#and though none of these things are ever set in stone it’s looking more and more likely that he won’t live as long as a typical cat

[raeathnos]

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[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART FOUR

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, kidnapping, angst, blood, 141 are still mean pirates ): kind of, very brief mentions of death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

There were no ifs, ands, or buts about sleeping arrangements. Price, the Captain that he was, would have it his way, and his way was keeping you secured in the stuffiness of his own quarters.

It was uncomfortable, the way you shared the bed with him. He was a large man, much larger than you, and his bed only had so much space to fit the two of you. In the midst of the nights, you’d feel his leg brush against yours, or feel the soft rumble of his quiet snores from where he laid beside you.

It was far from ideal. As much as you hated it, it was an upgrade from your cell down in the brig. Price’s bed was softer, more plush, and it sank you in every time you slept on it. The situation was no better, but it wasn’t any worse, either.

The downside, though, was that you were just as much a prisoner as you were in the cell. Price made it known that you weren’t to leave his quarters under any circumstance.

They brought you meals in rotations. Sometimes Soap would show, cracking a horrible joke that left you rolling your eyes. Or sometimes it’d be Gaz, who hardly spared you a word of conversation, though you could see the faint glimpse of pity in his eye.

Then there was Ghost. A pure enigma, darkened by shadowy demons that were hidden beneath his mask. He never uttered a word to you, nor looked at you. He did his bidding by slapping down a bowl of poorly made stew and immediately making his exit before you could get a single word in.

Price wouldn’t bring you your meals, though you convinced yourself it was because he was avoiding you. You thought his original plan of having you sleep in his quarters would be for something diabolical and sinful, yet he made no effort to touch you nor get to know you. It was nice, knowing he wasn’t there to do things against your will, but it was also confusing, wondering what his real plan was for you.

It was as if sleeping with a wall, which you weren’t sure whether to be grateful or not. These men were far from people you wanted to be a part of, but the desire for a friend was beginning to outweigh your spite.

You were an outcast aboard this ship. Secluded from the world, and isolated from the only people you were surrounded by. It was a dreadfully lonely life to be living. Your only friend was the sea, and even that was something you were torn away from, locked away in the quarters with only a small window to offer a view of it.

The door of Price’s quarters barged open, disrupting you from your woe. None of them ever bothered to knock. They were savages, bred with no proper manners in the presence of a woman. But really, you weren’t a woman to them. You were labor. An inconvenience.

“Get up,” Ghost grumbled from his stand in the doorway, hand knuckling the rusty knob. “Goin’ shoppin’.”

“We’re on land?” you asked, standing from Price’s cot. Ghost grunted in response. “And I’m to… join you?”

“You need supplies, don’t you?” he gruffed, eyes narrowing in on you. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The door abruptly slammed shut, leaving you alone in the quarters once again.

Land? They were allowing you to join them on their journey to land, to aid you in getting supplies necessary to work as a proper medic? It seemed surreal, yet bittersweet.

Gaining new supplies set your position on their crew in stone. They intended to keep you as theirs, and only trusted you enough to let you get off of the ship under their watch.

Yet, you’d be able to feel the grass between your toes once again. To feel the summer sun soaking in your skin, to hear the chatter of villagers fill your ears. You’d feel the liveliness of people apart from these heartless, savage pirates.

You’d be able to escape.

If you remained clever, you could leave the hands of Captain Price and create a new life far from their ship. This was your one and only opportunity to venture towards the life you always wanted for yourself.

You appeared as neutral as ever when you left the quarters to join the four men where they stood, clearly speaking amongst each other. You couldn’t show the rushing adrenaline coursing through you, not if you wanted to get away alive.

“Ach, there ye are, dove,” Soap huffed in annoyance, grabbing hold of your bicep to surge you towards him. You collided with his side, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Yer with me.”

“Stick with Soap,” Price ordered. His glare sent chills down your spine. “You are to get what you need under his watch. Try anythin’ funny and he won’t be so kind with you.”

“She’s fine, Cap, no need to worry. She won’t do anythin’ silly. Ain’t that right, dove?” Soap beamed, a touch of crazy leering down at you.

The plan in your head was beginning to feel too soon and too dangerous. You could only swallow nervously, giving a firm nod in return before they helped guide you off of the ship.

The town was lively around you. It was nothing like your home. Where you had grown with the quiet chirps of nature and gentle conversation, you were now greeted with an angry bustle of rushing townsfolk, brushing past you as if you were a ghost.

You felt out of touch with your surroundings. Others were dressed in fresh fabrics, altered to their frame. The women were pretty, hair unmatted and braided to frame their lovely faces while the men were covered from head to toe with the finest of coats.

Not all were as fortunate. There were a select few you caught glimpses of as you passed who were as dirty as you were, shoeless and hopeless. Begging for scraps of food or cheap coins, only to be spat on like the scum of the Earth.

You were no different. Next to Soap, you looked like a helpless, little mouse with dirty bags of fabric that fell loosely on your body, with your feet blackened from the lack of cover. It was utterly humiliating.

Soap kept a solid grip on your arm as he led you through the heaps of shoppers. He kept his eyes forward, scoping out any possible threat. You could see the hardwired focus geared in his brain, as if working on pure muscle memory.

“Pretty neat of a place, aye?” Soap asked, attempting small talk. He glanced over at you, wearing that boyish grin of his.

“It’s wonderful,” you replied, taking in the sights.

You meant it. Shops lined every corner of the dirt paths, windows displaying pretty dresses or tailored suits. Where you expected the town to look depressing, you found color, filling you with a warm dose of serenity.

This was a town you could grow to love. It was busy and loud, but the opportunity seeped out through every corner, calling your name. Your freedom rang out like a bell, offering you a place for your dreams to come true.

You had to escape if you truly wanted it. Your plan would have to unfold, even if it meant being patient.

“Yer bound to see a whole lot more towns better than this one, dove,” Soap boasted, grinning with pride. “Ye will grow to accept us one day.”

You stared up at Soap while the two of you walked. It was a shame, really, that he was the only one decently kind to you. Kind was far too generous of a word to describe any of these men, but it was the closest thing to what Soap was being towards you.

He was still a pirate, though.

“I am not so sure of that,” you confessed, unsure of why you did.

“Ach, ye will. The rest are secretly a bunch of softies,” he claimed, waving a dismissive hand. “We’re still human even if we’re pirates.”

“You’ve kidnapped me,” you stated.

“Mm. Yes.”

“You burned down my home,” you continued.

“Perhaps.”

“You killed my people,” you finished.

“You know nothin’ of what we do, dove. How about we keep shoppin’ for ye and stop worryin’ about the past?” Soap asked, not unkindly. He was surprisingly composed despite your accusations.

You stared at him for a moment longer before looking away. There was no point in arguing when the plan was to escape the moment you had the chance. Today would be the last day you’d ever have to converse with Soap and his men, if you played your cards right.

“You’re right,” you said quietly. “I apologize.”

“There ye go, dove.” Soap returned to smiling, giving a mocking pinch to your grimy cheek. “Now, what all do ye need?”

Soap made escape increasingly difficult. His hand remained secure around your arm for every shop you went in, keeping you by his side. It was as if he had a secret sense that let him know of your plans. Or perhaps he was following Price’s orders.

He stuck with you with every purchase. You gathered herbs, freshly made medicines, and a new book and quill to jot down notes in a journal. Soap allowed you the pleasure of collecting expensive items, unwavered by the prices.

He paid for them in gold, little round coins he’d slap on to the counter and leave behind without waiting for the shop tenant to gawk at such a rare sight of payment.

It wasn’t until you passed a clothing shop did he falter. His steps had stopped, eyes peering into the window. You stopped with him, dissecting his reaction.

“Sorry, dove. Makin’ a stop for myself,” he stated, tugging you into the shop. To your surprise, he let go of your arm, leaving you standing near the entrance. “Stay put. I’m trustin’ ye, so don’t make me regret it, aye?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gave him a nod. He threw you a beaming smile before stalking off into the store, disappearing just out of sight. You remained firm in place, hands clasping in front of you.

The pit in your stomach twisted from the nerves that wracked you. This was your moment, your only chance of escape. If you didn’t take it now, you may never be lucky enough for another one.

As if fate was sealing itself, your eyes caught sight of a group of guards walking past the store, wooden rifles at the ready on their shoulders. They were speaking amongst themselves, oblivious to your inner turmoil from where you stood in the entrance of the shop.

A quick glance behind you showed that Soap was still occupied, unbeknownst to your plan. You could only see the top of his head, the messy mohawk sticking out like a sore thumb.

With the opportunity in front of you, you took it.

You moved slowly at first. Unsure, cautious. But once you made it out of the shop with Soap realizing, you amped your speed. Your dirty bare feet clambered clumsily along the dusty streets, digging into the little pebbles that littered them.

The dull sting of pain as you sprinted to the guards was disregarded. It was nothing compared to the ache of freedom you desired.

“Hello!” you shouted, garnering their attention. They turned, eyeing you with a judgmental glint at the state of you. “Please, I need help!”

“What can we do for you?” one of the guards asked, suspicious. His eyes were set on your feet, which were caked with months of filth. “A lass like you shouldn’t be out without a chaperone.”

“You don’t understand,” you gasped, catching your breath from the anxiety that rattled you like a drum. “I’ve been kidnapped by— by pirates and I’ve only just escaped. Please, I need your help, or they will take me back.”

“Pirates?” The guards perked up, glancing between one another as if sharing a secret you were unaware of. “How many pirates, lass?”

“Four,” you explained. “The Captain— his name is John Price. He is the one that took me from my village and I have been imprisoned on his ship for so long, I do not recall the days. Will you help me?”

You were frantic. Desperate. It showed in the way your voice shook, the way your frame shivered with nerves.

“It is not,” Guard Two said to his companion.

“It is,” Guard One said, the one who had spoken to you first. This time, they spoke to one another rather than to you, as if you were invisible. “There is only one Captain Price. It is 141.”

Guard Two looked over at you, face set firm. His eyes were piercing and cold, and it made you shrink down into yourself. They were not welcoming or kind like you expected a guard’s to be.

Guard One fumbled in the pocket of his britches before pulling out an aged paper. On it were the faces of the pirates with the exception of Ghost, covered by his signature mask. All of them were plastered on the page with a bounty over their heads, as well as a promise of exile for their arrest.

Execution. The pirates would be executed publicly if they were caught. The punishment was inked in bold letters beneath their pictures, and each letter was taunting you with the blood that would be spilled on your hands for turning them in.

An unsettling guilt began to gnaw at you. You were unsure of why. Captain Price and his crew had stolen you from your home and made you their medic. They had you sleeping in a cell for nights uncounted, eating slop out of a bowl like a dog.

Yet, to kill them was much too burdening on you. They were mean, heartless, and unworthy. Yet, death was unkind. You were not so shallow.

“Is this what they look like?” Guard One asked, holding the paper in front of you. It was undoubtedly them, down to every detail.

“Yes,” you confirmed, though not as confidently as before. There was now a weight in your tone, as if holding back. “Yes, that’s them. You— you will kill them once you find them?”

Guard Two laughed, though it was bone chilling. There wasn’t a hint of warmth in it, only distaste and rage. “Of course. They’re to be hanged for their crimes. They are savages.”

He took a step closer to you, leaning down to your level. His aura was threatening, and you could feel yourself cowering away. “You must tell us where they are at once. We will help you once we have captured them.”

You took a step back, deflating. Everything within you told you that you made a mistake. If you went through with exposing their whereabouts and having them captured, their deaths would be because of you. You would be a murderer.

“I—“ You swallowed, clenching your clammy hands into nervous fists. “I do not know where they’ve gone. I ran away as soon as I could.”

“Not a problem,” Guard One gruffed, taking hold of your arm, just as Soap had done before. Now, more than ever, a part of you wished it was Soap rather than the guard. “You will guide us to their ship.”

“Please let go of me,” you murmured brokenly, covering the guard’s hand with your own to pry his fingers off. They didn’t budge. “Please.”

Your pleas were shadowed by their greed. You recognized the look in their eyes, and it scared you to the bone.

Bloodthirst. They were hungry to capture the pirates, hungry to be the ones to guide them to their impending death. It was not about helping you. It was about the handsome reward they would receive for turning in the most wanted criminals of the sea.

You began to panic. The air in your lungs felt weak, and you could feel the world around you closing in.

This was not the outcome you wanted. You simply wanted your freedom, yet it would come with a cost that you weren’t sure you could afford.

You did the only thing you could think of doing. Your fist collided with the guard’s face with a nasty crunch, causing blood to spew from his nose like a spout. It speckled on your dirty cheeks, tainting them further.

The guard let out a shout, releasing your arm. When his companion attempted to make a grab for you, you bolted, legs carrying you back to the shop Soap had been left in.

Chaos ensued from behind you. You could hear the clamber of guards, racing after you, yelling profanities in the air. The townsfolk stopped to observe, women placing their hands over their mouths in bewilderment, men torn between watching or intervening.

It was a commotion you never planned on starting, and now, all eyes were on you.

Soap came into sight from in front of the store. He looked focused and angry, eyebrows pulled together, jaw set taut. When he locked in on you as well as the guards behind you, there was no relief. His eyes were as intense as the guards had been, if not more.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed pathetically, but he gave you no chance to pause your running.

Soap grabbed your hand in his, lugging you along the dirt paths. He swerved the streets, pulling your arm harder every time you fell behind. You struggled to keep up, spots of blood dotting the ground beneath you from the newly open wounds from pebbles that sliced open the soles of your feet.

You were pulled into a narrow alleyway with Soap, out of sight from the guards. Soap’s large hand shoved your head, urging you to crouch down behind a row of barrels that crowded the alley.

Your heart was nearly lurching out of your chest from your hiding space. Pounding footsteps raced past the alley, a cloud of dust filling the air and burning your nose. Voices could be heard shouting nearby, but not close enough for you to make out what they were saying.

Soap and you stayed put, his hand muffling your mouth, body smothering yours. He held his breath, ears listening in for the guards.

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps grew farther away, voices fading into the wind.

“I trusted ye to stay put, dove,” Soap whispered, voice full of anger and betrayal. “I’ve been nice to ye. Why couldn’t ye just stay like I told ye?”

You whimpered into his hand, low and depressing. You felt defeated. Your fate was undetermined more than ever before, and you feared what the pirates would truly do to you now that you went against their word.

“C’mon,” he huffed, letting go of you and standing from behind the barrels. He grabbed hold of your arm, hauling you up and keeping you in his grip.

Soap crept the two of you through the town, slipping through every crack in the buildings to remain unseen. If people saw you, they remained silent, fearful of the pirate amidst their town.

The closer the two of you got to the ship, the more your heart sunk to your stomach. You were wracked with terror, horrified of the punishment you’d endure. The only thing you could do is let Soap string you along like a puppy on a leash.

“We need to go,” Soap barked at Price. The other men had long returned from their shopping, only awaiting your arrival with Soap. “Now.”

Gaz fluttered away without question, preparing to undock the ship and leave no trail in the town behind. Price and Ghost, on the other hand, were far more concerned.

“What the hell happened?” Ghost asked, voice gruff and dark, eyes narrowed on you.

“Dove tried rattin’ us out,” Soap hissed, throwing a glare your way. You shrunk in his hold, avoiding his eyes and bowing your head low. “Guards are lookin’ high and low. They know we’re here.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost grunted, leaving the three of you to aid Gaz in prepping the ship for sail. He walked with a looming shadow over him, black and scary, oozing out the mist of pure acrimony.

Price stood tall and terrifying, arms crossed over his chest, the lines of his face firm and tight. He stared at you with a guise of disappointment and resentment, and if looks could kill, you would surely be one of their many victims.

The Captain took a step towards you, leaning down to your height. His hand grabbed hold of your face, fingers digging into your flesh as he forced you to look at him. His eyes were glaring, stabbing you with millions of daggers.

He shifted your head from side to side, inspecting the specks of blood that dotted your face. He was silent, making everything much more unnerving, and when he let go of you, he spared you not another glance.

“Take her to the cell,” Price ordered Soap. “We’ll deal with it later.”

Soap nodded grimly, tugging your arm aggressively so he could guide you to the brig doors. The sight of them made you sick, and you fought in his hold, which did nothing but make you look like a fool.

“Stop squirmin’,” he hissed, irritated. Seeing him without his signature smile made your chest fill with sickening guilt, and it twisted your insides in a painful knot.

The cell welcomed you when you stepped down familiar stairs. It was a slap in the face, seeing it once again, and you wanted nothing more than to take back everything you’d done and apologize to Price until he let you back into the comfort of his quarters.

But there was no going back. The deed was done. This was your price for freedom, and before it was handed to you, it had been snatched right out of your hands.

Soap shoved you into the cell with enough force to ensure you went inside, but gentle enough to make sure you didn’t topple over. Even now, when you’d betrayed his trust, he didn’t aim to hurt you. The pill was suffocating to swallow.

The cell shutting behind you rattled through your ears like a deafening shriek. The lock clicked, and Soap made no effort to move, not yet. Instead, he stood there, eyes boring into you through the bars of your cage.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. So, you stood shamefully, staring at the floor beneath your aching feet.

Something clattered on the floor, and when you shifted your gaze to find it, what stared back at you was a pair of shoes. New, unworn, and pretty. For you.

Looking up at Soap, his expression was unreadable. He no longer looked at you. He seemed just ashamed as you did. It was as if all the anger he had before had diminished, and he now looked like a hurt boy, betrayed and ridiculed.

“I hope they fit,” he said quietly. While you stared at him, he was now the one avoiding looking at you. “Didn’t know what ye liked.”

Soap turned on his heel, trudging up the stairs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He made no effort to look back at you, to study your stunned expression. Instead, what greeted you was his back as it filtered through the brig doors, shutting behind him with a loud slam.

You looked back at the shoes, careful when you picked them up. They were bland in taste, yet the prettiest thing you’d been gifted in your life.

Soap trusted you to stay while he went to surprise you with a new pair of shoes, and you had only gone behind his back out of fear of his pirate crew that had taken you from your home.

You felt no better than a pirate.

[beenbaanbuun]

blood w/ poly!ateez

so i feel so sane about this… definitely no evil thoughts filling up my brain right now. none whatsoever :)

i want to write so much more about this universe and i’m literally sending the biggest kiss ever to @ateez-main-yapper to requesting this because i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life!

words - idk

genre - smut, horror (there’s a bit of gore i guess)

warnings - vampire!ateez, mafia!ateez, human!reader, smuggler!reader, blood, scarification, collars, ownership, blood, surgery mentions, nicknames (little mouse, princess, sweetheart), dancer!yeosang, security guard!mingi, ripper!doctor!yunho, mommy!seonghwa (don’t look at me like that, i had to), hand kink (mentioned), no actual sex but it’s talked about a lot, hair pulling, i think that’s all??

——————————————————————————

the scent of stale blood haunts the hallway you find yourself walking down, clinging to the back of your throat until yourself gagging on it. no matter how many times you find yourself down here, it never gets any easier to cope with; even a slaughterhouse would be more pleasant than this.

it begs the question why you’re back. by now, you’ve bled them of enough money to never have to work again, so it’s certainly not the pay. the job itself is harder than most, and not at all rewarding when you have to lie and cheat your way into success. there’s no doubt that the stress of hiding a smuggling operation behind the guise of a blood donation clinic has taken a good 20 years of your life from you. you can guarantee that job satisfaction isn’t what’s keeping you here either.

it’s only when you turn a corner and your eyes land upon them that you remember exactly why you’re still so willing to walk these halls. it isn’t something keeping you here but rather someone; multiple someones, in fact.

“mingi!” your footsteps quicken as you get closer the security guard that stands waiting outside of a heavy metal door. despite the fact that you’ve been on the other side of it multiple times, it still sends a shiver of curiosity down your spine. it’s not an anxious curiosity as it was when you first landed yourself in this position, but more of a morbid one. you know the horrors that lie behind it, you’ve experienced a few of them too, yet you still yearn to see more. “long time no see,” you offer a polite smile once you’re close enough to lower your volume from a shout, ��san told me hongjoong had assigned you to pest control. is it not going well?”

mingi gives you a slow blink, his jaw set in stone and his eyes steely as he stares you down. he’s always looked far more intimidating than he actually is, although you suppose it serves to his benefit when his main job it scaring away anyone who might wish to disturb the peace. you’re only grateful to have had the chance to see behind the mask he wears; to watch his eyes melt and his lips part in the wonky grin he gets so little time to wear.

“you’ve not seen me in months and the first thing you ask me is about my demotion back to security?” he quirks a brow at you and you have to bite back your grin. in truth, you’d heard all about it from seonghwa over the past few weeks, your main contact within the clan more than happy to share life details with you as though you’re a lifelong friend rather than a mere employee. their favourite employee, sure, but still at the bottom of the pecking order.

“i just wanted to know more,” you lift your arms in defence, not missing the way his eyes flicker to the bandage on your left forearm, “like you said, it’s been a while.”

mingi hums in agreement as he examines the clean cloth. a long finger reaches out to trace the spot where the fabric meets your skin, the touch lingering and soft. it’s more the real mingi than it is the security guard mingi; it warms your heart to see.

“when did this happen?” he whispers, voice barely above a whisper.

“about two weeks ago,” you i pull your wrist back, letting mingi’s hand drop back down to his side, “hongjoong wanted to approach me about it, but i didn’t take much convincing,” actually, it was you who approached him but for some reason that’s much harder to admit, “you guys are much… kinder to me than the other clans i supply, well, supplied to. it was a no brainer to ditch them when given the chance.”

“so you’re ours?” he asks, voice dipping a little too low for the question to be purely innocent.

“i’m mine,” you confirm, “what i supply, however, is all yours.”

there’s a smirk on his lips, not as easily defeated by your sense of self worth as you’d like him to be. he knows as well as the rest of them what the mark on your arm means, after all. he knows as well as you do that there’s no getting away from them now. the moment yunho took his sweet, sadistic time carving their mark into your body it wasn’t just your business that belonged to them.

