#bow down to your fuckin king

[bi-writes]

a hand for a hand | knight!ghost x f!reader

in the year of our lord 1657, your king wields a weapon that cannot be reproduced. as your queen's lady-in-waiting, you steer clear of it, lest it cut you when it passes by. but duty and desire are rarely met in a man's world.

type: one-shot (6.5k), AO3

cw: dark!ghost, reader described as curvier/plus-sized, mentions of war + violence, possessive!ghost, war-criminal!ghost, inaccurate historical settings probably, unprotected piv, cumplay, breeding kink, size kink, ghost is obsessed with your tits (18+)

It is not a secret that you are afraid of the king's men. There is a reason that they have a reputation of cruelty. Ravagers, conquerors, unruly and untamed–they train like dogs, and they live like them, too. By accident, you have wandered to where their barracks are, and if it wasn't for the happenstance of your king hearing your screams, they would've taken your virtue that night.

That one belongs to my wife, he had said, gripping you by the scruff of your neck. Spoil it, and I'll have your fuckin' heads. His queen had been much kinder when he returned you back inside, cradling your head in her lap and promising to have something fashioned for you to wear so none of his men would ever touch you again.

And they haven't. They do not bow to you, but they open the doors for you, move out of your way, try to keep their eyes off of the softness of your cleavage and the curve of your skirt. But there is one that does not, there is one that refuses, and this one you avoid the most.

You don't know him by any other name other than Ghost. The right hand of the king, his most trusted advisor and his most brutal of men. There are times when he barges into the throne room, his sword dragging along the stone floor and trailing blood in its path, and he tosses the head of the king's enemy onto the floor. You clutch onto the skirt of your queen's dress, tears welling up in your eyes, and when you look up, he is staring at you, heaving in the metal of his armor, and you look away as his men yell out proudly as they crowd the room.

His eyes are always on you when you are in his presence. They track you as you move behind your queen, follow you as you eat and drink and tend to her majesty's needs. He wanders the halls, and he observes you as if you are his next meal. And maybe you are���if he suddenly decided you would be his next conquest, you don't think a refusal is in order. Maybe that's the mercy he gives you; just the aggressiveness of his stare and his stare only, and not the strength of his hand or the cruelness of his demeanor.

There is always a party. Always a celebration for this brute. He is praised by politicians and priests alike, because he must be the hand of god, delivering whatever the king asks for when it is asked of him. He does not lose, all he comes back with is chests full of gold and new slashes to add to the growing collection on his skin. Sometimes you wonder if he puts them on himself. You wonder if he drags his dagger in a crooked line down the length of his arm, as if he is tallying his win, counting up to a number that already puts the men that came before him to shame.

He seems like the kind of man to do so–like the kind of man to do it even with the blood of his adversary still warm on the sharp edge of the blade, the kind to lick it clean when he's finished just to solidify the unease and the terror of the next man to have the unfortunate fate of ending up at the wrong end of his adrenaline.

He has no face. He has no name. And if he is coming for you, it's already too late; your fate has been sealed, and you should say your last rites. The only mercy he ever gives is that death is always quick. His sword is too sharp, and his hand is too heavy.

It is late in the evening when you hear it. There's screaming in the courtyard, yells and howls and cheers. You put down your hairbrush, getting up and padding to the window to look outside. The king's men are there, hundreds of them milling about and walking around. They share mead and wine, crusty bread in their muddy hands. They are bloody and bruised, but they are happy. They sing and chant, hold each other and crowd around fires. They left weeks ago, and they are back now, and you suspect it must be victory on account of their demeanor.

You are not surprised by this. They aren't kind, but it makes them good soldiers. They aren't afraid to die; it's a common idea in your culture that for a man to die in battle is the only way to true salvation, to actual ascension. You have always hated this idea. Boys become cruel, and men become unforgiving, and it is why you are so grateful to be her majesty's lady-in-waiting because it means she is your only duty and nothing more.

You are surprised by the knock on your door. You think about ignoring it, but then there is another knock, and then a familiar, low voice mutters, "Are you awake, my lady?"

You tie your robe and scurry. When you open up the door, you curtsy low and graceful, your eyes drawn to the floor as you tremble a little in the king's presence. You've never really spoken to him before, not without his queen at your side.

"Y-Yes, your majesty? I'm sorry for my appearance, I–"

"It's quite late," he says gently. "You don't have to apologize. Is it alright if I come in?"

You stand from your curtsy, blinking up at him. You think for a few moments before you nod, widening the door. He settles himself at the seat by the window, looking down into the courtyard. He has a hint of a smirk on his face as he looks down at his men, still singing.

"I have a request of you," he says finally. You take a seat at the edge of your bed, wringing your hands nervously in your lap. Whatever his request is, you don't know why he's putting it this way. You're not exactly allowed to refuse. "It is time for my most decorated men to receive their titles. They deserve it, after what they have done for me these past few years."

You swallow, "Yes, of course. You have such a fine army, your majesty. You must be...V-very proud."

He turns to face you, and he nods.

"These titles come with land. Money. Responsibility. And it comes with other things they might request," he explains. "One of these things can be a bride."

"They are most fortunate," you say softly, trying to smile. He stands, turning back to look down into the courtyard.

"You are to be wed tomorrow," he tells you. "I know you gave up much to accept your role at my wife's side, and for that, I have arranged for a sizable dowry on your behalf. Congratulations, my lady." he turns to smile at you. "By sunset, you are to be a duchess."

You're shaking when he goes. You clutch the sheets, sinking to your knees, and you cry. You cry because you know who asked for your hand. You know who wants you, you know who it is, because every time he comes back from war, he cannot take his eyes off of you. He eats you with his gaze, he violates you and has never even touched you, he takes from you, and you've never spoken to him, but you know it's him, you know it, you know it–

Your queen is ecstatic. She lends you diamonds to wear, and she fusses over the embroidered silk and cotton dress they've sewn for you overnight. She tells you she's so proud, that you will make such a beautiful bride and a beautiful duchess, and it takes all of your strength not to cry, to choke back your sobs. Your innocence will be gone by the next morning, you know this, and yet here she beams about colored fabric and your new, unwanted title and all of the duties you have never, ever wanted for yourself.

Marriage will be your prison, and you will never be free. You'll be hidden behind closed doors and forced to carry loud, chubby babies.

You are not the only bride that afternoon, but you feel like the most important. Your veil is the longest, your dress is the most intricate, and you are wearing the queen's diamonds. Not to mention, you are to become a duchess, and the rest will be lords and ladies, nothing more. You have always hated the hierarchy that society fits themselves into, but you've never despised it more than this moment.

He is waiting for you when you make it to the throne room. He wears his armor, polished and without blood, his face covered and his hood up to shadow his dark eyes. He wears his telltale insignia with pride, the skull motif of his belt gleaming and the paint of his mask fresh. He stands tall and menacing, a reaper in human skin, and you are so close to tears as you make your way to him. Your eyes find his, and he holds out his hand for you to take. You slip a delicate hand into his gloved one, letting the rough fabric warm you as he brings you to stand in front of him. He purrs, you think, a low rumble as his eyes look you up and down.

You are a prize. A trophy. Nothing more. A gift given for cutting the heads off of your king's foes, and that is all.

The ring on your finger is gold, and the ring you slip over his is silver. And then he gives you his first gift as your husband–a tiara, made of emerald and gold, and he slips your veil off to tuck it between the strands of your hair. The intricate pattern on the tiara matches the patterns along the iron of his armor, and you want to think of this as a gesture of good will, but you know it is given with possessive intent, a brand of ownership.

Because that is what this is. Not a ceremony of love, but an exchange, a transaction. You've been bought with blood, and there is nothing you can do about it.

But one day he will grow bored of me, and maybe then, I'll feel myself again.

He narrows his eyes, glares, and your lips part, trembling, you are terrified. His response is to growl with delight, his eyes falling to stare at the laces that hold in your cleavage. You observe this fact–the fact that you have things that other ladies do not. You are not tiny like them, not thin nor delicate. You are warm, soft, and the squeeze of your breasts in your dress draw him in.

You are a prisoner, now. But perhaps, if you play this game correctly, you can be in your ward's good graces. This is the hand you've been dealt; perhaps there is still a way to win if you steel your bluff.

The party is lively. There is music, gold coins tossed haphazardly on tables, so much dancing and enough food to stuff yourself for days. There is endless wine, and there are brides seated in laps, hungry new couples kissing and whispering soft nothings into each other's ears. The king blessed you all, told you to enjoy your new lives, your new titles, to make your country proud and raise pretty, fat babies.

You sit aways from him. You don't speak, just stare at your dinner plate, sipping wine absentmindedly as you think about the rest of your life and how miserable you will be. You think about the control you have never had, the choices you have never been given, and you wish so badly that you were a man.

Men simply ask for, and then they receive. Women simply hope that their eyes don't meet a flame too hot to handle.

His eyes bore into your head. When you catch his gaze every once in a while, all he does is tilt his head to the side and observe you. The beauty that you are, the woman that no one can have, the supple tits that belong to him, and the perfect cunt he knows that you have under the multitude of skirts you hide it under. Your skin glows, your hair is healthy, you will give him everything that he needs, that he craves.

You'll look so beautiful carrying his heir. You'll look so perfect when you begin to wear the dresses he will buy you, when you sleep in the bed in the house that he gives you, when you stand in the kitchen that he builds for you. Although, a woman like you deserves to do nothing but relax, be pampered, to lay down on a bed of furs as he eats your sweetness and fucks you stupid.

When the morning is early, you sneak out. You scurry to your bedroom, closing the door behind you for a moment of peace. You take a seat on your bed, the bed you aren't sure you will have for much longer, and you sit there and stare at your feet until the door opens.

You know who it is right away. Coming in unannounced, because now he is allowed to, because everything in this room now belongs to him, from the thread holding your dress together to the very breaths you take.

You sit up straight, turning your head. Ghost slips through, taking up the space by the door as it shuts behind him. You watch him as he stands poised just like the soldier he is, looking at you illuminated by nothing but candlelight. His gloved hands rest at his sides, but he squeezes them in and out of fists, clicking his tongue. You hear the leather of them move.

You have never spoken to him before. You've never heard him speak. You wonder if he really knows how to; you wonder if he has a voice or if he's been whittled down to nothing but the sounds that a loyal mutt makes. You know why he's here, you know why he's come. You can't tell him no, you don't think, but he doesn't move from his place, so you aren't completely sure of what he wants.

But you have an idea.

"Y'abhor me," he says finally. He speaks. You swallow. At least he isn't stupid. It's rare that you see a brute with brains. Although, with all the battles he has won, you know he doesn't lack intelligence. He is seasoned, worldly, knows how to convince the politicians and to rile up the uneducated men that kill for him. He must have a quick tongue and a strong vocabulary. A leader bred for killing, a man taught to know his audience and how to deliver a persuasive message.

But has he been taught to tame a cat? How to please a woman? How to love her, how to have her?

Love. What a silly dream.

"Not as much as I fear you," you admit. He hums, his eyes crinkling a little, as if he's smiling. You watch him carefully as he finally moves, rounding the bed before he stands in front of you.

"Wot is it y'r afraid of?" he asks. His voice comes low, from the bottom of his chest. You tilt your head up to look at him.

"That you'll hurt me," you whisper. He shrugs, shaking his head.

"A beaten wife is no good t'me," he tells you, very matter-of-fact. "Need strong heirs. Which means I need y'fed and happy."

"I'll never be happy."

He grips your chin, shutting you up. A part of you wishes he would be meaner. That he would be the angry, possessive Ghost that he truly is and show the kingdom that there is no part of him redeemable or salvageable. You want to sport his bruises and tell the queen he is an animal, but his touch is firm and nothing more. If anything, he's gentler than you expected him to be.

"We'll see about tha'."

Your eyes water, and you stiffen at his touch.

"I know who you are," your voice cracks. "I know what you do. You're a pillager. You take women, and you kill men."

He tilts his head to the side, smoothing his thumb along your bottom lip. You aren't wrong. Since he was small, most of what he has known has been the smell of blood in the air and the sound of screams when he shows up at their doors. He's never been particularly gentle when he ravages. He takes, takes, takes–it tastes good and strengthens his bones. It puts medals on his chest and pretty, thick women in his bed.

But you are no village in an unfortunate land. You are the gift that his king has given him. The forbidden treasure that he had his eye on since he saw you standing there beside his queen. Poised, elegant, graceful, timid, untouched, perfectly soft. Ghost has never known this kind of thing, and if you had been any other lady, he would have married you long ago, but he had to wait. He had to be patient, win and kill enough that his king could not refuse his request–no, his demand–to have you.

He did not do the king's bidding for the glory or for the honor. He did it so he could bite into you, so that even if you screamed, you belonged, and no one would care.

"Just a matter of war, dear wife. They matter little," Ghost mutters. "Let me look at ya..." he tilts your head side to side, observing you. He guides his hand down your throat, arching you back so he could trace his fingers along the swell of your breasts. He hums with approval, reaching lower and squeezing the fat of one breast with one big hand. His eyes flash, and he fondles the other.

You are surprised by the sensation. No one has ever touched you this way before. It feels...good. His hands are warm, even under all of that leather, and you find yourself feeling rather sensitive. You lean back a little on the palms of your hands, looking down. You watch as he traces a finger around your nipple, and you bite your lip when it pebbles under his touch. He uses both hands now, cupping both of them, growling. Ohhh–it feels so nice.

"Gonna be so nice when they're full," he murmurs, mostly to himself. "All for our babe."

You don't know what comes over you. You don't know why you do it, but you do. You lift your hand, gripping the edge of the laces that tie the front of your dress closed, and you pull. The weight of your breasts unravel the ribbons, and Ghost groans audibly when they spill out of your corset. There is a tickle that you feel, some sort of sick satisfaction, knowing that you've pleased him in some way.

"Tha'sit...My beautiful bride..." he smacks his lips together under his mask, as if he's hungry, "Tits of a fuckin' angel."

You squeeze your legs together. You know what it is to feel aroused, but this is different. You feel wet, so wet, as if it's wetting the skirt of your dress. You've never felt it this strong. You whimper a little, and he chuckles, so mean.

"Y'like tha', my bride?" he asks. He reaches up and cups your cheek, bringing your soft eyes to his. The praise, it itches you nicely. "Y'r m'prize, swee'eart. I killed over a thousand men, and y'are what m'reward is, did y'know tha'?" he hisses. "Cut the heart out of a man's chest, like a fuckin' pig, just to 'ave this cunt."

Why does it feel so good? Why are you getting wetter and wetter, why are you whining, why are you giving into it? Why do you want it so bad, why do you ache?

It hurts, it hurts–

"'s olright," he coos, so condescending. "Shhhh..." he puts a palm on your chest and pushes, making you lay back. You swallow, letting him put a finger between the laces of your corset and tug. It barely budges, fastened so carefully, and you gasp sharply when he uses two big hands and grunts, ripping your corset apart. You hear the crack of the whale bone give away under the strength of him, and it's a reminder of just how dangerous he is, how strong, and you know when he looks between your thighs, he'll find you wet and needy and captivated.

The corset comes loose, and he tugs, taking your skirts with it until you're naked underneath him. You want to feel shame, but you can't. You're so desperate, for whatever he will give you, and instead of covering yourself, you let your knees fall open. The groan he lets out makes you leak even more, and he watches with awe as your puffy hole pulses. He moves to shove his trousers down, but you stop him, putting a hand on the chest of his leather armor.

"Wait–" you meet his eyes. Your eyes flutter. "B-but...But I want..."

He eyes you curiously, narrowing them.

"Want wot?"

You swallow.

"I-I..." you reach down and slip your fingers gently through your folds. The squelch makes his eyes widen, and he's mesmerized by what he sees. "I want...Your mouth..."

He snickers, "Y'think a man will eat it so easy?" he raises a brow. "Doesn't work tha' way. Besides..." he shrugs. "I don't reveal m'face."

You sit up, blinking, smoothing your hands down his chest and tracing them along the hem of his trousers. His dark eyes follow you, and you realize he doesn't really say no. You need to remind him that you are not one of his men. You need to be kept happy, and he needs to give in, even if it hurts his fucking ego.

"Please?" you whisper, taking his hand and putting it back on your face, kissing the palm of his glove. Killed a thousand men to have me, so show me–show me, show me, show me. You nuzzle into it, giving him those eyes, and he stares for a long few moments. "Please..."

He sinks to his knees almost immediately. His armor stretches a little, the leather and metal moving rigidly with him. Your eyes widen a little at the position–the thing that he is knelt down in front of his wife, an act of submission.

"Turn around," he snaps. "On y'r knees."

You do as he says. You turn on the bed, your face squished against the cushions, and he yanks you back by your hips. You fist the sheets, sucking in a shaky breath, and your eyes squeeze shut when he puts two hands on your ass and spreads you wide. He plants a kiss on your folds from over the mask, and then you hear the shuffle of fabric before his warm tongue prods at your entrance.

He eats slow at first. Just drags his tongue through the slick there. He's exploring you, learning you. But then he is all-consuming. He hisses, gripping you by the thighs and suckling at your clit before tracing his name into the folds of your cunt. You can't help how wet you are–drooling, wetting his mask, crying so soft as he bobs his head and eats you, starving. He did not expect you to be so sweet, so soft. Every part of you is soft, and he associates the taste of you with the sound of your pleasure, and it's like a trigger. His brain ticks just the right way when he hears you moan for the first time. Not even battle quiets the tinnitus, but the ringing is nearly gone now.

He wonders if you're sent from heaven, even though he doesn't believe in it. But something had to have sent you, something had to have given you to him, because it's too much, it's too good, it's too real.

What he wants is in his hands, cumming on his tongue, crying because of his touch. Too real, too real, too real.

