Yunho’s grip on your waist loosened slightly, though he stayed close, his breath still hot against your neck.

“You don’t get to finish yet,” San growled, stepping closer, his intense gaze boring into yours. His tone softened just slightly, but it was no less firm as he tilted your chin upward to meet his piercing eyes. “Not before them, and certainly not before me.”

You gasped softly, your breath hitching as his fingers traced your jawline, his possessive smirk returning. “You think I’m letting you come so easily?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a husky murmur. “No, darling. You’re gonna wait until I’m the one who pushes you over. I want you crying out my name, trembling and completely undone because of me. I want you so damn overstimulated you can’t even think of anyone else.”

San turned his sharp gaze to the others, his tone cool and deliberate. “You heard me. Keep her waiting.”

Mingi’s hands tightened on your hips, his grip grounding as his pace resumed, slow but deliberate. The low groans rumbling from his chest mingled with Yunho’s deep, steady breaths behind you. Jongho pressed closer, his lips brushing along your shoulder, his quiet growls sending shivers down your spine.

Their rhythm built together, their bodies perfectly in sync as your moans and cries filled the room. Mingi leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.

Yunho’s hands slid up your sides, steady and warm as his lips found the nape of your neck. The way his whines wrapped around you, combined with the desperate, broken groans from Jongho, sent waves of heat coursing through you.

Your cries grew louder as their movements became more erratic, each of them chasing their orgams with a fevered intensity. Mingi’s deep groan echoed through the room as he held you tighter, his body trembling against yours as he finally came. Jongho followed moments later, his grip on your hips firm as his own breathing hitched. Yunho’s orgasm was quieter but no less intense, his face buried in your neck as his chest heaved against your back.

You trembled in their arms, overwhelmed and breathless, when a familiar voice pierced through the haze.

San stepped forward, his movements purposeful, his shirt now entirely gone. “That’s enough,” he said, his voice low and commanding, drawing all attention to him. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, thoroughly undone and trembling from the intensity. “I told you she wasn’t finished yet.”

He scooped you into his arms effortlessly, his strength both steadying and overwhelming.

He stopped in front of the tall, ornate mirror that stood near the dining table, his reflection capturing his sharp gaze as he set you down gently on the edge of the table. “Look at yourself,” he commanded, his tone rough but laced with a dark sort of tenderness.

You blinked up at him, dazed, your reflection showing your flushed cheeks and trembling frame. San smirked, his hand tilting your chin so you wouldn’t look away. “You see that? That’s what I do to you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with possessive pride.

Before you could respond, he gently pushed you forward, your palms meeting the cool surface of the table as he pressed your body into it. His hand slid down your back, firm but reverent, as his other hand came to rest on your shoulder. “Keep watching,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “I want you to see exactly how I make you mine.”

The intensity of his words, the way he held you so effortlessly yet with complete control, sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. San’s reflection in the mirror was just as commanding as his presence behind you, his gaze locked onto yours as he slowly began to thrust into your dripping cunt.

Mingi, still catching his breath from nearby, let out a low chuckle. “San, you really don’t hold back, do you?”

San glanced over his shoulder briefly, his smirk growing darker. “Of course not. She doesn’t deserve anything less.” His attention returned to you, his voice dropping as he added, “And she wouldn’t want it any other way, would you, sweetheart?”

The only response you could manage was a breathless whimper, your reflection showing every ounce of the anticipation coursing through your body as San’s grip tightened, grounding you once more in his complete control.

San’s gaze darkened as his hand choked your face and neck down on the table, his strength grounding you even as your legs trembled under the weight of his presence. “Watch me,” he commanded, his voice low and rough, a blend of control and desire. His eyes flicked toward the others as he smirked. “Watch how my little slut lets me take everything from her, how much she trusts me to push her to her limits.”

His fingers trailed deliberately down your back, firm but reverent, sending a shiver coursing through you. The cool surface of the table pressed against your skin, contrasting with the heat radiating from his body as he leaned over you. “You’re mine,” he whispered into your ear, his tone soft yet charged with unrelenting intensity. “And you’ll show them exactly how good you are for me.”

The table creaked under the pressure as San started pounding into you, a silent promise of what was to come. His hand slid to your shoulder, steadying you, his thumb brushing soothing circles into your skin as his other hand started to slowly tangle in your messed up hair.

Your breath caught as he bent down, his lips brushing just below your ear. “Don’t you dare look away,” he murmured, his voice sending a rush of anticipation through you. “I want you to see everything. Every moment. Every second of what I do to you.”

Your reflection in the mirror revealed the truth—the flushed heat of your cheeks, the dazed look in your eyes as you nodded, overwhelmed by his intensity. San’s smirk deepened, his possessiveness evident in every movement as he fucked you, ensuring you felt every ounce of his unwavering focus.

The tension in the room was palpable, each sound amplified as the others watched, their breaths mingling with yours. San’s hold on you remained steady, his thrusts getting sloppier, deeper, more purposeful.

“S-San..!” you cried out, tears pricking at your eyes as he hit your cervix, the roughness of it all sending you over the edge. His hand hovered underneath you, feeling up your belly. As he bottomed down as deep as he was able, stretching you the fuck out, he could feel his cock softly bulging in your lower belly. He let out a satisfied sigh, smiling in the mirror as he saw your eyes teary.

“Yes.. that's it, slut. Scream my damn name.” San said as his pace grew faster and deeper, table creaking under his force. “I thought you'd be all loosened up from the boys fucking you at the same time but damn… their cocks ain't competing with mine. Is that right, darling?” he smirked, looking in your eyes in the mirror as he heard the boys complain in the background.

“Y'all better shut your mouths if you don't want me to give you a reason to complain.” he said between thrusts and they nodded, defeat visible in their eyes.

“Tell me, slut. You're close, is that right?” The way your breath hitches… and the way you desperately arch your back against the hardwood.. “

“San..S-San.. please. P-please.. -ah!” you moaned out as he jerked your head upwards by your hair. His thrusts grew erratic, your head dizzy from his power. He pounded in you a few times before filling you up with his huge load of cum, your walls clenching around his huge cock. Right after him you cry out in pleasure as your orgasm washes over you, tears streaming down your cheeks and on the table. You squirted all over the table under you as he slowed down and then pulled out, lifting you up in his embrace and watched you come undone.

“Damn.. I didn't know Boss is this fucking rough with her.” Yunho said, surprised at the power he fucked you with.