“sure you are, little mouse,” he whispers as he leans in close, his icy breath fluttering against your face. your stomach drops but you choose to ignore it. this was your decision, after all, “now, scurry along; you wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting, would you?”

with the flip of a switch, the metal door clicks open and your immediately met with a blast of cool air and a wall of sound. you’ll never understand the clan’s need for these constant frivolities, especially when you’re on the other side of this getting your hands dirty, but you suppose it is a good way to hide their more secretive operations. no one is going to notice the door in the corner when there’s so much going on out here, right? it’s an extra layer of security, and a darn good one at that.

when you step inside, the door clicks shut behind you and you immediately get to scanning the crowd of partygoers for a familiar face. amongst the hoard of vampires, they’re harder to spot, their ashy skin and red eyes sticking out a lot less than they would next to a human. instead you look for a familiar hair colour, recalling the angry text you got from seonghwa about the den’s main bathroom turning pink with hongjoong’s hairdye. nothing sticks out at you, though, and so you’re back at square one.

your arms stretch out before you as you go to push through the crowd. it’s moments like this that you’re glad for the metal, almost collar-like band around your neck. yeosang had created it as a way to keep your pulse hidden from any less-well-meaning vampires. he’d insisted that the tag dangling from it with the clan’s emblem engraved was all hongjoong’s idea, but you recognise the same possessive glint in all of their eyes. it’s the same one yunho had given you when engraving that very emblem into your body, and the same one san had given to you when wrapping your bleeding arm up in a fluffy white bandage. yeosang is just like the rest of them, even behind his sweet exterior.

but right now he isn’t crafting some marvel of engineering out of metal scraps and a dream, but instead on the stage at the front of the room. it’s not often he’s up there instead of one of the others, but as you watch him elegantly dangle from a hoop that hangs from the ceiling, you find it hard to see why. he’s utterly ethereal, like a butterfly about to emerge from a chrysalis; one of those blue ones with the wings that seemed designed to capture your attention with their beauty. you’re entranced, much more so than the rest of the party-goers who seem to have grown blind to the creature moving elegantly before them.

his body moves not at all like a butterfly though, instead flowing smoothly like a viper along the branch of a tree. he extends his arms in such a way you’ve never seen before, silken and smooth as he reaches out to his audience. it pulls you in further, your feet shuffling as you push through the final layer of people to get to the stage. you stumble forwards, catching yourself on the edge of the raised platform. if he notices you there, he doesn’t show it; the stoic expression he wears remains steady as he gracefully shifts his body into yet another position.

you watch him like that until the end of his performance, unblinking with your lips parted in awe. even the way he tumbles to the floor and bows to an uninterested audience holds so much more grace than you think you will ever possess. to think that this is the man that spends half of his time smeared in motor oil with a puppy-like grin on his lips is strange, yet it feels so right.

“hello, little mouse,” he echoes the familiar nickname as he makes his way to the front of the stage, crouching down in front of you and running an all-too-confident finger along your jawline to your chin. he snaps your mouth shut in a way that is so far from the yeosang you know that part of you believes this must be his much cockier twin. “hongjoong is out tonight; some trouble on south side caught his attention so he wanted to clean up the mess before the police got there.”

“i’m meeting with seonghwa then?” you murmur, too starstruck for your mouth the form words properly.

yeosang shakes his head.

“seonghwa and san went with him,” the finger from your chin shifts down to the piece of jewellery that fits snug around your neck. his touch catches against the tag, the jingling sound reminding you of a bell on a cats collar. you try to ignore the smirk that rises to his face as sees you make the connection, instead shifting your gaze to the pendant around his neck that shares the same symbol. “yunho is busy with whatever sick shit gets him off, me and mingi are working which means…”

fuck.

“jongho and wooyoung.”

“clever mouse,” yeosang’s tone is venomous, despite his words being soft. clearly performing does something to his ego; inflates it until every sign of the sweet mechanic is hidden behind a thick shroud of confidence. it’s deliciously cruel, mirroring the sick sadism of yunho or the vast overconfidence of mingi, and holy fuck do you want a taste. perhaps later, once business is over.

if business is over.

“i wouldn’t worry too much about those two, though,” he continues, tugging on the tag of your collar—because despite your pride, even you have to admit that there’s no other way to describe it—until you’re face is merely inches from his own, “hongjoong promised yunho their balls if they can’t learn to control them. maybe you’ll finally be able to have a meeting with them before getting your pussy stuffed, hm?”

you feel yourself getting warmer, your face flushing as yeosang so blatantly talks about your track record with the pair of resident trouble makers. it’s not like you’ve let slip about all the times jongho’s had you sitting on his cock with your mouth wrapped around wooyoung’s the second you step into their office which means that they must have instead. it makes you wonder what they talk about whenever you’re not here, and how much each of them know about your less than professional escapades with each of them. it’s a troubling thought, and yet it’s still manages to light a fire deep in your belly.

“see you later, yeosang,” is the only thing you can mumble in response as you pull away from his touch, the tag of the collar bumping gently against your neck as it slips free of his fingers.

——————-

“you told the others about fucking me?” you scoff as you barge your way into the office where the two youngest vampires await your arrival. it’s nice to see them here already, since they usually arrive far later than the agreed upon time. although, you suppose with the delays of mingi and yeosang, you’re also late on this occasion. you let the passive-aggressive comment about time keeping slide, knowing it won’t help you right now.

“hello to you too, mousy,” wooyoung hums from where he lays on the green sofa in the corner of the room, “it’s nice to see you again! we’re doing wonderfully, by the way; thanks for a—”

you let the door slam behind you as you storm your way towards him, completely ignoring the curious gaze of jongho.

“cut the shit, wooyoung,” you grab hold of his shirt collar and lean in close. it’s supposed to be intimidating but the wide grin on his lips lets you know otherwise. “you’ve all been talking about me when i’m not here? what the fuck, man!”

wooyoung chuckles in your face, his dangerous fangs glinting beneath the overhead lights. you know he’d never bite without your permission—people have been killed by hongjoong for much less—but it still sends a shiver through you whenever you see them.

“you’re not exactly discrete yourself, princess,” the office chair creaks as jongho stands, making his way around his desk and towards you. although you keep your gaze firmly on the little rat who still sits giggling to himself, you can’t help but be hyper aware of the presence behind you. a large hand traces its way up your spine, not stopping until you feel his fingers lace themselves with your locks and tug. your grip fall limply from wooyoung’s shirt as you’re hauled back into the soft muscle of jongho’s chest, your neck craned awkwardly over his shoulder to keep you in place. “what do you want us to say when san is asking about who’s cum he’s eaten from your pussy? do you want us to lie to them?”

you squirm, wincing when his grip on your hair doesn’t loosen despite your attempts to break free. they call you little mouse and right now, you really do feel the part—you walked right into a trap of which there’s no way out.

“maybe i should let you fuck me again just so i can watch when yunho rips your fucking balls off your body!” you grunt through gritted teeth.

jongho hums in amusement, “it was hyperbole, sweetheart,” a pair of cold lips meet the hot skin of your cheek for just a second before pulling away, the softness a stark contrast to the harsh grip he still has you in, “he doesn’t care how much we fuck you as long as we get the job done. after all, he’d be a hypocrite to complain about us fucking you when his dick is inside of you twice as often, hm?”

you watch with cautious eyes as wooyoung stands from his place on the sofa, grinning as wide as the cheshire cat. it reeks of danger, yet you’ve never been the type to give into that sort of thing. you’re a human working for a bunch of vampires; danger is just a regular part of your life at this point.

“besides, mousy,” the cheshire cat purrs, “you think we’re the only ones who talk? you don’t think we know just how much you love calling seonghwa mommy when you ride him? or how much you love it when yeosang spits in your mouth whenever he’s fucking you dumb?” wooyoung brings a hand to your cheek, dusting over your bottom lip with his thumb, “you’re ours, little mouse; we can talk if we want.”

[charmercharm3r]

Make Love, Not Porn

Sunday

HHJ

Masterlist, Story Masterlist

18+ content — minors, do not interact

wc: 6.7k

Synopsis: You crave a life of normalcy, he craves you. And he'd do anything to keep you, even if you're for the world to see.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, subby/service top!hyunjin, softdom!camgirl reader, dry humping, oral (m, f), piv, camming, consensual recording, can't immediately think of anything else, let me know if I missed something!

Past Broadcasts : Hi, My Name Is

Live : Sunday

☆ﾟ

Hyunjin didn’t realize how much he liked being filmed, and photography in general. He seems to have picked up a knack for the hobby once the two of you started to get more comfortable. After the first night the two of you had sex, he began to be more conscious of all the recordable moments, from your puffy morning face to the cum dripping from the corner of your mouth.

You didn’t mind it at all, he was cute about it. Hyunjin had you send him the video you took together after you edited out the extra time at the end when the two of you had long forgotten about it. Never in a million years would he admit to anyone that he watches it more frequently than someone ever should watch their own amateur porn videos, for some reason it’s a comfort video of sorts. He likes hearing the way you laugh after the both of you cum, he likes seeing the way you handle him so carefully and how supple your skin looks because he knows it is.

Even though you’re still doing your streams, you still make time for him. Usually that time happens to be right after you’re done, Hyunjin on the bed watching as you pleasure yourself. The heat of his stare hasn’t dulled in the slightest. In fact, it’s brought your on-camera orgasms back. It’s all the more exhilarating knowing that none of your viewers can see his stupidly handsome face ogling you with a hand around his cock, hard only for you.

That routine had set itself in stone after a month went by, which is why you were comfortable when he asked if he could use your computer to look up a recipe to print.

“Why can’t you use your phone? It has bluetooth,” you suggested initially.

“Y’know the preview screen? I like to read it to make sure that all the information is on there. I can’t do that on my phone,” Hyunjin replied.

It made sense at the time, that’s why you agreed to let him use the computer in your showroom, the same one you use for your livestreams. Never in a million years did you think you’d catch him sitting in your chair with his pants around his ankles jerking off to the same video that sparked his interest in filming.

The first thing you checked was that the light near the computer camera was off and that he wasn’t accidentally live, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth seeing the light off. There was a fat grin across his face, sweaty and more than relaxed in your chair. On the monitor was the image of you on your knees just as he tensed up and from what you could tell, orgasmed. The look of surprise on your face as you caught him had him cumming into his palm, as if he wasn’t in your house, sitting in your chair, using your computer. It didn’t even seem like he cared that he got caught– spoiler, he really didn’t care.

Hyunjin was incomparably comfortable around you and in your little bubble. There wasn’t anything he didn’t think he could talk to you about. All of the little things and kinks he thought were strange, you accepted with open arms. Getting caught jacking off to a video of you giving him head was probably one of the least strange things on that small list.

You had gotten down on your knees again and sucked him through to a second orgasm, not an entirely uncommon occurrence now that he was a semi-permanent resident in your heart and apartment. He had hunched over you, one hand on the back of your head keeping you in place as you deepthroated his cock, the other, from what you could tell, slammed onto the desk above you and gripping onto it for dear life. It was your big pretty eyes and the small hum onto his cock that made him cum again, another one so hard that he didn’t notice his hand sliding across the desk roughly and hitting your keyboard, which then slammed into the mouse. Of course you couldn’t hear the sound of the cam site’s whooshing as the same video that played in the background was also being uploaded onto your page.

Creatures of habit, the both of you were, sharing a shower and eating dinner together still wrapped in your bath robes with towels wrapping your sopping hair. Neither of you had checked your phone in maybe two hours when you finally realized there was an incessant pinging noise coming from your showroom. It had reminded Hyunjin that his phone was nearby and reached to check it before you finally stood to go find out what was happening.

“When did you post a new video?” He asked, shaking the towel into his hair. You shrugged without looking back, on to find the source of the annoying notifications.

Your computer was still on, red flag number one.

Red flag number two, your keyboard and mouse were askew all over your desk. Your first instinct was that someone broke into your apartment while you were showering and they were hacking your account– it does, afterall, have your bank account info so that the tips can go directly into it.

But as you sat down to look at what was going on, you would rather have been robbed. Mouth dropped and heart thumping out of your chest, replaying on your cam page was the video of you between Hyunjin’s knees and head bobbing up and down with his quiet moans echoing in the computer speakers.

Just as you realized what had happened, your partner in said video fumbled into the door way and held up his phone. You couldn’t see the screen from that far, but you knew exactly what he was referring to.

“I didn’t–”

“You wouldn’t–”

“I don’t know what happened–”

“When the fuck did it get uploaded?” Hyunjin strode by your side and leaned over your desk to check the timestamp. You watched his face and prepared for any kind of anger, readying for the worst, bracing for impact that he was going to fight to take the video down then grab his shit and hyperdrive right out of your life. Instead, his eyebrows relaxed and a kind of smug half smirk took over his expression. “Oh, my bad, hahaha.”

You raised a brow at him, nothing but dumbfounded. “What?”

“Well,” he rubbed the towel into his hair again. “You were under the desk, so you couldn’t really see.”

“You posted it when your dick was in my mouth?”

“Not on purpose!” Hyunjin wrapped his arms around your neck in a headlock to smother his cheek against yours. “I can’t really focus when your mouth is so warm, wet, sloppy, delicious–”

“Ew, I get it!” Giggling, he pecked your lips then gestured for you to stand up so he could take your seat, patting his thighs to sit in his lap. A light pout on your lips, you took the offer and slung an arm over his shoulder.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were slightly embarrassed at how easy it was for you to get caught like this. Nothing has ever happened in all your time of camming that would have made you feel so exposed. It was a private moment that you assured him was for your eyes only. Embarrassed was a nice way of putting it, you were ashamed, guilty, remorseful even.

“I have to take it down,” you shook your head and reached for the mouse, but Hyunjin stopped you by intertwining your fingers together. “What? You didn’t agree to this. I promised it was just for us. I’m so sorry.” There was a lump in your throat, having to swallow it down while fighting the tears wanting to roll.

Hyunjin seemed unphased, maybe even… enjoying it? He was smiling into your shoulder. “Why are you making that face? I’m crying and you look like you just got away with murder.”

He took a second to respond, laughing softly into the bathrobe you wore. “Stop it! I need to take it down!” He fought you harder as you struggled in his grasp to even reach the mouse, arms slithering around and restricting you entirely with hardly any force as he was just that much stronger.

When you finally calmed down enough for him to lightly nose at your cheek again, you huffed. “I dunno, babe. Is it really so bad if we keep it up?”

You stopped fighting him back, “you wanna keep it up?” Hyunjin shrugged shyly.

“A little. Look, other people like it, too.” He reached around you to scroll through the comments.

Reading your comment section was usually a highlight that you saved for some down days. The ones under your video with him was even more ego-boosting than usual. There were keyboard smashes, people asking when they can have a turn with you cus he looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself, even legit offers in your inbox for higher level filming services. Hyunjin would scroll, point to one, and you’d giggle in his lap.

— sexy wuts his @?

— sounds so good with her mouth stuffed

— i want him?? i want her?? u guys need a third??

“Look at this one, ‘I’d pay for a silicone mold of sweetheart’s mouth.’”

Hyunjin grabbed your chin and made you twist to face him, opening your mouth to look inside as you wiggled your tongue. “Yup. Could definitely make money selling a pocket if it was shaped like this wonderful, glorious, gummy—“

“You’re disgusting! I don’t even think that’s possible.”

“Yeah, you’d swallow the molding, you’re too good at that.” 

The light smack you sent to his shoulder made him smile and cheekily kiss you. It was like he was starved for kisses with how intensely he moved, far from the truth as possible. Hand slipping to cup your cheek and the other slyly moving the robe to expose your thigh enough that it made you pull away and raise and eyebrow. “You really don’t wanna take the video down?”

Hyunjin scrunched his nose, “hell no. It kinda makes me wanna… Should I make my own account?”

Your face lit up, “really?” Another shrug. “I mean, you’ve already got a few fans and they’re asking for more. But babe, it could be a lot. Are you sure?”

“Maybe? I haven’t really thought about it. It wasn’t even an idea in my head until I saw the comments. But I do like taking videos and pictures. I’m not totally sure I could do the live stream stuff like you. Gotta leave you sooome business.”

“I don’t think you should jump right into it, maybe dip your toes in first before hopping in the deep end. Would you wanna try guesting on my stream first?”

“Like, actually be on your live?!”

You forgot how the two of you met in the first place, that he recognized you because he was a fan of your cams. Not for a second did you stop to think that it might’ve been weird because everything with him happened so naturally. Well, he did make it weird at first, and truly had you anxious to even go to the grocery store– but that was because you were too in your head about being recognized in the first place. When you actually spoke to him, you realized that’s just him and his awkward way of showing his emotions. You didn’t doubt for a second that even if he didn’t recognize you, he would’ve found a way to wriggle into your life at some point in time. Part of you mentally slapped yourself for not going to his coffee shop sooner.

“Why not? Then you don’t have to start alone,” you wriggled free to wrap an arm around his neck again. “For me, I contemplated it for months. I can’t remember when I started, it was so long ago–”

“I think it’s been, like, almost a year and a half.”

You lightly slapped the back of his neck, “don’t interrupt me, I’m trying to be sincere.” A peck on your cheek as an apology. “But it was scary at first. Remember what I said about intimacy  the first time I brought you back here?”

Silence.

“You can speak now.”

“How could I forget? That’s permanent spank bank material. Stored in the mental vault for when you’re not with me.” Charming as ever.

You rolled your eyes. “It feels like that. Instead of one person watching, it’s a whole audience.” If the twitch beneath your thighs was anything to go by, you’d say the look on his face was a nearly identical giveaway. “The offer stands if you wan–”

“I want to.”

After a long, detailed discussion, you finally agreed your next livestream would be the night, and you got him naked. Or— you finally let him get naked. Hyunjin was still in his underwear, but it was enough for him.

You moved things around so that the camera faced the bed, adjusting the tripod to a lower angle so that no faces could show. For this special occasion, you put on dainty white sheets that made the bed feel bigger on this end of the camera. Hyunjin adjusted the lighting for a warmer feeling, inviting. That alone made you want to skip the broadcast and fuck him right then and there.

Hyunjin was shaking in his skin with excitement. You told him to lay back and try to relax as you set everything up. Seeing you walking around in pretty little lingerie was getting him antsier as the seconds passed, wanting nothing more than to reach out, grab you, and kiss you silly.

He was leaning back on his palms and swinging his feet back and forth as you finished, last touch being turning the computer so if you wanted, you could watch yourselves. 

You were bent over and reading the comments of the people in the live stream waiting room, “live soon, hardcandysweetheart: sunday.” The stare burning holes into your ass made you giddy and smile.

“Everyone in the comments is confused since I don’t usually go live today,” you giggle, straightening up and facing the boy in your bed. He looked extra handsome, for some reason, more than usual. Maybe it was the hormones or the anticipation, probably your insatiable need to have him all the fucking time. Even if today didn’t go as planned and you don’t have sex, you’d be content with just laying beside him and getting to look at his pretty face. 

“I would be, too. Can I have a kiss now?”

“Impatient.” You gave him one anyway, slotted between his spread knees to lean down and plant a soft, velvety kiss to his lips. Hyunjin slid a beneath your butt to hold you close, the other gripped onto your hip restraining from doing more before the camera was finally turned on. He wanted to go further as his tongue licked at your bottom lip in asking for entrance, a whine emitting when you pulled away to deny the request. 

“You can always back out. At any time. You don’t have to say anything, just get up and leave.”

Hyunjin wasn’t listening to anything you were saying, you could tell by the glossy-eyed look he had as you brushed his hair from his face. His eagerness was contagious, you were on the verge of leaning in to kiss him again because of your own selfish needs, however the pinging of your computer’s five minute warning made you glance back before continuing.

“I’m serious, Hyune. We don’t have to do this. Tell me now and I’ll cancel the live.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” He teased, tugging you tighter.

“I do this for a living, I’m fine. I just don’t want you to regret any—“

Within a quick second, he pulled you to fall into his lap to be taken in with a deeper, hotter kiss that made you forget that there was a timer counting down his showcase. “Okay, I’ll shut up now.”

A minute and thirty seconds, you straightened yourself out and settled into a more comfortable position for the introduction. That was going to be the hardest part, explaining the video that was accidentally posted and now, this brand new guest that wasn’t even another streamer. Hyunjin was an unknown— either the reaction was going to be through the roof, or astronomically terrible.

Fourth five seconds, you anxiously changed positions again and had him scoot a little further back on the bed to sit between his legs. Instinctively Hyunjin leaned his chest onto your back, draping an arm around your waist. “Relax, we’ll be okay.”

We.

3, 2, 1. hardcandysweetheart, you are now live!

“Hey there, did you see my little surprise?”

There was another twitch in his pants against your lower back, you silenced your own panting lungs, the small action more than enough to soothe the worries you had.

“I think you liked it, so much that I just had to invite him back for more.” Your body moved slightly to the side and made room for Hyunjin to wave. As he did, you leaned in to quietly place a reassuring kiss to his cheek, to which he returned happily. 

You could faintly make out the comments scrolling by faster than you could attempt to read. “You’re excited, huh? It’s been a while since there’s been someone I wanted to bring on. This one’s special.” His hand massaged into your side, acknowledging the passing words and his heart thumping harder.

Hyunjin almost forgot that you were livestreaming, more than immersed in your voice that he fell into some sort of trance, hearing but not listening, relying purely on what he could see and feel. And that was you. His gaze only on you, unable to look anywhere else as that spell had goosebumps raising along his skin when you did nothing but touch his thigh. 

“Look at that, I think he’s more than ready to go. Practically drooling, aren’t you, baby?”

“Mhm,” he nuzzled his nose into your cheek, trying to hold back from his usual affections so as not to give too much away so quickly, and finding it difficult.

“He’s very obedient,” your voice lowered an octave, reaching back to cup his cheek and trail a finger down his neck to his chest, a red line following the same path. “Like a pet. Just follows me around, wherever I go.” Hyunjin whimpered, just a little, but enough for the audio to pick it up. “Hey now, be good for our guest. No begging.”

He kissed your cheek again, an apology.

Turning your attention back to the comments, “so sorry, lovely. I wanna ask you how your day went, but someone is a little too enthusiastic to get started. I hope you don’t mind, I’m still training him. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” he responded softly.