He pulls away. He smacks his lips gently, smirking, and then he pulls his mask back down. He stands up straight, watching you, still on your knees, squirming. He tuts, turning you onto your back easily. You're languid and a little breathless, and you giggle a little when you realize how easy it is for him to manhandle you, for him to move you. You've never felt very small, but he doesn't even strain, not even a little.

He's so scary, it makes you sick, but you can make this your own–you could make him love you, couldn't you? Someone this twisted, someone this insane, you could make him obsessed, you could drive him crazy, you could have the loyal dog you have always been yourself.

Killed a thousand men to have me, so I'll put you on your fucking knees.

It's what you're owed. For all the years of serving, for all the years of submission and pain and kneeling and curtsying, you're allowed to have something, you can have something, even if it's this monster of a man. He may have paid for you, but you won't let a thousand men die for nothing.

You will make him love you. You will make him love you. You will make him love you.

You sit up, a bit dazed. You're swimming in your own head, a little insane from the orgasm. You know what a man like him wants. You have doted on men like him all your life. You know what it is that arrogant people crave, what it is they desire, the things that keep them up at night, you know because you've soothed those fears all your life.

You just need to know how to make him purr. You need to know what clears the thoughts in his head.

"My husband," you whisper, meeting his eyes, and there's a little twitch in his eyes. He likes that title. "I–"

"Did y'like that, my bride?" he murmurs. "Your husband's mouth on y'r cunt, 'n now y'r singin' for me, eh?"

You bat your lashes, sliding your hands up his forearms. You drag your fingers over the sleeves of his armor, whimpering. The smell of leather is overwhelming, but you suppose you must get used to it. You have a feeling you'll be polishing it for the rest of your life.

"I've always been...Terrified of you," you whisper. "The way you come into court...The way you fight...Seeing you in all those places, you have always scared me..." he hums, his eyes intrigued. He smooths his hands up your thighs, gripping onto your waist as he tugs you closer to him. "But, I..." you reach for his shoulders, pulling on him until he bends, leans over you, crowds your space and shadows you like the eclipse he truly is. "I-I want more..."

He chuckles, "I know y'do," he echos. "Could see it in y'r eyes, darling girl," he sighs. "A pretty face like this one...Wasted on her majesty."

"I don't think we're allowed to say that."

"I deliver entire countries at john's feet, I'll say wot I bloody please," he snaps. You just blink up at him, before smiling a little.

This disgusting, murderous, possessive, immoral, treacherous piece of shit that is your husband is really the most beautiful man you've ever set your eyes on. Strong, resilient, unable to be killed, adored by his king and his men alike. He is everything a man is supposed to be, but nothing like how a gentleman should behave. He is built for war, built to take, so how can you get this nasty thing to love you?

Ghost does not seem the kind of man to bend to the desires of ordinary men. He may want to fuck you, but he has self-control. He may enjoy the praise of his men, but he doesn't require it. He may ache for the soft press of a woman, but he is self-sufficient and easily deterred.

So you do what servant women do best. You appease, because at the end of the day, Ghost is still a man, and men are all the same.

"A baby..." you whisper, holding onto the backs of his hands firmly. You dig your nails into the skin there, arching your back to get closer to him. He growls under the mask, metal biting into your soft skin as he grips you even tighter. "Want a baby..."

He cackles, so mean, and he leans down to kiss along your ear, down your throat, biting at the supple skin through the mask. He's still got all of his armor on, he hasn't shed one lick of his gear, but you cling to it like a parasite. He is one with it, and you realize this now, his second skin made of durable steel and patent animal skin, singed at the edges. He's such a fine soldier, too strong for his own good, too rough around all his edges to be anything but a masochist, but he's yours. He belongs to you as much as you belong to him, and it isn't until he slides the warmth of his length through your folds that you realize this, too.

You reach up with trembling hands, high enough to cup his masked face. He flinches, nearly throwing you off, but you shush him gently, cooing softly as you nuzzle your nose against his.

"I'm sorry," you whisper there. It's so intimate, this position, and you know that he has never let anyone touch him this way by the feeling of his body under your hands, stiff and unable to move. You roll your hips gently, up against his, and you let out a soft keen at the squelch of your slick against his cock. "It's...It's everything I didn't know I wanted..."

He grunts, metal creaking as his nostrils flare.

"I don't understand," he murmurs. Affection, it's so unfamiliar that it startles him. That someone can be kind to him, something other than a hard hand and an impossible order, it's not something he knows, and he's not sure how he feels about it. His instinct tells him to distance himself, but his cock guides him closer.

"You," you whine. "So big–" you reach down between your bodies, pumping his cock gently. Your fingers barely meet around his girth, a true testament to his size, he lacks this largeness nowhere. "–there's nothing to be afraid of, is there?"

Ghost snarls a little, gripping your thighs tight and securing them around his waist. You lock your ankles around his hips, pulling, and he hums as the head of his cock sinks into you easily.

"Naughty lil' girl," he laughs, standing straight as his thighs meet your ass. You whine, your back bowing like a taut string, and he slides his tongue over his teeth with a menacing click. "Not a virgin, are ya?"

"I-I am," you gasp, clawing at his forearms, and he hisses when you clench.

"Mm. Not a stranger t'this feelin' then, aye?"

You shake your head, and he nods, hoisting your legs up and over his shoulders as he gives you a firm thrust.

"Good," he mutters. "Don't much feel like pettin' ya."

And he doesn't. He's a menace. He snarls like a beast under his armor, his gloves squeezing your plush thighs as he pounds into you with no words to soften the blow. He isn't gentle by any means–he gives, and he expects you to take, and your legs shake as you try and crawl away from him. He doesn't let you–his fingers spread around your waist and he tugs, spearing you back onto his cock before he leans over you and starts putting his back into it.

Despite the roughness, he looks down at you, eyes focused on yours, and he doesn't look away. Your arms flail a little until you reach up and wrap them around his neck for stability, but it only draws his face close to yours. Your hand falls to grip his jaw, and he leans into it just enough that you know you have him.

"You'll make such a good little babe," he grunts, groaning when you tighten just that much. He's securing his place, making room inside of you so you can take even more. "Cunt was made to bear m'children, m'lady..."

"That so?" you squeak, and he smiles under the mask–you're falling apart on his cock, a good girl, just for him, just like you always are. "Have to finish what you started for that to happen, don't you?"

"Fuckin' brat–" Ghost snaps, but he presses his face to yours, needing to be closer, needing to have you, needing to make you his from the inside-out. A ring is not enough, no, he has to bind you to him forever by making you bear his kin. He will give you many, he's going to keep you fat and beautiful and pregnant, and his children will know that their father hungered for their mother so much that he destroyed a generation of men to covet one of his own.

Ghost has known since the first moment he laid his eyes on you that you would be it. You had to be his wife, no one else would suffice, because no one else could bear the weight of his name the way you would be able to. No one else would be able to carry his babies without dying, no one else could make the sun fall and the moon rise and the fire wane just long enough for him to feel human again, no one.

You start to think the same. You've never felt this way, so out of your body and so aware of it all at once. You're floating–you're somewhere else, you think. There's a pleasure so searing, that you can barely breathe. His cock is deep, touching places inside of you your fingers could never dream to reach, and there's a place that he touches sometimes that makes your eyes blur and your mouth make the most pathetic whining sound. You're crying, begging, asking him for more, please–! Nnghh–please!

He's never had a woman so wet. He has always had them for his own pleasure. He has never paid attention to what they feel or tried to make it nice for anyone but himself, but he knows he will never want it the same ever again. There's something so satisfying about the heavy plat, plat, plat that his cock makes every time his hips meet yours. He can feel his trousers sticking to his thick thighs, knows that there must be some thick, creamy slick coating his length and sticking to your skin that he suddenly wants to scoop up with his tongue and savor the tang of his bride, his wife, his pretty, pretty girl–tha's it, just right, like tha'–

"I...I-I–!" it's more intense than you've ever felt it. A crescendo of pleasure that is starting to grow in your belly, an unwavering warmth that he keeps flooding you with, so good that you can't stop crying for it. You're sputtering, drooling, clawing at the hood around his back because it's so fucking close, it's right there, it's mine, you're mine, mine, mine–

"Fuckin' hell–" Ghost groans, cradling your head against his chest as he stills his hips against yours and fills you nice and warm. You go cross-eyed, you think, shaking as you latch your mouth onto his masked jaw and suck. You need to put your mouth around something, need to fill it with the taste of him. He doesn't move, body heavy and suffocating over you, but you don't tell him to move and make no effort to push him off.

You think you want this. You think you want him to keep you here, just like this, underneath him, full of him, drooling from more than just your mouth from a fucking too good and the promise of something more.

He moves to take a seat on the bed, and you chase after him. You keep your arms around his neck, shuffle into his lap, and he chuckles under his breath as he wraps one big arm around you and tugs you close to him.

Maybe it isn't so bad to be bound to someone like this. Maybe it isn't so bad to belong, maybe it isn't so bad to be wanted this way, maybe it isn't the most unfortunate thing to not have the autonomy of yourself anymore in favor of being this thing's wife.

You slide your hand down his chest before smoothing it over one masked cheek. His eyes close for a moment, and he leans into it for just long enough that you recognize the gesture as one of need. Ghost aches, too–maybe not for the same thing you ache for, but he aches, and maybe it's for this.

Something gentle. Something soft. Something to bury himself into because the flames have burnt too hot for too long, and the voices in his head give him no reprieve. His hands are too dirty, too unclean, and you think maybe that's why he doesn't take his gloves off anymore–there is no cleaning agent enough for the blood caked under his fingernails.

He's more human this way. Less beast, more man, but you see that flicker of humanity disappear entirely when he sees the trickle of his cum slipping onto the fine sheets of your bed.

What a waste. What a loss. He has to fuck you again.

He will never be bored of me, I don't think. Ghost will want me forever–even when we are dead, because he cannot die, because he's already rotting inside.

You don't seem to mind your new position. No kneeling, no curtsying–your duty is on your back and on your side and on your stomach, presented for your husband, just for his pleasure, just for your own.

In all your life, you have never wanted this. You endured the burden of serving because you were at least needed this way. Marriage to you looked akin to death; when the veils fell over girl's faces, you never saw them again. They would be confined to their houses, made to spread their legs, forced to carry children they didn't want and die the slow death of giving their husbands everything they wanted while their dreams were buried alongside them.

Your dream is freedom. It always has been. Your dream is to do as you please, to go where you want to go, to say the things you want to say. There is an understanding here that you have, an opportunity that you could not see before. Before you had Ghost, you saw him as the thing in your way. He was the quicksand that would pull you under, the tide that sunk the earth, the dog that guarded his bone. But you know now, you understand, that Ghost doesn't have to be the wall in your way.

He is more animal than man, and in that fact alone, you feel power in your toes and something hungry knocking at the bone of your ribs, just waiting to come out.

Ghost will hold the sword. And you will hold the leash.

NEXT

[writing-fanics]

don’t mess with the devil

Part ii

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

[warning: angst: mentions of death: death?]

Your movements became sluggish. The wound on your side bleeding more and more with each movement, and swing of your angelic weapon. “Can’t even hold a weapon.” Adam mocked, as she glared at him. Already tired and she looked down at her wound. “Who would’ve thought a fucking human, making a deal with the devil.”

“Was it for dick? It was for dick wasn’t it?” Adam laughed, and mocked. You let out a battle cry flying towards him.

You screamed in pain, as the yellow light shot right through your wing. Your wings started going weak, as you struggled to keep up with Adam’s attacks. He laughed and cackled, taking enjoyment in your struggle.

“Where’s your little boyfriend huh?” He mocked, as more and more yellow shots kept hitting your body. Until you could barely keep your body up, “awe, is he not coming to scared to show his fa-”a fist punched, Adam in the face. Causing him to let go of your chin, but you didn’t fall instead.

A pair of familiar arms held you, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t be here sooner,” said Lucifer, as he nuzzled his head against his partner. Then lifted his head and glared at Adam, eyes fuming with rage.

“Sorry, for being so stubborn.” You mumbled, knowing this was the reason he didn’t want you to fight. Even though, he gave you some of his powers. You were still a human. He nuzzled, his head against yours once more. “It’s okay,” He said, as he landed on the rooftop.

He handed you off to Charlie, his daughter taking your injured body into her arms. She looked down at you worriedly, as you took shallow breaths. Your face battered cuts and bruises covered your face, and your right eye was swollen. Landing on the rooftop, walking towards Adam.

“Huh? Okay? Seriously?” Adam panted, as he stood up slowly. “How many of you freaks do I have to fight?!” He shouted, glaring at them.

Lucifer rolled up his sleeves, as he walked towards Adam. “Oh, I’m the only one that matters.” said Lucifer, as he looked up at Adam angrily.

“See, you messed with my daughter and my partner.” his eyes burning with rage. “and now I’m toning to fuck you!” he shouted, and everyone went silent as they stared at him dumbfounded.

Charlie leaned over, “It’s fuck you up dad?” Charlie whispered, and he looked confused as he raised his eyebrow, “Wait what did I say?” He said, and then Adam flew towards him sending them both into a wall. But Lucifer transformed into a white snake.

You could barely keep your eyes open, as the pain became worse. You didn’t know how much blood you were losing, but knew it was a lot. You were just a mere human, a human who fell in love with the king of hell. Him inevitably giving you some of his power in an act of love.

Your memories of how you ended up in Hell, a blur. You still figuring out a way to at least see your family again. But now that seemed to be in vain. You wondered if this was how it was going to end for you. You wondered, what would happen to you a human dying in hell?

Would you be dead forever no second life? Or would you just enter purgatory?

“So, this is what you’ve been up to since Eden?” said Lucifer, taunting him.

“Gotta say, you really let yourself go buddy.” He said, as he taunted Adam.

Adam laughs, as he grabbed Lucifer by the tail. “You judgin’ me?” He shouted angrily, as he tried to throw him. But he transformed again, this time into a duck. “You’re the most hated being in all of creation.” Adam shouted, angrily looking at him.

“Well, your first wife didn’t seem to hate what I had to offer.” said Lucifer, as he made a V shape with his fingers and dragged it downward from his mouth.

“or the second.” He said looking Adam straight in the face, “Bow-chicka-wow-wow.” He said, as he backed away making a thrusting motion with his hips. Adam lunched at him, and Lucifer transformed into a horse. Kicking him around, “I’ll fuckin’ end you!!” Adam shouted.

Your vision started to blur, as you leaned your head against the wall You didn’t want to die not like this, not without seeing your parents again. Wondering if they’re worried about their missing child, who they haven’t seen in almost a year.

You’ve been stuck in Hell for that long. Lucifer and You, still figuring out a way to get you back. But you always promised that you’d stay in Hell with him, and visit your friends and family once in a while.

Maybe this was to be your fate, dying in Hell. Where would your soul go? You couldn’t imagine the heartbreak your death would bring to both, Charlie and Lucifer. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing them cry, you’ve grown to love them so much. Seeing Charlie as a child of your own.

Lucifer your partner. The best thing to ever come out of being trapped in Hell. He was so kind and caring, when he found out about your situation. Wanting to help you anyway he could, which led him to falling in love. How his heart swelled whenever you smiled at him, turning his cheeks red.

How seeing you cry made his heartache, knowing you missed your family and friends back on earth. How when that ‘Red Bastard’ at the Hazbin Hotel, took your hand and kissed him while staring mockingly at Lucifer. Boiled his blood.

A smiled grew across your lips, as you grew tired. You were too tired to even notice the beam of light, heading straight towards the hotel. Towards you. Everything went dark.

Y/n?

Y/n?

Y/n!

who’s calling my name?

[rowdydevs]

A Goddess - Rafe Cameron One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

CollegeHockey!Rafe x Curvy!Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 warnings: SMUT, drinking, swearing, soft dom Rafe, oral (male receiving), oral (female receiving), rough oral, praise kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, and spanking.

📖 ask: Ok, hear me out: a group of beautiful girls and their gorgeous curvier friend, night out at a bar. Guys hitting on all of them but the curvy goddess. Rafe notices and decides to approach her. She's sassy vibes, he's soft Dom vibes.

✨“Nah… M’gonna stop you right there. ‘Cause you said, ‘Anything I’d like.’ Don’t be goin’ back on your word, princess.” ✨

3.2 K

Rafe’s POV:

“Jesus, Rafey. Losin’ your touch, baby?” Kelce snickers as he nabs my freshly cracked White Claw off the bar top.

“Uh, yeah. Two more White Claws and a shot of Tito’s on his tab, sweetheart,” I call to the bartender, firing her a wink. She shakes her head and smiles, draining the liquor in a glass passing two more drinks my way.

“Thanks for the liquor, baby.” Kelsey rolls his eyes and scoffs. “And, no. To answer your question, I haven’t lost shit.”

“Well, you usually got a girl or two by now…”

“I don’t need to try as hard as you, Kelc. Don’t worry about me. You could learn a thing or two? Been watchin’ your game all night. It’s rough.”

“By all means, King Cameron, show me how it’s done,” he mocks. I quickly down my shot, chasing it with a seltzer.

Kelce snakes through the thick crowd of college students bellied up at the bar, a packed dance floor in the center. I can’t help but laugh at my group, fawning over yet another variety pack of copy-and-paste girls. They’re beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the same shit every weekend. Kelce struts over to the last of the bunch, leaving me to break away; what a shame.

I walk toward the bar, leaning back into it as I stare into the crowd. ”A vodka cranberry. Please.“ I hear a soft voice come from my left. “Thank you.” That same girl hums as I look down in her direction, watching as she scribbles her name across the tab, passing it back. That’s a pretty name.

Her beautiful eyes flick to mine. A sweet smile falls on her plump lips. My eyes fall, lashes fluttering as I try my best to hide what an actual fuckin’ dog I truly am, but, my god… She’s a fucking goddess. Her cleavage is tied with a pretty little bow in the middle of her dress. Fuck me. I feel my cock twitch, eyes slamming shut; cheeks reddening in embarrassment. I’m too ashamed to even look back in her eyes for how long I’ve ogled her.