“Yeah but.. the princess seems to enjoy it, too.” Yeosang added, the other boys nodding in agreement.

“Everyone had their way, right? Now, all, get out and get washed. Y'all know we have a busy schedule tomorrow. I'll take care of my girl.” San ordered and watched the boys leave his home before bringing you to the shower, talking you through it.

He asked you all sorts of questions. How was it, if you liked it… how did it feel. If you were scared for even a moment or if you doubted him. All these questions made you grow fonder of him, but you were too spent to answer everything in detail. He washed you and himself up and went to bed with you, cuddling and stroking your hair until you fell asleep.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz

[lilacs-stars]

burning passion of twilight

this is part 2, recommended you read part 1 first! (to avoid confusion) pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is ariel's daughter and a mermaid) SUMMARY: as an enemy of the infamous pirate captain starts making advances on you, you are caught between the waves of your lover and the beaming rays of light given to you by another. GENRE: yandere, quite a bit of angst, comforting fluff at the end, a touch of spice CW: a bit of cursing, mentions of violence (sword fight, small injuries, threats), mentions of blood (just a few cuts), lots of hurt moments (from arguing), reader gets harassed, jealousy, possessiveness, suggestive material at the end, also uses of the word 'lover' instead of boyfriend or girlfriend because it fit the setting more WC: 5.5k (did I go overboard? ...maybe)

A/N: me? obsessed with this man? yes, yes I am. the things I felt when writing this...ahhh we love ourselves a jealous man. shoutout to everyone who read and supported part 1, I really didn't think people would actually enjoy reading my writing loll. I know this one is kinda long, so please bear with me. also thanks once again to the anon who requested this, this was a super fun idea to do! all feedback and suggestions are highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts!

“…and then, out of nowhere, BAM! The entire thing explodes!” cries a boy not much older than you, with ginger hair and dressed in a simple green button-up shirt. 

Your entire table erupts in laughter, with you sparing a small giggle. It is early morning, and you are sitting with your usual group in the dining hall. You’re only close friends with a few of them, and merely friendly acquaintances with the others. After all, you aren’t really the extroverted, talkative type. Not like the boy retelling the story of how he pranked the headmaster last quarter, somehow with the same enthusiasm as the first ten times he told it. 

Peter Pan is one of the members of your large group that you aren’t really close with. Although he is considered to be on the “good” side of the hero-villain spectrum, he sure has his mischievous side. 

He is also incredibly extroverted, chatting up anyone he lays his eyes on. Which is why you've always chalked up his attempts to start a conversation with you to his gregarious personality, and nothing more. 

Still, you try your best not to get too close to him. Although James has never directly said anything about him to you, you can sense that there’s some…tension between them. Although he tries to act discreet, you’ve still caught on to the way James glowers at Pan whenever you’re with your group—although he doesn’t take much action, as villains and heroes don’t really mix. How he slips his arm around your waist and pulls you in tight whenever he catches sight of Pan, and even the few times he’s used his hook to pull you into a kiss right in front of the person who appears to be his enemy. Not to mention how he always happens to find you with some urgent matter or other that desperately needs your attention whenever you and Pan are having—or trying to have—a conversation. Although, now that you think about it, James does do that quite often whenever you speak to any guy besides him. 

Pan catches your eye from across the table, and you can tell he’s waiting for some sort of reaction for his latest joke. You give a polite smile, not really knowing what they had been talking about anyways, and turn away to chat with one of your friends. Whatever’s going on between those two, you don’t care, and you sure don’t want to ruffle any feathers. 

Your morning class this semester is Potions and Elixirs 101, in which you happen, by some cruel stroke of fate, to be seated next to the one and only Peter Pan. What is especially annoying about this class—or rather, about your table partner—is that you always end up doing most of the work yourself, being the only one out of your duo that actually listens to instructions. 

The teacher explains how today, your class will be making Shanty Serum, an anti-seasickness remedy. After he goes over the requirements a dozen times, you finally set off on the mission of brewing the potion, which is always done in a pair with your table mate. 

Everything is going fine, of course; you crush the siren teeth into a fine powder, and Pan, following your careful instructions, manages to brew the kraken saliva until it comes to a soft boil. Just as you reach the final steps, you crinkle your nose as a strange smoky odor fills your senses. You look up from your textbook to see your potion, which you worked so hard on, bubbling and overflowing from the cauldron. 

“Ah, I’m so sorry professor! I could have sworn I only put in two unicorn hairs!” Pan cries, jumping back to avoid getting purple goo all over himself. You shoot him a glare, and he adds on, “And I’m sorry to you too, Y/N! I really am!”

You sigh and shake your head, flipping through your textbook to find the page where it explains how to counter excess unicorn hair. Through a bit of luck and a decent amount of skill, you manage to save your potion and not get a terrible grade on it, either. 

The last few minutes of class, Pan walks up to you. “Look, Y/N, I’m really sorry about earlier. I know you tried really hard to get the potion right, and I just messed it up. God, I’m such a clutz.” He scratches the back of his head as he looks down at his shoes sheepishly. “Hey, but if you’ll let me, I can make it up to you! Say, you got any plans Friday night?”

His eyes light up as he looks at you with a puppy-dog gaze, and your heart melts a little at his attempt for redemption. But then again, you did promise yourself to keep a good distance from him…

“I-I’m, uhm, well, I was planning to study that night,” you say, which isn’t really much of a lie. “I mean, with midterms coming up and whatnot,” you tack on with a bit of an awkward laugh. 

“Saturday night?” Pan pushes, eyes still alight with hope. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m, uh, I’m going out with friends that night. But maybe some other time?” you flash him an apologetic smile, guilt gnawing at your insides as a result of pushing him away. Honestly, you don’t know why James has it out for the poor guy. He seems like the friendly sort to you. 

You quickly duck away and move to the other side of the classroom, deciding to meet up with some friends to get away from the stifling silence between the two of you. Deep down, you knew you wouldn't be able to resist Pan’s offer if you had stayed behind to see the disappointed, rejected look on his face. Still, you couldn’t help but glance back at his direction, feeling endlessly shameful for your cold actions. 

You thought that would be the end of that, but little did you realize, in that moment, how wrong you were.

School finally lets out and the afternoon rolls around again, which means you stand patiently waiting in the courtyard again for James. You pace around the water fountain, fingers lightly tracing along the rim, humming a tune under your breath. 