“His voice is so pretty. I know you’ll enjoy tonight’s stream, maybe even as much as I do.”

Your legs spread, hooking them over his knees and leaning back into his hold. Hyunjin’s hands started roaming everywhere they could, emphasizing his neediness by digging his fingers into the insides of your thighs and pulling them that much wider. Automatically they trickled their way down to your center, gently running the pads of his fingers over the gusset of your underwear. Even you could tell, it was incredibly wet, the aroma of your arousal filling the room. 

Glancing at the monitor, his frame overshadowed yours by what seemed like miles. Hyunjin’s broad shoulders shielded your back and you couldn’t help but relax further into him.

Hardly even there, he pushed into your center, drawing a small gasp from your lips. The small circles he traced sparked the need to buck your hips up and into him.

His mistake for laughing, you slapped his hand away to stand and shove him back onto the bed. The view of your ass covered his face from showing, but if watchers could see, they’d see him teething at his lip to hold back a victorious smile, as if it was his plan all along to get you to bite back. Hyunjin raked his eyes up and down your body before putting his hands behind his head.

Another strike.

“You think you’re gonna get to sit there like a pillow princess? D’you really think I’m gonna do all the work?”

The smile faded faster than it came.

Climbing onto his lap and straddling his hips, the camera got the perfect shot of your soaked crotch and the underside of his raging boner twitching in his underpants even more when you slammed both your hands onto the bed on either side of his head. Hyunjin flinched, but he wasn’t scared. More like turned on beyond belief.

“Little pet,” one finger tipped up his chin to close his awestruck dropped jaw. He could feel the heat of your cunt radiating through the wet material, suffocating in it when your hips softly landed right on top of his cock. Even through both of your underwear, the feeling of you on him was enough to turn the tables and he rut up into you.

The nickname, the finger lightly scratching under his jaw, everything down to the intonation when you spoke to him made Hyunjin forget there was a camera on the both of you. Aside from the very obvious seriousness of the act of sex itself and every other time the two of you had been together, this moment felt intensely more intimate. He couldn’t quite put his finger on as to why that was. The concerns you voiced before echoed in the back of his mind, though there wasn’t a single doubt that he had in wanting to continue.

The small fact that you cared enough to keep asking and keep reassuring that he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want, made his entire body heat up. Sure, the bar was on the floor. But it wasn’t just this one instance, you were persistent in making sure he was comfortable, and Hyunjin was grateful that the sentiment was returned in his efforts to help you learn about your own relationship needs outside of sex. Such a miniscule thing to be in love with, but it was his deal breaker. Call him a simp, but you had his balls tied in a heart shaped knot. 

You sat on top of him with an almost unimpressed look, letting him continue to hump against your warm cunt. Determination clouded the horniness as you tilted your head. The truth was that that alone felt remarkably good, keeping up the facade was one of the hardest things you had to do. To fight the impulse to moan, you steadied yourself and sat up straight, looking down at Hyunjin while his hands iron gripped onto your hips. The strength he held onto you almost was close to toppling you over.

Instead, you gave in just a little and sat fully. Hyunjin’s tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth, adjusting his knees and bumping you up to stabilize himself as the dragging of his covered cock slide against the wet friction of one another’s underwear. Sweat dripped down his temple and soaked his hairline, rolls of his hips took a full bodily effort. His abdomen moved in waves and gave you a preview of what it would look like when the underwear finally came off, delicious enough to rake your fingernails from his collarbone to his waistline, Hyunjin’s eyes rolling back as you did.

“Mmf– please, please,” he whimpered, becoming more erratic as the seconds passed. He dryly humped upwards so rough now that you were just about bouncing.

“Please what?” His hands slipped below the waistband of your panties and drug it half down your ass. “Use your words.”

“Fuck, need you.”

“Need me? Okay, pet.” 

With that, you abruptly stood up– not without a barrage of pleas and whines– and made room for him to hurriedly slide off the bed and kneel on the floor in front of you as you took his spot. If he had a tail, it’d be swinging back and forth.

You checked the camera’s view just in case, but it saw nothing but the back of his head, at the most. As he told you in earlier discussion, he was fine with that. The view of his back muscles made your mouth water that much more as it contrasted with the puppy dog look he was giving you now, waiting.

“So polite, baby.” You had barely moved to slide off your underwear when Hyunjin jumped at the chance, rushing it down your legs and tossing it to expose your dripping core.

If it was even possible, his eyes widened to the point of total blackness, determination now tainted with the lust that had driven him to this point in the first place. He’d never realized this side of him ever existed, this carnal desire and rapacious thirst to be suffocated in every aspect by a single person. He wanted to consume each bit of you down to the bone. Pick you apart just so he could thoroughly examine and ingrain every nerve and fiber that made you whole. This intense feeling, he never wanted it to end.

His hair was soft as you ran your fingers through it, playing with it for the viewers to see how good he was, waiting for permission like a true pet companion. Tongue running along his lips, he palmed at himself again and shifted uncomfortably in his spot.

“Go on. You wanted me, so have me.”

Spreading your legs wider, you didn’t have to work very hard to get him to dive into you head first. He was so overly excited that he moaned at the first taste of your pussy, dragging his tongue uncoordinatedly while shoving himself as close to you as possible.

As soon as his tongue touched your clit, you figured it was time to forgo worrying about how the stream looked and just let yourself fall into the feeling. Hooking your legs over his shoulders let Hyunjin sink his teeth further into you, or, more like his tongue slipping further down to prod at your hole and circle it before entering. Even if it couldn’t reach far in, the wiggling motion had your head falling back and moaning out. Voicing how pleased you were made Hyunjin reciprocate and mumble into your swollen cunt, vibrating every inch. 

Skin sensitive and needier than you wanted to let on, you were torn between satisfying yourself and putting him in his place.

But he was being good, the thought still crossed your mind no matter how well he was performing.

Being on live camera seemed to have sparked an even bigger submissive role Hyunjin wanted to fill, goading you into keeping a hand on the back of his head so that he had little room to breathe. As if he wanted to be put in his place.

Digging your heels into his back to secure him in place between your legs seemed to have given him the feeling he wanted– to be used.

Your hips canted into his mouth, not needing to chase his lips but wanting more of the suction, more of his tongue, more of the feeling. Like a freshly lit fire burning wildly in the center of your body and he was the dry wood and oxygen that kept it alive. Funny how that was when just looking at him takes your breath away.

Hyunjin wrapped his arms under your thighs to grip onto the tops of them, fingernails digging deeply into your skin to which you didn’t mind at all, the pain felt good with the pleasure. As you became louder, he did, too. His soft humming, lips suckling in your clit, tip of his tongue wiggling against it lightly as he did so, cumming was guaranteed as soon as he took your underwear off. And fuck, did it feel extra good.

Eye rolling, muscle tensing, vision blinding, chill inducing, voice numbing, leg twitchingly good.

You slouched over him as you came down, still partially aware of the green light blinking on your computer keeping you on camera. Hyunjin softly kissed your sensitive bundle of nerves to ease the comedown, mumbling what you think was praise when it should be you praising him for what was for sure his best round of head yet.

“I take it back,” you breathed out with a chuckle, and Hyunjin shot his head up to look at you with confusion. “I think I should put in some work for how amazing that just was.”

Hyunjin lopsidedly smirked, the view even cuter because your essence was smeared around his entire lower face.

“I’m so proud of you, baby. Maybe you don’t need as much training as I thought.”

You tapped his shoulder so he could scoot back and make room for you to stand. Hyunjin followed brief instructions to get onto the bed once more, laying down and ready for his underwear to finally come off. You rid yourself of the rest of your lingerie first, tossing the bra at him and laughing, just the littlest bit mocking when he brought it to his mouth to bite on. Stealing it away, you scolded, “nuh uh. I want them to hear you when I fuck you.”

“When you fuck me?”

The way you phrased it intimidated him a little, but also excited him. The prospect of getting fucked by you was something he’d never even thought would come out of your mouth let alone actually happen. He’d always thought that, traditionally, men should be the ones doing the fucking, that it was his job to cross that finishline with him putting in the effort. Hyunjin didn’t even know how this was a possibility, but he was more than ready for whatever you decided to do to him.

“Don’t worry, I’m saving the strap for another day. I don’t wanna scare you off so quickly.” All of that sentence and none of that sentence registered in his brain. “Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

Repressing the endeared smile on your face wasn’t an option. It was one of the rawest emotions you’d shown him yet, and being so open about it had Hyunjin’s heart doing somersaults into his belly, all of him fluttering on cloud nine. 

Your body covering his entire body including his face from the camera, you kneeled onto the bed between his legs and hovered over him to finally kiss him. Really kiss him, the way he’d been craving all night. The kind of kiss that murmured the words your lips didn’t know how to, unconditional and safe, hands so delicately open as he placed his entire heart into them.

Amidst his mind being blown with just a kiss, you snaked your hand into the waistline of his underwear and dryly– aside from all the leaking precum– stroked him until he whined to rid them. Condom placed on the edge of the bed for convenience, you were gentle in rolling it on, gentle in maneuvering to toss one leg over his hip, and gentle in taking his left leg into the crook of your arm.

All across the board, Hyunjin was confused. 

What in the hell kind of position was this? He had never seen you do this in any of your previous cams? Was there even a name for the pretzel he felt tied into? That’s an exaggeration, he’s just never been bent like this before. Now he gets how you must feel.

Your right thigh was locked under his to keep the position in something like a scissor looking kind. In his mind, it was odd, for sure. But he happily went with it because he knew you wouldn’t lead him anywhere he wouldn’t want to go.

One more soft, shared kiss, you scooted a bit higher up his body– straining his elevated leg a little because he didn’t think he needed to stretch beforehand– and settled directly over his aching cock. He hadn’t been properly touched since he’d gotten you completely naked and was in dire need of attention. Your hips dropped and he was sinking into you with nothing but slick and very much wanted entrance. Hyunjin felt strange, a wonderful and thrilling kind of strange that came from the new position and new atmosphere surrounding the both of you.

As you came to the hilt, he thought, “dear god, why didn’t you fuck me earlier?”

“Honestly, I didn’t think you would like it this much.”

His eyes widened to realize that he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. Hyunjin also didn’t realize how much time had passed since he had entered you and drool was dripping from the corner of his mouth. You didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

How could you be? You had an earth shattering orgasm and now got to fuck the most amazing and understanding person you know. And get to repay the favor with an extraordinary orgasm for him? You must have died and gone to heaven.

“Oh god, please keep going.”

An excited smirk, you experimentally moved your hips back and slid yourself off his cock, sinking back onto it as if you were the one penetrating. Hyunjin’s eyes rolled back and he groaned loudly. Music to your ears, you sped up just a little so that the bed rocked.

On your end, this was the ideal position. Every slide up and down his cock rubbed the under and inner part of your clit just the right way that you felt it in your legs. Hyunjin reached out to hold onto you, but couldn’t find the strength to hold on for very long before reaching a hand up to steady himself against the headboard.

You wanted more, needed more. Slinging his leg over your shoulder gave you more room to move freely, fuck him harder, faster until all that could be heard was skin on skin and wetness drowning his cock with every thrust. He loved everything about it and was doing whatever he could to suppress the impending high. Hyunjin wanted to cum, but didn’t want the moment to end even more.

“S– stop, stop,” he stuttered and held a hand out towards where your bodies connected. You cowered back and pulled him out in fear that he had changed his mind. Every negative thought you’d previously had about the situation came flooding back. That was, until he panted out a dreamy sigh, “don’t wanna cum yet. But please, fuck me harder.”

Endearing in every sense of the word.

“Because you said please.”

To give him a second to recuperate, you gently laid his leg back down and kissed his cheek. Then he gave you the okay once again, and changed to lifting both his legs around your waist. Hyunjin anticipatingly chuckled when you guided his cock to point a little more downward as you let him fill you, leaning your weight onto your arms that planted beside his head and letting him wrap his arms beneath the underside of your shoulders.

The steady rolls of your hips was exhilarating, scratching the itch that you didn’t know needed to be scratched, so satisfying that he face palmed himself for not thinking of it earlier.

You rested yourself on top of him so you were chest to chest, selfishly being a bit lazy because you wanted to taste his pretty lips once more. You knew the view for the stream was more than enough, probably too personal for Hyunjin’s first time camming, however he didn’t seem to mind. The camera being on was probably what made his senses skyrocket.

What a funny little attention whore.

You caught your rolling hips turning into harder slams, stronger and stronger with every slap of skin to skin. Hyunjin tightened his legs around your torso and kissed you back sloppier, uncoordinated as his high approached. He used the momentum of your movements to rut up to meet your center in time. Who was fucking who now, neither of you could tell nor care. 

His unfiltered moans of euphoria were too cute to keep for yourself, pulling away from the kiss as he came nearer and nearer to the edge. By the time you’d felt the knot tightening in your belly, Hyunjin was summoning whatever self control he had left to not blow before you.

“‘M gonna cum, ‘m gonna cum,” you whispered, letting your forehead fall into the crook of his neck and bite onto the supple skin. Messy and carelessly you fully weighted slammed your hips onto his as your cunt fluttered with the overflowing pleasure, sealing both your fates when you stopped entirely and let the pulsing within you milk you both for whatever you could collectively release. Hyunjin’s coarse voice filled the air as he fought the urge to say your real name, settling for unintelligible fibs while he filled the condom to the point of bursting. You couldn’t stop the convulsing of your hips that shallowly made you both shudder in overstimulation.

A ringing in your ears and warmth of his arms tightening around your waist, you wanted to shut your eyes and fall asleep just like this. But there was the growing sound of tips pinging to replace the previous adulterous noises and bring you both back to reality.

You kissed his chest before sitting up and kissing his lips, as delicately as possibly pulling away and letting him relax into the bed. The shaking in your legs made it almost impossible to turn and face your body towards the camera once more.

“What’d you think? Wasn’t his voice just to die for? Always so sweet.” Your eyes glazed over the rapidly scrolling comment section, unable to focus long enough to truly read any of them. Hyunjin didn’t even move, probably worn down to the bone. “I think our guest enjoyed himself. I know I surely did, and I hope you did, too, lovely. Let me know what you think, should he join us again some time? Maybe it’s time to wash up. Take care, lovely. Until next time.” You waved your fingers, paused a second, and ended the live with the comments still rolling. Not in the right mind to read them, you put your computer to sleep and crawled into bed beside the dozing man.

Hyunjin fought to keep his eyes open, too exhausted for his own good. You looked him up and down to assess his state– condom still on so you helped take it off him, limbs bent and tired as you assisted in stretching them to lay flat. The last step was taking him into your actual bed. No way were you letting him sleep in this icky, sweaty bed.

“No shower yet, Hyune. Just bed. Can I help you up?” He hazily nodded and allowed you to drape his arm over your shoulder so you could guide him back to your bedroom.

As soon as you had him beneath the covers and his head hit the pillow, he softly mewled and reached his arms out for you to take your rightful place within them. Then, he was out like a light. 

Soft snores and his heartbeat were all you could hear. There was nothing else you deemed worth the effort to think other than, people are only temporary for as long as they choose to be.

He couldn’t be more excited, the pleaser he is, Hyunjin was shaking in his skin as he watched the timer count down the seconds.

“Relax, baby. I’ll be right here if you need me,” you leaned back into your chair that sat out of sight of the camera, half naked as well to make it less nerve wracking. Phone in hand to monitor all of the comments of the people in the waiting room, this was a highly anticipated event in your extremely small circle. This was everything and anonymously nothing, but thrilling either way. “Have fun.”

Hyunjin weighed his options between the thirty seconds he had left and the need to get one more kiss. He chose the latter, skipping up to you and taking in your lips with unexaggerated passion. “For good luck.”

3, 2, 1. i.scream.sundae, you are now live!

“Oh, hello. Have we met before?”

☆ﾟ

A/N: unsure of the positions within the story? look here!

and that's it for this mini series! took me so fucking long to finish but ya know life happens. hope it was ehh maybe worth it. thank you for reading!

tags: @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @alexis-reads-fics @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut @straykids5star @like-a-diamondinthesky @karivm

[ant0nsfirstluv]

Riize Romantic Headcanons (2)

A/N: part twooo of my last posts + expanding on certain headcanons ♾️

Warnings: None

More under the cut

Shotaro:

lovesss to hype you, if you ever posted on insta he’d comment so much, repost it on his personal story, text you about how pretty you looked

he’d shamelessly compliment you so often, literally he’d see you for the first time in the day and would just shower you in so much praise and affection

always. taking. photos of you just for him to look at while he’s away or just because you look so goodt

Sends you video clips of him dancing and gets all smiley when you compliment him even though he knowsss he did good

holds you on his back especially if you two have been walking for a while and want to take a break

aggressively supportive !!! literally cheers you on no matter what interest or hobby you decide to take on

Thanks you allll the time and gives you a small kiss each time he does, you could literally just hand him a tissue and he’d be “thank youu 😙”

The least conflicts could ever happen with him tbsh, even if there was a disagreement between you two he’s level headed enough to where you two will somehow someway find a solution

Eunseok:

doesn’t have a specific nickname for you because he’ll just call you his “little [insert random thing]” or “my [insert random thing]

I like to think he’d call you his flower but that’s just me 🌚 leave it up to your imagination

messes with your hair often, sometimes he’ll literally just wordlessly play with it until you snap him back into reality

verrry sudden compliments, out of nowhere he’ll drop the most sweet blush inducing compliment ever and then go back to being stone or messing with you 😭

randomly appears at your house without saying anything, you’d literally be walking around your home and he would just walk in like “hey 🙋”

you two will be in the same place and he’ll still text/facetime you instead of just walking to where you are to tell/show you what he needs to say

he loves staying in with you even if you two do practically nothing he’d be fine with you on his lap while watching tv and snacking

protective but in a very calm sense. helps you avoid things he knows you’re particularly uncomfy with or just borderline keeps you out of harms way by being right by you

Sungchan:

has soft launched you two like 5 million times everybody knows you two are together atp he is NOT slick bro 😭

as I said in the last post he loves kissing your face and I feel like he’d wake you up by giving you some kisses on your cheek while whispering your name

eating together is a must he will literally just text and ask to eat together at your fave restaurant just because and let’s you order wtv you want

has his hands on you in someee type of way literally he finds a way or reason to touch you no matter what he just can’t keep his hands to himself ☹️

would buy matching or similar gym wear for you two if you ever do or want to come to the gym with him, ugh the matching sets would be SO CUTE

will literally have you sit on his back while he does push-ups or see how many times he can squat while holding you

alwaysss reminiscing about moments between you two throughout the relationship the amount of cute convos that happened because of him starting with “babe do you remember when…”

loves being praised by you like your compliments literally make his whole entire day PLEASE DO ! send him sweet motivational goodmorning texts

Wonbin:

let’s keep it real for a moment…he would most definitely call you his pretty girl

has his moments of just staring/adoring you, whether you two are on opposite sides of the room or if he’s right by you while you’re doing something

if you guys don’t know, wonbin has mentioned that he has a habit of doing things 7 times in a row, so ofc in my mind,, he probably kisses you 7 times before you leave his place :( or before you gts

there’s been so many times where he’d be hanging out with the members and will just DISAPPEAR as soon as you ask to hang out, the members will ask where he went and he’s already at your house 😭

if someone made you even slightly visibly uncomfortable or upset he would glare at them until they went/looked away

if a girl tried getting his number or something he’d probably blankly look at them for a good…3 seconds and then just “no 🫤”

no matter where you’re laying down he’ll curl up right next to you or on top of you and he lovesss taking a nap with you

absolutely geeks when you two accidentally match or wear similar outfits he will find out what you’re gonna wear just so he can secretly wear the same thing 🌚

would paint a nail with your initial 🌚 but would get sooo shy when anybody outside of the members asked what the letter meant LOL

Seunghan:

you could be wearing… a plastic bag…and he’ll still be like “you’re so beautiful” like man hello

touching your face is a habit of his, he’ll literally be smiling down at you while stroking your cheek and jawline with his thumb and pointer

whenever you sit on his lap while he’s gaming whenever he has a free hand he’ll take advantage of it to stroke your back or squish your face for a kiss

loves to hear your voice..will call you literally just to hear it you don’t even have to be directly talking to him as long as he can hear you

you’ll be sitting down with the members and he’ll get a tiny bit jealous once you laugh at eunseoks joke a little too hard and he’ll run by, pick you up and run off with you

helps you with your hair whenever you’re struggling with it, as long as you guide him and give him instructions he’ll try his best !!!

I’m sorry but if you ever were irritated or grumpy and accidentally let it slip while with him he’d grab your face and kiss you to shush you 😭

he eats up whenever you’re shy he relishes in it so much he can’t help but want to watch you look away because you can’t keep eye contact

wouldn’t let you be insecure in the slightest you could literally have just woken up lips dry face puffy and he’ll still make you feel so pretty

Sohee:

likes to cuddle with him laying back and you on top of him resting your head in the crook of his neck while he draws patters into your back :(

whenever he tells you goodmorning he always gives you a hug with a good squeeeeze and a quick kiss on your nose or cheek

trust he likes to be babied and spoiled but sometimes he wants to be the gentleman for you too like let him take care of you and nurture you okayyy 💔

sohee’s cute demeanor can make him seem like he’d be shy which could be the case but I can see him being bold or more straightforward when it comes to his affections towards you

like he’ll ask YOU out, he’ll ask if he could kiss you for the first time, he’ll hug you, hold your hand, and ask you on a date first

gloats about you to everyone, the members included, as soon as you post yourself on your story he’s quick to say “ugh my gf is so pretty guys look look look” while mushing his phone in their faces

he is soooo sweet and truly so lovely..but sometimes…you will be a victim of the sassy man apocalypse while you’re with him I’m sorry LMFAOO

like if you forgot to text him before you got back home or if you fell asleep forgetting to call him before you did he’d be so quick to text you “I see how it is 🙄”

or he’d avoid kissing you but as soon as you give up trying to kiss him he’d be SO quick to switch up wanting a kiss IMMEDIATELY begging you for one

Anton:

he would most definitely see cute pics of two animals like some ducks or rabbits snuggling together and will text it to you and be like “us”

hugs from behinddd allll the timeeee even if you two are just standing there he’ll hold onto you from behind and rest his head on your shoulder

pretends to bite you, especially on your shoulder but if he ever did accidentally actually bite you he’d make it up by putting a small peck wherever he did it

kisses your hand and down your forearm because he just likes to tbsh

has you do the most foolish tiktoks with him and yes you guys will have like 300 drafts and yes he makes you two do like 12 takes 😭😭

particular compliments, will call you gorgeous overall but has moments where he tells you a certain color makes you look radiant or when your hair looks extra good

spoils you to oblivion, you have a wishlist frm your fave clothing brand you say 🤔 BOUGHT, he sees some cute matching couple necklaces..SOLD ! you lost your favorite makeup brushes ? HERES SOME NEW ONES !

whenever he flirts and starts getting bold he’ll fold so quick like he’ll build up his courage to be super straight forward but will literally crumble and be a tad bit embarrassed later especially if you repeat what he said LMFAOO

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (15) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: you cannot seem to stay away. 

word count: 1,443

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: another shorter chapter im so sorry, pet name (petal), not proofread

The Snow family cottage was beautiful. It looked like it had been plucked straight out of a storybook. The cobblestone walls, the window boxes overflowing with flowers, the ivy growing up the side of the house—all of it was gorgeous. Though you loved your life in the Capitol, a part of you would be content to live here forever and you hadn’t even seen the inside yet. 