My gaze moves to hers again, still met with that same smile but a cocked brow this time. “You okay?” She chuckles.

“Mhmm…” I grunt. That’s it. That’s all I got.

“Alright… Have a nice night,” she giggles lightly before turning away, dress moving with her. The thin material hits just below her perfect ass, leaving her legs on display. Her dress shifts on her round hips as she moves, her ass recoiling with each step making my eyes roll back.

And, then, she stops just a few feet away. Joining my crowd, one of the girls hugs her. Another, leaning in to whisper something that makes her laugh. She lifts the drink that she bought, surrounded by a group of fuckin’ boys who should have bought it for her. A girl like that doesn’t need to do that shit. Not one of them is making a move. I hang back, watching her a little as she sips her little drink.

The petite blonde Kelce was talking to gives him a fake laugh and a nod, stepping away; Kelc, obviously struck out with her. His head is instantly on a swivel, looking around the group for another, matching eyes hers briefly before searching for the next. Kelce buries his White Claw before doubling back in her direction. Hell no. I walk toward the two of them, intercepting his efforts; shoving him away lazily. Her beautiful eyes widen in surprise as she looks back up at me.

Reader’s POV:

”Uhh… Hi again. Are you lookin’ for Alexis? She just went to the bathroom-“

”Who?“ He furrows his brow, the most delicious smile spreading on his lips as he steps even closer.

”Alexis. Sorry, these guys seemed to know her.“ You twirl your finger, gesturing to the men gathered around.

“Nah. Never met her. What’s your name?”

“Umm, Y/n,” you chuckle nervously as you look up at him. He’s gorgeous, even in the dim bar; light hair, light eyes, muscular… Holy shit. You reach out your hand, resting it on his chest as you lean closer. “I’m just visiting. What’s your name?”

He bites his lip, looking down, eyeing the contact between you. He draws a little breath, his arm wrapping around your body, resting on the small of your back. “I’m Rafe.”

“Rafe Cameron?”

“Yeah. Oh, shit. What did I do?” He winces.

“Horrible things,” you tease, tapping your hand on his chest. “No. I remember your name from the hockey game.” He gives you an open-mouthed smile, drawing you even closer. “You were in the penalty box a lot.”

“What? Me?” He asks with an exaggerated tone, pointing at himself. “Never.” Rafe’s eyes trail your body again, just like they did when you got your drink; when you weren’t sure if he was interested or just lost in a drunken daze. “You’re stunning, by the way,” he rasps.

Your cheeks warm up, butterflies swirling in your stomach at his compliment, finding yourself a little too stunned to speak. You lift your drink to your lips, taking a sip as you try to center yourself. ”Thank you.“

“It’s almost last call. Did you wanna get outta here?” He asks.

“Well – I. Umm… I should wait for these girls.”

“Eh. They come to our house every weekend, sweetheart. It’s up to you. And, if I’m somehow wrong… And hell freezes over. I’ll get you home safe. I swear. Scouts honor.”

“They come to your house every weekend, and you didn’t know Alexis?” You question as you guide your gaze to your gorgeous best friend. You feel his finger hook under your chin, directing your eyes back to his.

“Not my type.”

“This better, y/n?” Rafe asks as he pulls you in a little closer for warmth. His strong arms wrap around your body, chest pressed against your back as you wait for the Uber. You take in his rich cologne, the warmth of his cheek so close to yours.

“Perfect,” you hum.

“So, you’re just here for the weekend?” He asks; chills fan across your body as his breath hits your neck, just a slight gravel in his voice making you powerless.

“Just to visit. I’m comin’ next semester, so I thought I should check it out.”

“No fuckin’ way,” he asks excitedly, turning you to face his chest instead. “You’re comin’ here? Well, shit. We can do this every weekend. Huh?”

“This? And, what is ‘this,’ Rafe?” You ask in a breathy tone. His broad palms move a little lower, just a hair.

”Anythin’ you’ll let me.“ You give him a little nod, letting him know he can go a little further. ”Words, princess.“

”You can do whatever you’d like, Rafe.“

A devilish smirk tugs on his lips. Rafe is more than satisfied with your answer as his hands rest on your ass. ”You’re gonna let me do whatever I want? You sure?“

“I mean, unless you don’t wa-” He steals your teasing words off your tongue, kissing you deeply. His hands shift to the back of your neck, pulling you nearer. Rafe slows down slightly, lips parted, letting you slip your tongue inside, rolling slowly. You scratch your nails through his dark blonde buzz cut, making him moan against your lips.

”Anything you’d like,“ you whisper again, feeling his smile spread along your lips.

The two of you are breathing heavily already, panting into your kiss, his lips on yours before you can even reach his bedroom. He pins you against the wall, lips locked on your neck as you pinch the buttons of his shirt, drawing them open, revealing more skin as you go.

Rafe leads you into his bedroom, throwing the door shut. His rough hands work up your arms, thumbs brushing your straps off your shoulders. Your dress slips to the floor, making him draw back fast. “Y/n, fuck,” he groans as his hands instantly caress your curves.

He snaps the lace at your hip, tugging at it impatiently as the other squeezes your tit. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he smiles, extending a finger for you to twirl under. “Look at this ass, baby. Shittt,” he moans as he cracks your skin, making you giggle delightedly.

“Thank you.” You slip the shirt off Rafe’s broad shoulders, tracing his tanned chest, working your way down as you take in his perfect physique. There’s not an ounce of self-consciousness, not with how he’s looking at you. You run your nails lightly through the ripples of his abs, tracing his v-lines, slipping just under the elastic of his boxers.

Rafe loops his fingers around your delicate lace thong, drawing it down to the floor, snagging it quickly before lofting it onto his dresser. ”Keepin’ those. Yeah?“

“M’kay.”

“Collateral. I expect you’ll come and take them back when you visit me. Yeah?”

“Okay… I mean. Yeah. Of course,” You giggle, nipping at your bottom lip. You grab his belt, drawing it open. Rafe pulls them off his hips as your lips meet his neck, sucking roughly.

You move lower, licking along his collarbone. His abs flex as you pass over them, dropping to your knees. “Shit, y/n,” he breathes. Your eyes widen as you take him in. White, skin-tight boxer briefs bunched up slightly on his thighs. His shaft and head stick out the bottom, strangled in cotton, leaking from the tip, dripping slightly down his inner thigh, aching to be freed.

You lean in, gaze locked on his as you glide your tongue along the mess. “Holy shit,” he whispers, yanking at the elastic, craving more. You tease him further: massaging his precum into his swollen tip as he watches on, dick pulsing with each brush of your finger.

You draw his boxers low, cock, swinging free, standing straight. “Fuck me, Rafe,” you whimper, taking a grip on his dick, rock-hard in your hands, feeling your cunt throb. He lets out a drawn-out moan as you wrap your lips around his mushroom tip, watching as his eyes shut softly.

“Mmm… Yes, baby,” he praises. You can taste him on your tongue; salty, just a hint of sweetness. Rafe’s fingers instantly reach for you, tangling into your hair. He follows your guide as you work his dick inch by inch, pushing yourself to see how much of him you can get. His warm tip kisses the back of your throat. You can feel the blood pumping in his cock.

You sweep your tongue along the bottom, feeling every ridge and vein. “Fuck, y/n. So fuckin’ good. Feel so good,” he mumbles, the pleasure in his voice making your eyes roll back. You fuck his aching cock deep into your throat, vision clouding as tears gather in your eyes. Blinking your sights, you feel warm tears roll down your cheeks, making Rafe smile. “Good girl,” he groans. “Look at you. Shit.” Rafe’s hips jostle, the muscles in his thighs tightening under your hands.

Popping off his cock you kiss his tip before opening your mouth wide, slapping his dick against your tongue. “Use me,” you whisper warmly, taking him back into your mouth as you grip his wrists; Rafe’s fingers are already twisted in your hair.

“Where have you been, pretty girl?” He grunts. “So fuckin’ perfect.” Rafe pitches his hips, dick driving into your throat, taking you by surprise. You relax your throat as he picks up pace. The squelching of spit, groans, and muffled moans fill the room as he ruts deep. You gag on his cock, making his eyebrows furrow. “Gonna cum. Gonna fill that pretty mouth. You ready, baby? You gonna – You gonna be a good girl and swallow it all for me?”

Rafe’s head tosses back as he praises your name; that same taste amplified as his cum coats your throat. You drop your hands, gripping his ass, feeling his muscles pulse. “Holy shit, y/n,” he gasps, wiping a glaze of sweat off his forehead as he looks down at you in awe. You draw off his cock nice and slow.

“Good?” You pant through a smirk.

Rafe picks you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist as he moves you to the bed. ”Good?“ He snickers at the ridiculousness of your question. ”Not even close, angel,“ he mumbles as he leans in for a kiss. ”M’serious. Alright? Not waitin’ ’til next semester. You’re visitin’ me. You can suck my cock just like that, baby girl, and I can taste this sweet fuckin’ pussy whenever I’d like. Alright?“

”Yeah?“

”Mhmm… You’re gonna ride my face. How does that sound?“

Your stomach sinks at his request. ”Rafe�� I don’t kn-“

“Nah… M’gonna stop you right there. ‘Cause you said, ‘Anything I’d like.’ Don’t be goin’ back on your word, princess.”

“It’s just-”

“I mean, unless you don’t wa-” You steal his teasing words off his tongue this time, kissing him deeply. Rafe chest presses into yours, craving you closer.

He lays down on the bed, beckoning you. Rafe touches you softly, brushing his hands up your legs; his lips connect to your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine. ”You ever done this before?“ He asks. ”Or am I the first?“

”You’re the first,“ you whisper, looking down at him nervously.

”A virgin. Huh? You’re gonna love it. Alright? Grab the headboard, y/n,“ he smiles. ”C’mon.“ You feel his warm breath against your pussy, making you weak already. ”C’mon,“ he growls again in playfully tone, pulling you down.

”Fuck, Rafe,“ you pant longingly as you feel his warm tongue, licking up your silk to your clit. He moans against your cunt; the vibrations are electrifying; your sensitivity, at an all-time high.

”Mmm, you taste so fucking good, Y/n,“ he moans, locking tightly onto your clit. Rafe sucks and holds you in his mouth, using his tongue to flick. Your thighs instantly start to quiver. He grips your body, guiding you to rock back and forth. ”Sit, baby,“ he pants, hungrily.

”Rafe…“

”Sit.“ He slaps you roughly on the meat of your thigh, overpowering you; burying himself in your pussy.

”Oh… Just – Just like that,“ you moan; bringing your hands up, squeezing your breasts tightly. You feel your orgasm in reach. ”Rafe, do I cum like this?“ You pant frantically. He doesn’t answer, continuing to please you. You cry out as his finger slips into your entrance; his ringed digit gives you a little extra friction. The combination of both is absolutely euphoric. His mouth and hands play together beautifully; jolts of pleasure spur through your body as you grind your hips. Rafe increases his pace, moving at an unforgiving tempo. The sloppy sounds of your cunt, heard through the room as well.

”Rafe,“ you whimper, breathlessly; your pleasure about to bubble over. “I’m gonna… Oh my god,” you scream in pleasure. Rafe runs circles on your clit as you ride out your orgasm.

”God, you’re so beautiful, baby,“ he gasps as he sits up against the headboard. ”You taste so sweet. That feels good, princess?“ He asks as he brushes a few stray tears off your cheek.

”So fucking good,“ you barely manage to speak between breaths.

“Good, baby. Can’t believe that was your first time…” You can hear the genuine surprise in his tone, boosting your confidence even more. Rafe relaxes into the headboard, biting back a smile as you reach your hands behind your back, unclasping your bra, letting it fall onto his lap.

”Perfect fuckin’ tits,“ he hums. You toss your head back as he kisses you roughly, pressing your breasts together, licking a line in between. He locks down on your nipple; swirling, flicking, and nipping your pebbled flesh. Rafe runs his tongue along his bottom lip, his eyelids hooded. ”Mmm… Can I fuck you, princess?“ He gives you a hopeful smile as his eyes continue to roam your body.

”How do you want me?“

He looks down, eyeing his cock between your thick thighs. His gaze returns to yours; a smirk spreads on his lips. “Just like this, baby girl.” He seizes his dick in his hand, leaning back slightly. You bite your lip, giving him a little nod.

You drop down slightly, your wetness transferring to his cockhead. “Fuck me.” He lets out a loud groan; eyes, rolling back. Your lips meet his neck, kissing him roughly, licking and nibbling his skin. Reaching around your back, you skim Rafe’s tip with your fingers; he lets out a deep groan.

You press him toward you, guiding him to your heat. Rafe takes a handle on the plush of your hips, pressing you down. Your knees widen on the sheet as you work lower, pressure building between your thighs as he starts to stretch you out. ”Fuck, Rafe,“ you whine. Letting out a sharp breath. You look down, watching as you take the last of him.

”Are you okay, y/n?“ He whispers. There’s a fire in his eyes. Rafe, fully aware of his size. You can tell he’s taking satisfaction in asking you so sweetly as he splits you in two.

”M’okay,“ you whimper. Rafe smiles wickedly in reply.

”Good. I’m not gonna last long. This pussy feels too fucking good.“ He chuckles weakly.

You start rolling your body slowly, mewling softly into his mouth as you adjust to him. Your hands move up his tight stomach, resting on his chest. Grinding and winding gradually, you press your hands against him; tilting your body away slightly. Rafe watches carefully as you work him in and out of your wet pussy; hands inching up your stomach, past your rib cage, massaging your breasts. His tongue meets your nipple; fingers delighting the other.

Rafe takes you in his arms, shifting the two of you lower on the bed. You sink a little deeper on his cock; inhaling sharply when he lays flat. He lets out a lusty chuckle as you release a drawn-out moan. ”You like that? Not too much?“ He taunts.

A wide smile spreads on your lips as you toe the line between ache and bliss. ”Just right.“

“This body was made for me, I swear,” he mumbles. “Bounce for me, baby.” You start to push on the mattress, breasts moving with you as your skin slaps against Rafe’s lap. “Holy shit,” Rafe huffs through his kiss-swollen lips; hooded eyes fighting to stay open as he takes you in. Rafe slips his hands around to your ass, spanking one cheek, then the next. Causing your pussy to tense with each slap.

“Mmm… You gonna cum for me, princess?” He croons as his hand, rests against your pelvis; thumb circling your clit. The added contact makes you lose your rhythm. Rafe fucks up into you, holding you in place as he continues to stroke, fighting back his pleasure; but, it’s too much.

“Gonna cum,” he mumbles.

“Cum inside me, Rafe,” you whisper. ”M’on the pill. It’s alright.“

”That what you want?“ He asks with a lust-laced tone.

“Cum in me.”

Rafe reaches for you, wrapping his arms around your body, taking you quickly to your back. He spreads your thighs wide. Your breath escapes your chest when he plunges himself back in; his fingers greet your clit. Your legs start to quake, jagged breaths as he starts pounding you into the soft mattress. “Oh Rafe...” You cry in pleasure as you gush around his cock.

“Gonna cum in this perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he breathes, voice wavering. “Mmm… Fuck, y/n,” he groans; gripping your hips in his hands, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as his cock throbs; heavy loads of cum buried deep. Rafe expels a deep breath, his mouth connecting with yours the next moment.

He pulls out, making you reach for a breath; as he watches your share release drip out of your puffy pussy onto his sheets. The emptiness is comforted by Rafe’s hand on you again, fingers swirling through the wetness, stuffing it back inside.

Sex hangs heavy in the air; your bodies, tangled in sheets. Rafe cups your face in his hand, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “Tell me you’re free tomorrow?”

[cowboyshadows]

I love that thing on tiktok that goes like 'when the I don't care about my birthday guy meets the your birthday is the specialest day of the year girl'. As a prologue I'm giving him a May 5 birthday (my Taurus king)

Cw: implied abusive household, very brief mention of a piss kink BUT ITS BARELY ANYTHING, implied nsfw behind the scenes

Simon's never had a chance to celebrate his birthday. His dad was a drunkard - lucky if he remembered the way to his home most nights. His mom would always be too occupied with sulking, cleaning, cooking... but at least she'd apologise at night with a serviceably earnest 'next year, I promise'. He didn't lay any expectations on his little brother - he was going through the same hell.

When he first started going out with you - sweet little thing - he had no idea what he was in for. It's like he's been walking in this dark tunnel his whole life; and only now has he opened his eyes to this glimmering aperture of sunlight. Only now has he felt the warmth of the sole star on his scarred face, to be basked in for all it's worth.

You're not scared of this big, scary guy in a skull mask. Most people are afraid to approach him, but you? Nah. You're smacking that man's ass when you creep up behind him in the kitchen. Motorboating those KNOCKERS. Asking if you can hold it for him while he pees. Bloody 'ell, love.

Most people, naturally, includes your friends. They dread planning things in the group chat because they know you're gonna ask 'can Simon come'. They're so intimidated by this man - rightfully so - that they almost didn't let him in on the surprise birthday party they were planning for you.

Key word being "almost", of course. They know how disgustingly in love the two of you are. So regardless of how much they hate the sight of the two of you sticking your tongues down each others' throats in public, they make a separate group chat with him sans you.

He helps out a lot, actually. Manages to keep you out of the house without suspecting anything for the whole day. Chalk it up to his previous experiences with sleuthing and all that. He sees the pure, unadulterated joy on your face. Innocent, childlike. And you look up at him with those big, wet eyes; silently thanking him. His heart fuckin' melts.

Birthdays are a huge thing to you. He can see it in the hours of meticulous planning that goes into your gifts for others.

You've asked him plenty of times when his birthday is - all he does is joke about it.

''S today, love. Wha' a bad girlfriend, ya didn't remember?' That earns him a smack to his bicep.

'Should probably ask the kennel ya picked me up from, birdie.' He'll get a pillow tossed at him for that one, the wisecrack.