This fountain has always reminded you of the sea, the rolling waves of the ocean, how the cold water brushes against your skin while it hugs you in a tight embrace. Just thinking about swimming makes your legs ache to morph back into a tail and take off into the blue depths. The worst part about going to the Academy, in your opinion, is that it’s so far from any bodies of water that the only times you get to finally enjoy yourself in your mermaid form is when you’re off for the holidays.

Just as you make your way halfway around the fountain, you see something move on the other side of the water out of the corner of your eye. “Y/N?” a voice calls out. 

You walk back around the fountain to be met with… “Pan?” you ask, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I saw you come this way after school, and um, I’ve been feeling really bad the whole day for how I screwed up in P&E earlier,” he explains earnestly. “And so, I was thinking, I really want to make sure that I don’t mess up like that again. For both your sake, and my grades’.” He gives a little chuckle at his joke, before straightening his face out again.

“So, uhm, I was wondering, would you be willing to help me out? You don’t have to fully tutor me or anything, but maybe help me study and give me a few tips?”

There it is again. That spark of hope in his eyes. And honestly, how could you turn him down twice? After how sincerely he apologized earlier, and now with how he’s still thinking of you and trying to prevent himself from causing more trouble. You may have your priorities when it comes to relationships, but you still have morals, too. And there is absolutely no way you can reject him again, especially when he’s so desperate to improve. 

“Well…yeah, all right. I’ll help you out,” you say, trying to force a smile on your face. 

Pan beams, excitement lighting up his features. “Wow, really? Thanks so much, Y/N! You won’t regret it, I swea—”

Pan’s eyes quickly dart to a point above your head, perhaps catching a glimpse of something behind you. Whatever the cause, he stops dead in the middle of his sentence, face dropping. He goes pale for a second, before morphing his features into a hard and cold gaze. Shocked, you turn around to see what could have caused such a sudden change in his demeanor. 

And lo and behold, behind you stands a dark, glowering James, still half-concealed by the shadows behind him. He holds Pan’s cold gaze menacingly with a dark, furious, yet somehow misleadingly calm look of his own. Then, with no warning, he stomps towards you, ensnaring your arm within his hook as he drags you away. You barely catch his grumbled “Come on, we’re leaving” as you stumble backwards from his tug, practically running to keep up with his wide strides. 

He leads you down a number of empty corridors and doesn’t let you go until you finally reach a deserted staircase. The second he stops hauling you away from the courtyard, you yank your arm back to your side, panting from the difficulty of keeping up with him. 

James spins sharply on his heel, angry glare locked with your confused, half-mad, half-hurt gaze. 

“Care to tell me what the hell all that was about, love?” he snarls. Darkness swirls around in his vicious eyes, deep and unrelenting like the crashing waves of the ocean, and equally as violent.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” you spit back. 

“What the hell does Peter Pan want to do with you?”

“First of all, he’s my partner in Potions,” you reply heatedly, trying your best to hold back the angry tears you can feel already forming in your eyes. “And he was asking if I could help him study. As an apology for messing up earlier today. What’s so wrong with that?”

James laughs darkly, muttering, “Damn it, that bastard,” under his breath. He rocks his head back and forth, pairing it with a wicked, twisted smile that sends cold chills down your spine.

“I don’t understand what’s so wrong with that!” you cry out, feeling hot tears already start to trickle down your face. 

“Don’t you see?” spits James, taking a step towards you and waving his hook wildly in some form of gesture. “He’s trying to steal you from me!”

At this, you recoil, blinking slowly. You can feel the emotions simmering in you, deep down. The calm before the storm. 

“Steal me? From you? Steal me?” you ask, the emotions and fury building inside you like a rising wave. You take a step back from him, your voice rising. 

“Look, Pan and I may not be mates, but I know him well,” James snaps, clearly pissed. “And I can tell you right now that he doesn’t have any good intentions towards you.”

“Steal me? Like I’m some sort of treasure to be claimed? Like I’m an object?” you cry out, exasperated and relentless.

Something flashes across James’s eyes for a split second, some emotion or thought that is rather undecipherable. His features soften slightly, reminiscent of how he was when you sang for him under the moonlight not so long ago. As if his rational mind is finally catching up to his emotional words, his face falls, furrowed brows loosen a bit, and the cold anger in his eyes gives way to a more tender side of him. Maybe if you looked hard enough, you could also see a hint of regret laced in there. 

“No, I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that,” he calls out after you. But it’s too late; you’re already running down the empty hall, away from James. Away from all your problems. 

You’re half-asleep when you show up to Potions and Elixirs 101 the next morning. After your fight yesterday with James, you simply couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. It’s the first time you two fought like this, and you honestly don’t know what to do or how to feel. Sure, you’re still angry at him for the way he acted, but at the same time, you miss his comforting embrace, his soft laughs, the touch of his skin against yours. 

You sit down at your assigned table, trying your best to ignore the ginger next to you. Today, you’re taking notes on a lecture the teacher is giving, so you thankfully won’t have to do much talking to Pan. 

You make sure to listen as intently as possible to the professor, wanting to fill your mind with something other than thoughts of your argument earlier. You pay attention to taking notes so closely that you nearly forget all about your problems. That is, until you’re reminded again at the end of class, as you’re putting your things away alongside everyone else. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Pan asks from beside you. 

“Yeah?” you reply, feigning nonchalance. You make sure to keep your head down as you stuff your notebook into your bag. Oh, please let this be about the homework we were just assigned and nothing else. 

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday.”

Well, damn it. 

You think about giving a quick response to end the conversation, but in all honesty, you don’t really know if he expects you to accept his apology, or give one of your own. You aren't quite sure who is in the wrong here, but you are sure of one thing: saying the wrong thing will not do you any favors in solving your problems.

“What about yesterday?” You try to keep your tone light, as if it’s all water under the bridge, but you can’t help the apprehensiveness that leaks into your voice. 

“Well, I wanted to apologize if I was interrupting something between you two back there,” Pan starts.

You give him a small, apologetic smile, “No, don’t worry, you weren’t interrupting anything,”

“In that case…” Pan runs a hand through his hair as he lets out a quick exhale, before locking eyes with you and asking, “Why are you still with him?”

His blunt question startles you, sending your mind reeling for a response. “I-I don’t know…I just am,” you say, wishing this conversation would be over already. You had never been a big fan of difficult questions that made you doubt everything you knew, or thought you knew, about yourself. 

“He treats you terribly. I’ve seen the way he acts. He’s a terrible lover, Y/N.”

You turn to face Pan directly, a defensive glint in your eye at his accusatory tone. “No, he’s not!” You turn away again as you mumble a small, “And he’s not my lover.”