“It was a wedding gift from my father to my mother,” Coriolanus said as he walked you up the stone path. “She always preferred the quiet. She would often come here just to escape the noise of the Capitol.”

“Your father must have loved your mother very much,” you said. To build an entire cottage as a wedding gift? You wondered how long it took. Buildings could be erected quite quickly in the Capitol due to all of the resources being sent straight there. But even then, there could be delays when things were not so readily available. How long had it taken to bring everything out to the countryside? 

“They had a long courtship, so he could have the cottage ready by the time they wed,” Coriolanus continued. “In the end, it was worth it to him if only because it was where she chose to have her children.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “She…” you tried to ask, but the words didn’t sound right. It sounded too insensitive to even try. 

“It was the one place that reminded her of my father that had been left untainted by the war,” he said. “I hated this place for so long because it felt like it took her from me. As I grew older, I began to appreciate that at least, through the pain, she felt some amount of peace.” He glanced at you as if to see your reaction. “I hope to make some better memories here with you. If that is alright.”

You swallowed. Oh, why did he have to be so sweet? To share his pain with you, to be so vulnerable…Fuck. Did he do this just so he could confuse your thoughts even more? Or was he being genuine? “I can try,” you offered. 

The corner of Snow’s mouth quirked up. You wanted to kiss it. “Thank you, petal. That is all that I ask.”

But is it all that you will ever ask? you wanted to say. What if you disappointed him? What if you could not provide him with the love he wanted from you? What happens then? 

Instead, you offered a small smile. “Can we go inside? I’m quite hungry after our journey.”

Coriolanus smiled, too, and led you in. It almost felt like you were being taken straight into the lion’s den. You pushed the thought from your mind. You told him you would try. Maybe you couldn’t make better memories for him here, but maybe you could try to understand him. Maybe, away from the Capitol, you could look between Coriolanus from the Academy and the Coryo you’ve come to know and find the true man laying inside. 

You reached for his hand, and gave it a squeeze. 

After lunch, Coriolanus allowed you your space. He gave you leave to pick which room you would like to stay in over the course of the your honeymoon, showed you where he would stay, and other points of interest in the cottage. Then he disappeared into his study, leaving you to do as you pleased. 

A part of you ached as he left. It had been what you wanted—distance to figure things out on your own. To determine how much you cared about Coriolanus without his presence influencing your thoughts. But you had so much time with him in recent weeks, had gotten to experience him so intimately, that for him to leave you be…It felt wrong. It felt like he took a part of you with him. You swallowed your self-inflicted hurt, though, took a book from the library, and retreated into the gardens. 

Still, as you sat among the grand rose bushes that seemed to follow the Snows wherever they go, you couldn’t focus on the pages. The words blurred together until they were unrecognizable. You found yourself glancing to the window to Coriolanus’s study, silently urging him to walk to it, to look out at you. He never came. 

What was wrong with you? 

You closed the book, not bothering to mark the page you were on. You hadn’t processed a single thing on the pages you flipped through. Hell, you weren’t even sure what it was you were trying to read. This was just a cheap attempt to push away your feelings, to not have to bother sorting through them. 

You retreated back into the cottage, setting the book aside on a table, before marching up to Coriolanus’s study. The door was open. Coriolanus’s back was to you as he gazed out the window. You raised your hand, rapping your knuckles on the doorframe. He turned, his pale blue eyes wild with worry.

“Is everything alright?” he asked. 

“You drive me mad. You make me ill every time I see you. I cannot tell if it’s because of the butterflies girls talk about or because you scare me. You do. Scare me, I mean.”

Coriolanus took a step toward you. “I scare you?” he repeated.

“Your anger terrifies me. I don’t think…I don’t think you would ever hurt me. But the idea of what you might do to someone who does…Coryo, I have never been more terrified than when you thought I was going to run away with Sejanus. I was sure you would have killed him where he stood.”

A frown settled on his face. He took another step. “I should have. You are everything to me. I won’t let anyone try to poison you against me.”

“I cannot for the life of me understand why. You could have anyone, Coryo. You could have someone who knows that they love you, who can say those words.”

“I don’t want anyone but you, petal.” He stepped closer. One more step, and he would be in front of you. Part of you wanted to shy away, to put distance between the two of you. Your feet remained firmly planted. 

“Why?” you begged. 

“Because I burn for you. You have burrowed yourself into my soul, if I should have one. Since we were fourteen, all I have wanted was you. All I have ever wanted was to be good enough for you. I made a name for myself for you, I became king for you. I will be any man you want me to be. Just give me the word.”

Your brows pinched together. “We only met when we were fourteen.”

Coriolanus closed the distance. “I fell in love with a girl who could look me right in the face and say I was wrong for thinking the opera useless, a gratuitous performance than something contributory to society. I did not come to love the opera that day, but rather the girl whose face lit up at every note. Who nearly rose out of her seat as if she might be sing too. I have loved you for a long time, petal. I fear I always will.”

He reached up, his hands cupping your face. You leaned into his palm, your eyes fluttering shut. “I will go to as many performances as you wish, petal. I will pretend I love every one. I will build you a thousand libraries. I will adopt a million cats. If you…If you tell me to beg for your love, I will get on my knees without a second thought. I will do anything, I will be anything, for you.”

“What if you tire of me?”

“I could never. The months I spent with the Peacekeepers, the years I spent climbing the social ladder, all I could think of was you and all of it would be worth it if I could hold you just once.”

“And when you learn that I am a far cry from the woman you think me to be?”

“Then I would love her, too. You are it for me, petal.”

You opened your eyes. Your gaze fell to his lips—how plush they were, how his tongue darted out to wet them, how they parted, ready to say more. Words never fell past them, though, for you stopped them right in their tracks. You kissed your Coryo until you were breathless. 

When you finally parted for air, you whispered, “I…think this is better than a love match.”

[yuri-is-online]

The TWST cast from the original Fyuuture Kid timeline is so Cleopatra by Lumineers coded. They just get their (pregnant) joyfriend ripped away from them, cursed, and then sent back to earth, where they can't follow all in one day. That's gotta be a fucking nightmare. They just lose everything at the same time. Bro. Imagine Jamil or Azul, they had to fight for everything and just when they finally, FINALLY, think they have something that will never leave, it's taken away. Imagine malleus or cater or silver; they've already lost so much, silver just lost his dad and now, when he's going to make his own family, they're taken from him too.

TW FOR SUICIDE.

You wrote one time that of Yuu ever died, Floyd would be quick to follow, so. Did Jade and Azul have to put him on suicide watch? My mind is reeling there were NO WINNERS in this timeline Goddamn.

Sorry for the angst dude I just think about this AU a lot

i am so sorry for making you all live with this many thoughts and just waltzing on off to do fuck all

So there weren't any winners in the original timeline no, but the way things went down sort of prevented the type of outcome you are describing with Floyd due to the potential for hope, that most dangerous of falsehoods. In a way that sort of makes it worse though... so lets talk about what went down shall we?

(I'm going to keep this post to more general information, but I did write some specific ship thoughts I'll probably use for another post later on, I just need to think on some of them more...)

notes: they/them used for Yuu, this is part of my fyuuture kid au which can be found under the series section of my masterlist. This post will not contain discussions of suicidal ideation, but will contain major character death and descriptions of violence. If you are curious about what happened to Yuu and Fyuuture kid, look at this post here.

General Original Timeline Facts

To give a brief re-cap of what happens to Yuu, they were arrested by the Magical Marshall's office and sent back to their world, while pregnant, and cursed to forget everything that had happened to them in Twisted Wonderland. Something I didn't mention in that first post, mostly because I intended to imply it in the answer about Riddle's relationship with Yutu but ended up cutting, is that none of the characters actually know that this is what happened at first. They know that Yuu disappeared, but they don't know that the Marshalls were involved or that Yuu went back to their world, which causes a real sense of panic in all of them because holy shit their spouse and unborn child just went missing and they can't seem to get anyone to take this seriously. How the Marshalls went about hiding this information, and what the general public believed happened to Yuu depends on who their husband was, as did the fallout of their disappearance.

For anyone who might be a bit confused, the Magical Marshall's Office is an elite squad of police officers who investigate magical crime, and occasionally deal with overblots. They are the organization that Deuce wants to join one day, which does mean that the people who made the decision to see Yuu as a threat to public safety and send Yuu home were Deuce's own co-workers and friends.

Deuce is the first to suspect that the Marshall's might have had something to do with Yuu's disappearance, but he isn't able to really do much with that. He tries, but he is stonewalled and eventually fired- though by the time that happened monster attacks started getting really bad in the Queendom and Deuce had a whole other set of questions.

Speaking of those monster attacks, the instant Yuu is removed from Twisted Wonderland Grim overblots I have an idea as to why, but it isn't super set in stone. This "Chimera" begins hunting and stirring up monsters, inciting them to attack civilization while it focuses on trying to "wake up" the Phantoms of the Great 7. These phantoms want to re-join with their respective overblot boy, which is an easier task for some of them than others.

The first phantom to re-appear was the Thorn Fairy's. Malleus chose to seal himself and his phantom in an eternal sleep inside the Briar Valley capital after ordering Sebek and Silver to evacuate everyone who lived there, leaving his people truly leaderless and in shambles. He technically also ordered Lilia to go with them, but he refused. He wasn't able to abandon another Draconia to die alone. A lot of nocturnal fae died to the Phantom before Malleus's sacrifice, but because the problem was more or less contained to Briar Valley not all of the other nations saw the monster problem as a threat. They should have.

The second phantom to re-appear was The Queen of Hearts'. Riddle, having been approached by Deuce with his suspicions regarding Yuu's disappearance and outraged by what he saw as a clear violation of the law (if nothing else) was easy prey and re-assimilated into the monster. The phantom then began hunting down each of Riddle's previous dorm mates to corrupt them into card soldiers for its army, eventually fashioning four lieutenants that were a touch more sentient that the others out of Trey, Cater, Deuce, and Ace.

Certain members of the Al-Asim family saw that happen and quietly, without Kalim's knowledge, arrange to have Jamil killed. This doesn't prevent the Sorcerer of the Sands' phantom from reuniting with him, it just means the monster is puppeteering a corpse. And dragging around a second once it gets its hands on Kalim...

Obviously at this point something of a pattern has been established, meaning S.T.Y.X. is expected to do something. Idia does not actually overblot for a second time thank you very much, Phantom Ortho has a mind of his own and he promised to stay in the Underworld until it was Idy's time. His first order of business is to check in on Vil, Azul, and Leona to make sure they're ok. He manages to make contact with Vil, but the Coral Sea proves impossible to get a message through to and Leona is M.I.A. Literally, he and Ruggie have both disappeared while investigating monster attacks around the slums. Idia has a decision to make, and it's not one he really likes, but S.T.Y.X. has a better relationship with the Sunset Savannah than it does the Coral Sea, so it's off to the Elephant Graveyard while Vil agrees to stay behind on the Isle of Woe under observation for his own safety.

It's a decision Idia regrets later. He gets to Leona in time to help him fight and kill the King of Beasts's phantom, but it costs Leona and Ruggie their lives, and while he's there, the Sea Witch's phantom finds Azul and begins using his magic to drain the merfolk dry. Floyd manages to use his unique magic to distract Azul long enough to allow Jade to escape, who only flees because he thought his brother was behind him the whole time. The oceans become polluted with blot, forcing the surviving merfolk to the surface. Many go to NRC and take refuge in the Octavinelle dorm pocket dimension, resulting in the Mostro Lounge being closed to make more room. Somehow that feels more like a killing blow to Azul for Jade than what the phantom did.

Schools like NRC, RSA, and Nobel Bell become sort of centers for survivors due to the large amounts of mages, magical wards, and artifacts that such schools typically have made them safer than most towns. NRC specifically has seen a large influx of magicless people who run a lot of the things the ghosts used to and runs a lot of normal school classes in additional to the magic program, which shifts over time to be more focused on fighting due to the increased monster attacks.

Also Crewel is now Headmage. It would have been Trein but I don't think he needs the stress. I haven't decided if he is still alive or not, but Vargas and Sam are still kicking.

So to give a run down of where everyone stands in the original timeline in order: Malleus and his phantom are trapped in an eternal sleep, Lilia is dead, Silver and Sebek are alive (at least at first) and trying to help the fae refuges displaced by the Thorn Fairy's Phantom. All of Heartslabyul are overblot phantoms, and actively making the Queendom of Roses unlivable. Jamil was assassinated and the Sorcerer of the Sands's phantom went on to kill Kalim and most of his family. To be clear that wasn't because of Jamil's lingering emotions, but good luck explaining that to most people. Vil and Idia are overblot free, Vil because he is being detained on the Isle of Woe and Idia because of his promise with Phantom Ortho. Leona and Ruggie died fighting the King of Beast's phantom. Azul and Floyd are blot phantoms, while Jade is alive and tending bar at what remains of the lounge at NRC.

Now Epel, Rook, and Jack aren't named in that list. No one really knows what happened to them, but they are assumed dead (or at least Jack and Epel are.) Since this is my AU and I get to give out the information, I'll let you know that Rook is a phantom under control of the Fairest Queen's phantom, Jack is dead, and Epel is alive, but cut off from the rest of Twisted Wonderland by the monsters under the Fairest Queen's control. He's right teed off about that, hey Yutu go get him that ladder he's gonna give Rook a piece of his mind-

I do have some ship specific thoughts but I want to cook with them a bit more... but to maaaybe tease some of them?

Yutu and his friends had to fight the Heartslabyul boys multiple times. Yes this hurt their Yutus a lot, and is one of the main reasons Riddle! Yutu hates his dad so much.

Vil can hear the Fairest Queen talking to him and it's not great for his mental stability. Neither is being cooped up in the Isle of Woe, his Yutu did meet him and remembers it being a terrifying experience.

Jade has a good relationship with Floyd! Yutu, Jade and Floyd are their own people but losing Floyd killed a part of him that was slightly healed by getting his nephew back. He likes to tease Azul! Yutu and told him a great deal about his dad. As for his own Yutu... their relationship is a tad strained by how protective Jade is over his son. He is terrified of losing him and what is left of his pearl...

Not all Yutus are in the same dorm as their father. I haven't decided on where all of them are yet, but I did mention once in my replies that Azul! Yutu is in Savanaclaw. I did not mention that he did intend to transfer but couldn't when he accidentally became the Dorm Leader because he got tired of being mouthed off to and knocked someone out. I have an ask about Cater! Yutu I'm working on but I'll add him here as having been put into Octavinelle, and I think I want to put Kalim! Yutu into Pomefiore but I need to cook more...

[toodelusionalforreality]

Azriel x OC | Chapter 4

Shadow

Both his brothers are mated. Both his brothers are happily in love. But after five centuries of rejection, Azriel doesn’t hope for such luxury in his life. When he meets the bar owner who is too mysterious even for the spymaster to decipher, his intrigue turns into more. Lines between mystery and secret blur. The closer he gets to her, the more his instincts warn him to stay away.

Previous Chapter: Bastards

Word count: ~6k Warning: None

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. This is a half-baked version which I may edit later. This was supposed to be two separate chapters which I compiled into one. So the style difference may come off a bit strong, my apologies.

The gelding, as dark as midnight sky, stood with an unearthly stillness under the shade of the stable. Its beady eyes followed Mor as she circled the building for the second time. Grateful for the boots she exchanged her sandals for, she stepped along the edge of the bank. Soil crumbled under her feet setting off ripples in the shallow waters. Pushing the hair out of her face, she peered around. Her fingertips trailed along the stone wall allowing the ragged surface to chip at her skin. No trace of magic. No hint of a hidden room. Not an inch of window on either side. 

Sensing its unwavering stare on her back, Mor turned to the horse with narrowed eyes. She teased the ends of her braid between her fingers. ‘You wouldn’t know of a secret room back there, would you?’ 

The beast didn’t even breathe in response. Mor let out a long sigh.

The meadow stretched for miles in every direction with nothing in sight except for the smithy. Gentle breeze chilled the sweat coating her neck. Thunder clapped at a distance and the scent of impending rain sweetened the air. A single droplet fell on her cheek and she looked up at the darkening skies. Maybe a summer drizzle would be a blessing. It would save her the effort to cloak what she had been up to before Ayla returned.

As she walked back, Mor studied the closed doors again. Painted in blue as bright as the ocean in the west, the carvings seemed to blend and merge into waves, chaotic and restless, as though the rustle of Sidra poured life into them. The longer she stared, the harder it was to break her gaze.

Then she felt it—a quiet call beckoning her forward, promising her. . .something she couldn’t name.

In that moment, Mor knew only one thing. She had to own it.

She inched ahead, and a low grunt warned her. The waves froze. So did Mor’s breath. The horse now stood at the doorstep. She hadn’t seen it move.

‘Hey,’ she muttered under her breath, ‘I don’t want to do this either.’

. . .

Her cousin’s smile vanished as soon as Feyre left the room. Alone in his study, Rhys finally turned to Mor. 

Ever since the three brothers returned from Mother knew where a week ago, none had been the same. Only when Rhys found his mate in front of a fire cradling their babe in her arms that night, his love for them chased the darkness away from his eyes. Creases marked his tunic and his usually impeccable hair was dishevelled. Az didn’t enter past the foyer while Cass stood guarding the door after him. The two stared at each other. Az waited for another minute before he stepped to his brother and hissed under his breath. Shadows wreathed around him. But Mor caught glimpses of his leathers ruined with dirt and splattered blood.

‘It doesn’t feel right, Rhys.’ Mor found his eyes devoid of any emotion.

Perched on a simple leather chair, Rhys radiated the power of a High Lord making a throne for himself no matter where he was. He fixed her with one of his rare stares that left no room for argument. ‘We don’t have the luxury to discuss what’s right.’

Mor didn’t need a reminder of what entailed when Az wanted something. She had seen it for five centuries—the ruthlessness behind those kind eyes, the raging fire behind the cool facade.

‘Do you think she’s dangerous?’

Rhys paused. ‘I don’t know.’

Mor couldn’t tell if he meant the mystery woman or Ayla. Perhaps, both. ‘Let’s wait a couple of days. See what happens.’

There had been no news of a missing fae or attack anywhere in the city. Somehow it didn’t offer comfort to either man as she had expected.

‘Would I be asking this if we could sit and wait?’ His shoulders drooped as he heaved a heavy breath. ‘I can barely hold him off from tearing Hewn City apart.’

‘Then let him,’ Mor shrugged. ‘He’d be doing us a favour anyway.’

She would have done it herself, she should have done it herself centuries ago. But she was a coward. The thought of returning to that place even to reduce it to rubble and dust made her blood run cold.

Rhys dismissed her. ‘She was intent on making a bargain. Sounds like an awful trouble for a simple bladesmith, don’t you think?’

Mor gaped at him. He never ignored her whenever that hell was involved. Never. Not only did he speak the city’s name with carelessness, but his eyes lacked the softness they always held when he approached her on its matters.

She squared her shoulders. Her cousin had a point, though she wouldn’t admit it yet. ‘We shouldn’t be making assumptions. It could be nothing.’

But Rhys pressed on, ‘We were in the next room. She wanted the fae. She hurt Ayla.’ He leaned back in the chair. ‘I’m not willing to gamble with their lives.’

Mor hated that Az was caught up in it. She hated it more that she was dragged into it. Az hadn’t been himself the past few days. Damn, he hadn’t been himself for the past few months.

At first, Cass and Mor bet how long his affair with Ayla would last. Az rarely ever shared more than a night with one woman. A few hours at her place, but at the end of the night, he always returned home. Ayla was supposed to be one of his blow-off-the-steam flings. Mor claimed it so, a phase. But Cass was certain it was a mild attraction. I’d never seen Az smile like that at a woman who drew blood from a man, he had said.

Then he returned to the bar again and again. It was a jolt to both of them—at least Cass ended up five gold marks richer. If Ayla had such a hold over Az, if she had meant anything to him, one expected him to tell his friends about his budding feelings. But he kept his escapades a secret, kept her a secret.

Ever since the night, Az had been more distant, more aloof. When everyone went out, as far as going to Ayla’s bar for his sake, he wished to stay home. When everyone stayed the night in River House, he preferred his room in House of Wind. No amount of coaxing convinced him to stay longer than dinner. Nothing satisfied him anymore. 

Since he wished to be anywhere but Velaris, Cass and Mor had planned a whole weekend in the mountain cabin. Yet, Az declared he was going to Day Court on a mission, and Rhys refused them specifics. 

That was before the bond snapped for him. Mor didn't blame Ayla. Still, she couldn’t stop the resentment festering in her heart either. The man she knew all her life, her friend who saved her and brought her back home, was being ripped away from them. Slowly and steadily. She wanted him to be happy. But what if the price was to lose him to a woman they barely knew, to someone who stood to break their family apart? Or worse, break his heart? One day with her had left Az a wreck. What would a lifetime with her do to him? It almost happened once. But Cass and Nesta were one thing.