You don't even know what you would get him as a gift. He just seems so... indifferent. To everything. You seriously consider just wrapping yourself up in shiny paper and a bow.

But it's not enough. So you resort to more extreme measures. You nab his beat up wallet, fishing out the driver's license tucked neatly next to a sticky note with your familiar scrawl on it. It reads, 'I cut up some strawbz and chocced em 4 u <3'.

You fish around in his closet for something - anything that might give you even the slightest hint of what might make this man fawn. You paw around until you find something rubbery.

A brand new, unused ball. It squeaks when you squeeze it. A dog toy? Huh. Maybe that time his eyes were watering when you were watching Marley & Me wasn't because of dust...

The fifth of the fifth month rolls around. You wake him up with wet smooches all over his face. (Maybe elsewhere too, but I'm trying to keep this fluffy, goddammit!)

It's a great day. You bake him this half pound chocolate fudge cake that he can only describe as "scrumptious".

At the end of his special day, he's so drunk on your love. He's been wearing this stupid, crooked smile on his face all day. Lazy heart eyes. You tell him you have one more surprise.

'Need you to wait in the bedroom for me, okay?'

His eyebrow shoots up in amusement. 'Oh? Tha' so?' Cheeky bastard.

His trousers are halfway off at the foot of the bed when he hears a soft yip.

Another one filters through, but it's louder.

What the hell were you up to?

He walks out in his boxers, only to find you on the floor. Huddled and crouching over something he can't quite see.

'Love...?'

When your head snaps around, a small fluffy circular blur runs up to him. It paws, licks, and jumps at him.

A dog.

He looks... aghast? It's hard to tell.

'I know we haven't talked about it,' you sputter, 'and I know you're away a lot... but I'll take care of her. I'll do everything, I promise-'

Your ramble is muffled short by the wall that is his torso. He's holding you so tight that you have to pat him to loosen up.

There's tears in his eyes, lower lip wobbly. For the first time in your relationship, you meet the scrawny, blonde six year old. One you've only seen in pictures before.

'I love her.'

'I... I found a dog toy in the closet.' You can't keep your curiosity from bubbling out anymore.

He wipes his tears with the back of his scarred hand, now cradling a puppy desperate to lick him whole.

'Used to 'ave this stray dog near us when I was a lad. Came around every day till he didn't.' He sniffles. 'Never got the chance to show 'im the toy.'

He looks at you, and then at the puppy. He has a chance now.

[fangdokja]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 ~ 𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓 𝖕𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓

He tells himself it's just a fuck.

You’re just another girl under him—something to break, to ruin. He’s done it a thousand times, taken what he wanted, left them sobbing, humiliated, addicted. He never cared.

But you.

Sukuna slams you against the mattress, his breath ragged, his nails leaving raw, burning scratches across your thighs as he forces them apart. His cock twitches, hard enough to hurt. The air reeks of sweat, of lust so thick it’s suffocating. And your eyes—those trembling, defiant eyes—only make him fucking hungrier.

"Don’t pretend you don’t like it," he snarls, voice rough, cruel, a cocky sneer twisting his lips. He’s got your wrists pinned in one fist, ironclad, while the other grips your throat, squeezing until your breath hitches. “Look at you, fuckin’ soaked. That pretty little pussy knows who owns it.”

You shake your head, a pathetic denial that only makes his grin widen. He can feel your body trembling, muscles straining, the desperate little gasps you make as you try to push him off.

You can’t.

He wants you to know that.

When he forces himself inside you, it’s brutal—stretching, splitting, forcing you open on his cock with a single thrust that makes you scream. Your back bows, legs kicking in protest, but his grip tightens. His whole body shudders. Fuck. You’re so tight it makes him dizzy.

He groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder, biting down—hard. "F-Fuck. Shit—"

This is fucking humiliating.

He's lost it. Ryōmen fucking Sukuna, king of the streets, untouchable, unshakable—reduced to a fucking animal because of you. His whole body is on fire, his brain blank. He ruts into you mindlessly, jaw clenched, growling, panting, fucking you like a beast in heat.

He should be making you cry harder, forcing out sobs, making you suffer—but he’s the one suffering. He can’t stop.

Your body is heaven and hell, burning him alive. Every time he slams into you, your pussy clenches so tight he nearly blacks out. The sound of your choked cries, the squelch of your slick, the creak of the bed under his violent thrusts—it all drives him insane.

“Fuckin’—hate you,” he gasps, dragging his teeth over your collarbone, bruising, marking, making you his. "Shit, baby, you're gonna make me—fuck—"

His pace falters. His grip turns desperate.

And then he’s coming, spilling deep, body locking up as a guttural, desperate snarl tears from his throat. His hips keep moving, fucking his cum into you, his breath hitching, his mind blank.

He swore he wouldn’t lose control.

He swore you were just a fuck.

But his arms are still around you, breath still shaking against your skin, his cock twitching inside your wrecked, used body.

He should leave.

But he doesn’t.

Because he already knows—he’ll never let you go.

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles

Test-Phase TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @imnotabot28 , @han11dh

[katsukikitten]

Queen Reader being raided by Dragon/Viking King Bakugou only for him to be met with the fight of his life when he encounters you.

Scars on your face he thought to be rumored were true, worse than he thought. Littering your throat and they do not take away from your beauty. The way the fissures snake along your cheek and lip, one right over your eye and a curve around it makes his cock twitch. He can tell instantly that one is slightly cloudy yet still the intensity of your gaze is no less sharp than your blade.

Nor your tongue.

Having taken the time to learn his language when he swore you didn't even know his people existed.

"Finally come for your lost dog." You spit painted lips pulled into a cruel smile, "Oh how he cried for you."

"My men don't fuckin cry princess."

"Look again incompetent fool, this is no tiara of blood stones, it is a crown. Gems darkened by the souls of those who dare oppose me." A growl and Bakugou is just happen to have started to splinter under your skin and yet you deal the same blow, "Bring out the whining dog."

Somehow in all the fighting someone hears your command and they drag through the blood and carnage an emaciated man. Skin and bones when he was once a mountainous thing. Dark red hair only at the tips now as his natural black hue met his shoulders, lips cracked and cheeks hollowed.

"My wrath." Still even this delirious he bows his head. Bakugou's right hand man, Kirishima reduced to nothing but whimpers and burning tears.

Suddenly Katsuki can't hear anything at all, not past your laugh when you see the shock in his face. See the color drain before he attacks you in a blinding rush.

But you are no princess like he claims. Not a queen or a lady of royal blood.

This crow that sits upon your pretty little head was taken with blood stained hands.

When you parry your blade kisses his face with a shallow slash, over is his eye and down to his handsome jaw giving him a matching scar to your own. Red droplets splashing against your cheeks as his step falters. Gritting his teeth as he realizes tha the rumors were no fairy tale at all.

You truly were the Bloodied Queen.

[bellysfromthefarside]

6 of 7 - Burger King Remake - “My….belly ….is…. so…. bowed…. out!”

At this rate of stuffing, it didn’t take long for all of the burgers to disappear. Mr. Cleberg placed his hand on the mountain of belly before him and said, “Now, that’s a good job of eatin’. I knew I’d be able to get rid of all of the burgers!” Mr. Cleberg turned away from Travis and picked up the now empty tray. He then left the end of the trailer and went back to the preparation area to clean off the tray and put it away. Tommy looked at the hugely bloated young man lying still on the makeshift bed. Travis’ face was bright red and he was moaning after the vigorous belly stuffing he had just endured. The burger swollen gut was obscenely rounded and bulged in every direction. “You look like a pregnant horse,” Tommy suggested as he began to gently pat the top of Travis’ belly, “I ain’t never seen a dude’s belly stick up so far!” “My….gut’s…. gonna….explode!” Travis struggled to say and then put his hands on the sides of his ridiculously protruding belly balloon, “My….belly ….is…. so…. bowed…. out!” “Man, you’re gut’s so much bigger than a beach ball. And your skin is all stretched out and shit…I don’t think anything could be more stuffed than your gut is now!” “The….pressure….is…. so…much…I…can…barely… breath,” Travis noted and started gently rubbing his huge stomach with both hands. Cleberg walked into the back of the trailer. “OK, boys, its time to go. We’re ready to let the inspectors check out the place.” Travis tried to lift his much heavier body off the makeshift bed, and was not able to do so. Tommy and Cleberg had to help the burger blimp up and into a standing position. For several seconds, Travis stood in the middle of the room, slowly rocking back and forth as he tried to establish balance. “Dude, you’re so front heavy,” Tommy said, watching Travis try to steady himself, “Its a wonder you don’t fall forward!” “Okay guys, here’s the plan. I’m going outside now and meet the inspectors. You two come out a minute or so after I do,” Mr. Cleberg described, then continued, “Then we’ll let them come inside here and look around. They won’t find any burgers in here.” Cleberg laughed and patted the huge burger storage facility that Travis had become as he walked away. Tommy carefully studied the incredibly gorged young man, still trying to steady himself. Travis had to lean way back to support the huge gut he was now sporting. His muscular upper body still looked like it belonged to a competitive athlete, but the amazingly rounded belly seemed more appropriate on a overfed hippo. “So, how does it feel,” Tommy asked, placing his hand on the ballooned gut, “You’re fuckin’ gigantic!” “I…feel…like…like…the Goodyear blimp has been inflated inside my stomach,” Travis looked down at the enormous round protrusion, “The pressure is fuckin’ unbelievable!’ Tommy realized it had been a couple of minutes since Cleberg left. “We’d better head out,” he suggested, “Are you gonna make it?” Travis put both hands on the side of his over-inflated belly and began to slowly steer it towards the door. “Yeah, I think I’ll make it okay.” Tommy was the first out the door and down the short set of metal stairs. He took a few steps over to where Cleberg was standing and turned back to check on the progress of Travis. An amazing site greeted Tommy as he looked back. Travis was trying to act casual as he strode down the stairs, arching his back to support the incredible weight of his belly. He had put on his ball cap and a pair of sunglasses, trying to look cool while still displaying the larger-than-keg sized belly that proceeded him. His boots were loud on the metal steps, then on the concrete as he slowed strutted/waddled over to where Tommy was standing. Before Travis could say anything, two middle aged men in dark suits and sunglasses seemed to appear from nowhere. They spoke briefly with Cleberg then went into the trailer. Each one gave Travis a second look as they went past.

Source

Travis final belly shots, as he staggers out the Burger van, coming soon!!

See you rounder! Tom

[ohkate]

Hi Kate!

I so agree that so many scenes were cut short. And I’d also have loved more of the scene of them in the apartment. What would you have liked to have seen happen if the scene was longer? 💖

Hi there!

The writers spent too much time turning every difference of opinion between them into a fight or a mean-spirited joke. Time that could have been spent on seeing them actually happy. I hated that through so much of this season they would default to making Mickey the punchline, portraying him as some sort of clueless southside caricature (I mean, really - acting like he'd never seen people jogging before? Even if they didn't jog on the southside making him act like he'd never seen it was so obnoxious. I despised when they made Mickey appear dumb or Ian to appear to love Mickey less).

Anyway your ask had me thinking about this for a while today and it inspired me to write this little one-shot. Enjoy!

Property Values

Ian and Mickey lay side by side on the perfectly staged bed in the west side apartment, staring up at the high ceilings. 

"I think we should do this," Ian replied, turning his head to look at Mickey.

Mickey's hand drifted over, rubbing slowly against the front of Ian's jeans. "Do what?" he asked with a suggestive smirk.

Ian managed a laugh but he made no move to stop Mickey's wandering hand. "Rent this place."

"Are you kidding?" Mickey shook his head, rolling onto his side to face Ian properly. "I thought we were just coming to check out the pool?" His fingers traced higher, toying with Ian's belt buckle.

“They aren’t gonna let us fuck in here Mick,” Ian said, a smirk forming despite himself.

"Hey they told us to take our time and get a feel for the place,” he reminded Ian, pulling his belt open. “I’m definitely getting a feel.”

Ian snickered. “We're supposed to be apartment hunting," Ian told him, but his voice had gotten weaker as Mickey's hand dipped beneath his underwear. 

"And I'm huntin’," Mickey said, leaning in to nip at Ian's neck. "Think I caught something I like right here."

Ian's laugh turned into a groan as Mickey's teeth grazed that sensitive spot below his ear. "You're gonna get us arrested."

"Yeah, well," Mickey countered, pushing himself up to straddle Ian's hips. “That would suck. We don’t know the escape routes, we don’t know the bail bondsmen around here...” He grinned down at his husband, rocking slightly. "But I guess it’d be time well served. Besides, gotta make sure this bed is sturdy enough, right?"

"That mean we’re gonna take the place if it holds up?" Ian asked, his hands sliding up Mickey's thighs.

“Hell no. I don’t wanna live on the west side. Become one of these douchenozzles who carries a dog in a little bag everywhere they go. Seriously, I’ve seen like six people with little rat dogs in their bags since we got here. It’s like a fucking epidemic,” he said. “Dogs that small should come in a bun with some mustard.”

Ian snickered. He held onto Mickey’s hips, his fingers gripping on through his jean’s belt loops. “We aren’t like that. We’re never gonna be like that.”

Mickey paused, looking down at him as if realizing Ian was really serious.

“Yeah but this place is like that. And over time, slowly, like a virus, we would change. You’re already half-way there talking about fuckin’ tomatoes,” he said, grabbing Ian’s hands and pinning them back to the bed. “I grew up wanting to be king of the southside. Not married to some fag who wants to pay ten bucks for a cranberry ale nut beer made in some hipster’s basement. Before long we'll be wearin' bow ties and you’ll grow a man bun and we’ll talk about artisan breads. Suddenly we’re doing fucking yoga on the roof and talking to the new friends we made at our kombucha fermenting class about how we really believe in the healing power of crystals. We’d be those people who have polite, quiet sex. Then, in a moment of clarity, I’d have to do some kind of murder-suicide to put us both out of our fucking misery,” he said, resuming grinding himself on Ian’s lap to Ian’s uncontrollable growl. “No thanks. I prefer this.”

Ian mustered up all of his self-control and rolled Mickey over, pinning his arms hard to the bed the same way Mickey had done to him. 

“We need to be on our own. Away from your family. And mine. Somewhere that’s just ours. This place is cheap and it’s nice. We’ll never be those people because we didn’t marry those people, Mick. I wouldn't let that happen to us. Neither would you. We aren’t gonna suddenly want to join the neighborhood watch. We'll always be us. Except now we'll have a heated pool,” he said, grinding against Mickey as he buried his face in his neck. “And we’ll NEVER have polite, quiet sex.”

“Sometimes we’re quiet...” Mickey sighed, already feeling his resistance crumbling as Ian's tongue traced his ear.

“Only when I put something in your mouth,” Ian said against Mickey's neck. He nipped at the skin there. “Or around your throat…”

Mickey moaned.

“Pleeeeaaase?” Ian whispered, making Mickey’s eyes flutter as he licked his way back over to Mickey’s mouth. “I’m not above using sex as a weapon,” he said, his tongue diving in before Mickey could answer. 

Mickey pretended to think about it, even as his hands worked their way under Ian's hoodie. "Well, the view's not bad," he said, openly appreciating his husband above him. "And I guess we can mess this place up pretty quick. Make it feel like home..."

"Yeah?" Ian's face lit up with hope.

"Yeah," Mickey said softly, leaning up for another kiss. "But we're definitely testing this bed first."

Ian grinned against his lips. "For safety purposes."

"Exactly. Hurry up before that office chick comes back up," Mickey smirked, whipping his shirt back off and pulling at the zipper on Ian’s jeans.

“Wouldn’t wanna end up being in a bed that can’t take the abuse we’re gonna give it,” Ian said, yanking his hoodie off. “We’ll have to give it a good inspection.”

“And maybe the floors, too. And that couch. That shit looked real flimsy," Mickey said thoughtfully, as Ian leaned up to grip the top of his jeans and yank them down. "Might need to test every room for quality."

"Every room, huh?" Ian said, kissing back up his stomach, chest and to his neck again.

"Mhm. Bathroom's got heated floors. Could be fun," Mickey waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Ian caught Mickey's mouth in a heated kiss, swallowing his laugh. When they broke apart, both breathless, Ian couldn't help but smile. "So does this mean you like the place?"

 "Fuck no. I’m gonna need a lot of convincing."

As it turned out, the bed passed inspection with flying colors. And if they had to test the bathroom's heated tiles next, well…

That was just being thorough.

[wroteclassicaly]

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Warnings: Dry humping, Steve comes in his pants, language, overall NSFW, mild mentions of roleplay with Steve’s old highschool title, some touching, & Steve tasting the reader off his fingers.

A/N: I get extremely thirsty for Steve, especially when we get new JK content (we’ve been fed)! This fic was inspired by this post… Hope y’all enjoy?! 🤭❤️

If you ask Steve Harrington what his favorite smell is, he’s always going to have the very same answer. You. Hell, you accumulate all of his senses; taste, touch, sight, hearing, and smell. When he isn’t looking at you, doesn’t have his hands on you, isn’t buried with his tongue between your legs or his fingers inside to sample, hear your soft whimpers or pleads, loud yells during your sassier moments, your voice crying out for him, when he can’t smell your perfume on your soft skin, maybe even your body lotion - whatever product you like to lather on — he goes insane. So it’s no surprise that your chlorine soaked skin had driven him to his very brink, causing a defined pout to capture his Cupid’s bow as you slighted his advances to go and take a post-pool bath. No amount of that cute little pearly white smirking that he did, promises that he didn’t mind - none of it worked.

Steve had sulked to the guest shower, retreating after in a new pair of jeans, relaxing on his living room couch, nursing a beer and a sturdy irritation. It wasn’t hot, no, the AC worked fine, but as he ran his hand through his fuzzy sternum-clad mane, his imagination had catapulted beyond reason. He wanted you. His tongue was slick but it wasn’t with you, his fingers dry, his nose inhaling his own apple and cedarwood body wash. He’d looked over and it wasn’t you he saw, just a condensed soaked brown bottle overflowing on the coaster.