At this, Pan quirks an eyebrow and gives you a look with a very obvious meaning behind it. “Oh please, have you never seen how he is around you? Of course he’s your lover.” Without missing a beat, Pan tacks on, “And a shitty one at that.”

You huff angrily, but you can’t think of anything to shoot back at him besides blatant denials. Pan must have taken this as an offer to continue, because he steps forward and places a gentle hand on your upper arm. 

“I’m saying this because I care about you, Y/N. You deserve someone a lot better than the likes of James Hook. Someone who will treat you right, take you out on dates whenever you want, and proudly walk around in public with your hand in theirs. Not someone who only meets up with you after school so nobody sees and acts like you don’t exist half the time.”

Your anger only grows at his words, knowing that his accusations aren’t true and that James does care about you…right? Because underneath the part of you that is always ready to defend James entirely and completely, is a part of you that doubts it, doubts him. It’s always been there, lingering in the back of your mind ever since your unusual relationship started to blossom. And now, with a new layer of hurt and confusion having been peeled back during your fight last night, that part of you wondered, deep down, if Pan was right. 

“You need a better lover, Y/N,” Pan continues. “Someone who truly cares about you. Someone…someone like me.”

Your eyes blow wide at his revelation as your mouth parts slightly in shock. You take a step backwards, shrugging off Pan’s hand as you stumble away from him. 

“Wait, please, just hear me out,” he pleads. “Just give me one chance. One chance to prove myself to you. You gave Hook a chance when you started trusting him, didn’t you? And he’s a villain. So why can’t you give me a chance? You won’t regret it, I promise.” He moves closer to you and you keep inching away, until your back collides with a wall and you realize that you have nowhere to run. 

Pan continues forward, your fear skyrocketing at his increasing proximity. “Please?” he begs. “I could treat you right. So much better than Hook.”

He finally reaches you, standing far closer than you would have normally let him, or anyone else, for that matter, as he cups your cheek with his left hand. Truth be told, it feels nice to sense warm flesh on your skin instead of the cold, harsh metal of James’s hook. But you shake that thought away almost instantly, chastising yourself for, even for a moment, putting Pan above James. 

Pan places his free hand on the wall next to your head and leans in even closer. “Please?” he whispers, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. 

The feeling of his exhale, paired with his natural scent that you only smell now when he’s this close, takes you back to that day when you first met James. He had leaned in too, whispering in your ear. You had felt his breath on your skin, breathed in his scent.

You feel an odd sense of deja vu, but for some reason, this interaction causes your heart to race out of pure fear, rather than the exhilarating rush you felt when you were with James. The realization causes you to snap out of your trance and go into full-on panic mode. “N-no, I’m sorry, I…”

Pan growls, not backing away. “Come one! How come you gave a villain a chance and you won’t give me one? That’s not fair!”

Your breathing quickens in pace, the panic settling over you and dragging you deep under like a wave at sea. Your palms start sweating profusely, and you can hear your heart racing a thousand miles a minute. You’re pretty sure this is what people mean when they mention one’s fight or flight response. 

“No! Just, just leave me alone!” you cry, ducking under his arm and rushing away from him just as the bell rings. You run into the hallway, trying to put as much distance between you and him as possible. 

You finally make it to the dining hall, plopping down at a table far away from your usual spot. You don’t care if you have to eat alone; anything to get away from Pan. Your mind is already wandering to thoughts of how to convince your Potions and Elixirs teacher to let you switch seats when you notice a lot of commotion next to the entrance of the dining hall. 

People have started crowding around the doors and murmuring to each other. Curious, you get up from your seat, wandering over to see what’s causing the commotion. As you near, you hear distant shouting and the sound of metallic clinking. You move even closer still, and finally catch snippets of people’s conversations.

“...fighting…”

“over…girl…” “Wait, who’s winning?”

“...did you see that?” “Oh my god…he’s gonna kill him!”

You try to stand up straight to get a look at what's causing the commotion, but the large crowd that has amassed blocks everything from view. “What’s going on?” you ask, not really to anyone in particular.

“Didn’t you hear?” a short, round boy, with big glasses to match his wide eyes answers. You recognize him as Smee from some of your classes. “James Hook is fighting a duel against Peter Pan!”

James…fighting…what? You blink in absolute disbelief. There is no way this is happening right now.

You manage to push your way to the front of the crowd, albeit not without many disgruntled mumbles thrown your way, until you get a clear view of the corridor in front of the dining hall.

You stand there, petrified, as you watch. Hell, it is really happening. James and Pan each have their swords unsheathed and are violently swinging them at each other’s heads, parrying the other’s attacks with deafening clashes of steel.

“You bastard!” James yells, taking another swing at Pan.

Pan jumps back, floating a few feet in the air as he does so, with a laugh. “Oh please, all I wanted to do was treat her right. Unlike you.”

James grits his teeth, countering Pan’s blow with one of his own. “You tried to steal my girl!”

Pan rolls his eyes, continuing the back-and-forth between their swords. “Your girl? As she said herself, you’re not even her lover.” James ducks down to avoid Pan’s latest attack. “Ha, how amusing indeed.” A dark glint shines in his eye as he lets out a cold and malicious laugh, before charging forward once again. “Of course I’m her lover, you bilge-sucking scoundrel! She belongs to me!”

Your eyes grow impossibly wider at those words. It shouldn’t come as much of a shock to you as it does; after all, it’s not like you and James haven’t been acting like a couple for the past few months. But still, you had managed to convince yourself that it was nothing serious, since he had never once directly talked about what you were. And hearing him say it out loud…declaring to the whole school that you were his…it made your heart feel unspeakable things.

“Well, you sure as hell don’t act that way,” Pan bites back, nicking James’s cheek. James recoils for a second, raising his hook to his face and wiping at the gash. He looks down at it, and from your front-row seat you can see the blood smeared against the glistening metal. 

James looks back up at Pan, raises his cutlass, and resumes the fight with a new vigor. Every hit more violent than the last, every offensive move aiming at a critical point. “I’m gonna kill you!” James yells as he lands a blow on Pan’s right arm. 

This gash seems rather deep—far deeper than the one previously inflicted on James—the blood already leaking out and staining Pan’s sleeve. He winces and steps back, but continues the fight. 

You stand there, motionless, too afraid to do anything. Maybe a braver person than you would step in, tell them to stop fighting. But your feet remain planted to the floor, your jaw aching from being clenched so hard as you pray for no one to get seriously hurt.