This was Az.

Getting up from the chair, Mor turned away from Rhys and his hard stare. ‘Didn’t you say the wards are ancient magic?’ Her fingers tugged at the gold chain around her wrist, ‘And Ayla can fight. It will be fine.’ 

She couldn’t go down that road, not even for Az. Let him deal with Ayla and the danger surrounding her. If the worst came to pass, she couldn’t bear to watch it destroy him. She couldn’t get in the middle of his love affairs. But it wasn’t an affair, was it? No, this was his mate. His one true match.

‘Mor,’ called Rhys, kind and gentle that it stopped her pacing. ‘He’s waited long enough. He deserves better.’

There it was, the jab she had been waiting for. Mor kept her breath and voice steady. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means we look out for our friend.’

A lie. A pathetic one at that. She knew what he meant. They blamed her for breaking Az’s heart. They believed Ayla couldn’t do worse than what she did to him. It wasn’t her fault Az held onto hope. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t love him the way he wanted her to.

‘It’s a mating bond,’ she stated calmly, ‘We shouldn’t be meddling.’ Maybe rationality would earn a sway with Rhys. He always put reason first anyway. ‘Besides, Az wouldn’t appreciate you scheming behind his back.’

‘It’s for him I’m asking.’

. . .

‘I only need a peek inside,’ Mor said.

She revealed her open palms to the black guardian in a peace offering. But it stood unmoved. She took a careful step towards the door—that unknown magic summoning her again. 

Another grunt, and she halted.

Damn you, Rhys!

A gentle murmur closed in on them. Mor looked over her shoulder. She had lingered for too long.

‘Don’t tell on me,’ she whispered to the beast and hurried to the stable.

Ayla wore a ridiculously large shirt that swallowed her frame. The fabric swayed in the breeze and clung to her toned thigh and the graceful swell of her hip. Every inch of her body—except for her face and hands—was hidden. She lovingly looked at the mare limping beside her. As it slowed, Ayla grazed her fingers along its neck and followed its gaze. Her pretty, serene smile faded.

Daylight did her justice, unlike the dim glow at the bar. Ayla was attractive, criminally so. But she wasn’t Az’s type—so simple and. . .forgettable. She was beautiful, and yet her face barely left a mark on one’s mind. As if she merged with the very air surrounding them, invisible and intangible. Unless one knew what they were looking for, they wouldn’t spare her a glance.

The night they found Az in the bar alone—Ares or Larus, all Mor remembered was the ugly creature and her incessant knitting—none of them suspected his reason to be a woman, let alone her. 

One had no say in how Mother chose their mate. Still, Ayla was a far cry. Az instead liked women who were. . .Mor frowned. She realised she didn’t know. Her friend was lucrative about his partners, especially with her. Did Rhys or Cass know of his preferences? Something worse dawned on her. Would he have told her about his mate if Cass hadn’t blabbered in his drunken haze?

Without breaking her stride, Ayla walked past the blonde ignoring her friendly wave and smile. She smelled sweet—like cardamom and something exotic.

The gelding finally moved from its spot and approached her as she reached the stable. It stood by the entrance even when its companion sought the shade inside, its beady eyes only on Mor. 

‘You need anything?’ Ayla peeked at her visitor before crouching by the door. Lustrous strands slipped loose from the messy knot at the nape of her neck. She brushed them away with the back of her hand and reached inside a bucket on the ground. She tossed something at Mor, ‘It’s clean.’

Mor caught it before it hit her in the face. Rude!

It was firm and cool and. . .red. She threw an apple at her.

The mare trudged back to Ayla, looking down over her shoulder. A leather brace encased its right forelimb, winding up from hoof to knee. When Mor moved closer, drawn by its beauty, it whipped its head away and backed into the shade. 

Ayla got to her feet with a dancer’s fluidity, an apple in her hand. ‘I got you. You’re safe now,’ she cooed. ‘No one’s going to hurt you.’ 

She hushed softly. The mare stilled under her touch. She brushed her fingers through its mane, the hair shifting like spun silver. As she breathed, the horse breathed with her.

‘What happened to her?’

Mor couldn’t take her eyes off them. Over the centuries, she had witnessed many fae and humans alike attempt to tame a beast and waste years to earn its trust. She had never seen anyone so in tune with a creature before. Or rather, a creature in tune with a fae.

‘Her owners weren’t kind to her,’ Ayla held the fruit out. The mare caught a sniff before sinking its teeth into its flesh. ‘When she couldn’t breed anymore, they worked her until her leg gave out. They ignored her when she started showing signs. She was in much pain.’

The creature shuffled closer, eager for her touch and words.

Ayla smiled, ‘But that’s the past. She’s making a recovery now. Brave girl, aren’t you?’

Something deep inside Mor cracked and ached. She swallowed, turning to the male horse. It bore no sign of illness or injury. ‘What about him?’

The silver one wearily made its way to a corner hiding from the stranger. But the darkness couldn’t hide the glow in its watchful blue eyes.

Ayla cared neither about Mor nor the threat her horses seemed to sense. She inspected two more apples between her slender fingers as she carried them to the gelding. ‘You’re not here to discuss horses with me. I know who you are, Morrigan.’

A chill went down her spine. No one called her that anymore, at least not in Velaris. She was Mor—Mor who escaped her father and her fate. Mor who freed herself from the darkness from which she was born.

She opened her mouth, unable to resist the urge to correct the woman in front of her. Distant thunder rumbled above the mountains like a warning. A reminder from Mother herself to speak true. Her words halted. It wasn’t the name that unsettled her. But the way Ayla spoke it, the quiet command in it.

Mor mustered the smile she reserved for the courtiers and nobles. ‘Then I guess it makes this less awkward. Tell me about the fae.’

‘What fae?’ Ayla petted the dark coat of the horse. It shimmered like starry smoke under her fingers, and Mor longed to feel its softness on her skin.

‘The one you’re hiding in a secret room back there,’ Mor pointed at the smithy, though Ayla didn’t bother to look at her, unlike her horses who wouldn’t take their eyes away from her.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Seriously?’ Mor snorted, ‘Is this what you want to lie about? Rhys was inside that room.’

‘There’s a room, but it’s no secret.’

Mor rolled her eyes. She regretted not asking Rhys about her first. ‘Fine. Why don’t you tell me about this not-a-secret room and the child you’re harbouring?’

‘She’s not your concern.’

‘Of course, she is. She lives in this court.’

‘No, she’s not.’ She smiled, a twitch of her lips in mockery. ‘Despite what your High Lord believes he heard, that child was never in danger. Regardless, she can protect herself.’

‘Mine?’ Ayla’s chin dipped ever-so-slightly, her gaze shifting. Mor pressed, ‘You said my High Lord.’

‘I’m not mistaken.’

‘Where are you from?’ 

Ayla stayed silent. Mor studied her. Her hair, lighter than a raven’s, a deep brown shone with a tinge of coppery sheen in the sunlight. Her eyes matched her hair, deep and intense. Her skin had a golden hue to it, not tan like the three Illyrians she knew, and not fair like the Archeron sisters. Somewhere in between. Her body showed no hints of other courts’ blood.

Right when she was about to press again, a cool calmness that was the essence of her cousin nudged her mind. 

He’s home.

Keep him busy, she told him. If Rhys were to be believed, Az clung to a delicate thread of restraint from shadowing Ayla day and night. And when that snapped, she wanted to be as far away as possible.

Mor tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘So, Rhys says you’re a weaponsmith.’ 

Ayla pursed her lips, resisting a smile. She petted her gelding, running her nails over its glossy coat, and coaxed it to accept her offering. It hung its head low, careening into her hand.

Mor sucked in a breath. ‘You’re going to ignore me?’ 

‘It’s pointless to state the obvious when you came here knowing who I am. And,’ Ayla drawled, ‘you’re standing in front of a forge.’

Mor snapped her mouth shut at the sound of her cousin’s chuckle in her mind. She almost forgot he was witnessing her trial. What did you do to her that day?

I can’t take credit for this. It’s all her. His amusement was loud and clear. Did you get anything yet?

Mor looked down at her hands. She gave me an apple. Does that count? He laughed again.

‘I understand why you won’t work for other courts. But why refuse your own High Lord?’

Ayla shrugged, ‘Why shouldn’t I?’

Mor tugged at the bracelet coiling around her wrist, almost as tight as the words in her throat. ‘Would it hurt you to give me one straight answer?’ 

Ayla didn’t utter a word. Her gaze drifted to the mare at the tone only for a minute. 

Even as a courtier, it had been a while since Mor had to strain every nerve for a simple conversation. Why would Az lose his mind over her? He wouldn’t want her without the bloody bond. For a moment, she pitied her friend. He waited centuries only for Mother to bind his fate with this infuriating woman. 

Then she remembered her thoughts weren’t secure. She took a breath, ‘Fine, hate Rhys all you want. Why do you hate me?’

‘I don’t have a reason to hate you or your High Lord.’

I tried, Mor sighed.

Try harder. Rhys’s response was instant.

Get down here and do it yourself.

Mor, he warned, his power radiating even through their minds. Then his voice was gone, and so was his commanding presence. Mor inhaled deeply at the emptiness, as if her cousin had taken her thoughts along with him. Come home. I think he’s onto us.

You think? She surveyed their surroundings. Lush plains stretched in every direction, providing no cover for a particular shadowsinger if he chose to stake out. Give me another minute.

When she turned around, she met the coal-like eyes of the gelding that peered into the depths of her soul. It watched her like it sensed what she had been up to, that Rhys was watching it back.

Mor knew such beasts well. So she matched its stare. Tiny drops of rain hit her skin, but she refused to bow down. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the mare edging close to the entrance. Its steps were as quiet as the one challenging her. Neither made a sound with Ayla around, only their breaths a sign of their attention when she spoke to them.

‘I know you’re hungry,’ said Ayla, twirling the apple between her fingers. ‘We’ll go for a ride later if you take one bite.’ The beast nuzzled against Ayla’s neck, but it didn’t relent. She tipped her head and a thin veil of her hair blocked its view. ‘For me?’

Mor shifted her weight to her right foot, and it whinnied out a hoarse breath. Its forelimb twitched, muscles pulling taut along its length, warning her of what it wouldn’t hesitate to do if she made one wrong move.

The Truth-Teller strapped to Az’s thigh flashed in her mind. Or was it Rhys?

Ayla spoke softly, ‘I won’t let anyone touch you. You’re safe.’ She smoothed her palm between its eyes, down its neck, through its mane. ‘Easy now.’ 

The horse blinked. Ayla repeated her affirmations. It slowly turned, leaning into her hand, an eye watching its foe. The crunch of the ripe flesh between its teeth echoed in the air.

Mor shuddered. Yet, she couldn’t mask the smile on her lips or her thoughts. Tell me you're seeing this.

Ayla rewarded the gelding with a kiss between its eyes. ‘Good boy,’ she held out the other apple. But the beast pressed its forehead to her cheek and nuzzled, backing her towards the stone building, away from the stranger. Ayla chuckled as she steadied herself. ‘Come now. Don’t be rude.’

Mor ached to winnow back and tease her friend about his mate and her territorial pet. It wasn’t just her who felt that. 

Does Az know his mate already has a shadow? 

Oh, he won’t appreciate this competition. Rhys laughed.

Mor snorted. The beast stilled, its ears perked up. She cleared her throat, ‘He’s adorable. What’s his name?’ 

A minute passed and another. Well, Rhys would have to find some other way to get his answers. 

Mor sighed, though a little of the guilt and doubt in her chest had dampened. ‘If you ever need help, you can come to me.’ 

To her surprise, Ayla looked at her and nodded.

.

.

.

Seven days. Two cities. One woman.

Some spy he was. For five centuries, Azriel hunted men and women across lands. Never had he felt as useless as he did in those seven days.

He scoured every inch of Velaris for the woman who hurt Ayla. Day and night he searched every inn, listened to whispers in the streets, and sent his wraiths to gather news about foreigners. He searched for her in expensive bars and restaurants, to the theatres and landmarks. He went as far as to look into the seedy taverns on the other side of the city, just to be certain. If she had known they were inside the room while she threatened Ayla, she should have been smart enough to keep to the shadows. Even Hewn City wasn’t spared. He spied every courtier who set foot inside the mountain city in the past two weeks to ensure none of them knew of Ayla’s existence. 

He found nothing. It wasn’t a question of how, but who stumped him. All his efforts were futile, for what did he know of this mysterious enemy?

Azriel played the events of that day in his mind over and over again. His instincts had set in the instant he walked out of the hidden room. His shadows crept along the floor and writhed at his feet like serpents waking from each step. There was no trace of that woman—not her magic, not her scent. The only sign of the ordeal lay red on Ayla’s tender neck. He combed through every spoken word, every moment to find one clue that could lead him to her. A name. A court. But all it yielded was the churning rage in his gut at the voice that rang in his ears—her mockery, her threats, her laughter. 

I don’t work for any court , Ayla had said.

His brother wasn't beyond sending someone to test Ayla, but taking him to the smithy on the same day? Rhys could be cunning, but he was no fool. 

The woman didn’t belong to Night. But she knew where to find the city. She walked past the wards unhindered. She recognised them from their scents alone. She had met them before, at the least, been close enough. Why did she want Ayla? Was it to spite him? No, she mentioned Rhys only when she was denied what she came for. She wanted Ayla. And the girl. 

Azriel found only a mild comfort in all this—if she knew them, they knew her.

From the constant fussing and wary glances between the two, he knew his brothers sensed his desperation. So he went to work and pretended to be past it. He employed every spy of his all over the court, but he kept the details to himself. Every crossing past the borders of the two cities and the court was reported to him, irrespective of who and why. It was tedious work and inappropriate use of resources for his personal matters. He had never done that before.

And yet, it didn’t feel wrong.

Fourteen days. Three brothers. One woman.

Azriel needed answers. But he had no leads. Not true, he had three—none willing to help.

Confronting Ayla would be easier than chasing a phantom around the court. She refused to make weapons for her High Lord—fine, Azriel didn’t care. But as citizens of Night Court, she and her friends were their responsibility despite what she thought. If one of them was in danger or involved with other courts, he had the right to demand answers from her. She wouldn’t have a choice but to comply.

Mother above, he sounded like Rhys!

Ayla hated him. Azriel remembered the way she stepped back from the threshold when he reached for her. Her hand remained on the doorknob, but her back pressed into the stone wall with each step he took. Her breath stilled in her lungs as though she couldn’t bear to breathe the very air that touched him. Once he and his brothers were a few good feet away, she released a breath, and it was enough to crush his heart.

Her naked observation when she had him pinned to the floor was lost as soon as she realised who they were. Emotions flickered in her eyes—deep and haunting. They were nothing more than a threat, worse than the woman who almost killed her.

His brothers promised to protect Ayla. They reassured him her feelings would change with time, as they did for Feyre and Nesta. 

But Azriel wanted to disappear and never to return. He might as well do that. Leave her alone and never intrude into her life, even if the bond killed him.

After he found the woman and skinned her alive. 

Each wasted day chipped at his sanity. The horrid mark on her flesh was seared into his memory. Branded on his soul—a reminder of his incompetence, how he had failed to protect his mate. Not with his sheer Illyrian power, not with his shadows.

It was hard not to imagine, not to see so clearly. Shock and panic flooding her eyes before the fear settled in. Or her fingers clawing at the hand to savour one more gasp of air. Or her legs scuffing on the floor as she fought to level herself. Or her head hitting the wood hard to rattle the wards within, her eyes pinching shut at the impact. Every rasp of hers, every strained breath echoed in his ears—the little choke escaping her lips as the hand enclosed around her neck. 

There was no escape, not for him. Not when he had witnessed many in that position—put many in that position.

It was a twisted joke Mother played on him. A fitting punishment for what he had done over his lifetime for his friend and brother, for his High Lord. A punishment for who he was. To stand helpless and hear his mate endure what he had inflicted upon many without mercy. 

She was his mate. She was so close. She was scared and confused. 

And he couldn’t help her.

Twenty-one days. One shadowsinger. One woman.

Stop.

His shadows hissed as Azriel stared at the worn-out door from across the street. He couldn’t bear to face her again, but he couldn’t stand failing her more. One conversation, he told himself, just one.

He wasn’t afraid. He longed to see her face. He longed to hear her voice. Maybe even a touch, if he was lucky. Yet his body wouldn’t move.

Home.

The one time he wanted assurance from his shadows, they disagreed with him. Azriel balled his fists and turned away, only to meet the very eyes he had been running away from.

Ayla looked at him, the bar, and then back at him. A mere second. That’s how long it took for her to decide to ignore him like he meant nothing to her. She walked past, opening the lid of a brown box she carried in her hand.

‘Wait,’ Azriel said. When she didn’t stop, he called out. ‘Ayla.’

He hadn’t spoken her name out loud before. Not with Uri, not with his brothers, not in the privacy of his room. It had always been her. And now that he had spoken it, it was the only word he ever wanted to utter. The only word that held any meaning.

She came to a slow halt and looked over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed. Azriel held his breath waiting for her to return to him. Instead, she walked to the side of the building and leaned a shoulder against the wall facing him.

Azriel waited a moment before he approached her. For an alley, it was too clean, even in the dark. Behind her stood an iron door leading directly to the office inside. The only shred of light poured down from the streets. And the faelight next to the inscribed plaque of the bar cast an iridescent glow on part of her face.

The usual sternness she carried herself with was replaced with a casual ease. Her legs crossed at the ankles. Her hip jutted out, revealing that sensuous curve of her waist through that large shirt. Locks of hair that never seemed to stay held in her braid spilled around her face. The high collar hid her neck from his eyes. Azriel knew he would only find her flawless skin underneath. Still, he ached to pull her shirt down and see for himself.

The golden rings on her bracelet glinted under the faelight as Ayla reached into the box. Her fingers hovered over the crisp layers of pastries that sat inside. Scratches and cuts littered her knuckles. If the flex of her fingers were any indication, she was in pain.

One made his breath hitch in his throat. One too deep that it split the skin open between and around her knuckles. 

‘Those are fresh,’ he said quietly. He couldn’t take his eyes off the dried blood. What did she do? Did that woman return? Did Ayla have to fight her alone?

‘Yes,’ she hesitated, ‘I just bought them.’

Azriel looked at her. As confused as he was, she was staring down the street where she came from, at the bakery she went to every week. The worry that nagged at him day and night lost its hold in a heartbeat. He bit the inside of his cheeks and tapped the back of his hand with his fingers, suppressing his urge to hold her hand and inspect it himself.

The little frown between her brows disappeared. She nodded at his face—his broken nose. ‘So is that.’

Courtesy of his brother during their morning training when he was so distracted that he practically threw himself into the punch. But she wasn’t interested in it. 

Ayla picked up a pastry. The sweet fragrance of chocolate and butter filled the air between them. Better than her scent, for he needed to think straight if he intended to find simple words around her. Her hand froze close to her mouth as she held out the box to him. 

Azriel’s heart stopped. He was sure of it. Did she know what it meant? Did she know how she was tormenting him?

He gawked at the flaky shell of the dessert. He could do it—take a bite, make her his. 

No!

The weight of his shadows curled around his hands and pulled him back. He shook his head, smiling.

‘Let’s hear it then.’ She returned the pastry with a sigh. 

‘And,’ he started carefully, ‘what is that?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Who is the child? Where is she? Why are you hiding her?’ 

Voices floated towards them. A band of faeries headed for the bar, giggling and stumbling before they caught sight of him. Their pale skin shifted and glimmered like fish scales under the faelight. Glancing between his wings and his face, they blushed and whispered to each other. Until his shadows wound around his shoulders and chest. And they hushed into silence. 

Ayla watched them rush through the door.

‘Are you safe?’ The words left his lips in a whisper.

Her eyes snapped to his face. The calm ones, yet so terrifying in the way they unravelled him every time she looked at him. Slowly, she graced him with a smile. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘I know you were holding back that day.’ He took a step closer, drawn in by her gaze. ‘You could’ve stopped her. Why didn’t you fight?’

‘There was no reason to.’ She shrugged a shoulder, her shirt shifting over her breast with the movement. ‘She can’t hurt me.’

‘But you let her.’

‘She wasn’t there for me.’

‘Hamra.’ Ayla hesitated at the young fae’s name, still nodded. Azriel asked, ‘Why does she want her?’

‘It’s not my story to share, shadowsinger.’ 

With one simple statement, she quashed the only excuse for a conversation he had. They stared at each other. One more minute of silence and she would walk through that door. One more minute of silence and she would leave him. Azriel couldn’t find any words. But then, he didn’t have to.

‘You need to stop harassing her,’ she said.

Azriel narrowed his eyes. ‘I met with her once. That’s far from harassing.’

‘So you’re telling me,’ she arched a brow, ‘the shadows following her around is not you? Hmm, must be another shadowsinger I’m not aware of.’ 

It was his turn to shrug. ‘Who knows? That one seems to attract a lot of trouble.’

‘And how would you know that?’ She clicked her tongue, ‘You only met with her once.’

Azriel chuckled, and her eyes flicked to his lips. ‘How much do you know?’

‘Your brother came by the shop exactly when I was away. You’ve been asking Uri about my whereabouts. And Hamra threatened to stab you if she saw you again.’ She missed nothing. She continued, ignoring the dark gleam in his eyes, ‘Those are loyal to me, you know? What made you think they would tell you anything?’

If only she knew loyalty had nothing over pain and the will to live. 

Uri was prone to talk, but he swore to secrecy as Ayla's safety was concerned. Orvin was fiercely defensive to let Ayla know the High Lord she despised and his brothers took an interest in her. Azriel only worried about Hamra, but he trusted her to be smart, especially after his warning veiled as a lecture. He sensed wrong.

‘We believed they cared about you. Besides,’ he crossed his arms across his chest, ‘I can be. . .persuasive.’

Idiot.

His shadows flittered over his shoulders. They were right. What was he trying to do—scare her away?

She watched him in silence. His eyes, his lips, his face. His crossed arms, his body. And finally, she stopped at the knife strapped to his thigh before she met his gaze. She leaned her head against the wall and smirked, ‘Not enough.’