“Stevie? Is that the last beer, baby?” He perked immediately, the soft pudge of his stomach squishing against his belt as he leaned up to indulge in two senses; sight and sound.

You’d brought your own toiletry bag, and he was smacked in the face with your delicious fragrance. That, and your baggy t-shirt with a faded logo on it that you had thrifted for lounging purposes, complete with your white cotton panties that had a pink daisy on the crotch.

He needed you.

You barely have time to wash down some sips of your boyfriend’s beer and he’s wrapping his arms around you from behind, letting out a growl in your ear as he falls back onto the couch with you. “Jesus, Steve.”

“I know it’s Sunday, but only King Steve is here, honey.”

“Are you still in your glory years, babe?” You snort softly, even though you are aware of what he’s about to respond with.

“You’re the only one that can call me that now, and, as I recall, “— he cuts himself off, leaning into a sitting position, taking you with him, “— it makes you cum pretty fuckin’ hard, sweetheart,” he rubs a calloused thumb behind your ear, trickling down towards the lobe, before continuing, “and you love how mean I get. Just like highschool, but your pussy is all for me this time.”

You let him maneuver you onto him into a straddle, watching him collapse onto his back, his hands on the fat of your thighs, blown hazel scattering those green specks into the black expanding abyss of his pupils. You don’t bother to deny it, you love playing the nerd that he never looked twice at and he takes on that crowned cocky role, letting your old highschool hierarchies stay in the past, but being able to have fun with them. You take his defined digits as he offers them to you, linking together, pushing them beside his head as you press to him, breasts smashed into his naked chest. Steve expected to take control, ravage you first, however — you shock him. Your teeth nip at his stubble bitten chin, licking your way underneath his jawline and across his jugular, just in time for him to swallow against your kisses. Apparently you’ve needed him just as much, if the newly accumulated warmth in your panties is anything to go by.

Steve can feel it sinking through his denim wash jeans, that sopping wet spot in your cute little panties as you begin to roll your hips back and forth, thighs tightening around his trim waistline. You raise to a height, moving above him, tossing your head back and letting your eyes close. His thick cock swells embarrassingly fast, even for him. You give little mewls in response, taking your still linked hands up and sliding them beneath your shirt, encouraging him, but never letting him get his fill without your guiding hands. Steve surrenders to it, sweat already slicking his chest and matting the hair back, his dick painfully pressing on his zipper.

He tries to plead for you to let him get some relief, but you merely shake your head, too caught up to register. He’s so thick and warm beneath you, dragging along your soaking wet cunt just right, his bulge helping stretch your overly damp underwear over your clit on every thrust of your hips.

“Shit, shit… Honey, are you soaked? Feels like — fuck!”

He pushes your hands out of the way and rips your shirt over your head, you helping him discard it with an audible cast off, automatically letting him play with your tits. His thumbs rub, fingertips pinch at your nipples. His tongue is dry, wanting to kiss you, taste the cream from between your thighs, lick your salty skin. Through his quickening pulse that rushes through his ears, the glassy haze in his eyes — Steve looks down between your legs. He whines, giving you a heightened sense of power and pride.

His view is rewarding, aside from his raging need to cum, he sees the saturated, sticky crotch that darkens the daisy decor on your panties. And it’s seeping out all over him. A sudden tightness latches onto his muscles, clings like a vice, tickling him with an electrifying ache. His eyes widen, lips parting, a desperation he wasn’t aware could come from him appears, “Honey, I’m cumming. Baby, please —“

His toes curl, thighs tremble against yours, his back arching into the raw and untouched stimulation, and you push down, rocking in harder, faster. He’s done for. You spread your legs a little wider, right in time to see his orgasm darken his jeans in a rather… large patch. He’s crying out and panting your name, all the veins in his throat tensing and constricting as he rides the last of it out. It beckons you into helping yourself, his combined essence mixing with yours as you pull your underwear to the side and gently rub your clit back and forth across the mess, the scratchy material wet enough to not hurt.

“Good girl, that’s my sweet fuckin’ babygirl..” Steve has found his voice again, releasing one set of laced hands, reaching to spread your lips apart, his other palming your breast, before sliding up your neck to squeeze and letting his thumb press into your mouth. “Yeah, s’ a good sweetheart for me, sucking on my thumb as you rub this little clit in my cum,” he flicks your button with his thumb, “feel powerful making me cum like that, don’t you? Haven’t done that in years, baby. See what you make of me?”

He’s babbling, disbelief that he resorted to being unable to hold it, that fire too strong, his desire too carnal for you.

You lose control now, bowing over and letting his thumb rest at your lips, both hands raising to suction to his wrist. He licks his parched mouth, pushing his hips slightly to tilt you over the edge and into his hold. “That’s it. Fuck, that’s it, honey. Holy-fucking-shit!”

The coil in you snaps and Steve sees that translucent cream pour out of your opening and drip onto his jeans. You moan out his name, thighs quaking beyond your control, and you don’t protest him raising up to steal the last of your orgasm in a kiss, his thumbpad slowly working over to your clit to assist your climactic completion. Your heart is racing, lips parting from his with a smack, his finger stilling, swiping through your drenched seam to sample, bringing it up to finally have his favorite taste. You’re grinning, eager to pounce, knowing this night is not over.

Still, you can’t resist the urge to tease, trying to ease the shaking in your jello-fied limbs. “Mhm, looks like you’re gonna need a shower, King Steve, because the nerd just owned you. Can we time travel into 83 to tell you about that?”

With a still heaving, curly and chestnut colored set of tresses, Steve gets that look in his eyes. “You better get your ass upstairs, little girl. You’re wet enough to take me, so we’ll see who truly owns who.”

Mutual parties that belong to one another, but Steve is ready to play and you’re not ready to playfully argue…

// Eat me paragraph //

[bi-writes]

i NEED to know how simon would react to his mail order bride getting all pretty one night.... like maybe the night of their wedding... and she's all nervous because she thinks he expects sex and she's so paranoid about offending him or making the wrong noises or just being a nuisance

mail-order bride

simon and mail order bride did not having a wedding; they are married before they meet. have a peek into their first evening together. (18+)

simon laid your suitcase down onto the floor of his bedroom. you look around anxiously, eyeing the bedroom that is supposed to be your own. there's a king-sized bed in the middle of the room, matching dark-wood nightstands on each side. there's one that's clearly being used, a phone charging there and a half-full glass of water.

there's a dresser on the far wall, littered with picture frames and small trinkets, seemingly from other countries. little russian dolls and different fabrics from different places, wooden elephants and small dishes of wonderful patterns. there's a few drawers open there, and when you make your way closer, you can see it's because they're empty. he must've emptied them out for you to use.

there's one picture frame that's face-down. you pick it up to peek at it, and you smile when you look at the picture there. it's simon and a few similarly-looking people. simon is in uniform, face clear of scars. there's an older woman on one side of him, and then on the other side is a little family of three, a sweet couple and a little toddler on the woman's hip. you put it back down facing up before turning back to your suitcase.

you were supposed to just put your pajamas on. simon had been cleaning up the kitchen, and you figure that meant it was time for bed. you rummage through your suitcase, going to reach for your pajamas when you see the little lingerie set you packed.

it still has the tags on it. it's a red pair of lace panties with a matching bra, complete with little crystal bows and lots of detail. you clutch the lace in your hands, looking towards the door. simon doesn't seem like the kind of man to ask you to do something you wouldn't want to do. but you don't know what his expectations might be. you don't know how he intends his wife to behave.

you stand and take the undergarments with you to the bathroom. you change into them, sliding the pieces on and adjusting them until they fit you nicely. you swallow hard as you look in the mirror, smoothing your hands over your body; your tummy, your thighs, over your breasts. you don't know if he'll even like what he sees. you don't know what he expected you to look like, if he got to choose, if he knows what you are underneath and wanted you because of it or in spite of it.

when you come out of the bathroom, simon is rummaging through one of his drawers. when he turns around to face you, he immediately turns back around.

"fuckin' christ--what the fuck are y'doin'?"

you flinch at the bite of his voice. you wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to self-soothe, your eyes tearing immediately as you take in his reaction.

"i..." you stutter. "i...i-i thought--"

"you thought wot?" he snaps, and when he turns around to come closer, you panic, taking the straps in shaking hands and starting to pull them down your arms for him. "no, fuck, stop that--"

he puts his hands over yours before your breasts can spill out of the bra. he narrows his eyes at you, shaking his head, and you start to cry softly.

"s-simon, i'm sorry--i-i thought--"

"shhh," he shushes you. "just...quiet."

your bottom lip trembles as he takes the lace straps of your bra delicately and brings them back up, smoothing them back onto your shoulders. you close your eyes when he cups your cheeks, big thumbs wiping at your face as he soothes you silently.

when simon emerges in the bathroom, he tries to be subtle as he cups himself through his boxers, sighing deeply as he flicks the light on. he jumps a little as he steps back, the cat sitting on the edge of the sink and staring at him knowingly.

simon gives it the finger before shooing it back outside.

[soapcan18]

I’m just gonna post my Ithaca Saga live-reaction rambles here bc I can’t form coherent sentences rn and I need to express my excitement:

The Challenge

PENELOPE OH MY GOD UR VOICE IS SO BEAUTIFUL

SHE KNOWS ABT THE STORM

THE BACKUPS??? HOLYY

WHOEVER CAN STRINGGGG

Am I tripping or is that the horse and the infant motif

PENELOPE UR VOICEEE AHH THE STRENGTH AND THE GENTLENESS AHH

Hold Them Down

Oh my god I’m gonna tweak

It’s about to get DARK

FUCK THE SUITORS!!

ANTINOUS!!!!

OH OH GET IT ANTINOUS

TELEMACHUS ON DIPLOMATIC MISSION I REMEMBER THAT!!!

YOOO THIS IS DARK

BOOONESSS

ONLY THE OCEAN AND I WILL KNOWWW

NO GET AWAY FROM PENELOPE!!!!

ANTINOUS UR A FUCKIN CREEP!!!!!!

KILL THEM AAALLLLLLL

THE VOCALS DEAR LORD

YEAHHHH ODYSSEUS KILL HIS ASS

Odysseus

ODYSSEUS!!!!!!

OH MY GOD JORGEEEE UR VOICEEE

I HEAR U DARE TO TOUCH MY WIFE AND HURT MY BOYYY

I. Have had. Enough.

THE ELECTRIC GUITAR OH MY GODDD

THE SUITORS’ TIME TO SHINE

THE BOW AND SCREAM EFFECT AHHH

WHERE IS HE??? WHERE IS HE???

“You think I don’t know my own palace? I BUILT IT.”

“U destroyed the serpents head” EYY BOOK REFERENCE

NO OPEN ARMS

“No” YOOOO THATS COLDDD THAT’S A POSEIDON REF

I love him just popping in here and then makes us feel like the suitors

“BEHIND YOU”

LEGENDARY MOTIF????

AGHH TELEMACHUS IS HEREEEEE

ATHENA!! OH MY GODDDD ATHENAAA

I HEARD THAT FUCKIN PIANO TRILL

“Ur very presence has doomed the king, young prince. We don’t fight fair!”

WHO IS SINGINNNN

“And he’s made a grave mistaaake”

GET OFF ME!! GET OFF ME!!

HOLD HIM DOWNNN

THE ELECTRICCCC OH MY GODDD HES FULL MONSTER

“Mercy? MERCY? My mercy’s long since drowned. It died to bring me home. And as long as you’re around, my family’s fate is left unknown. You plotted to kill my son. You planned to R### MY WIFE. ALL OF YOU ARE GOING TO DIE.”

THEY SAID THE WORD???

“You filled my heart with hate. All of you who have done me wrong. THIS WILL BE YOUR FATE!”

THE CHOIRRR AHHH ITS BEEN A NO LONGER YOU REF THIS WHOLE TIME

THE SCREAMS???? THEYRE SO REALISTIC OMLLL

I Can’t Help but Wonder

THESE SONGS ARE LONG DAMN

TELEMACHUSSS 🥹

ITS AN ACOUSTIC GUITAR NOW

My heaartttt

OMG WAIT ITS TELEMACHUS SINGING

MILO SOUNDS TOO MUCH LIKE JORGE

His voice is so gentle oh my goddd

MY SON IM FINALLY HOME!

FATHER HOW IVE LONGED TO SEE YOUU

THE HARMONIZINGGGG

ATHENA

ATHENA!!!!

I HEAR HER QUICK THOUGHT

“Show yourself. I know you’re watching me. Show yourself.”

THE PIANOOO THE CLOCKKKK

“You were never one for hellos.”

“I can’t help but wonder what this world can be if we all held each other with a bit more empathy. I can’t help but feel like I led you astray. What if there’s a world where we don’t have to live this way?”

“If that world exists, it’s far away from here. It’s one I’ll have to miss for it’s far beyond my years. You might live forever, so you can make it be. But I’ve got one endeavor. There’s a girl I have to see.”

“Very well.”

WARRIOR OF THE MIND MOTIFFF

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again

FINAL SONGGG

SIX MINUTESS

PENELOPEEEE

THE CACOPHONY OF INSTRUMENTS OH MY GODDD ITS LIKE ODY’S ANTICIPATION

THE DOOR SOUNDD

Youuu look different

Your eyes look tired

IM GONNA RIP MY HEART OUT

I AM NOT THE MAN U FELL IN LOVE WITHHH

Waaaitinggg waaaitingggg

The stringssss godddd

“Left a trail of red on every islanddd” RUTHLESSNESS MOTIF OH MY GODD

“As I traded friends like objects I could use”CIRCE MOTIF??

“Hurt more lives than I can count on my hands” I CANT MAKE OUT A SINGLE ONE BUT PIANO IMPLIES ATHENA??

OMG WAIT CALYPSO “FOR LOVING YOU” MOTIF

WAAAITINGGGG

“If that’s true, could you do me a favor? Just a moment of labor? That would bring me some peace. See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over? Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far away from here?”

I REMEMBER THIS FROM THE BOOK AGHH

“I had built that wedding bed with my blood and sweat…”

THE ELECTRIC GUITAR COMING BACKKK AS HE GETS MORE INTENSE

“The only way to move it is to cut it from ITS ROOTS!” “ONLY MY HUSBAND KNEW THAATTT!”

AHHH I REMEMBERRRRR

PENELOPE TEAR IT UP

THE EMOTIONNNN IN HER VOICEEE

WAAAITTINGGGGG

PENELOPEEEEE

WAAAITINGGGGG

PENELOOPPEEEEEE

WAAAAITINGGGG WAAAAITINGGG WAAAAAAAITINGGGGGG AHHHHHHHHH

forrrrrr (was that the remember them motif???) youuu

Damn she sang so high

THE SYMPHONYYY

JUST A MANNNN ITS BAAACKKKK

THE ANIMATICS R GONNA GO SO HARD DEAR LORD

“How long has it been?” “20 years.”

“I love youuuu”

BRAVO 🥹

JORGE I LOVE YOUUU

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 4/?

PART 1 , PART 2, PART 3, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Thanks to your support, I am so committed to this. When I finish this, I plan to make it into a long, proper, one-shot- better format and everything!

I've been doing these chapters in the middle of work lmao, so if you see a typo or some edits, it's me rereading it after work.

I'm trying to include more Alastor but he's pretty hard to write.

I used Velvette so much here cos I love her as that bitch you love to hate. She is obviously the spokesperson of the Vees

---------------------------------------------

The hotel lobby is filled with unbearable silence as hell's overlords and high members of the Ars Goetia arrive one by one.

Just a few hours ago, Alastor heard from Carmila Carmine that the king had called a meeting for the top ruling people of hell. Charlie doesn't know why her dad called for it in the hotel.

The Ars Goetia (minus Stolas) were whispering among themselves and shooting the sinner overlords dirty looks every now and again. The overlords were good at pretending they couldn't hear anything. Apparently, they at least have the sense to know that that would be a fight they cannot win.

The hotel's residents collectively claimed it as their spot. Husk is talking with Angel quietly, keeping him distracted and out of view of Valentino, Vaggie is holding her spear as she keeps a close eye on the strangers in their home, Nifty is obsessively cleaning a corner of the bar (Husk keeps telling her that it is still dirty just so she won't venture elsewhere), and Cherri is playing with an unlit bomb in her hand.

Rosie and Stolas decided to approach Charlie and Alastor at the bar at the same time, both slightly bowed to her.

Charlie: Prince Stolas. Rosie.

Stolas: Hello, princess.

Charlie: How's Octavia?

Stolas: Via misses your outings together. But she is fine. She's with her mother today.

Rosie: Not that I'm not happy to see ya, Alastor. But why exactly are we here? Our Carmila has not stated a reason why.

Alastor: You know as much as me, my dear.

Stolas: It must be dire. His majesty rarely calls for the Goetia's presence. He is not here yet?

Charlie: No. He went down in Sloth earlier. I'm worried. After what happened yesterday, I..

Rosie: Yesterday? Did something happen, sweetie?

Charlie realizes the slip up and backtracks.

Charlie: Nothing, Rosie!

Rosie gives her a look that tells her they're going to be talking about it later. She gives the overlord a weak thumbs up.

Meanwhile, Velvette decides enough is enough and they have wasted too much time waiting.

Velvette: Ugh! Vois, let's go. This is a fuckin' joke.

Carmila: Velvette, calm yourself.

Valentino: Why should she? I had very important shit to shoot today and me being here is making me lose money.

Alastor: Then perhaps you should step down. Having to attend the bare minimum duty of their title must be so difficult for someone so... undeserving.

The Radio Demon has a giant patronizing grin plastered on his face. Alastor's comment prompted Vox to speak up.

Vox: Oh, you timely piece of shit! Fight us right now, Alastor!

Alastor: How unbecoming. Throwing tantrums in front of royalty!