Pan parries one of James’s attacks and does a quick spin, rapidly gaining momentum with his sword as he turns around and aims the blade…

…directly at James’s head.

A small whimper escapes your throat as the roar of metal hitting metal echoes through the hall. You gasp, heart in your hands, as your eyes take a moment to register the scene in front of you.

James has caught Pan’s blade in the curve of his hook, holding it just inches away from his head. Their arms tremble with strain, with Pan trying to break James’s defense and slash through his neck, and James fighting to prevent him from doing so. They lock eyes, an endless, unspoken conversation passing between them in that moment. Pan’s sword inches closer to James’s head, whose back is bent as he struggles to hang on. 

With a sudden swoosh, James yanks his hook in a downward motion, spinning Pan’s sword inside of its arch. A terrible screech sounds at the rubbing of metal against metal as the sword gets wriggled free from Pan's grasp. James jerks his hook backwards, and the sword launches out of his opponent's hands.

The entire audience lets out a collective gasp as Pan’s sword lands with a clang! against the rough marble floors, off to the side. Everyone is dead silent, holding their breaths with anticipation of what’s to come.

You watch as the realization of his defeat dawns upon Pan, the fear blossoming in his eyes as James extends his cutlass to Pan’s throat. He presses the sharp tip into his neck, lightly enough not to break skin, but still firmly so no one, not even Pan, doubts his opponent's defeat.

“Apologize,” James demands, voice booming across the corridor, tone rather befitting for the captain of a ship.

“I-I’m sorry!” Pan pleas, just now aware of what a dangerous predicament he had gotten himself into.

“Not to me, you moron. To her.” James jerks his head backwards to where you’re standing, in the front of the audience, eyes blown wide. 

Pan turns to face you, eyes locking with yours amidst the crowd. “I’m sorry! Truly, I am! Please, forgive me!” he cries.

James snarls, pulling his sword back, poised to strike a lethal blow. He thrusts his hand forward, straight towards Pan’s chest…

…but doesn’t ever reach it.

Everyone watches, confused—James more so than anyone else—as his hand remains suspended in midair. A soft blue force field shimmers around his arm, just as loud footsteps and an old, yet assertive, voice fills the hall.

“Fighting on school grounds is strictly against school policy, you know.” The headmaster, Merlin, walks in from the opposite side of the hall. His steps echo loudly against the high ceilings, filling the otherwise dead-silent area. “Boys, you come with me. The rest of you, get to your classes.”

The crowd slowly disperses as Merlin whisks James and Pan away. You still stand there, feet glued to the floor, watching their backs until they disappear from sight.

You didn’t see neither James nor Pan in your classes for the rest of the day, and you assumed you wouldn’t be seeing them for a while. The headmaster was generally a kind soul, but he was strict when it came to breaking rules. You didn’t know what punishment he had come up with for them, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Which is why you’re rather surprised when you open your locker at the end of the day to find a note flutter out and land at your feet. Curious, you pick it up and read it. “Meet me at our spot after school. -J.”

A small grin makes its way across your face, although you try your best to help it. You don’t know why, but reading James’s little notes always brings you joy, even if you are in a tight spot with him. 

You make your way to the courtyard, where James is waiting for you by the water fountain once again.

“Y/N,” he says, voice back to being gentle and soft. You open your mouth to respond, but he puts his hook against your lips, quieting you. “I need to get this out first before you yell at me.”

“I wanted to see you to apologize for my actions. After hearing what Pan said…” His eyes wander down to the ground as a grimace spreads across his features. “I’ve come to the realization that he’s right, love.”

You raise your eyebrows at his statement, shocked at the confession. Cocking you head to the side, you wait for him to continue.

“I haven’t been treating you the way I should. And that is going to change, starting today. I also have to ask for your forgiveness for my actions earlier…it was wrong for me to get upset at you for speaking to Pan. But seeing you act so kindly to my enemy…it really struck something inside of me.”

“James,” you breathe, lifting his hook up to your cheek and placing your hand on top of it. “It’s fine, I forgive you.”

“Even for dueling Pan?”

You let out a small giggle. “Yes, that too. Although, I must admit, I did find you fighting for me to be kind of attractive.”

“Oh?” James asks with an intrigued smile dancing on his lips. He uses his free hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. “Then I suppose I’ll have to start more fights then.”

You giggle again, happy to finally be in your lover’s arms. Truth be told, you had mentally forgiven him long ago. Ever since the night of your argument, you had just wished it would all end, that you two would go back to the way things were.

“Why...why did you start that fight with Pan?” you ask, the question having been on your mind for a while.

James slowly lets out a breath before responding. “Let’s just say, a little birdie told me of how he harassed you in class earlier today. The thought of him putting his hands on you…making you uncomfortable…it was just unbearable, love. I don't care what it cost me; he had to pay for what he did.”

You process this, giving a small nod. Although you don’t quite agree with his methods, you still find his protectiveness endearing.

“I have something to ask you, as well, darling,” James inquires. You meet his gaze, signaling for him to go on. “Did you really say that I wasn’t your lover?”

“I, well, uh…” your voice trails off. You were hoping that he hadn't quite caught that when Pan said it, but apparently he had. Glancing back up at James’s face, you wish you didn’t see the pain etched into his features, all but hidden by the mask he always puts up.

“Well…” you start. “You never said anything about us officially dating, and I didn’t want to presume…” You look down at your shoes, avoiding his burning stare.

James removes his hook from your cheek and slips it under your chin, gently tilting your head upwards towards him. “And here I thought that it was so obvious, I didn’t even need to mention it to you, my little mermaid.”

You give a small grin, finally at peace within your lover’s arms. “You can never be too sure,” you whisper, leaning in and intertwining your lips with his in a passionate kiss, the intensity building around the two of you.

James takes a few steps backwards as you lean into him, still locked in your embrace, his leg hitting the stone of the water fountain you two love to meet at. He maneuvers his way down and sits on the rim, pulling you on his lap. 

You wrap your arms around his torso, straddling his thighs. James puts his good hand on your waist, using his hook to pull you in by the collar of your shirt. You moan softly, the sound melodious as your rampant emotions spark the magical abilities inside you, one hand leaving his back and creeping inside his loose shirt.

You open your mouth as he slips his tongue inside, gently rocking on his legs. A groan escapes his lips as you rub your fingertips along the bare skin of his chest, moving lower to trace his rather well-defined abs. He moves his good hand down to your leg, gripping it tightly as he continues kissing you with a deep fervor. Everywhere he touches, he leaves a trail of fire on your skin. Your body ignites at even the slightest of brushes, a blaze consuming you inside and out.