Gods, what did she think of him? Nothing good, he knew.

Her eyes burned with challenge, daring him to hurt the ones close to her. She lived in the city long enough to have heard of the rumours about the shadowsinger—Night Court’s torturer. They weren’t rumours if they were true.

‘I don’t intend to harm them.’ Azriel tried to salvage his dignity, ‘I was trying to find some truth.’

‘Is this your High Lord’s way of protecting his civilians?’

Closer.

Azriel wanted it too. But he stayed still.

‘It’s not him,’ he said quietly.

Her smile faltered.

Silence stretched long and tense. His shadows swirled over his arms drawing her attention. When she blinked at them, they skittered between them, daring to reach for her. Azriel took a sharp breath, and they withdrew.

‘Next time, shadowsinger,’ she pushed off the wall holding his gaze, ‘I find any of you following one of us, I will hand over a dagger to Hamra myself and she will keep her promise.’

With that, she left. And Azriel stared at the closed backdoor with a grin on his face.

Next Chapter: Relic

Someone tell me Azriel came off as a drama queen.

[bloatedandalone04]

Love Language

➪the one where you’re all clay needs to keep himself calm before surgery (and after).

Warnings: sam does not exist here (sorry not sorry f that b), mentions of surgery, surgery topics, hospital themes, anxiety, clay's surgery is successful and his mother is still alive, heart transplants (you saw the movie, you know how it goes), heavy topics, 'what is the healing process of a heart transplant' was definitely googled more than once while writing this.

Word Count: 2.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

The sun peered into the room through the thin, white curtains - the same ones Clay has begged you to let him replace more than once now. It heated the room to the perfect temperature, not too cold while also not making you break out into a sweat. 

Lying fast asleep beside you was possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His face was pressed to the pillow, his arms lifted and hidden under said pillow as he often fell asleep on his stomach, the front of his body pressed to the mattress. 

You reach over and gently trace your index finger over the various freckles that scattered his back before laying your palm flat against his skin, the faint beat of his heart bringing you a sense of comfort you never knew you needed. 

The glow of the sun made his skin look golden, his face relaxed and his hair messy from moving in his sleep. 

In other words, he was just perfect. 

You lift your body, your elbow digging into the bed as you hold yourself up. Unable to stop your wandering lips, you lean over and press a kiss to his bicep, and another to his shoulder blade.

Though your touch was feather light, it still woke him up as though his body couldn’t help but react whenever you showed him any type of affection. His eyes opened in a squint due to the light that invaded the room, the corner of his lips turning upwards in a boyish grin. “Hi,”

“Hi,” you murmur back, trailing your hand further up his back before tangling it in his light hair. 

He gives you a look that has your heart swelling before he lifts his head just to bury his face back in the pillow. You grin at his shyness, a personality trait you would’ve never imagined he had. With billions behind his name, a successful mother, a future set in stone, and a whole city that belonged to him; you expected him to be arrogant, spoiled, ruthless, even.  

But no, he was none of those things. 

He was kind, had the persona of an angel, something that prompted you to give him the nickname, your angel. He had a smile that could make any okay day an amazing one, the charm to sweep anyone off their feet, and a heart as big and sweet as anything in the entire world. Even though his heart was fragile and could betray him at any given moment, he still didn’t let that change his view on the world, the beautiful thing it was. 

To put it simply; Clay Beresford was the embodiment of everything good in the world, a light so bright that he had no idea just how much he lit up the darkest corners of damn near everyone he’s ever met, a man so perfect you found yourself believing you were stuck in a dream every time you woke up next to him. 

Massaging your fingers into his scalp, you fill with a sense of happiness at the content sigh that escapes him, silent in sound but evident in the way his shoulders raised and dropped slowly. 

You move closer to him, brushing your nose against his arm. “Why are you hiding from me?” You ask quietly, your hand flattening out his messy hair. 

He lifted his head just enough for him to be able to murmur, “I’m not hiding from you, baby,” the corners of his lips turned upwards as he continued, “Just from your awful excuse of a curtain.”

You gasp, taking your hand away from his head to give his shoulder a gentle push. “Hate them all you want,” you shrug, meeting his eyes when he turned his head to look at you. “I’m still not letting you buy me new ones.”

Clay laughed quietly, shifting so he was now on his back. His right hand came up to grab your left one, his eyes fixated on the large diamond that found home on your finger. 

With your free hand, you reach over and gently press it against his shoulder, your fingers firmly poking against the few small knots you felt. “What are you thinking about?” You nearly whisper, afraid as though you would ruin the peaceful atmosphere if you were to talk at your usual pitch. 

His blue eyes met yours once again. “You,” he simply answered and you felt a heat rush to your face. Keeping your hand locked in his, you lean down and press your lips to his mouth, an innocent kiss that grew heated when his left hand grabbed your hip and pulled your body on top of his. 

Your upper body was covered by his white dress shirt he wore to the dinner party last night, the shirt being the first thing you grabbed once you woke up this morning, while your lower half was covered by a thin black lace.

Clay has told you many times now that he loves the way you look in his clothes and it brings out a possessive side he never knew he had. You were just so beautiful, and you looked past his family drama and his heart problem and chose him. 

There weren’t words that are strong enough to describe his love for you or how much he adored you. You were one of the few things in his life that felt normal and right, and it was no surprise that he couldn’t hold back on asking you to be his forever just eight months into the relationship. 

You started out as his mom’s assistant. Lilith was a sweetheart right at the start, showing you around her massive house with the patience of a new teacher, smiling at you and encouraging any questions you might have had. 

You remembered exiting the kitchen and entering the front hall just as Clay returned home, his eyes tired and his form slouched. It was almost comical how quickly he straightened up and how wide his eyes opened. Lilith’s dismissal of his sudden appearance was one you’ll never forget. “Oh, that’s Clay, my son. Don’t worry, you won’t see much of him,”

How wrong she was.

From that day on, Clay did any and everything he could to see you, even for just a split second. He’d prolong quick conversations, give you a long answer instead of a short one to any question you had, and was always there to greet you when you arrived in the mornings. 

You were kidding yourself when you made a promise that you wouldn’t fall for him. You fell for Clay hard and fast, and it seemed as though he fell for you just as bad. When you became official, you quit being Lilith’s assistant as you felt weird about it and didn’t want your source of income to be from his mom.

No matter how much money the Beresford name had, you still felt cheap whenever Clay or his mother offered to pay for something. You knew it wouldn’t faze them, and you appreciate their kindness, but you refused each and every time. 

“You do realize that you’re entitled to my money once we’re married, right?” He’d ask you every time you refused to let him pay for you.

You always respond with, “Yeah, well, we’ll figure that out when we get there,”

His hands slide up your back when you break away from his mouth and begin placing kisses along his jaw. You move onto his neck and shoulders before moving further down and stopping right above where his heart was beating in his chest. 

A small bit of sadness filled you as your mouth hovered over that place, your hands pressing into the sheets on either side of his body. Clay noticed this, but before he could ask you what was wrong, you leaned down and placed a kiss to the skin of his chest, just over where his heart is. 

He held back a shiver as you placed another kiss and then another, your eyes closing when you felt his hands reach up to caress the sides of your face. Butterflies are set loose all over his body as you kiss him with a feather light touch, acting as if you’d break him if you were to be even the smallest bit rougher with him. 

“Hey,” he quietly said, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that fell from your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking your head, you rest it against his chest, the faint beating against your cheek making you smile slightly. “I just love you,” it was hardly audible, but he heard you as clear as day. “So much.”

“Baby,” he says quietly, brushing your hair away from your face as he tries to get you to meet his eye. “Now it’s your turn to tell me what you’re thinking about.”

You wipe away your tears and clear your throat. “It’s nothing,” you answer, looking up at him and caving at the look he gives you. A shaky sigh leaves your lips as you crawl over his body and move to lay on your side next to him. Your fingers trace over the skin you had just kissed while his rubbed soothing circles onto your shoulder. “I was just thinking about how much I will love your new heart, maybe even more than I love your current one.”

Clay grinned down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “There’s no doubt in my mind that my new heart will love you just as much as the old one does now,” he says quietly before adding, “Thank you for never giving up on me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

-

Clay spent a week in the hospital, his pager going off a few hours after you and him got out of bed after your heart to heart talk. 

His surgery was a success, his body taking the new organ with no problems at all and rendering him a new man.

You were by his side throughout the whole process, your own heart beating rapidly during the five hours he was under. The sense of relief you felt when his doctor came to the waiting room to inform you and Lilith that it was a success was indescribable. 

He woke up an hour or so after the surgery, and a couple more later you were finally allowed to briefly visit him. You instantly started crying, which caused him to cry as well, still a bit drowsy and high off the medication. 

Despite the doctor’s request of not getting too close to him, you couldn’t help but press multiple kisses to his face, working carefully around the ventilator, before settling on holding his hand as gently as you could. He looked so tired and weak and worn out, making your heart break the smallest bit as you thought about the long road to recovery he had ahead of him. 

Now, four weeks into his recovery process, he was doing well. He would have multiple pain sessions everyday where his chest would ache beyond anything he could ever describe. During those moments he would tightly hold your hand or wrap his arms around your middle while pressing his body to yours until the pain subsided and the quiet groans faded. 

You grew closer than ever. You had taken an LOA from your job at the small café downtown to take care of him, looking after his every need with no hesitation. He was in bed for the most part, only getting up to walk the short distance to the bathroom attached to the bedroom or up and down the hallway outside the room to keep him somewhat active. Even then you were no more than a few feet away from him, a nervous look on your face and a crease in your brow

Secretly, the days you spent with him in bed was your favorite way to pass the time. Like right now, your chin resting gently on his shoulder while your index finger lightly ran up and down the scar on his chest. The bandage and stitches had long since been removed and all that was left was a long line from the start of his chest down to just above his lower abdomen. 

Today was a good day as he hadn’t felt a single ounce of pain yet, his arm wrapped around you and his fingers lazily tracing shapes on your bicep. His half lidded eyes stared at the ceiling, the only sounds filling the room being your breathing and the low hum of the air conditioning. 

Breaking the silence, you keep your voice quiet as you ask, “How are you feeling today?”

Your head lifted slightly with every breath he took, his shoulder rising with every inhale. Just being able to feel him breathe made you fill with a sense of happiness, the stress of the whole thing fading away with every day that passed. “Good,” he answered, his lips turning upwards when he added, “Better than ever.”

You close your eyes at that, exhaling quietly. “Good,” your hand moves from his scar and rests on the skin above his heart, the faint but strong beat making you smile. “You’re still you.” You say quietly and lift yourself up, propping your upper half on your elbow.

Clay furrows his brows as he watches you lean down to press your lips over his heart. He was brought back to the morning of his surgery, just hours before he got the page that a transplant was available, where you did exactly what you were doing now, but on his old and weak heart. 

“My angel….New heart, new life,” you continued, kissing his skin once more before meeting his eyes. “Still the same you.”

Clay lifted his hand to stroke your cheekbone with his thumb, the rest of his fingers curling under your jaw. “I’m still me,” he confirmed, matching your small grin with one of his own. “And my heart still loves you just the same.”

[coralinnii]

For the reincarnated into the bad guy, would you ever do one for Jamil? I’m really curious on how that would turn out.

being reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy feat: Jamil genre: budding romance note: roughly 1.4k words, no pronouns are used, the characters and reader as written as younger than current canon, dialogue heavy, more of a set-up to the story in my head.

series masterlist

I was confused whether you meant a new fic or a fic between Jamil and the MC/reader from Kalim's version. If that's what you meant, feel free to request again

It took a while for you to realize where you were, and who you were. You possessed the body of a high ranking noble in a book that you had a hand in writing, and worst of all, you were a petty antagonist in the sequel. Your character was the childhood friend of Kalim, the heir of the richest family in the kingdom, and Jamil, his reliable attendant and most treasured companion. Your role was to be the pawn whose greed was made useful to none other than Jamil.

After the success of the first book, your friend was in the works of a sequel to which you jokingly suggested to give a twist, that Jamil Viper was a traitor. Now thanks to your big mouth, you were going to be tricked into harming Kalim’s beloved and be a stepping stone for Jamil to gain favor from the Asim family by saving her from you. For him to succeed, you would end up exiled from the kingdom and later starve to death. So, you’re working to avoid that.

Luckily, you reincarnated years before the start of the story so you initially thought avoiding the two would be the best tactic but as the days spent with your childhood friends continued, you grew fond of both of them, more so to Jamil. Perhaps because he was the most intriguing character to you or it was the guilt you held for having a hand in writing his downfall. Either way, you decided to change your plan. 

You recalled your friend’s notes on Jamil’s character development which boiled down to his displeasure in acting under Kalim’s shadow all his life. It worsens over time as his life becomes nothing more than merely Kalim’s attendant, trapped in an underappreciated situation. 

You tried to remedy that with praises and compliments whenever the three of you played. You compliment him on a good game, praise his efficiency at his job and craftsmanship, and even flatter him on his boyish good looks. But all that seems to earn you is a polite nod and a courteous thank you.

“Kalim, tell me the truth. Does Jamil hate me?” 

“That’s impossible! I’m sure he’s just shy.” 

“…That sounds even less plausible” 

Jamil kept a wall between himself and you which was extremely frustrating. You were starting to get jealous with how Kalim gets to be friendly with him, even if it’s just Jamil reprimanding the carefree heir. 

You were contemplating if you should just stop coming around the Asim manor. Perhaps you could convince your family to send you abroad and avoid the events of the story. 

However, you had your breakthrough with the seemingly level-headed servant, when your families were invited to a party held by the Asims.

Kalim had his makeup done by Jamil and amazed by his work, convinced you to get yours done by the young attendant too. Though you were sure Jamil had other things to attend to, he proceeded to work on your look, although you swore you heard an exasperated sigh under his breath.

Jamil sat close in front of you as he started to work on your makeup. As Kalim said, the dark-haired boy did quick but efficient work on your foundation and shading. This may have been the closest Jamil has been around you which leaves you a little jittery in your seat. 

You hope to have this party as a memorable event since you were planning to speak with your father about your study abroad wish. But that sigh stung you a little and now you wanted nothing more than to get this night over with and disappear. 

“How much longer?” You asked, slightly fidgeting from the slightly awkward situation. It’s really not easy to sit so close with a boy that you were sure hated your guts. 

“I will be done soon” he replied but his monotonous voice made you uneasy, wishing for the moment to end faster. Jamil then started to work on your eyes, carefully gliding the tip of the brush along your eyelids a striking shade of red.

The next few moments may be one of your most favorite memories…and his as well.

“Can’t it be faster?” It took all of your strength not to move unless you want to poke your eye or worse, have Jamil this uncomfortably close to you even longer.

“This must be done right” 

“But what if we skip some details? No one would notice” 

“It would be unwise to rush such things, just relax” 

“But really-“ 

“WOULD IT KILL YOU TO HAVE SOME PATIENCE?!” 

You felt a change in pressure of the brush and with the sudden outburst from Jamil, it startled you enough that your face flinched, causing the brush to make a large streak of red paint across your nose and cheek. After all your attention towards the sequel, you forgot a tidbit about Jamil that was mentioned in the first book; he has a snapping temper. 

Jamil felt a heavy weight sinking in his stomach and the silence between you two prolonged to what felt like a millennium. No matter how friendly and sweet you appear to be, Jamil could only see you as another noble. Kalim is an odd case but you were still of a much higher standing than Jamil, capable of executing him and his family if you so choose. He assumed that your kindness is only due to his association with Kalim, a mere extension to gain the heir’s favor. But with Kalim not present… 

He couldn’t help the natural flinch when you extended your hand, out to reach for the mirror by him. He kept his head down and his hands curled, not daring to look into the eyes of a noble. He waited for your wrath as you examined the mess on your face, his hands shaking in fear until… 

“PFFFTTTT HAHAHA!” 

“What a pretty laugh” Jamil whispered before shooing away such insolent thoughts as he watched you laugh wholeheartedly despite looking like a child who got into their parent’s makeup, though you supposed you actually were a child physically. 

“How is it that it’s still such a pretty brush stroke? I almost don’t want to wash it off” you chuckled, admiring the large smooth paint line across your face. In spite of his angry outburst, Jamil’s hand was still amazingly calm. Oh, how you wish instant photography existed in this time period. The sense of unease left your body with every breath of laughter as you kept gazing at your mess of a face. At least you've gotten your wish of a fond memory to look back on.

In the corner of your eye, you noticed however that the paint managed to splatter on Jamil’s hand, leaving spots of red on his skin. Placing the mirror down, you grasped his hand which surprised Jamil, and lightly brushed your fingers over some of the paint. Jamil had to steel his nerves to not shiver at your gentle touch.

“Oh no, thankfully it doesn’t seem like it got on your sleeves but you should go wash it off quickly” 

“But I need to quickly fix your makeup” Jamil protested but you stopped him. 

“I’ll just call for someone else or something. It is part of their job, anyway” you reasoned and you looked at the young boy with understanding eyes “I know that you probably have other duties, so you should leave early.” 

With his hand in yours, you guided him to his feet and firmly pushed him to the door, ignoring his protesting, but you insisted on your decision. 

“I’ll be fine, me being late won’t change anything about the party” which is true, as no one would dare fault you for what they say is ‘being fashionably late’. “I’ll be sure to get ready so you don’t have to worry”

His resolve weakening, Jamil was finally pushed to stand just outside your room, with you standing just by the door. 

“I know you’re incredibly capable, Jamil. But, it’s alright to say that you have too many things to worry about. I’ll understand” you smiled, which Jamil felt a shock to his heart at the sight. “If I want to be your friend, I need to respect your time and priorities, right?” 

You gave a cute wave and moved to close the doors before you suddenly paused to look at Jamil once more, taking him by surprise. 

“Oh, and don’t worry. I won’t say anything about what happened. It’ll be our secret!” 

With one last smile, you shut the door and left Jamil to stand alone in front of your room. 

Jamil was wrong, all wrong. He thought Kalim was an outlier in the class of nobles but now he knows how you truly are. Like the foolish heir, you were just as outlandishly lenient with your social standing, quick to laugh and speak as though you don’t hold the power to ruin someone. You may have more awareness of your position but you've not once abuse that power nor have set a line between yourself and those of lower class as him. You were as baffling as that Kalim! 

So why does his heart beat this way if you were just another oddball?

[neteyamssyulang]

⭒ Tumbled Stones Station ⭒

⭒ Part 1 ⭒

⭒ Pairing: Okul x Fem sarentu reader ⭒

⭒ Part 2 here ⭒

⭒ Summary: The picnic you planned with Okul goes better than expected, till an unexpected visitor shows up.

⭒ Warnings: None really, Mostly kinda fluffy, besides a small make out session, Scenting, Slightly possesive Okul?, Vistor ruining the moment.

⭒ Word count: 1,243 ⭒

⭒ Translation(s): Yavä -> The poisonous fog, Oe tìyawn nga -> I love you, Oe tìyawn nga nìteng, ma narlor 'eve -> I love you too my beautiful girl, the hollows -> Kame’tire clan home.

⭒ A/N: First Okul fic! Our baby needs more love in the fandom🩵 Still working on how I can do a smutty one with them. Also yes I added Anufi having an Ikran in this. And requests are almost finished so I’ll be posting them soon!🥰

⭒ Tagging: @neteyamsyawntu

It was the perfect day for a picnic. Priya had mentioned that on nice sunny days like this, humans sometimes gather a blanket, some food and drinks then go to a nice quiet spot for a picnic with a friend or two.

You didn't want to bring just anyone, no, you wanted Okul to come with you. They needed a break anyway from all the research they've been doing to try and find out a way to get rid of the yavä.

Though you practically had to drag Okul from Siul's workshop, they were pouting the entire time saying they couldn't take a break and needed to get back.

Once on the ikran, Okul went quiet. Their arms wrapped around your waist from behind as their head layed against your back. It was Okul's first time on an ikran, yes they were a bit scared but the views were amazing from up here.

There was a nice spot next to the Tumbled Stones Station, it was a small clearing by the edge of a cliff, overlooking the waterfall.

Your ikran, Zaeli, landed infront of the station letting you and Okul off her then found a nice spot to lay down for the time being.

"This is beautiful y/n" Okul whispered, holding the food in one hand and the blanket in the other."Wait till you see the view" you giggled, leading them to the small clearing.

Okul's eyes widened, never had they seen such beauty before, well besides you of course. It was so peaceful here, no predators ever came around so it was safe aswell.

As Okul admired the view, you began to set up the area, laying down the blanket then taking the food out the basket. There was Sweetened Niktsyey, Cheesy Sähena, Sweet fish pie, and Relun's fruity tea.

You sat down just as Okul walked over, sitting down beside you. "So, this is a picnic?" They asked, tilting their head slightly.

Chuckling softly, you nodded "Yes, do you like it?" Okul nodded smiling "I do, thank you for allowing me to come with you."

"Of course, I knew you would love it up here" you smiled. The two of you then began to eat, Okul went for the cheesy sähena while you went for the sweet fish pie. Ri'nela had basically made everything since you were a terrible cook, but hey you were trying.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, just listening to the sounds of pandora and the roar of the rushing waterfall that was near. It wasn't until Okul spoke that you noticed they were standing in front of you, their hand held out for you.

Looking up at them finally, you took Okul's hand standing up aswell. They led you little ways over to the cliff, sitting down with their legs dangling over the side. You sat beside them, still holding Okul's hand.

"You know y/n, the view is beautiful yes" they paused, turning their head to face you. As much as you wanted to look at them you couldn't, your face was a deep shade of purple, from your cheeks to the tips of your ears.

Okul sighed, they removed their hand from yours then pulled you onto their lap. One hand went around you to make sure you wouldn't fall while the other was placed on your cheek "But you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

Finally your gaze moved to theirs, looking into Okul's eyes all you could see was the love and adoration they had for you. A small smile tugged at their lips and one of your hairless brow raised "What is that face for?" You asked. They leaned in close, their lips ghosting over your ear."I think I'm falling in love with you."