Velvette: I for one, don't want to sit here waiting for a no-show fossil

Charlie's demon side flares as the demon insults her dad.

Charlie: How fucking dare you?!

Random Goetia: You shall know better than to disrespect your king, insolent pest.

Velvette: Ha! You think we're scared of a bunch of birds?

Alastor: Should have known you three cannot behave for a simple meeting haha!

Soon everyone was yelling obscenities at each other, filling the hotel with chaos. Before a proper fight could break out, the door opens with a bang, silencing every demon.

Lucifer has arrived, following him were the other Sins. They were arguing amongst themselves from behind him. Charlie can only catch glimpses of what is being said as voices overlap each other.

Beelzebub: Bel-

Mammon: Are you fuckin-

Satan: Wrath is-

Leviathan: We cannot-

Asmodeus: Evacuation-

Belphegor: Grown another mile-

Lucifer says nothing the entire time and just takes a seat in the middle of the semi-circle table he conjured up. With the way the table was placed in front of everyone else, Charlie gets the feeling of deja vu of her hearing in heaven. But now her dad will be the one passing judgment.

Most of the sinners in the room back up as the Sins continue to argue with their full form.

Lucifer sits back and raises a hand and the yelling stops.

Back then, she never really understood why demons were afraid of her dad. He was always a silly and happy guy when spending time with her. But one time, she sneaks into his rare meetings with the Sins and sees why he was called the devil.

The anger she saw then could have given her Uncle Satan a run for Uncle Mammon's money.

Lucifer: Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I will cut to the chase. I have called you all here because something is brewing at the very depths of hell. Something that may affect us all.

Stolas: The Ars Goetia is at your disposal, sire. But may I ask what is this about?

Belphegor: I can answer that. A few months ago, an anomaly appeared at the edge of Sloth. It was not a problem until-

She pressed her touchpad and a hologram screen appeared showing the infected ground.

Not a single demon didn't widen their eyes.

Angel: What the fuck is that?

Belphegor: We wouldn't have called you all here if it was not this severe.

She taps and shows a mutilated demon pig.

Belphegor: This is Patient Zero. An animal on a nearby farm made contact with the anomaly. It instantly infected the whole body, controlling the creature whilst killing it slowly. If it can affect an animal like this, we fear what it may do to-

Velvette: And what do you expect us to do about it exactly? Why the fuck would we care about some old place we can't even go to.

Belphegor is briefly stunned by the interruption but ignores the sinner's disrespect.

Belphegor: Because you would have to be naive to think that it will stop in Sloth. We cannot be too careful.

Velvette: So you think we would risk our lives? Yeah. No thanks. How do we even know that it will affect us? It's just a pig. The worst we can get is horrible floor decor.

Lucifer stands up and moves silently towards the middle for everyone to see.

Lucifer: Free will does not mean you are free from consequences.

The king starts to remove his shirt to everyone's panic, except Belphegor.

Mammon: Woah woah, mate. The fuck ya doin?

Lucifer shrugs off the last piece of clothing to reveal the glowing, infected marks. It has not been a day since he touched it but the veins are already covering the entire right half of his torso.

Charlie: Dad!

The princess attempts to go to her father's side but Vaggie holds her back.

Lucifer: Shall we proceed without any more interruptions?

---------------------------------------------

What to look forward to in Part 5:

the rest of the meeting

more dialogue from the other Sins. Cannot decide what personality to give to Leviathan.

My HC for Satan is he's like one of those old butler types but has a jacked body (I know he has that workout app, but I'm leaning more of the liver king type of a gentle strongman with anger issues. I don't want him to be a fuckboy gymbro)

more badass lucifer

the Vees getting scolded like the children they are

[matchadobo]

KIDD; the captain's madam

wc: 6857  summary: what might happen if commodore name and captain eustass kidd are forced to work together under a certain hapless situation while trying set aside their helpless diffferences and rancorous history? warnings: afab!reader, nsfw smut (cunnilingus, actual seggs, read at your own discretion 🔞), v1ol3nce?, steamin' sexual tension between reader and kidd, kidd being humbled is a treat

the vast skies mirrored the pelagic blues, a sight that never ceases to behold beauty within. the scorching sun, blinding and sizzling each span of land on the globe. on the stillness of the azure surface of the sea, what lies beneath are scores of sea kings that leaves no room for mercy but only wishes to satisfy their constant hunger. the same sea where victoria punk stood afloat, sailing through their next destination from the log. 

it was a simmering day under the sun, the crew had just about done everything to keep themselves under the shade and away from the heat; including the grumpy captain himself. he was clutching a cold, sweating bottle of rum, feet propped up by the table, and vest discarded somewhere he couldn’t care less where. 

“fuckin’ damn it, new world never has a good weather, does it?” kidd complained, fanning himself with a random newspaper he snatched from killer not too long ago. it took everything in him to ignore the fellow on the paper, a fellow he detest so much. 

“if you drank water rather than rum, maybe you’d be feeling less hot, kidd.” killer blatantly retorted, placing a tall glass of icy water by his desk. receiving a ‘shut up’ from kidd, he watched the redhead down the liquid like it was the only thing keeping him alive. “also, i’d like to get my newspaper back. it’s an item for reading, not fanning.” he sassed a little, snatching the batch of papers back from the disgruntled captain. 

“sure, i almost ripped it to shreds when i  saw the front page.” he stood up from his seat, stretching as he reached for the ceiling with a grunt. he grabbed his vest and made his way outside, looking a for other places to go where the sun doesn’t shine. he went towards his figure head, leaning by the railings as he embraced the welcoming breeze of the sea. as he hid from the sun, he heard a whizzing sound of something that came as quick as it went away from a distance; he knew that sound all too well, it was a cannon ball. 

he stood upright immediately, eyes skimming the horizon to look for where the sound came from. suddenly, a bullet grazed his skin; he fortunately dodged it just in a nick of time. he looked behind him and saw the all too familiar pink coated cartridge of ammo. he laughed to himself, gritting his teeth in anger and perhaps anticipation at your arrival. 

“buckle up, fuckers! the madam of the blues is here!” he stood his guard, raising his hand and amassing balls of metals above him as he discerned your ship from the distance. even from the wide stretch of sea, he could see you standing atop your siren figurehead, laughing your ass off at how you caught him off guard. his grin grew wider when he braced himself for momentum and threw heavy balls of metals and scraps towards your direction as your galleon got closer. your ship rocked side by side at the impact, immediately cursing him for his gesture.

the madam of the blues, an alias bestowed to you by the people that feared you and admired you. commanding the four seas, invincible across the calm belt; the only human who can rave the nest of sea kings and live to tell the tale. unscathed as you were in numerous battles, your body was adorned by the scars of yesterday; proudly retelling your barbaric nature across the blues. your eyes apprised the brewing fury of the eye of a storm, a warning for those who dare cross your way; disturbing the calm of the typhoon. yet here kidd was, fascinated by the cataclysm that is you.

the back and forth squabble continued until your ship and his were a meter away, bow to bow with each other. your raven galleon was comparably huge to any ship that passes your way, even exceptionally bigger than the victoria. you sauntered down the ship rails, heels clicking by the maple railings. your hand steady by the gun strap on your thigh, surveying before the stygian ship as a cruelly mocking grin tugged at your tinted lips. you met eyes with the red head, deigning a flourishing bow as you crossed a leg behind the other; a scornful curtsy for someone who did so much bad to you than good. “fancy seeing you pathetic lot here, what warranted a lovely visit from one of the worst generations?”

you relished at how his face contorted in umbrage, your grin stretched from ear to ear as your eyes mirrored intense contempt. that is until the pale bastard parted his lips, “there’s two of us.” 

“and i’m pertaining to the man in the mask,” you tilted your head in amusement, seeing him grit his teeth with a scowl in his eyes. “captain.” 

“wench.” 

in a second, the simultaneous clicks of guns rang beyond the blue skies and fear suddenly clouded the air around the lot of you. muzzles pointed at the kidd pirates as they unveiled their weapons too, eyes agitatedly scanning the guns around them with its safeties off. more ships, bigger than the galleons before them had their bloodlust directed at the pirates on victoria’s deck. completely surrounded, vulnerable, and unknowingly crossing the territory of the madam. 

“ah-ah, at ease girls.” you raised a hand as a warning, the immediate retreat of guns was almost chilling. “we’ll not waste bullets on these…bunch.” you looked down at kidd, the little pause bitterly rose the bile in his throat at how belittled he felt with your eyes. 

“so you still keep tabs on me,” you added, eyeing the newspaper killer was clutching. “missing me, captain?” you shifted your weight, turning to the fuming red head.

“you’re the one who made your way over here, commodore. how about you tell me?” he mustered a grin, crossing his arms, his snowy, sinewy arms full on display. it took everything in you to ignore it each time you cross paths and he flexes it. “even made an effort to park your ship here to see me, aye? ain’t that interesting, name?”

“using arrogance to cover up for your inferiority. so typical of you, eustass.” you scoffed, jumping off to your galleon’s deck. “i would’ve blown your ship to bits if i could.”

“really now? and you didn’t because?” he shifted his weight on his foot, not backing down despite being outnumbered. 

“there are civilians in my perimeter.” you firmly retorted. “and unlike you, i have a fucking heart.” you turned to walk away. “get the fuck off my territory before i sink your measly goddamn ship.” voice growing a notch deeper, your side eye gave an unknowing chill and suspense by the column of his spine before you vanish into your colossal galleon.

killer put a hand above kidd’s shoulder, a sign of telling him to stand down because you all know he stands no chance against a fucking commodore on her territory. kidd was beyond pissed about it. pissed about your authority and the power you hold within him. he knows you’re much stronger than him. he knows your influence across the blues, and he loathes your prestige. each mention of your name, each wanted poster with a monumental bounty each time he sees it, each shriek and praise by the civilians who fear and love you, each land you marked yours, and each gloat he sees in your eyes each time you two meet and you look down at him by your pedestal on your galleon. but most of all, he hated how much he thought about you. was it envy or longing? was it admiration or annoyance?

a few weeks have passed after the incident, more encounters and battles unfolded between the two of you and your crews. it all started and ended the same; one of you finds the other, say some insults here in there, and attacks until one of you becomes bloody or unconscious. it’s just an endless cycle of cat and mouse. 

that is until one rainy afternoon, a storm bubbled up by the heavens had ceased the duel unraveling between the two of you. and in a blink of an eye, your vision was clouded with black. the last thing you could see was your shipmates running to you and kidd standing from afar with an unreadable expression on his face. 

you then found yourself half-buried by the pearly, white sand with your damp clothes and frizzy hair. awoken by the smell of burning firewood, your eyes scanned the place. all you saw was that familiar back you used to look at and admire back then but you abhorred today. the environment seemed like a barren beach, no signs of people inhabiting it nor animals. you saw your galleon and his ship, lying wrecked by the sand; some of the parts dismantled and separated. you shot up with worry for your ship, instant panic as you tried looking for your crewmates. 

“lookie, princess is finally awake.” a gruff voice spoke beside you. your hand slid down to your thighs to grab your gun, yet there was a sword levitating and positioned on your neck. you could feel the cold metal hovering and precariously adjacent to the column of your neck, you gulped as you eyed the man before you.

“try anything, i fuckin’ dare you.” he ran his tongue across his lips, canines tugging at his lower lips as a grin made its way across his face to see how cornered you were. his steely, ochre eyes that glowed amidst the stygian shore were fixated on watching your every move. he was sat down at the log before you, his forearms pressed above his knees as he leaned forward to get closer to you. he had his finger effortlessly pointed at where your neck was, a trail of black lightning controlling the hovering weapon that almost scathed you to your imminent death. 

“threatening the madam of the blues, huh? do you plan on dying that early, eustass?” you raised a brow, unfazed at the weapon almost grazing your neck. you still slid your gun out of its casing and flicked the safety off, pointed undauntedly at the viciousness before you. your eyes matched how thirsty for a fight he was, the same throat-drying bloodlust clouded the air just like how your past clashes occurred. 

right this moment, there was a complete silence where you two had your weapons pointed at each other; one nudge and one of you could die immediately. “mind stopping this farce to tell me what the fuck is going on?” you broke the silence yet still keeping your guard.

“i’ll decide that when i get my fill.” he muttered under his breath. “i’d like to see you bleed first, madam.” there it is, that ferocious simper that never fails to quicken the pace of your heartbeat, raise bile up from your stomach to your throat, bubbles up something you refuse to acknowledge in your stomach, raise the hairs across the surface of your body, and leave your neck feeling hot. 

if it weren’t for your honed reflexes from years of piracy, you would’ve died from being perforated by two nodachis trajected from directions you couldn’t even see. from your lofty jump, you had a bird’s eye view of the wrecked seaside scattered with broken ship parts and garbage. you twisted your two guns by your index finger before firing it towards his direction, matching his speed as he tried outrunning your brisk bullets that pierced through obsidian walls.. 

from afar, he had already created a tornado with heaps of metal scraps he amassed while running from your poisonous bullets. you landed on the ground and the next thing you know, the projectile of his craft  was welcoming your arrival. but you weren’t a commodore for no reason, you were known as one of the strongest haki users from the new generation. using your conqueror’s haki, you stopped the trajectory of the metals and parried them to the skies; the heavens parted just like that one time when the two of the most legendary pirates fought back in the old generation. 

seeing kidd stunned, satisfied you to an amount where you wanted to maniacally laugh before his face. you raised your gun and fired a bullet straight through the side of his face, grazing the deepest scar on his body that starts from his forehead down to his chest. watching him  wince  in pain as the blood dripped from his head brought you nothing but ecstasy.

 “gotten rusty captain?” you strutted towards him, gun still pointed at him until it harshly met his cheek. “have you decided to stop being stupid?”

“you haven’t changed.” he mumbled lowly, tasting his own blood from the wound you induced. “you’re still the same crazy bitch who always goes too far, huh?” he painfully grinned, the blood reaching his teeth and staining it. 

“i didn’t ask for sentiments, i asked for an explanation.” before pressing on the wound once more with your muzzle, you spun the weapon by your fingers and discarded it by the casing on your thighs. 

he sighed in defeat before answering, looking towards the eerie forest that lies beyond the seaside you two are settled in. “it was blurry a few minutes before i woke up, but they got taken—my men and yours.”

“what? who took them?”

“the tribe inhabiting this land. we fuckin’ trespassed.” he retorted, putting his hands by his hips. trying to think of an alternative to take his crew back, clearly frustrated.

shit. this was inevitable. aside from your lopsided and wrecked ship, it’s already dire that your girls are missing. worry and desperation washed over you. what’s worse is you’re stuck with this barbaric moron who you swore to stay the hell away from. your relationship with him is like fire and ice, it’s a constant battle of which will break off first; and that sure as hell isn’t you. the most feasible option was to stick to this meathead to have more manpower to navigate through the foreign terrain where the tribespeople’s intent are unknown other than kidnapping and pillaging. 

besides, it was evident that you two needed each other. from how they successfully took your crewmates without the two of you, one of the strongest across the seas, waking up just showcases and gauges how strong they are. you are in their territory, they have the advantage. 

“i’m taking my men back.” he blurted out, heading straight to the forest. 

“and you’re still the same fucking idiot who always charges in before thinking, huh?” you called out, voice growing a notch higher. “if you want to get yourself killed and let your crew lose their captain, be my goddamn guest. that’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? not fucking thinking about the consequences.” you said with so much resentment he could feel his throat going dry as he stopped in his tracks.

“look, name.” he started, tone serious as he stretched his palm before you to get your attention. your name bitterly rolling out of his tongue. “if you think i’d just stand idly while knowing that my men are out there, without me, not knowing if they’re alive or not; then you’re sick to you fucking stomach.”

“you’re really a dumbass, aren’t you?!” you bit back, “you think i will either?!”

“the fuck are you saying then?!” his voice matched the same frustration yours echoed.

“that we, as much as we fucking despise each other, should find them together.” you said through gritted teeth, refusing to meet his eyes.

“you’re asking to team up?” he crossed his arms, smug coating his voice. “never thought the day would come, commodore.”

“make no mistake, this is not an alliance.” you retorted. “this is simply a truce, unless you’d rather see your crew die and have you follow the same fate.”

“tch, quit yappin’ then and get movin’.” he said before turning his back stomping away, you stood satisfied at how humbled he got. 

as the night deepened, so was your venture towards the dark forest. you were the one leading and kidd was following after you, keeping guard by the rear. it was a silent stroll across the forest, there were complaints here and there for kidd being too loud or you being too slow for the latter. there were times where you two bump into each other and it’ll spark a whole ass fight between the two of you. so much time had passed that you began seeing stars from drowsiness, it took you so long to find a decent trail to follow because kidd kept prancing about until the sun reached the middle of the skies. 

“can we, stop for a while…” you panted, grabbing a hold of the tree beside you. the everlasting exhaustion suddenly hit you matched with your empty stomach, your vision started hazing. “i feel fucking…fainti-” you passed out before you could finish your sentence. the last thing you saw was kidd muttering strings of curses as he rushed towards you. you didn’t care less how much you hate him right now, you needed someone to hold and lean onto. 

you found yourself sprawled on the sandy ground with kidd’s fur coat draped over you, your head placed delicately on his lap as he dozed off with a whole ass watermelon on his other hand. you shot up from your position immediately, realizing the situation you are in. muttering strings of curses to yourself, you felt your head spin and stomach growl at your sudden movement. 

you tried snatching the watermelon away from him, that is until his grip tightened. “that ain’t nice of you, name. tryna steal what isn’t yours.” he opened one eye, voice husky from sleep. 

“my name and nice in one sentence doesn’t work, fuckface.” you rolled your eyes, snatching the watermelon anyway.  