Which is why when he raises his hook and brushes your cheek with the cold metal, the feeling is all-too welcomed. You nearly melt as your mind completely blanks, your senses overwhelmed. James doesn’t quite understand why his small gesture elicits such a reaction from you—you were now kissing him and moving with much more rigor than before—but he revels in the way you make him feel. You, on the other hand, get lost in the sharp contrast the coolness of his hook provides to your burning cheek, the inferno that swells around you ever-growing as you continue to have a passionate night with your lover.

The moon has its cycles, coming and going. When it disappears at the first rays of dawn, the tides yearn for its alluring and familiar presence yet again. And although it may seem like an eternity away, nightfall always comes, bringing with it the gentle serenity of being with the one you belong with.

You think back to the question you asked yourself not so long ago, If you could go back, would you change what happened, that fateful day you met James? In that moment, you decide, no, you wouldn’t. Because the life you have right now is the only one your heart will ever yearn for.

end x

<- back to part 1

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[drgnflyteabox]

red ochre [5]

series masterlist previous || part five -> kermes || part six -> madder

> summary: big nun, little nun > tags/warnings: guilt, religious / moral turmoil, stockholm syndrome, child abuse (past), scars, simon returns, corruption (past), misogyny (past), whipping (past), blood, suffering (past mostly), power imbalance, freeze response (past), guilt, dissociation, dom/sub dynamics, we're learning consent (kinda? eeh), violent imagery, dubcon/noncon, vaginal fingering, choking, throat grab

When Johnny asks how it felt to go from there – the convent, you think he means – to here, you can only describe it as dunking your hands into ice water. 

Shocking, painful, and prickling all over.

He only says hm, and moves on. His face is pensive. You don’t tell him that sometimes, you wake up and aren’t in the water anymore.

Even in prayer, you hadn’t thought as much as you had since you’d been taken. Hadn’t worried as much. Teachings from adults since youth had told you that everybody was inherently sinful, even children.

So why is the community around you so happy without God? They have their own, you know this, but the multitude of them and their roles in divine hierarchy aren’t necessarily about absolute power.

There are woman-Gods, Gods without designations, Gods for the earth and the children and unions between people. You find it hard to continue calling them heretics, devils, when they’re really just people. Different, yes, strange and incomprehensible, but people nonetheless.

Heathens, you try to think. Heathens, devils. They took you

You wonder when the last time you thought of yourself as just a person was, when you weren’t a thing set within a rigid mold, beaten down in more ways than one.

On the eve of Simon's return you catch Johnny doing something secretive. He's hunched over the table, the tip of his tongue stuck out of his mouth in concentration. The soft sound of scraping, of wood gently knocking is all you can hear over the fire.

“What's that?” you ask, when your curiosity gets the best of you.

Johnny turns, one eye squinted, the every picture of concentration. He holds up a carved figure – a woman, it looks like. Ah, it’s you. Though hard to tell, the woman wears a veil and sits on a chair, hunched.

Your veil. You’d nearly forgotten what it felt like. It used to be a weight, heavy and pressing, a shackle. Now you miss the safety of not feeling so exposed all the time.

Somewhere in the journey here it had been lost, or maybe thrown overboard. Your habit, too, replaced for the woolen Viking-style dresses bought and bartered for by Simon and Johnny. Even you have to admit you enjoy the colours more, even if the conformity of the convent felt safe.

“How long were you watching me?” you breathe, eyes wide and still staring.

“Not long, lamb,” he smiles disarmingly. “Ah just remember ye, sittin’ pretty.”

“Working on the tapestry,” you correct him, though it doesn’t really matter.

He looks back down to his little figure, pensive.

“Ah guess so,” he says jovially.

“It was my punishment,” you add. This probably matters even less, but the clash of worlds has thrown you off balance. You feel unbearably present, unbearably lucid.

I was a nun, you think. Am I still a nun?

“Punishment?” he frowns. “Ah thought they struck ye?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes I had to work extra hard.”

“Like a bairn?”

“A what?”

“A child, lamb,” he smiles again.

You look into the fire, thinking. Punishment applied to everyone, not just children, no? Even Simon and Johnny had punished you. But who had given them the right? Had you, with your secret want? Your secret lustful sin?

“You punished me,” you settle on.

“Aye, we did,” he nods. “Ye needed it.”

“Then why do you… ah, disparage the church for doing the same?”

He turns to you.

“Ah think ye got it all wrong,” he says simply. “We don’t give it to ye to make ye hurt. Aren’t ye better after? Righted?”

Righted. That’s a word worth its weight in gold. As is the truth of his words, but you stay quiet and look into the fire instead of responding.

You take up Johnny’s offer to spend time with Kari. Johnny walks you there, holds your hand in the cold and blows hot air on them as you wait together outside their door.

When Gaz opens it, he hoots and hollers as if the frigid air outside has no effect on him, as if his inner warmth and naturally excitable disposition is no match for the cold.

You have to admire that. At least a little.

“Hi there,” Gaz says to you, a greeting softer than the one he gave Johnny.

“Hello,” you try to subtly peek inside, “it’s… nice to see you.”

He doesn’t take offence to your awkward, stilted attempt at politeness. Maybe he knows you’re not quite comfortable here, to put it lightly, and only claps your shoulder gently to pull you in.

“Have fun!” Johnny shouts, already leaving, “and give me my wife back in one piece!”

That makes you sheepish, but you try to ignore your feelings in favour of moving towards Kari and the little baby, Tyra.

“Hello again,” she greets, smiling. The baby stares at you, babbles ceasing as if she’s seeing you for the first time. Her little head swings towards her mother, hiding despite her clear curiosity.

“You’ve met me before,” you say softly, trying valiantly not to frighten her as you take a seat opposite to Kari.

“She’s feeling shy lately,” Kari looks down and tuts, swiping a thumb over Tyra’s chubby cheek, “needs her mama.”

Weaving here is not much different than weaving at the convent. Once you get the basics down, you’re threading dyed wool into cloth astride Kari.

Some spirit of confidence grips you.

“Will you tell me anything about Simon and Johnny?”

“About-” she lifts her head, “Simon and Johnny? Don’t they speak to you?”

“They - do,” you rush to assure her, though your voice maintains a weary unsureness.

Luckily for you, she gives you a small but comforting smile over the wool.