Your breath caught in your throat, did Okul really just say that? You felt as if you were dreaming at that moment. Okul must've sensed your nervousness as they leaned back "I can assure you, every word I say is the tru-"

"I think I'm already in love with you" you blurted out, cutting them off. Okul chuckled "I know, do not think I have not noticed you eyeing me from across the workshop."

Well shit, did you make it that obvious?. Okul pulled you out your thoughts, leaning in to place a soft kiss against your lips. As they were about to pull away, you pulled Okul back, smashing your lips back against theirs.

Smirking against the kiss, Okul adjusted you so that you were now straddling their lap. Your arms moved to wrap around their neck as Okul's wrapped around you, keeping you as close as possible.

The kiss was impatient and sloppy, making Okul almost forget that you both were still at the cliff. Okul had managed to stand up still holding you, and walked over to the picnic blanket laying you down on it while they hovered above you.

Breaking the kiss for much needed air, Okul trailed kisses down your jaw, to your neck, sucking and nipping at it as your soft moans filled their ears.

Still not feeling like the mark was enough, Okul nuzzled their face against your cheek then into the crook of your neck, trying to scent you as theirs. You didn't mind it though, you wanted people to know you were Okul's and that they were yours.

Now satisfied, Okul trailed kisses back to your lips, capturing them with their own. This kiss was more soft, more loving. "Oe tìyawn nga" you murmured against the kiss.

Okul's tail swayed happily behind them till wrapping itself around your calf,"Oe tìyawn nga nìteng, ma narlor 'eve" they spoke, breaking the kiss to look down at you.

One of their hands moved to cup your cheek, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. Before you could say something more, the sound of an ikran approaching sounded in the air then Anufi's voice shouted "Okul? Y/n? Where are you children?"

Panicking, Okul scrambled to get off you. "Hello?" Anufi shouted again, walking past the station till spotting the both of you. By now, Okul was sat beside you as the two of you were acting like you just finished up eating.

"Ah there you two are!" Anufi smiled "I am sorry if I'm interrupting but Okul needs to start their training if their ever going to take over when I am gone."

You frowned slightly but nodded "No it is ok, we were just finishing up anyway." Okul turned to look at you, giving an 'im sorry' look.

Anufi looked over the both of you till her eyes landed on your neck, "Child, what happened to your neck?" She asked, moving closer to crouch down beside you.

This time it was your turn to panic, "Uh it is nothing, don't worry." Anufi raised a hairless brow at you but nodded, standing back up. "Alright. Come Okul, we must get back to start your training."

Okul sighed standing up, they held out their hand helping you up aswell. Anufi watched as Okul engulfed you in a tight hug before pulling away, she was no fool. She knew what caused the mark on your neck but chose to not act like she did.

You watched as Anufi got back on her ikran with Okul sitting behind her. With one last wave, they took off back to the hollows, soon flying out of view.

[gaywarcriminals]

Prompt: AU where SY transmigrated into a murder mystery version of PIDW and is bounded by the SQQ role (murderer) who gets caught by detective LBH, and eventually when LBH finds out SQQ is like, "no wait this is just one big misunderstanding I didn't-" and like, LBH doesn't care they start making out anyway. (LBH actively helps him clear out the evidence because he's unhinged and in love❤️)

When the system had dropped him on the scene of an active— or rather, just concluded— crime scene, it had claimed its design philosophy was “you can you up, no can no BB”, but Shen Qingqiu had serious doubts! How was he supposed to change the story of a murder mystery if the murder had already taken place? After this point wasn’t everything already set in stone? The young, bright Luo Binghe would discover his cruel new mentor, Magistrate Shen, was responsible of this and countless other heinous crimes, and then Shen Qingqiu would be sentenced to death! Shen Qingqiu didn’t wanted to be quartered! 

In response to Shen Qingqiu’s frantic proding as he hurriedly worked to dispose of the body (thank god the system provided instructions for that part, at least, but Shen Qingqiu’s stomach still twisted every time he looked at the beautiful young man, lukewarm from blood loss but not yet corpse cold), the system claimed it was possible for Shen Qingqiu to survive, but then it turned around and forced him to carry the bloody knife at all times, claiming it was an essential plot point, even though it wasn’t supposed to be revealed for months! Bullshit! Obviously none of Shen Qingqiu’s choices mattered in the face of reader satisfaction! Shen Qingqiu knew what kind of sadist lurked in the PIDW comments section, calling for evert kind of torture once Shen Qingqiu’s many crimes were revealed. (Shen Qingqiu’s own comments were different, of course: he only demanded righteous justice, not senseless torture porn! Castration had been a real legal sentence in time period this anachronistic mess was supposedly set in!)

Thanks to this stupid faulty piece of software, the only thing Shen Qingqiu could think to change was to treat Luo Binghe better once the protagonist showed up, assigned as Shen Qingqiu’s new assistant. Not that Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t have done that, even without the threat of death! Luo Binghe was an incredible character trapped in a stupid, trope-y story that didn’t let his obvious intellect shine through! Shen Qingqiu took great delight in taking Luo Binghe through the cases that had been mere footnotes in PIDW proper, little more than excused for Luo Binghe to meet this or that new freshly orphaned, widowed, or wronged woman. 

Luo Binghe was so quick to make the right connections, and he glowed under Shen Qingqiu’s every head pat and word of praise. He even ignored all the simpering women, only ever seeking Shen Qingqiu’s approval! Clearly, a man as talented as Binghe was meant to be married to his job, at least until someone good enough to be his match came along. The only draw back was that for some reason, in absence of women to roll around with, Luo Binghe has started to seek out hugs from his mentor.

But it was a lot harder for Shen Qingqiu to hide his hard, pointy Plot Relevant Object when Luo Binghe was sticking to him all the time! Shen Qingqiu was forced to avoid his touch at every turn, only drawing more suspicion to himself. Obviously that was why Luo Binghe had pressed Shen Qingqiu between a wall and his own firm body, his arms on either side, trapping Shen Qingqiu in. Now Shen Qingqiu couldn’t escape a pat down without physically fighting Luo Binghe off!

“Magistrate Shen,” Luo Binghe purred, pulling open Shen Qingqiu’s robes, groping for the firm object that must have been pressing into Luo Binghe’s thigh, “is that a knife, or—“ Luo Binghe pulled out the knife, even its sheath caked in blood stains just to be extra sure it could be recognized as a murder weapon from a kilometer away. “Oh.” Luo Binghe’s face fell. 

Shen Qingqiu’s heart squeezed. Even after all his suspicious behavior, Luo Binghe has still hoped his mentor wasn’t guilty! But now, the noble young man would be forced to turn Shen Qingqiu in, knowing justice was more important than—

“Magistrate Shen really shouldn’t carry that around.” Luo Binghe sighed “This Binghe will dispose of it for you tomorrow.” There was something very wrong with Shen Qingqiu’s hearing! See, Binghe was grabbing his wrists now, that was more like it, surely Luo Binghe would be dragging him away any minute now!

Luo Binghe’s face crashed into Shen Qingqiu’s, enough lip grazing Shen Qingqiu between the scrape of teeth that it could generously be called a kiss. Shen Qingqiu’s mind stuttered to a halt. In the corner of his vision, a system window popped up, displaying a 300p resolution gif of confetti. 

[illarian-rambling]

Illaros Illuminated Ep.1: Honor's Outcasts 🌠

Welcome everyone to the first episode of our newest gimmick, a character talkshow! Thank you to everyone who sent in questions for my Outcasts quartet to answer. Without further adieu, lets get to it!

[Our four interviewees sit in a well-furnished set. Izjik, a very butch and physically fit selkie, is making silly faces at the camera. Sepo, a grumpy looking siren with long brown hair, sits beside her and glowers at the lights. On the other couch, Twenari, a teenager with well-kept locs and mad-dog eyes, whispers into the ear of Djek, a sketchy young man with a buzzcut, who giggles at something she says.]

Interviewer: "Hello there, Outcasts, infamous heroes of Illaros! Our first question for you today is a soft-ball from @seastarblue: What are your favorite weapons? Very appropriate for a sellsword troupe such as yourselves, ey?"

Izjik immediately raises her hand. "Oh, me first! My favorite weapon is my washava. It's a carved stone on the end of a rope, balanced to work just as well above or below water. It's not an easy thing to wield, but treat it well, and it'll let you grapple, strike, and trip with just one weapon. I'm pleased to call myself a bit of a master of the thing!"

Sepo nods at that. He taps a pin on his shirt, and suddenly, you can hear his low, raspy voice in your head. "I can attest - the washava is a bitch to use. I prefer a simple dagger. Up close and personal, or a distant flash in the night: it's my poison to pick."

"Magic is my favorite," Twenari pipes up. "It's not always a weapon, which is a common misconception, but it can be used to devastating effect in a pinch. Especially if I'm the one wielding it."

Djek hesitates a bit before answering. "Are words an option?"

Twenari shrugs. "I'd say they are."

"If anyone can use a pun to deadly effect, it's you," Sepo grumbles.

Djek flashes the siren a shit-eating grin. "Oh, well, now you're making it look like I'm fishing for compliments."

Sepo just sighs deeply.

Interviewer: "Our next question comes from @mk-writes-stuff: To all of them, what’s your biggest pet peeve about one or more of the others? Like something that’s objectively probably not a big deal but drives you up a wall?"

All of them stare at each other in silence for a second.

Sepo gives them all a long look. "Do you want me to go alphabetically or in order of grievance?"

"That. That's my pet peeve about you," Djek announces. "You've always gotta be a bitch about things."

"Ditto," Izjik says.

"Ok, well, you're an incurably picky eater who makes going to any restaurant a battle, and you're a messy bitch who's allergic to picking up his dirty clothes." Sepo huffs dramatically. "Twenari, you're.... I guess you could stand to pay better attention when people are talking to you."

Twenari just shrugs. "None of you know how to manage money, that's my only gripe."

"That's what we've got you for, kid." Izjik grins.

Djek sizes up Izjik with a long look. "The thing you do that annoys me the most... uh...."

"Watch yourself, little man." Izjik, notably shorter than Djek, yawns wide to display her pointed teeth.

"Your muscles are just too fantastic," Djek quickly says, nodding sagely. "How's a skinny fellow like myself to compete?"

Izjik leans back, content. "That's what I thought."

"Izjik, you're a morning person. That pisses me off," Twenari admits. "How are you just... like that at six in the morning? It's unnatural."

"I'd be more of a morning person if you didn't wake me up cooking rigatoni at one in the morning." Izjik’s voice is sweet, though her smile is strained. "My darling girl, who the actual fuck makes pasta in the middle of the night?"

"...It helps me de-stress," Twenari mumbles.

Interviewer: "Next up, in a change of pace from @rumeysawrites: To all four of them, what do each of you like the most about the other three?"

"Aw, this one's way easier!" Djek pulls Twenari into a half-hug. "You're like, the smartest ever, but you're also the best teacher I've ever met. You make the world easier to understand for everyone else around you. Izjik, my favorite thing about you is how considerate you are. You always know the best things to say, and how to cheer someone up when they're up in their shit. Sepo, your best trait is how your forehead can be used as a mirror in a pinch." Djek makes a little heart with his hands.

Sepo’s eye gives a subtle twitch.

"Ah, just kidding, you're the most stubborn bastard I've ever met." Djek flashes the other man a smile. "You've never given up on anything in your life. If I'm ever in trouble, I know you won't stop til I'm out."

Sepo clears his throat, his face having gone quite pink. "That's... You're a funny guy, Djek. You make me laugh. Twenari, you're a rare spot of common sense in this hellhole of a world, and Izjik, you're my sister."

"Haha, I love you too." Izjik musses up Sepo's hair in an affectionate gesture. "And I know you love me. Everyone you love knows it - that's my favorite thing about you."

Sepo’s face goes from pink to bright red.

"Djek, your favorite thing about me is actually my favorite thing about you!" Izjik continues. "You've got a silver damn tongue - you always seem to know what to say, especially to comfort folks. And Twenari, you might be the bravest one of us all. You've got a level-head, that's for sure, and I doubt all of us would be here without it."

Twenari pulls at her collar. "Oh damn, I have to follow all that up? Sepo, you're a wonderful conversationalist and I love our chats. Izjik, you're so incredibly kind. Djek... you're like the big brother I never had. I like how you include me when you go out to parties and stuff."

"Oh, that deserves an even bigger hug!" Djek pulls the younger girl close, beaming happily.

Interviewer: "Oh here's a fun one! From @thecomfywriter, for Izjik specifically: Why do you feel so ashamed to ask for help? Why do you feel like a burden when you yourself have no problem burdening yourself for others?”

There is another long beat of silence.

Izjik crosses her arms after a pause. "Hey, what the FUCK-"

"Yeah, Izjik, why are you so bad at asking for help?" Djek asks, leaning in close.

Twenari taps her chin. "I have noticed that, yes. You do tend to avoid asking for help. Especially with End, but also when it comes to, like, things around the house. Or when you get hurt."

"Not when you're sick, though - you're a needy bitch when you're sick," Djek adds.

Izjik shifts, clearly uncomfortable. At her side, Sepo places a hand over hers.

"Well, I guess..." She huffs, frustrated. "I don't fucking know. I don't think I'm ashamed to ask for help at all - I just like to be able to take care of things myself."

"You never wanted my help when it came to researching End," Sepo murmurs.

"That's not... That's different." Izjik grimaces. "End is fucking dangerous. I didn't want to involve anyone else in that. Also, I was scared of what we might find."

"So, it's dangerous, but it's ok if you're the only one in danger?" Djek asks slyly.

"Better just me than all of us!" Izjik snaps. "I'm an old hand at dealing with End - you aren't. I'd rather let it hurt me than let it hurt you too. I protect people. That's what I do. And I'd be pretty shit at that if I let my nonsense get you guys in trouble."

"We can protect you too," Twenari whispers.

"But you don't have to," Izjik replies. "I can handle myself and my issues. If I truly think I can't take care of something on my own, I'll go to you guys."

"You overestimate your capabilities," Sepo says bluntly.

Izjik scowls, bearing her teeth. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean??"

"It means you're supposed to ask for help before you break, not after," Sepo answers.

"Wh- I- I don't-" Izjik flounders for a moment.

Djek whispers behind his hand. "Your line is, 'Ok, Sepo, you got me there.'"

Blushing, Izjik sits back with a huff. "Ok, Sepo, you got me there."

Interviewer: "Another one from @thecomfywriter: ACTUALLY WAIT I HAVE A GROUP QUESTION: what’s the messiest drama that’s occurred within the squad? who was on whose side? (i want MESS LOL)"

Izjik grimaces. "Look, bitch, I don't know what your problem is-"

"Oh, it was definitely that time you and Sepo were arguing over that assassination." Djek shudders theatrically.

"Gods beyond, don't remind me," Twenari adds with an eyeroll.

"Please, it wasn't that bad," Sepo huffs.

"I listened to you scream into a pillow for a full two minutes." Djek gives the siren a pointed look. "You know, I think that was the first time I realized, 'Wow, this guy is not human!' Who the hell has the lung capacity for that?"

"You punched through a cabinet." Twenari points at Izjik. "Then you two gave each other the silent treatment for weeks."

"Very adult," Djek adds.

"Very mature," Twenari continues.

"I gotta say, though, I think Sepo was in the right on that one." Djek turns to Twenari. This is their discussion now, both seafolk having gone red as they avoid eye contact. "Izjik should've told him the sirens knew about End - he just loses points cause he was a total asshole about it."

"Really?" Twenari cocks her head. "I think she had the right to keep that secret. It didn't really change anything if the sirens were after us for a different reason than we thought. Also, can you honestly say Sepo wouldn't have thrown himself back into the ocean to get himself killed hunting the Silver Sovereign if he'd known?"

"I resent that," Sepo mumbles. Both of the humans ignore him.

"Yeah, neither of them were really playing fair." Djek leans lazily upon the armrest. "I guess they were both a little right and both a little wrong."

"Agreed. Here's to not having to deal with that anymore." Twenari reaches out and shakes Djek’s hand.

Djek chuckles. "You got that fucking right."

Izjik and Sepo both share an embarrassed glance, but say nothing.

Interviewer: "And finally, from @kaylinalexanderbooks: I'd like to know everyone's most embarrassing moment. See who can answer for themselves and who needs others to answer for them."

"I don't enjoy this game," Sepo mutters.

"I threw up in my mouth once cause I got so scared my first time hearing a bobcat scream," Djek volunteers eagerly. "It was back in the Sarytas when I went off alone to gather firewood. I heard like this low scream, like some big dude getting knifed. I thought I was about to get serial killed before I remembered, oh yeah, bobcats sound like a man screaming!"

There's an extended pause.

"Djek..." Twenari makes a face. "Bobcats sound like a woman screaming.... It's a very high scream...."

The pause gets even longer.

"Oh." Djek rubs the back of his head. "Then, what was- Actually, no, I don't wanna know."

"I ran into a rock so hard I knocked out three of my teeth once." Izjik grins, showing off her pearly chompers. "Course, these suckers grow back, but Sepo made a joke by starting to use the same sign for 'concussion' and 'rock,' and it's stuck til this day."

"Mine was probably...." Twenari sighs as her cheeks grow noticeably darker. "Mine was probably that time I tried to ask Tahla D. out to the 9th grade dance, but I didn't know she had a boyfriend, so he poured his milk carton over my head and my hair smelled like sour milk for the whole day."

"We can still beat the little fucker if you want," Izjik offers, cracking her knuckles. "I'll go to jail over that. Not like they'll keep me there long anyways."

"No, that's ok." Twenari smiles lightly. "I cursed his locker to un-do any homework he put in there anyways. Mostly, I just feel bad about making things weird with Tahla. She was really cool."

"It's alright, my most embarrassing moment was realizing I wasn't interested in sex when an upperclassmen of mine took off her shirt for me." Sepo shakes his head in distant memory. "She asked me to come back to her room to work on scales. I showed up with my music folder and she showed up in lingerie. My brother took my chore rotation for a full month just so I could avoid interacting with her afterwards."

"I don't know, that time you fell down the drainpipe was pretty bad too," Izjik replies laughingly.

Sepo sniffs delicately. "I was severely concussed - that doesn't count."

"Hey, at least we can be content in knowing we have the most game in this little cluster of chuckle fucks." Djek reaches over to dap Izjik up - a gesture she returns heartily.

"Here's to running into rocks and throwing up in your mouth." Izjik grins.

Yeah, none of these four have any shame lol. Thanks again to everyone who participated! Keep an eye out for a part two later on: Mortal God edition :)

@amandacanwrite @elsie-writes @riveriafalll @kosmic-kore @kaylinalexanderbooks

@bard-coded @carrotsinnovember @patternwelded-quill @somethingclevermahogony @whatwewrotepodcast

@the-angriest-author @mk-writes-stuff @frostedlemonwriter @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @watermeezer

@leahnardo-da-veggie @mr-orion @televisionjester @ray-writes-n-shit @evilgabe29

@trippingpossum @tragedycoded @halfbakedspuds @ominous-feychild @cain-e-brookman

@wyked-ao3 @thecomfywriter @mysticstarlightduck @rumeysawrites @the-golden-comet

@cowboybrunch @gioiaalbanoart @theink-stainedfolk

[buttdumplin]

A John Price meet-the-fam special!! This is pure, indulgent fluff.

cw: gn!reader, latine reader word count: 1.2k

When Price first meets your family, it goes over smoother than fucking water over a polished worry stone. It just is. You thought it might go like that, knowing that he’d do practically anything to make himself fit in as seamlessly as possible. But you also knew that bringing home a white guy always comes with a very specific brand of first interactions.

You prep him for the teasing that’s to come, about his accent, about his complexion, about the food he eats. John takes it all in very seriously, nodding along and asking probing questions. It’s all for your benefit, and he’s incredibly mindful of that. You don’t necessarily need to know he’s already got a plan of action, though.

By the time you arrive at the family home, you’re a little stiff, braced for the barrage of probing questions that’s to come. You can tell the family is curious, you see the tías eyeing up and down. But there’s no interrogation this time. Because John beats them to it. He’s polite and answers all the niceties as respectfully as he can. And then he immediately launches into offering up information, as cryptic as it may be. He dons that dimpled smile of his and tells them what he can.

“I’ve been at this job for a while now, but I’m retiring soon. It’s actually my personal life that I'm more invested in improving now.” 

“I’m hoping to buy a home in the very near future. Maybe like this one, a big family place. I’ve been tucking away money for it for a while now.”

“I’ve had to spend a lot of time away, but I’m really looking forward to staying home with this one.”

The tías are swooning when he makes intense eye contact with you across the table as he speaks. He’s not hiding any kind of intentions, from you or them. None of the information is particularly new to you, but hearing him say it out loud? In front of all the people important to you? It’s one thing when it’s quietly discussed in the early hours of the morning. It’s another thing entirely to hear it all said in such a permanent way.

At one point, your godmother, as entrometida as she always is, mentions she’s willing to go shopping with him if he’s ever in need of a ring, says she’s always had a good eye for your style.

“Oh, no. Se lo agradezco, pero ya no va a ser necesario,” he replies with an even bigger smile, and it’s got the women hollering. They’d take a bite out of him if they could. John carries himself with the firm confidence of knowing who he is, and they can see that. They respect it.

The tías, predictably, also do everything they can to keep you two physically apart. You’re put on comal duty, keeping you in the deep corner of the kitchen where he can’t reach you. John himself doesn’t try to reach for you, wanting to spare you the godforsaken “chiflando y aplaudiendo” even at your big age. So he keeps busy by setting the table, asking only where he can find the cups and tableware. They all ooh and aah.

“Ven? Ni se le tuvo que pedir,” they shout at the tíos, pointing at John’s busy hands.

A few questions do pop up once dinner is set. Do you eat this kind of food? Have you had this before? Do you like it? Tíos razz him into adding more and more salsa on his food, and John, knowing full well how it all ends, goes along with it. He’s managed to build up some tolerance that he’s quite proud of, but there is no way that’s saving him. He knows what he’s in for. A single bite and his face turns so red it’s almost purple, his coughing making it hard for him to get water down. The tíos laugh and he’s smiling along with them, the tías rushing to get more water and napkins and a cup of milk because “I heard this helps white people?” You swap his plate out for a new one while they’re all caught up with John, taking a few bites of food to try to match it to the dish he had before. 