“you’re pretty active, ain’t ya? seems you got a good sleep, commodore.  my lap that comfortable, yeah?” he teased as a smirk tugged on his lips, pulling one of his knees in an upright position and placing his forearm on top of it. his yellow orbs never seem to lose that haughty glint each time he looks at you.  

you sighed in annoyance, cracking the watermelon open as you smack it with the side of your hand. yet a faint blush crept in your cheeks as you thought about his remark, you’ll be lying if you’d deny that you slept so well in his presence. you just stuffed your face with the fruit to hide your cheeks. “truly, i almost didn’t wake up because i didn’t wanna see your dunce face.” you retorted, smiling in aggravation. you tossed the other half of the fruit to him, to which he effortlessly caught. his brows furrowed once more with your reply, grumbling as a response as he gobbled up the watermelon. 

“just don’t fuckin’ faint out of the blue like that, thought you fuckin’ died or some shit.” he almost slurred his words from eating up the fruit. 

“aw, i didn’t expect concern from a brute like you.” you put a hand on your chest. “got scared?”

“shut the fuck up.” he dismissed, words filled with so much unsaid sentiments as he refused to meet your eyes.

once you two finished your meal, you both carried on in your pursuit for your mates. after a couple of hours of fighting back and forth on which direction to go, you lot have finally reached their camp. bamboo fences with pointy edges, well-guarded perimeters with guards armed with wooden spears, hammocks and nipa huts filled with inhabitants going about their days, a small barn of animals and crops adjacent to it, and there stood the leader who seemed to be busy attending to his subjects. 

“that those fuckers?” he muttered under his breath, almost a whisper. you two are hiding beneath bushes upon bushes, shoulders  pressed close together as you two hid to plan an attack.

you affirmed, “i can snipe five guards from here, the others are up to you.”

“let’s just fuckin’ charge in! what’s the point of doing it silently?!”

“you fucking idiot…!” you hit his head with your gun. “do you see metals on them?! your devil fruit won’t be useful in disarming them.”

“but it’d be more than enough to kill them, aye?!” he smiled ear to ear, bloodlust painted in his eyes.

“don’t you ever fucking think?!” you continuously hit him, receiving multiple whines from the redhead. “did it cross your pea-fucking-brain that they’d outnumber us…!” you berated him while still whispering.

“just watch and thank me later, commodore.”  he announced, he pressed his hand down the ground and you felt the surface  rumble beneath you. the soil beneath your feet and across from you crumbled, if it weren’t for him hooking his arm around your waist you would’ve fell to your death. and in a matter of seconds, eustass kidd created a fucking landslide. 

the pile of metals he magnetized from the ground was currently the platform you two are standing on. “see?” he gazed at you over his shoulder, rejoicing at your stunned expression as your jaw dropped with the immediate alter of the geologic landscape. what was once a flat surface of soil became a basin.

“h-how the fuck do you expect us to find them alive then?!” you complained, seeing the ground you stood on earlier reduced to powdery, heaps of soil. 

“i made a platform for them too of course, look around you shit. you think i’m that fuckin’ dumb?!” he retorted, pointing at where your and his crews reside.

a breath of relief escaped you when you saw your girls. “commodore, you teamed up with him?!”

“i had to get you all out of here. it wouldn’t be possible on my own.”

“eh? it also wouldn’t be possible that nothing happened but a temporary truce between you two?” one of them chirped, a malicious tone in her voice.  “a man and a woman alone in the woods–doesn’t that instigate somethin’?”

“i’ll have your head in a platter if you two don’t shut up.” 

there lied the tribespeople, buried in soil as one of them tried getting up. the lot of you were too busy reuniting to notice one of them pointing their blowgun at you. and in a moment faster than your bullets, a dart pierced at the side of your neck and you felt your limbs freeze as you lose all control to move. your right hand woman caught you as your crewmates repeatedly called out to you.

“fuck, they got name!” kidd reacted faster than your crewmates would, fury rushing through his veins as he controlled  a metal bar to pin the culprit on the ground by his neck. all he was seeing was red and all you could see was the faint, blurry sight of his figure brimming with lightning as he garnered yet another tornado from his power. the heaps of metal vibrating at his trigger as it flew across the woods towards an apex that is above him.

“i’ve had fuckin’ enough of this shit.” he growled, eyes radiating ire as the beast that craves nothing but inhuman slaughter took over and revealed itself from his demeanor.. “i draw the fuckin’ line here, you’ve hurt one of us and i’d kill to let you suffer tenfold of the goddamn consequences.”  you faintly heard the strings of curses he mumbled before a loud crash drifted you out of your consciousness. 

you had awoken and it's already dark, you found yourself lying down by an unfamiliar room. the walls were burgundy painted and you seem to have passed  out for  a long time. there were shelves upon shelves of trinkets of varied sizes and colors, which you know all too well where it came from and who made it. you were cocooned in a velvety, crimson blanket on  a king size bed with pillows of blacks and reds. you looked around and saw a mahogany bedside table with bottles of rum and used up lipsticks. you could smell that metallic cologne that you’ve once grown accustomed to back in the days but learned to resent nowadays. a familiar sight and feeling to you. 

you’re well aware of where you are–residing in the captain’s quarters of the victoria. in the same bed where he sleeps and his smell latched onto, the same room where everything between the two of you began and ended back then, the sleepless nights that you two spent rambling about the shitstorm that you call this world and your soaring dreams to be the greatest among all; always competing  and bring out the best in each other, and those little arguments that soon blew off into something unredeemable. ending everything you two had built.

your neck feels sore, you reached over to brush your fingers by it when you felt a bandage patched on at one place. yet you manage to pull yourself up as you tried and searched for any sort of warmth and life. soon enough, the door slammed open and revealed the last person you ever want to see. 

“k-kidd?” for the first time, his name didn’t hold any resent nor ill intent as it rolled out of your lips. if anything, he felt like salvation from the pain you were in. how ironic, he used to be the source of it.

your voice is hoarse and your lips are pale and dry. his golden eyes had a gentle glint to it you couldn’t quite make out. he entered the room like he wasn’t himself, from the bottle of rum on his hand and a pink tint on his face; it was evident that he had been drinking his ass off.

he made his way to the edge of the bed, his bed. “do you need anythin’?” his usually belligerent voice was now delicately soft by your ears. boy if you only knew, that he was restraining himself from embracing you right now. he reeks of alcohol but you don’t mind, you’re just glad you felt something warm right now.

“aside from revenge from the one who knocked me out, nothing else really.” you bitterly remarked, receiving a weak laugh from him. “you look like shit? you don’t have that spunk in you, eustass.”

“gave us a scare like that, tch.” he shook his head, leaning forward where his elbows were pressed on his knees. his brows furrowed and his teeth grinding against each other as a grumble left his throat after his sentence.

“you’re scared?” you asked, utterly confused.

“damn right i’m scared! you always make me fuckin’ scared! for a moment, i thought i lost you again.” he shook his head, fists balling up.

“again? you pushed me away the first time, didn’t you?” the offense and bitterness was evident in your voice as you crossed your arms.

“and that was fucking stupid, okay?! do i look like i enjoyed that decision, eh?!” he finally faced you, furiously waving his hands from his surge of emotions. you didn’t miss how glassy his eyes were, it shattered your heart to see him like that; it always did. but he looked away immediately and swallowed harshly. chugging at the bottle on his hand, as if drowning his tears away.“it’s lonely and every-fucking-day i look for you.”

“ain’t that what you want? no weaklings in the crew.” you scoffed, your resentment got the better of you and you almost regretted saying that. but it was the truth, he did push you away because you were weak. you never forgot how much those words stung and how it always echoed in your head each time you remember or see him. it broke you, it almost killed you. to realize that the man that almost completed you was the one who broke you apart bit by bit. it angered you to a point of no return, or at least you thought it did. you thought you’d never get even a foot close to him, much less be in the same room as him. and you never thought you’d feel your heart beat again for him at his next words.

he fell silent, fists balled up as he downed his rum again. “sorry.” he swallowed hard, tears finally falling, yet he refuses to look at you. “my stupid fuckin’ pride got in the way.” he sniffled, you could sense how much it took him to muster up those words. “wanted to keep you to myself, away from all the dangers of this piracy. yet here you are a goddamn commodore, i…i couldn’t even be more proud and couldn’t even be less alone.” he scoffed with disdain, wiping off his tears with the back of his palm. 

there was silence as you tried and register what he just said. “if only you were that emotionally aware back then, the seas wouldn’t need to suffer the setbacks of our stupidity.” you sighed, “give me that,” you snatched the rum out of his hand and chugged it all out, the bottle being empty of what it used to be filled with. 

“what…what the fuck’s your problem?” he looked at you like you grew another head.

“i wouldn’t have the balls to be fucking you sober, that’s for sure. c’mere.” you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close, stopping for a while when your lips were millimeters away from each other. the aroma of rum clouding both of your senses, “apologizing made you ten times hotter, eustass.” 

his hands then snake around your waist as your lips collided, evident hunger for each other didn’t stop the both of you from hurriedly discarding each other’s clothes off. his calloused palms ghosted across your arms, traversed the span of your back towards the junction of your shoulders and neck opposite to the wounded side as he placed a firm grip around it to press your head further to his—deepening the kiss.

you found yourself straddling his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you both tried fighting for dominance between the kiss. you had your hand fixed at the back of his neck, tilting your head to bury your tongue deeper in his mouth; earning his grunts and hums from your actions. that is until he tugged your lower lip and finally caught you off guard. he smiled through the kiss and said, “nice try, love. but in the victoria, i take the lead.” he sucked in your lower lip, letting it go with a loud smack as he watched you shiver under his breath.

the kiss went on for a long time, both of your hands not leaving each other’s body as if you were both starved; realistically speaking,  you two were. his flesh hand was settled by the mounds of your rear while the metal one was fixed on your waist. kneading and smacking your mounds ever so often, eliciting whimpers and whines from you. squeezing the flesh of your lower body, he pressed your thighs tighter to his sides as his metal hands effortlessly unhook your bra in a matter of seconds. “eager?” you teased. 

“just fuckin’ look at you, who wouldn’t be?” he growled, lips trailing down to pepper your breasts with kisses and hickeys as he sucked on each one with delight. you pressed his head further to your chest whilst grinding your lower half onto his, feeling up his hardening member beneath his boxers. 

once he got his fill, he went back to kissing you again and again. he sucked on each of your lip with much fervor, playing with your tongue and drinking all your moans. he hugged your waist and pressed your torso against his, inhaling and taking in your scent, how you fit on his lap, how your lips taste and feel, and how you seem to can’t get enough of him just as much as he can’t of you. it was clear that he wanted to have you this close for a long, long time.

the alcohol finally hitting you, you grew a bit bolder and pressed him down to his chest where he lied on his back. you finally got a good look at him; a blushing mess with his lipstick smeared at the sides of his lips as he looked up at you with so much desire and neediness, his glassy eyes mirrored how drunk he was for you, how he wanted to reach over and have more of you. and that’s exactly what you’ll be doing for him right now.

“you know, if you apologized more. you’ll be receiving more than this as a reward.” you welcomed, crawling to his face and settling yourself down. he grumbled by your drenched core, the vibrations electrifying you from your bundle of nerves up to your hazy mind. he began to smother his face on it, your squelching juices combined with the bubbling pleasure on your stomach caused you to fervently grip the headboard and his hair for support. you pressed yourself further down as he had a firm grip on your thighs to keep you in place, too drunk in devouring you.

he licked long trails across your crevice, playing with your clit, and sucking on your folds until his face was damp on your juices. soundly ravaging your core as he reveled on how you pulled on his hair each time you moan his name, reverberating across his quarters and made his member twitch. 

once you reached your climax, he looked up at you and licked his lips. your sultry moans sounded like angels singing by his ears. “it’s even better than how i imagined you’d be.”

“oh? you’ve fantasized about me?” you raised a brow, playing along as you traced his scars. you leaned down and licked down to where the rough patch of skin resided. pleasured hums singing across your ears.

“oh, madam. you have no idea.” he maneuvered your body and you were now lying on your back. pure lust reflected his tone as he caged you in his sinewy arms, leaning down to get closer to your face. the combined scent of his cologne and rum intoxicated you to an extent where you couldn’t think of anything but letting him have his way with you. 

he started placing wet kisses on your cheek, low voice on your ears. “each night that this bed felt empty and cold,” down to the side of your neck where some of your scars start, “those times where we finish a long round of sparring across the seas.” down to your shoulders, “each day that goes by without any sign of you.” across your chest and mounds, “to the thought of having you finally in my arms,” down to your stomach and deep scars, “with each grin of victory and pleading eyes of defeat on our battles,”down to your core and across your hands and fingers, “and to finally have you like this, all ready and waiting for me.” he licked his lips, eyes filled with sex and longing. “i’ve fantasized about you at a number i can never count.”

he then finally positioned himself, teasing the head of his member by your wet folds; satisfied by the whine he elicited from you. you felt how thick he was as he braced you for what you are about to take. you hitched your breath as the first stretch was ecstatic and left you breathless. kidd hooked one of your legs by his shoulders while his knee pried the other open, simultaneously bucking his hips forward that took your breath away.

kidd has this tendency to bury himself deep immediately upon entering, until it reaches the tip of your cervix. you choked out a moan, fisting the sheets at his actions. of course the bastard fucking grinned when he saw how his dick drove you stupid. it motivated him to push himself further to see how your eyes roll at the back of your head. 

“commodore gone dumb over my cock, eh?”

“b-bastard!” you clawed at his broad, well-endowed chest down to his toned abdomen. you can hardly garner your words, too overwhelmed at the incessant pounding on your lower half.

“hm? what is it, madam?” he raised a brow, your title rolling out of his tongue as something that used to hold so much respect yet he made it sound so degrading with the greedy look in his eyes and demeaning tone. 

the way he looked down at you made you feel vulnerable yet it left a sweet feeling on your tongue. that you are completely under his grasp, how he looks at you like he craves for you just as much as you crave him; like an animal in heat. his eyes reflected pure, carnal desire to viciously take over you, to have you see hearts and stars, to have you melt under him and continually want him just as he badly wants you.  “wanna tell me somethin’?”

“f-feels so good~” you squealed, trying to get a hold of yourself.

all the pent up tension and desire were finally released with each thrust, each smack on your ass, each graze of your nails by his skin, each swear word that you both evoke from the amount of pleasure you two are in right now. “that’s right.” he replied, voice gruff as his moans followed after it. “you feel just fuckin’ right, name.” 

once he started picking up the pace, there was no mercy from here on. the headboard was slamming against the wall, pillows were being knocked over from the force, the bed creaking from the unyielding and rapid pace of his hips, and your and his’ moans were almost deafening particularly the curses you and him uttered with each surge of pleasure on your lower halves.. there was no denying the fact that the crew heard both of you very well, loud and clear. the victoria soon got emptied, all of them tried to get far away from that god-forbidden room.

you looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, fingers brushing by his veiny arms as you reached for his cheek. in that silent moment, no words were spoken but you two felt your hearts tight against your chests for each other. he buried his face in the space between the mattress and your neck as his hips moved in a sinfully fast pace that drained all of the sanity left in you. his breath was hot against your ear as he muttered, “i’m so close.” 

his hips started to stutter and your throbbing core clenching around him as you both later reached your climax. it took a while for him to pull out of you, the two of you furiously panting and chasing your high to calm down after. his breath against your neck raised goosebumps on your skin as your chest heaved, trying to recover from the numbness of your lower half because goodness was his girth phenomenal. and for some reason, you two broke out of laughter as he plopped himself beside you. 

“goddamn.” you both said in unison. 

you looked to your side, admiring the domestic look of him. you sat up despite your throbbing lower half and got on top of him. his hands fixed on your hips as he admired how your features glowed from the dim light on his desk. “so are we gonna come out and keep up the façade or you gonna start acting like a man?”

“you see,” he propped himself up with his mechanical arm while his good arm was roaming the span of your skin. palms wandering about your tummy, your mounds which he squeezed on each harshly, to your neck where his entire palm wrapped around, and to your face where his hand lingered as he got lost in your eyes. “i want to have my treasures all to myself, i want what’s mine to be only mine.” he licked his lips, savoring the bare sight of you on his lap. his grip tightened by your hips, “now that i’ve got my hands on you, i can’t let anyone else have you, madam. and i gotta let the world know that.”

“greedy.” you replied, “keeping me all to yourself, huh?”

“now that i’ve known what it feels like to lose you, you bet your sweet fuckin’ ass that i’m never gonna let you go.” he pulled you closer by the small of your back and connected your lips once more. pulling on your hair as he bit at your lower lip to pry your mouth open, not getting enough of you. until midnight up to dawn, you two had stayed in that room with no contact from the outside. memorizing the splendor each other’s moans, each scars that made one another even more beautiful, each curve of your bodies, each other’s warmth and scent, and how your eyes’ shine from the pleasure of each other. 

OMG DON'T CANCEL ME FOR THE TRIBESPEOPLE PART I HAD TO MAINTAIN THE PIRACY ESSENCE T^T anywho this was so fun to makeeee kidd being humbled was a nice trope HIHIHI

[lonely-dreamer]

Unsealed.

Satoru finally free from the prison realm.

Your eyes flutters open only to be meet with a light ceiling that was too bright for your eyes to see. You blink your eyes, tries to adjust yourself with the situation.

The whispers from outside can be heard, talking about Gojo Satoru who finally free. You force yourself to sit after the topic the others talking about finally registered to your mind.

You have to meet him, you think.

The selfish asshole who always think that he can do all the things by himself which happened to be your boyfriend.

You sat up from your bed only to be met with a sudden carzy headache. You almost fell because of it, luckily a hand is ready to catch you from fall to the floor.

"You should be resting," her voice stern, and you look at Shoko with her furrowed eyebrows.

"Is he- Is Satoru-" You still couldn't believe it, 19 fuckin days, he left you. Leaving you confused and heartbroken, worrying about him that might cannot be out from that shitty box. The thought of having him finally there, stepping himself on the earth, leave you surprised.