“You’re looking for an outside opinion? That’s okay, lovely girl, I just might not know as much about them as my husband does,” she gestures with her chin towards Gaz, who walks towards you both.

“What d’you need to know?” he asks casually, sidling up to Kari affectionately, “think they’ll be able to answer better than me.”

“I only really know… what I’ve seen. I haven’t…” your mouth twists as you trail off, frustration germinating as you struggle. Right, you can commit sins of the flesh but you can’t ask a question to sate curiosity — one which might be the difference between surviving and not surviving.

Knowledge is important, after all. Powerful. You think of Eve, who doomed humanity for it, naked as the day she was born and as clueless as Adam yet ate the apple anyway.

“I know they’re… warriors,” you pause, “since they’re all scarred, but—“

“Well, not necessarily—” Kari starts, until Gaz puts a palm on her thigh and gives her a look you can’t discern. 

“That’s not something we should share,” Gaz says tightly, but kindly.

“How else..?” you frown.

Tyra stirs, and Kari gives Gaz another look.

“Simon’s father used to be chief,” she lifts the babe back into her lap, patting, cooing, “it’s not a nice story, but if you need it to understand them better then I don’t mind telling it.”

“I want to know about them,” you insist, trying to push past the sense of danger, the sense that you’ll be hurt or killed for toeing out of line.

Testing the elasticity of safety here perhaps isn’t wise, but testing it might be what you need to settle. Knowing where the boundaries are, what’s expected, where they come from… you wonder if you’ll doom everybody, like Eve.

“Believe it or don’t, but we’ve only just rekindled the hunts, the raids. How it should be,” she starts.

Gaz sighs, leaning back where he’s sitting. You assume his hesitance is out of loyalty for his comrades, but you choose tentatively to ignore him in favour of his wife.

“We had a lazy, drunken leader,” Kari continues, “Simon’s father inherited the title through lineage, not through prowess as is… more natural to us.”

You nod slowly, trying to imagine. In the church, such things were often gained with corruption: any wealthy lords’ son could rise high in the ranks, if he had the money and means.

The convent had somewhat of a similar issue, though the women were ‘married’ into the church and the power rested in the hands of their families. 

Such was the world.

Not always, but you’d heard of it often enough. One of the abbots of the monastery in the closest town had been the son of an affluent donator, and thus received power of authority over the other monks.

“To make a long story short, and more respectful to Simon—” Gaz looks at her then “—his father was needlessly cruel both to his own children, his wife, and to those he was responsible for.”

“So, those scars…?”

“Some are from fighting, of course. But usually, no one’s getting close enough to those two to land that kind of damage. I’m sure you can fill in the rest.”

Gaz butts in here,  “or, you can ask him yourself.”

“How did that woman, I forgot her name, come to be chief?” you frown in thought.

Gaz takes over again, his hand dragging up from the small of his wife's back and squeezing her nape. It’s as much of a warning as you’ve seen, though it’s quiet and Kari looks sheepish, not afraid, “Kate challenged him.”

“A challenge?” you frown, “such as?”

“A fight to the death.”

“Oh,” your lips close, and thin, and your eyebrows fly up. “I didn’t realize… I mean, violence is…”

They don’t do you the courtesy of filling in for you, so you go silent and the air settles.

Johnny picks you up later, when you’ve helped Kari with a big portion of her weaving. You love the threads, the dyeing process. It’s meditative.

“Good ?” Johnny nudges your side, slipping a hand to just above your waist, fingers tickling the side of your breast.

“Yes,” and it’s honest.

He walks you home, hand in hand, and cannot stop talking about Simon's return.

“Ah’ve never been without him this long,” he rambles over the fire, stirring a potato soup, “think yer gonnae be witness to something dirty. Sorry, lamb.”

Only he’s grinning, and he’s not sorry, and you can see the front of his pants begin to tent.

Johnny later offers you that very same sin, tilting his hips towards you and swinging his cock obscenely, cheekily. You do not take him up on it despite the smolder that begins between your legs – you simply turn, and try to sleep through the sounds of his self-abuse.

Simon returns without much fanfare, slipping into the house with a seemingly practiced silence. He moves like a ghost.

Johnny doesn't wake yet, sleeping like an affectionate log behind you.

His gaze meets yours, as impassive as always, framed in a halo of white winter light. He looks handsome this way, though it also has the effect of making his scars look deeper – crevasses on his face for shadows to lay in.

You watch as he strips his winter garments, slipping then beside you, evening out the weight on the bed.

“How did it go?” you whisper. If he's surprised that you spoke he doesn't show it, staring up at the ceiling, muscles decompressing. Sighing like a big dog.

In lieu of speaking, he lifts something into your focus. Oh, it's a tooth, sharp and white. A predator's tooth.

“The rest tomorrow,” he says quietly.

You can tell he's tired. His face looks weary. How far do they travel for these hunts? You assume quite far, as it’s enough to tire even a seasoned warrior.

So, rather than speaking, asking him from which creature he took this tooth, you tentatively reach your hand up to press your fingers against his thick scars.

Simon freezes, as do you. Then, as he relaxes, you trace the grooves on his face with your fingers tightly. Very lightly.

A delicate moment is born then. Johnny's deep, sleepy breathing behind you, Simon's acquiescence – it's a tranquil thing. As thin as lace, as sweet as a crisp apple.

After some time, when you've traced his face twice over and his eyes are half-lidded, you speak softly.

“Why me?”

“You're beautiful,” he says simply, sighing again, “we wanted to.”

It becomes harder, again, to hold the belief of them as devils. That they smelled the sin on you and picked you that way.

“Don't you think it's cruel?”

“No,” finally, he turns to you.

“It was,” you assert recklessly. Fear twists in your gut, poisonous.

“You were scared.”

“Yes.”

“Are you still scared?”

“I feel like you can see right through me. That scares me.”

“Not at first.”

“Then when?”

His hand finds the dip of your waist. Squeezes.

“On the boat, when you pushed up against me like a wet kitten. Even scared, you needed it.”

“You were cruel to me then, too.”

“I’m a cruel man.”

There's a stray thought that wiggles to life in the back of your head that suggests sympathy for him despite his statement. That you can begin seeing the path of his life and understand how he came to be.

You think of punishment again; about parents and children, husband's and wives, about Simon and his father. That wasn't punishment, if you're understanding it the way Kari implied.

A memory strikes you, unbidden and unwelcome. 