A bubble of softness blooms in the room. The tías are cooing over him, consoling him after his “brave attempt.” The tíos take turns patting his back, smiling down proudly at him for having met their challenge. He smiles back at you from across the table, knowing full well what you’ve done to his food, spotting a few more veggies than he’s originally served himself. The tablecloth is long, surely they won’t spot him gently nudging your foot with his own. 

When your godfather invites him out onto the porch for a smoke, John knows it’s his time to shine. He asks you to stay inside with a wink. He brought those Cuban cigars with him for a reason, he’s sure he’ll make it through. You hold him at the door for a second longer, just enough to give him a tender kiss before sending him along. Neither of you missed the way your godfather so clearly recognizes the way John moves, his own military past helping read further into the man you’ve brought home. You know there’s a good chance of this not going perfectly. 

Ignoring the calls from your tías, you crawl to sit below the window that lets out right behind them. They both let out soft grunts as they settle into their chairs, a long hum of appreciation from your godfather clearly signaling John has opened the cigar box for him. It’s silent for a while. The only sounds come from the lighter and their soft exhalations. Then a soft rustling begins. It’s not the trees, it’s too muted for that. It’s not gravel, they aren’t going anywhere and they certainly didn’t make their getting-up grunts. No, it’s their clothes. Because they’ve come up with hand signs on the spot, across languages, so you can’t listen in. 

There’s some chuckling, surely that’s a good sign! But the low sigh coming shortly after isn’t very encouraging. You try to make sense of it somehow, but there’s no distinct rhythm to it. And suddenly you’re twelve again and trying to sneak a peek. You may not need a stool to help you, you’re tall enough to see through the window on your tiptoes. Maybe if you do it slowly, they won’t notice. So slowly it goes, your knees creaking as you inch up. Their rustling continues; good, they haven’t noticed. Yet as stealthy as you try to be, they’re both looking directly at you as you finally get eyes on them. Their smiles all too knowing. You godfather winks at you, clicking his tongue fondly. He holds a hand up before you can say anything, groaning a little as he rises. He takes a beat to look down at John. You’re all frozen for a moment. And then your godfather’s hand comes down firmly on John’s shoulder, giving him a sturdy shake. 

“Me meto antes de que la vieja huela todo este humo,” he says. It’s done. No disaster, just acceptance.

When you turn back to John, he’s already got a mad grin on his face, “See? This old white boy’s still got some moves.”

AN: I am buckled the fuck in for all this latine reader content, so yall will be seeing a whole lot more of it. Thank you again to @mikichko!!! For your support and encouragement, and your incredibly generous feedback. I'm doing this to feed us both.

Let me know if yall wanna see anything with latine reader in particular!!

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Gunpowder

<<< Prev (The password) (Tattooed kisses) Next>>>

Pairing: Buggy x female mermaid!reader

Warning: none

Word count: 2000

Content: Just some domestic fluff

Not sure if these are any good haha but I crave the fluff 😩

---

You were lounging in the bath tub that was set aside for you in your quarters, the fresh water making the scales on your tail shimmer with life. The scented candles around you made your room smell like the island that was near the cove you had inhabited long ago. Now buggy makes a point to get you things any time his ship passes that port, which for some reason has become often.

Wearing one of his tank tops that you stole from his deck, which he knew about but never asked for it to be returned. You were reading up on the other possible sea routes you could take, new monsters to be aware of and ship passages that you never criss cross because everyone was on a look out for mermaids. Not that there were many of your kind left because of the poaching and hunting, it had caused your people to be so far from the sea that many most likely had died on land.

Even though the water was warm a shiver ran down your spine, your mind going back to those dark days in the cove, trying your best as a young girl to hide away and scrounge for food when Buggy found you. As much as it was a part of you, your tail was often the reason why people began to hunt your kind down.

Circulated my myths that your scales could have healing properties or how owning one could bring good fortune to your house, the iridescent colour that thrum with every breath you took, it scared you. Where you saw beauty another saw opportunity. So you only took your mermaid form when you were alone or when you were on a mission, it wasn't for everyone to see.

Here on the ship though, you were safe, you could relax, no one was going to harm you. So you sank deeper into the tub and turned the next page in your book when the door bust open. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. His squeaky shoes gave him away.

“Now what do you think about this new costume?”, he stood in the middle of your room with his arms stretched wide. You gave him the pleasure of letting your glance linger a little longer, that made his smile grow a little wider before you got back to your reading.

He was dressed in an extravagant over the top outfit, with multiple colors, rings on all his fingers, an even bigger hat and rhinestones catching the light so effortlessly. You tried to hide your smile behind your book but it was as though he could sense it.

“You don’t like it?”, he whined as he got closer to you, to sit down near the edge of your tub.

“No, no, it works well for the show. What is tonight’s story about?”, you asked as you continued to read, your eyes ever so often catching his.

“The prince and the mermaid princess.”, he leaned closer, his eyes taking in your features that you could feel the electric touch on your skin.

But you huffed a laugh which seemed to bother him. He pushed your book away to get your attention.

“Why is that funny?”, he asked in a more serious tone.

You took a second to analyse him, the sudden change in his demeanor, all your favourite colours on his suit, he knew you liked precious stones, so he had all of it on his hat. It was endearing, no one had taken time to get to know you.

“Mermaids don’t like princes.”, you told him, his face fell even further.

He dipped his fingers into the water to play with edges of your long dark hair. You wanted to bring back the zest with which he had entered, but before you could try to make amends, his eyes found yours again.

“What do mermaids like?”, he asked to which you continued your act of looking away lost in thought. Your theatrics bringing back a smile to his face.

Princes would never consider what you liked, they only wanted to hold onto you like a valuable possession. But Buggy wasn't like that at all, in fact he was the opposite in every way.

“In general?”, you asked unable to hide the fuzzy warmth that was filling up your body the more you got him to relax.

So he rephrased his question.

“What do you like?”, he asked but looked away as though your answer was the only thing in the world that could truly break him apart.

“I like clowns.”, you said quietly, placing your face in front of his so he had to catch your gaze again. He pursed his lips, nodding with confidence and joy.

His energy was back, the glimmer in his eyes, the certainty in his smile. Not many knew the man behind the mask, the man who was insecure about his nose, that he only wanted attention because he never received it, to have had been a part of a crew and then be betrayed. So you were protective of it, his happiness. Just the way he was protective of your freedom.

“But you do look good as a prince.”, you smiled as kissed his cheek, which with the way he was tapping his fingers on the rim of the tub like a happy puppy, let you know that your mission was accomplished.

“I’ll raid a kingdom and give you a castle.”, he beamed, swiping away a wet strand of hair from your face.

“No castle can amount to your ship. I feel happy here.”, you told him and watched his eyes widen. He knew what it meant when you said a place wasn’t constricting. He knew what it took for you to truly find comfort.

“I’m glad.”, he said tenderly, his calloused thumb tracing the rise of your cheek.

“Then tell me what you want and I’ll go steal it for you.”, he said, his soft gaze was easy to get lost in, making you feel like the only woman to exist because it was only reserved for you.

“I have everything I need right here.”, you replied, pulling your hand from the water to showcase your room but finally placed your pointer finger on his chest, right above his beating heart.

Maybe it was the gesture, or the scent of the room but as you smiled at him, you knew that these moments were the ones you could never trade off. You were tied to this ship just as much as he was, and if it went down, you would go down with him. But your hope wasn’t placed on someone who thirsted after power like many who dwelled on these open seas, it was on a boy who loved the spotlight with a little rough edges.

You saw him for who he was, sure he was still working on trying not to be greedy, to not put all his best efforts on unknown treasure, to make sure his crew was treated well. He still had a long way to go but it was how you stood by him, his most coveted spy that no one knew about was also the only woman who knew him well enough to see there was still a little good left in him. You deserved a better man and so he vowed to become one. For the first time in his life, he had to work hard for something that he truly wanted, he had to earn your love and every step of it was well worth the pain. So if you were so generous with being vulnerable with him, he could be too.

He leaned over to kiss your forehead and heard you hum softly but as he pulled away he noticed how the paint on his face had tainted your skin, so he furrowed his brows as he tried to wipe it off only to leave traces of gunpowder from his finger tips having dealt with cannon balls through the day. He frowned and you caught sight of it.

“What is the matter?”, you asked, holding his hand in place even though he tried to move away.

“Nothing, I’m prone to making a mess.”, he said as his eyes looked away out the little window but you understood the deeper meaning behind it.

So you took both his hands and placed it on the sides of your face even as he tried to hold it away, you didn’t listen to his words as he tried to convince you otherwise. You held his fingers tight, to feel the grit of his palm against your skin and holding you in his hands seemed to silence him, his eyes now filled to the brim with affection.

“The favourite thing about this man I like is that his hands smell like gunpowder.”, you said as you trailed your fingers over his, to close your eyes and inhale deeply the smell of flint from his hands when you opened your eyes, the edges of his eyes were glistening.

But he cleared his throat as he gave you a sweet smile.

You let go of his fingers and as he pulled them away, black residue was left behind on your cheeks.

“And the thing about messes is that,”, you paused as you submerged your head under the water and when you broke to the surface, your face was clean.

“There’s always a way to fix it.”, you raked your hair back as you let the water drip away from your face but your action had caused from him to watch you, his eyes now heavy lidded and dark, the smile on his face saying he wanted you.

He gave you a curt nod but as he did it he began to pull away his costume, till he only had his shorts on. His chiseled back catching the candlelight that the raised bumps of scar tissue were more evident now, he got closer to the tub and in moments like these, you knew he was the one in charge. From afar he looked lean but up close, his shoulders were broad, his constant training made him a much bigger build in contrast to your nimble form.

He gave orders and did as he pleased, so he held onto the edge of the large tub, the muscles on his arm flexing as he lowered himself into the warm water, letting out a sigh of delight. But that was only till he waded towards you, the water cleansing his hands clean, deeming him worthy of holding you properly this time. His eyes spoke a language only you understood and now you knew he only had one thing on his mind.

But before he could get to it, he reached for your hand and placed it on his face, guiding your thumb across his lips, the water began to wipe away the paint on his face. You understood what he wanted you to do so you go to it. He positioned himself below you, such that you could sit on him, your tail draped across the lower half of his body, to use your fingers to wipe away the paint on his face till finally you caught sight of his bare face.

Vulnerable and afraid as his eyes flitted away from you, as though you were going to reject him. But if he loved you for who you were, you did the same. You tilted his face up to the light and his eyes bored into yours, there was no more paint or gunpowder to get in the way or cause a mess. It was only you and him. The girl who was lost and the boy who had found her. His hand steadied your hip as your tail flipped joyously at the end of the tub. He held onto your with adoration, his touch over your scales pushing your over the edge of desire. You placed your palms on his bare chest and felt the rhythm of his heart that beat rapidly the more he got close to you.

“You’re the best treasure I’ve ever found.”, he said quietly as though it was a truth he could no longer hide.

Your eyes fell to his lips as your fingers traced up his neck to pull back his wild wet blue hair. He pulled you to him, a low chuckle escaping his mouth as his lips found yours as if you were the answer to his life, to his loneliness, there was a passion in how held you but the slow and sure manner of his kisses made you feel that he was in no hurry. He didn’t have any another place to be or another attack to strategize.

He was yours first and he wanted you to know it so you let him, let his lips tell you without words all the ways he loved you. You drew him closer, his head fit into the crevice of your neck as though he was made for you.

The night was young and for the first time, in each other’s arms, you began to feel young and alive too.

[swampstew]

Eustass Kid, G-49 ~ Glory Hole

Summary: Sea-trow: a malignant or mischievous fairy or spirit, regarded as monstrous giants at times. Trows are nocturnal creatures, they venture out of their 'trowie knowes' (earthen mound dwellings) solely in the evening, and often enter households as the inhabitants sleep. Trows traditionally have a fondness for music, kidnapping musicians or luring them to their dens, and having sexual intercourse with women on their land. They are regarded as hideous creatures that are hung like horses. This is the story of their glow up and thriving business model.

Warnings: Spicy, modern monster au, Eustass Kid as a Sea-Trow, Female reader, glory hole/reverse glory hole trope, fingering and vaginal penetration, creampie, degradation, calling reader slut and pet names, Kid being an amazing Dom. Not edited cause I'm stoned and sleepy. Word Count: 2K

Visiting a glory hole was one of your secret kinks – always too shy to share with anyone you’d ever been intimate with. Even soft voyeurism suggestions like car sex while in your relationships gave you surprised and shocked looks. Tempering your appetites, you hid a part of yourself under lock and key until circumstances found you free again. Emboldened, excited for adventure, ready to shed the weight of judgment – you were finally going to try it out.

Your fantasy included either having your body used at a glory hole or visiting one to play at. Due to the stigma, glory holes became nearly extinct. In fact, you had to resort to using the internet to finding any, but thanks to the help of some kink friendly resources and associates, you found a list of the last remaining glory holes, and to your delight, it was a global map.

Deciding to cash in your hoarded holiday time at work, you booked a flight overseas to visit an online friend in the kink community you felt safe with. They offered to go with you as well, for the experience and to be your buddy in case things went wrong. It made you feel better, though you still felt timid as you parked in a dim parking lot adjacent to a nearly deserted beach.

The air was breezy but not too cold, just shy of the fall weather, and music was pounding from the shack down the beach. Some people filtered in and out, some smoked down by the shoreline, but the shack doors were always forcibly closed as soon as someone cleared the threshold.

Exhaling away your anxiety, you entered. Then you stepped through another double set of doors. Then you were inside.

Down the hallway were picture frames of the…options. None showed their faces, but they showed everything else. Magnificent physiques, sculpted bodies, chubby bodies, scarred bodies, eccentric styles, colorful hair and painted nails accessorized their bodies – but the draw of course, were their huge cocks.

Your jaw dropped – certain you’ve never seen them that big before. Under each frame was a short bio and the person’s house name, and what the list of kinks they were into. There were two options: glory hole, reverse glory hole.

“Some of our young stallions don’t mind showing their face,” a tall woman with an old-fashioned crown on her head walked towards them with a clipboard in hand. “Quincy, house madam. You’re in luck, a few of our studs are available.”

“Which ones?” your friend inquired.

Quincy’s hair bounced as she flounced to each picture frame, sometimes turning the frame to show a face. A man with long blue locks that partially covered his thorn tattoos, a man with a burned right arm and massive pecs with flowing blonde mane, a sculpted man so tall the picture was taken with a wide lens scope. A handful more were shown but your eyes stayed glued to the frame of the heavily scarred man with a metal prosthetic arm, bulging drool-inducing muscles on a buff frame, red happy trail that led down to his generously proportioned cock, framed with that same red hair.

The madam noticed your staring and with a smirk flipped the frame over. Revealing a gorgeous face with equally heavy scarring. Fiery red hair styled in tufts, heavy black eyeliner defined his sharp, golden eyes, and deep matte red lipstick gracing a handsome smile. Your heart was pounding.

“Would you like to use him?” Quincy asked. You nodded, unable to speak from such a parched mouth. “I’m sure he’ll be excited to meet you. If this is your first time, I’d recommend the reverse hole, especially with a beast like him.”

Sheer heat pooled between your legs as you nodded.

“Right this way.”

-- Quincy placed you in a small room that was partially lit with candles, peering at all the framed photos of The Bull as you undressed. You sat on the custom bench that was mounted to the partition wall – a large heart shaped hole in the wall with a harness to strap you in and hold your legs back.

“Ya’know the rules, darling?” a gruff voice came from the other side of the wall, making you jump in surprise. “The safe words an’ everything?”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you, “Y-yes. The three color system: green for good, yellow for slow down, red for stop.”

“Thass’good lass. Was told this is y’first time in a place like this – don’t pretend you enjoy something if y’don’t. Say something, ya hear?”

“Y-yes.”

He let out a light chuckle, “Ooh a shy one eh? I’ll show ya a good time, don’t y’worry. Ready to strap in?”

“Uh, um one moment,” you gasp, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed. All you had to do was lay down on the bench, scoot your ass through the hole, put the harness around your thighs to keep you up, but you were moving sluggishly. Red flushing your body as you came to the precipice of a fantasy you had long suppressed, long been shamed for.

“Oi,” his voice was soft, “Having regrets?”

With a wavering voice you summarize the shame you felt and bad experiences, tears spilling down your face completely embarrassed.

“S’ok, darling. There’s no shame here,” he whispered. “Want me to strap you in?”

“Ye-yess, erm, is that…is that allowed?”

“TCH. O’course it’s allowed. I own the feckin place.”

You were surprised to find that the hollow partition wall had a door behind the floor length mirror so you jumped again when The Bull ducked inside your side of the room. His photos didn’t do him justice. He was practically a giant compared to you. Large limbed, every bit as good looking in the flesh, the way his eyes pierced you made you feel like you were seen for the first time. That you would be ok in his hands.

He held out his hand, a pleased grin curled on his face when you grabbed it. Gently shifting you down the cherry oak wood, massaging your bare bottom as he eased you into the opening, caressing your calves and thighs as he slipped on the harness straps.

“Thassa good lass indeed,” he purred, “So shy and obedient. I’ll give ya somethin’ special I don’t do for no one else if yer honest with me,” he said. With his flesh hand he cupped your mound, making you shudder and moan at the contact. “How’s it feel?”

“G-good!” you were breathless.

“Ya’ lyin?”

“No-no! I’m green, good to go!”

His face relaxed and he grinned again, “Good.” He then plunged a thick digit into your pussy making you clench and squeak in pleasure. He thrusted shallowly a few times before pulling out, wiping his finger down your body until he cupped your cheek. “I’m gonna have fun with ya. Pull more squeaks from ya, little mouse.”

He smashed his red lips into yours with ravenous need, leaving you panting and pleading for more. He pulled away with a teasing nip on your bottom lip, looking at you with a devious smirk. He leaned back down and pressed an open-mouth kiss on your neck, sucking it harshly to leave a mark.

“So everyone here knows you’re my little plaything,” He fondled one breast while he sucked the nipple of the other before leaving to his side again.

“Ready fer’me darling?” his voice was deeper, huskier.

“Yy-yes, I’m ready,” your hips wiggled impatiently.

“First things first, dirty girl,” he mocked you, lightly slapping a rubber packet on your clit making you arch your back. “I don’t shoot my load in ya unless y’buy me dinner first.”

Before you could giggle, you choked out a gasp as he rubbed his stiff cock between your folds, jutting against your clit. He teased you while muttering out all the things he would do to you, all the positions he’d have you in just to see your cute face pinched in ecstasy – you felt his metal hand slap the wall making it tremble. Rubbing his thumb on your clit with more pressure, keeping his tip at the edge of you entrance to feel you clench around nothing, so close to penetrating you but not quite there.

“Wassa mistake seein’ ya,” his voice sounded restrained, “I wanta bust on yer face instead of in this feckin rubber piece o’shit!”

You heard him loudly grunt as he sunk into you, pushing out all the air from your lungs. He was stretching you far beyond what you’ve ever experienced and despite it burning just a wee bit, the pleasure was far overtaking the minor pain. His fat cock pressed against all the right areas making you pulse on him, your legs shook against the restraints as you tried to wrap your thighs around his hips.

“Ahhh shit,” he growled, “So feckin tight! Ease up or I won’t last long darling!”

You thought you were answering but instead a wail was ripped from your throat as he changed his pace from rapid thrusting to long, slow strokes. Coaxing your orgasm while tempering his own. His painted nails dug into the back of your thigh as his metal fingers dug into the wooden wall, slowly denting with the mounting pressure he applied.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been fucked so well, felt so full, felt like such a toy but still felt important enough to be taken care of. The Bull railed you over and over again, making it his personal mission to make sure you cum at least eight times before he was done with you.

“Thassa good pet!” he grunted after the seventh one. “Took me so well, d’ya want more special treatment?”

You babbled out what you hoped was a yes.

“Well well well, turns out you weren’t a wee mouse but a desperate bunny ready to be bred. Is’that what y’want darling? Want me to rip this condom off and bust on ya? Are you a kinky lass, wantin’ it inside ya? I think you’re a slutty little thing, slutty little bunny who wants m’cum dripping from her greedy hole. What’sit gonna be darling?”

“FU-FU FUCCCCKK MEEEE!!!!” you cried.

He hooted, “I already am darling!”

“FUUCK IT IN MEEEEEE!!!!”

“There’s my slutty bunny,” he grinned, and in one swift motion yanked the soiled rubber off his angry red cock, it bobbed in frustration at the sudden cool air and loss of tightness. With a moan, The Bull filled you up to the hilt in one swift thrust.

Shrieking at the overstimulation, your puffy clit throbbed against The Bull’s matted pubic hair as he ground into you. His forehead pressing into the wall as he bullied his cock into you deeper and deeper. Your toes curled as your last orgasm peaked, letting out a hoarse cry as your body shook from the heat that spread throughout you.

Your ears started ringing from the hazy pleasure that washed your body, vaguely aware of the man on the other side of the wall who was clutching your thighs and slamming his hips rabidly as he emptied himself inside you. Could hear his satisfied growl through the background noise, it sounded so far away and yet so near.

You came back to reality when you realized he was back in your side of the room, pulling your legs from the harness and wiping you down.

“There she is,” he grinned, “How’re ya feeling?”

“Go-good, no, fucking, fucking great,” you sigh tiredly.

“Heh, you look wiped out. You need to drink and eat. C’mon, I’m goin’ with ya.”

“You-you are?” you’re surprised as you pull your clothes on.

“Haah! Y’re takin’ me to dinner darling. I put a lotta work into rockin yer world, least ya could do is buy me a burger and beer! Learn my name or somethin’. Is’yer first time to this part of the world right? Y’ever hear about Sea-trowls?”

You hadn’t noticed before that his feet and hand had a hint of webbing between his digits, his feet themselves were shaped more like horse hooves. Despite the leather jacket he donned on, you could see the back of his neck seemed to glimmer, as if the skin on his back was less skin and more like scales.

“M’name’s Kid. What’s yers darling?”

11 tiles to go, 40 calls made so far.