Salt blows in the air,  metallic and thick in your nose. Not sea salt, not the wind you love so much, but from blood spraying. 

The man brought his son to the convent, citing his bad behaviour as ungodly. Sister Margret was pleading with him, hands clasped in desperate prayer and voice high, reedy, as she begged him to just stop hitting him – please, just stop hitting him!

The boy cowered. Not a child, but a boy nonetheless. Young enough to make an impression, round-cheeked, on the cusp of manhood. Stained with blood.

He lifted the rope, again and again and again, even as Margret leapt for his arm and tried to stop him, pulling, shouting.

You were stock still, frozen, not even a tremble in your body. Your eyes had widened when he first struck the boy and you’d been stuck since.

Simon takes your hand, peels it away from your dress, pulling you bodily towards him and out of the memory.

With your cheek pressed close to his bare shoulder, you murmur, “did you take me to hurt me?”

“No,” he says, sounding for once like he isn’t hiding anything.

“Did you hit me to really hurt me?”

“No,” he repeats, then, “I hit you because you needed it, because you liked it.”

“I’ve seen…” you don’t continue.

“I know.”

“We’ve both been hurt,” your voice is a whisper.

“Mm,” Simon confirms.

You think of the boy. Of his father. Of his terrified, deer-like eyes, blood splattered on his back and on the ground and soaked into the rope – about how four townsmen had to pull his father away for fear of killing the boy.

How you felt when you hit yourself, when the abbess hit you, how different they were to when Simon took his palm to your ass.

Shame. That had been in the boy's eyes that day. He had hid his face in his arms, cowering not only from fear but from being seen.

You’d felt that same shame each time you’d been punished, intensifying, twisting together until you’d learned to turn the same pain inwards.

 “Are you afraid of being seen?” you murmur to Simon.

“No.”

You don’t have to say the silent part; that you’re the afraid one. That Simon correctly interpreting your need for a different kind of control, one that let you lose yourself, felt like you’d been flayed for all to see.

Simon moves his hand lower, cupping the soft curve of your behind, staring at you, testing the waters. You know that if you said no, he might anyways, but you stay quiet as his fingers lift the hem of your dress.

The fabric slides over your skin, a whisper in the air, tickling you. He rubs his rough, hairy knuckles against your thigh close to where it meets your leg.

He pauses there, breathing slowly, before he slides a finger up your slit and through the thatch of hair above it.

“If I made a request,” you murmured, “would you grant it?”

“Make it, and I’ll tell you.”

He slips a finger to rub your hole, just outside, teasing, while his thumb finds your clit.

“I don’t want you to take me until we’re man and wife… men and wife.”

Simon hums, rubs gently, makes your hips undulate.

“Do you think you’re in a place to be making requests like that, love?”

“I haven’t asked for anything else.”

He raises a brow, sliding his finger inside you to the knuckle when you’re wet enough.

“Haven’t you?”

Your breathing deepens, hands coming down to hold his thick wrist, pulling almost subconsciously. Even now, you can’t totally let go, leaning away from him and the pleasure.

But he understands, leaning over you, using his other hand to pin you to the mattress by your throat. It’s not the nicest hold, but the burning of your lungs heightens the pulsing in your cunt.

“Think you just made a few requests right now,” he grunts, using your leg to rub his hard, clothed cock.

There’s a stirring beside you. Johnny groans as he wakes up, then laughs sleepily.

“Ah woke up just in time,” his voice is rough with sleep.

Simon hums, mmm, in that deep rumble of his. He slips another finger inside you, crooking them, making you gasp raggedly. Your hands still clutch his wrist, weaker now, but it’s half resistance half comfort.

“Mm, good girl,” Johnny murmurs. He curls into your side, cock growing against your hip, wrapping a leg around you while his hand climbs beneath your pulled up dress and palms your tit.

God, you could die just like this: fighting for breath, touched all over, held down and made free. The hate you had for them feels irrelevant, the fear, the brutal way in which they stole you.

You can’t even think about if Simon will disregard your request – your last frontier against them, the treasure between your legs for a husband only.

Simon’s knuckle deep in it, but still, you can’t let go of that final tether. Not yet, not without any other internal pillars to hold you up.

Everything else has been wiped away. Drawings in the sand on a beach swept by foamy white waves.

Johnny leans in and bites your shoulder, gnawing, hips moving against you. You can’t arch like you want to, but you try.

Wet, sinful sounds grow as you gush around Simon’s fingers, as they use you to get off.

When you peak, white spots dance in your vision, mouth open in a silent scream choked away by Simon's heavy palm.

It’s like flying.

In the afternoon, when you’ve all slept, Simon leaves to speak with John and you prepare lunch with Johnny.

More fish, more potatoes. It’s growing on you.

When Simon returns, he has in his arms a rolled up fur. Though unprocessed and still wet underneath, it’s beautiful, pale, spotted.

He takes a heavy seat in front of you, laying the skin over his knees, taking your hand in his and bringing it to the fur.

Soft. Dense. Your fingers move through the pelt.

“For you,” Simon says.

You look up at him, heart dancing.

His gifts. The apple, the orgasms, this– you don’t know what to make of it. Yes, it’s a kindness, but he’s a cruel man. He’d said so himself, and you’d felt the brunt of it.

Leaning into that cruelty has given you a strange power, a strange solidity. You’d so begun to familiarize yourself with his harshness that you’d forgotten this complexity.

You pinch the fur, feeling it between your fingers, breathing slowly. Your neck ached, but it wasn’t a bad ache; it felt like a phantom hand.

“For me?”

Johnny slides three bowls on the table, grinning.

“Yer first wedding gift,” he says jovially.

 “Oh, I see,” you murmur, but it isn’t a disappointed oh.

Simon leaves later again, full of soup, to process the rest of the hunt’s boon with John. He takes the pelt with him, a snowcat pelt you’ve learned.

Yet, he’d returned with not much more than scratches on him from travel. Tired, yes, but a few hours of sleep and splattering his spend on your belly had fixed that earlier.

You’d bathed, since, though the feeling was hard to shake.

Johnny putters about again, returning to his carving of the little mini you. A peek into the past, one you no longer embodied.

“Can I see when you’re done?” you ask, slipping your favourite wool dress on. The red, well worn one. Soft, comforting. 

“Course,” he mumbles, concentrating. Then, his head shoots up.

“Ye want one o’ Simon ‘n’ I, lamb? Carry us around?” Only it sounds like aroond.

You nod, walking on socked feet to where he’s carving.

“Yes.”