Shoko nod, she guides you to sit on the bed. Trying her best to calm you down.

"I have to meet him, Shoko. I have to see him alive." You bows look at the ground, you feel yourself tearing up. Oh, how you really missed him.

"I know. But you have to rest, you just get yourself injured badly. It is lucky to think that you are alive now," Shoko insisted.

You understand, your whole body still ache because of your last fight with sukuna which in Megumi's body. Your heart shattered to see the body of the boy whom you and Satoru raised being used by the King of Curse.

But you just can't sit here knowing Satoru have to fight Megumi whose now is Sukuna and Kenjaku. You know how his best friend have special space in his heart.

"Shoko-"

"(y/n) please," she really sounded like she begged for you to not go, the desperation and sadness in her face makes you stop. You never look Shoko in this state before.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. It must have been hard for her too, Shoko just too good at hiding it.

Shoko smiled at you. "Thank you," she mumbled. You nods at her.

"I know you really want to see him right now, but you have to think about your condition first, let me grab you a water," Shoko said at you.

The brown haired girl understands her best friend worries. Just like her, (y/n) also really cared for Satoru. But unlike Shoko, she really blunt about her way to make Satoru not feel alone anymore. Shoko feel grateful that because of (y/n), Satoru have a person who can he shared his burdens with.

But sometimes (y/n) didn't think of herself, always prioritazing the other before herself. The burden she promised to take together, slowly burns her too. That is why Shoko really worried for her, she was scared that her beat friend might be sacrificing herself in the end. Shoko can't take losing people she cared dearly anymore.

After grab a glass of water, Shoko back to the infimary room again. Only to be meet with an empty bed and an open window.

I juat write qhat comes to my mind after our husband Gojo Satoru unsealed. Man how can he looks more handsome after 19 days in the box😭

[sycamorre]

Whumptober 2024 Forced Choice – Killian/Ledo

Public Display | "I'm doing this for you."

My longest whump, a day after October is officially over. This is the only one that I originally planned on doing in the first place, before I got the handful of request ones. I still have one more request whump I'm probably gonna do, but I wanted to post this one first since it was a doozy to write. And fair warning, it is a long one.

-------------------------------------------------------

The ship’s map room was Killian’s safe haven and his prison. In here he was safe from listening to Ullrich’s shouts and watching as he strutted around the quarterdeck like a damned king. But Killian also knew the moment he left, he would be watched. Every move he made was scrutinized by the pirates and mutineers who were now in control of the ship. He certainly couldn’t visit Ledo in the brig without one of them practically breathing down his neck the entire time. Ledo was still furious about the situation, at least from what he could tell the last time he tried to talk with her. She would barely even look at him. He just wanted one moment of peace and quiet to explain, to plan how they could escape. But he was watched so intensely that he could not even manage that. So for now, he had to be patient, staying in the map room where he could be alone with his thoughts, his planning safe from prying eyes.

Or at least, he was safe most of the time. The door to the cabin was forced open behind him, and even without looking Killian could recognize the heavy stomps of their new “captain” coming to grace the navigator with his presence. Killian briefly scowled at one of the maps he was pretending to be pouring over, then took a deep breath and turned to see a familiar, bull-horned tiefling standing in the doorway. Xanthas Ullrich.

“Ullrich,” Killian acknowledged him flatly, forcing his expression to remain neutral.

Anger flashed behind the ex-marine’s eyes. “Captain. We’ve been through this, Doresh. Do not make me remind you again.”

“Captain Ullrich,” Killian corrected himself in the most sickly-sweet tone he could muster, smirking and giving a small bow in the process. Ullrich's frown deepened while Killian's smile only grew wider. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You need to talk some sense into your little house brat,” Ullrich began, slamming the door behind him. He moved to stand beside Killian at the table, fist pressing into the closest map.

It was Killian’s turn to frown. There was a lot wrong with that sentence, but no time to dwell on any of it. He could tell that Ullrich was genuinely pissed now. Worry nagged at the back of his mind. What in the hells did you say to him this time, Ledo? He crossed his arms, raising a brow as Ullrich loomed over him. “Still not getting anywhere? Maybe you should start by not insulting her.”

“You said she would fix the cannons!” Ullrich growled. “We're out here in the middle of the sea, unable to defend ourselves while half of our guns sit fuckin’ useless!”

“No. I said she would be your best bet to keep this ship floating,” Killian replied, holding his ground against the outburst. “Sergeant Veltarai knows just about every inch of the Zephryn, including the weapons, and you let your men kill the rest of the engineering team, remember?”

Ullrich jabbed a finger at Killian’s chest. “And I only let her live because you begged for her life.”

“If you want to call it that.” At this point, Killian assumed Ullrich got some kind of sick satisfaction from treating the rest of the crew this way. It disgusted him, but he went along with it for now. The last thing he needed was to earn the captain’s ire. Ledo was intelligent, but not particularly gifted in acting. And despite his threats, Ullrich could at least acknowledge good logic, at least when his temper was in check. Hopefully, that would be enough to keep them both alive. “But you still needed someone on the crew who knew how the systems work. You won't find a navy-trained engineer kicking around in the ocean.”

The comment was met with the same scowl as before. “You need to convince her to cooperate, Doresh.”

“And you need to stop treating her like a prisoner. Let her out, give her belongings back, let her have some real food... Hells, she won’t be any use to you if she’s on the verge of starvation! She'll be dead in a month at this rate!”

“Good. Once she’s gone I won’t have to listen to you lecture me.”

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you expect me to do? You know where Veltarai’s loyalties lie, and it’s not with pirates that murdered the rest of her crew. The harder you try to push her, the more she's going to resist. Sending someone else instead is not going to help, it might just piss her off more.” Especially if it’s me.

“Oh, I know about her loyalties.” Ullrich's tone changed suddenly, his lips turning upward in a smirk. “Which is exactly why you’re going to be the one to do it. Everyone knows she has a soft spot for you. What were you getting out of it, anyway? Money? Rank? The satisfaction of saying you slept with someone from a house?”

That hit a nerve, and not just because of the insults directed at Ledo this time. Killian’s hands balled into fists at his side while he fought the urge to bite back too much. “Neither. Piss off. Don’t talk about what you don’t know a damned thing about.”

“Watch. Your. Tongue!” the captain growled, suddenly stepping forward. Killian had to take a few steps away from the table to stay out of range, just in case a fist came swinging towards him. “You will not talk to me like that, are we clear?”

Killian simply remained quiet, nodding ever so slightly to appease him. Ullrich sneered but appeared to accept it, though begrudgingly. However, he continued to step forward, as if trying to close the distance, which Killian was not keen on allowing to happen. He stepped away from the map table and Ullrich followed, until Killian was all but pressed against the hull wall.

Ullrich gave another venomous smile. “Now let’s try this again. You will go down there and convince her to do whatever I need her to do. Understood?”

Before Killian could consider his next words, he felt something. A heavy weight on his chest, trying to grip his heart as the captain came closer. It was a sudden, sinking feeling threatening to overwhelm. Something was telling him to get away, and he found his eyes searching for where he knew a set of cutlasses were stashed under the table. It was fear, but something about it felt… wrong. Unnatural, maybe? Yet it was familiar, too. He had felt it before, hadn’t he? The day he witnessed Ullrich shouting at several younger sailors who were all but cowering in front of him. It was shortly after the mutiny, while Ullrich was working with that Red Fleet captain… At the time, it was just a minor feeling, something at the edge of his consciousness. Killian had brushed it off as feeling sympathetic for the victims of the captain’s tirade. Now he wasn’t so sure.

He fought against the feeling, and it faded away, replaced briefly by surprise. Surely that wasn’t magic. Ullrich was a fighter, not a mage… right?

A similar look flashed across Ullrich's face, mirroring Killian’s confusion, but the anger quickly returned. “Hm. We're doing this the hard way then.”

His large fist swung forward, catching Killian in the jaw and sending him to the deck. Killian managed to catch himself somewhat, though the rough wood caused his forearms to burn where he landed. He tried to get to his feet but was instead yanked up by the collar of his shirt and thrown back toward the map table. Killian stared at the ceiling, wincing before trying to sit up and quickly turning towards the table, mind focused on retrieving his weapons. A heavy boot came down on his shoulder, and he grunted as he was pinned against the floorboards. How in the hells did he get this strong?

“Maybe I should have killed both of you from the start. You've been nothing but a thorn in my side,” Ullrich growled above him, his bared teeth and unkempt hair making him something more feral now. Black eyes bore down on Killian, regarding him with… was it disgust? Or hunger?

Killian couldn’t reach his blades from here, but his hands were still free, and he had a few tricks of his own. He struggled under the captain’s boot, which only pressed down harder in response. But it was a long enough distraction for Killian to move his hand to where he hid a set of lockpicks and let one slip out into his palm. Then he rolled sharply, causing Ullrich's foot to slip from where it was and slam into the floor, where it was in perfect position for Killian to stab the lockpick directly below the knee. His opponent roared in pain and anger, while the sailor managed to get back to his feet, scrambling toward his real weapons—

“HALT!”

Ullrich's voice boomed with thaumaturgy… and something else. Killian felt his limbs suddenly go stiff, refusing to move even as he stared at the spot he needed to reach. What was happening? He turned back to see Ullrich still standing, pulling out the lockpick with a growl. And Killian could swear he saw a low, arcane glow coming from that hand before he stood straight again, moving as if it didn’t even happen.

Xanthas Ullrich did have magic. But how?

The brute reached out and grabbed Killian by the throat this time, just as he was being released from the spell. Ullrich held up the bloodied lockpick in his other hand. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Doresh. One that you’re not going to win.”

“So are you,” Killian coughed out through strained breaths, both hands pulling at Ullrich's to keep himself from being choked. “You think making a deal with the Red Fleet is a wise move? You don’t think they’re going to stab you in the back the moment they have the chance to take this ship for themselves? Threatening to kill members of your crew who disagree isn’t going to help your chances when that—.”

That hungry grin returned to the captain’s face, and his grip tightened, silencing the other tiefling. “I think you underestimate what fear can do. Isn’t that why you were so loyal to the empire? Fearing punishment? Fear is even why you and Veltarai kept your little dalliance a secret, right?” He gave a low, rumbling chuckle. “She must have been afraid to be seen with a commoner. What a shame.”

Killian struggled again, anger burning like a fire now, but without breath to say anything in rebuttal.

Ullrich regarded his prey for a moment, almost thoughtful, then appeared to have a new idea. With a laugh, he smiled and threw his crew member to the floor again. Killian hit hard enough for the rest of the wind to be knocked from his lungs, leaving him desperately gasping for air. But before he could gather himself, a broad cutlass was pointed directly at his chest, forcing him to stay where he was. 

“Ralmir! Menon!” Ullrich roared, his thaumaturgy shout directed at the door to the cabin. After a moment, two faces appeared as it opened. Killian did not recognize the first, a heavy-set pirate that had been one of the prisoners they caught before the mutiny. But he did recognize the second, Menon, a younger marine who had managed to reach junior officer status before siding with Ullrich during the mutiny. Killian was on somewhat decent terms with him, given the circumstances, as Menon had shown at least some guilt after what they did. The two of them locked eyes for a split second before Menon turned to look at the captain questioningly. The pirate, who Killian assumed was Ralmir, looked almost bored, casually glancing between the two.

Ullrich turned toward them, though the cutlass remained pointed at Killian. “Menon, when was the last time someone was flogged on this ship?”

Menon blinked. “I… Never, as far as I can recall. It has not been long since her maiden voyage, and I don’t think Captain Zoreil cared for it.”

It was because the lieutenants kept him in check, Killian thought, recalling what he had overheard before from the previous sailing master and other senior officers, but kept his mouth shut. The crew would have mutinied even earlier if he had been keen on flogging.

“Oh, what luck.” Ullrich's grin widened. “Then Doresh here can be our first.”

Ralmir laughed. Menon at least had the decency to look shocked. “But why, captain?”

“Insubordination and threats of violence. We need to make sure the crew sees what happens when someone thinks they’re above the rest of us.” Ullrich motioned with his head towards Killian. “Ralmir, take our friend here and let your men get him ready for his punishment. I can let you do the honors. Menon, you put out the call for all hands. I want everyone who can to come up and witness this. I think it would be good for them.”

“Aye, captain…” Menon said quietly, looking over at Killian again with an apology in his eyes before turning away from the door and heading back to the quarterdeck. Ralmir crossed the room, pulling Killian roughly to his feet before forcing his hands behind his back. As he started to drag Killian out, however, Ullrich held up a hand to stop him.

“Keep him alive at least, Ralmir. I have more plans for him afterward.” Ralmir grunted in disappointment but nodded as he took Killian away. But even as he was being turned out the door, Killian kept his own gaze locked on Ullrich, fury simmering in his chest.

The sea will swallow you whole, Ullrich. Like all other traitors and cowards. And I will live to see it.

—

After the first two weeks following the mutiny, the days started to blend together. Has she been in these chains for a month now? Two? More? Did it matter? Ledo’s wrist burned where the metal dug into the skin of her good arm. How long until it might hit bone at this rate? Her stomach ached for food, and her head felt heavy on one side as she was now missing the majority of a horn. The arcane shackles made her mechanical arm sit limply, almost useless. She wished more than anything that she could at least have Drache with her, even if it was just for company.

Some days she was almost numb, tempted to give in to the weakness she felt, but the anger in her chest kept her going. Resisting.

Yet the worst part was the sadness that lingered in the solitude. Between Ullrich’s visits, which only refueled her fire every time he tried to demand her to do anything, Ledo only had her thoughts to keep her company. Thoughts of how easily so many of their crew had turned on their officers, ready to kill them in cold blood. How could they live with that guilt? What lies had been fed to them? And Killian… He had come down a couple of times, trying to talk to her, trying to get her to eat something that he had snuck down there, but she was angry with him as well. She couldn’t bear to look at him, in case it broke her. He knew what was happening but decided that hiding her was a better move than alerting the lieutenants. Was her life really worth more than the others? No, it probably wasn’t. Hadn’t she cheated death enough?

The lower deck was eerily quiet now. Something had brought the usual guard that was on duty to the upper decks, and she had been alone for a while. At first, she wondered if it had been a call to quarters, but the ship was still moving calmly, and there were no signs of a fight. The only sounds were the creaks of the hull and the sea sloshing against them. If Ledo could have cast a spell, or called on Drache, she might have attempted to do so, but as it was she barely had the energy to attempt it, even if she could get around the magic-blocking elements of her cell. The navy’s preparedness was currently working against her. So she remained where she was, trying to think about anything else…

Until another sound broke the silence. Ledo turned her head up tiredly, expecting to see the guard coming back or someone else coming to take his place, but she quickly became aware that there were multiple footsteps and… something being dragged? A pair of pirates came down the stairway not a moment later, with another held between them, barely on their feet. As they walked closer, however, Ledo’s breath caught as she saw who it was they were carrying.

Killian…

He looked terrible. His face was bruised, particularly around the jaw, and he looked as though he could barely keep his head up as well. As they passed in front of her cell, she briefly caught his eyes before he was dragged past her, and she had to stop herself from crying out when she also saw what had happened to his back. His shirt was torn in numerous places, the scraps barely hanging on, and the tan linen was stained a deep red from where she could see numerous fresh cuts across his back.

Flogging was not a common punishment in the navy. In fact, while not a hard rule, most considered it barbaric, outdated, or only justified if the crime matched its severity. This was the first time she had ever seen it, especially one that seemed this intense, and the sight made her hunger pains seem like nothing more than a mild irritation in comparison. The fact that this was done to Killian of all people certainly did not help in the slightest.

The two pirates dropped their victim, letting him crumple to the floor with a painful groan. One of them started pulling out the keys to the cells, in no rush while Killian tried to sit up, despite his injuries. Another set of footsteps came from the entrance to the brig, and Ledo was able to pull her gaze away from Killian’s back to spot their captain following them into the room, beaming as he came to stand beside the door to her cell. Ledo’s anger immediately flared again, this time even stronger.

“Well, well… Ullrich began, leaning against the metal bars, watching as his men opened the other cell to drag Killian in. “Looks like you’re going to have company, Veltarai.”

“Bastard…” she hissed, pulling on her shackles. “You pathetic, vile bastard!”

Ullrich tutted, then held out a hand toward the other two pirates. The one with the keys handed them to him after he finished locking Killian in his own set of shackles, arms lifted in the air while he faced the hull. Ullrich reached over to Ledo’s cell door, unlocking it and striding in. She leaned away as he crouched in front of her, her expression a scowl while he simply smiled at her.

“Don’t you want to know why he ended up like this?” Ullrich asked, pointing over his shoulder. “It’s because of you. Your poor, poor lover is trying to defend your honor and your life. And what do you do to thank him? You continue to be stubborn, too proud to help him and your crew. Do all of those months we shared at sea mean nothing to you? Or do you just see us all as beneath you because we don’t all belong to nobility? Hm?”

“Lies. And you are no better than Zoreil was.” Ledo held her head a little higher. “Nobility or not, at least he was not a murderer.”

The captain shook his head, then reached out in a flash, grabbing her by the chin and forcing her to look across the room at Killian again. The other cell’s door was now closed, but she could see through the bars that he was trying desperately to look over his shoulder, shaking from the exertion. Guilt twisted her heart, and it took all of her will to keep it from showing. She was not going to give a backstabbing traitor the satisfaction of knowing his words were working.

“I want you to take a good, long look at him,” Ullrich started again, leaning in, his voice low and tone dark. “I want you to remember what this looks like because next time I won’t be as kind. I can always find another navigator. But can you replace him as easily?”

He let her go, head dropping again as she pulled away from him. Ullrich stood, stepped out of the cell with a relaxed pace, and locked the door behind him. He regarded Killian’s state for a brief second, then chuckled. “You know what? I will be nice, not that either of you deserves it. You can have a few minutes of privacy. Enjoy.”

No further words were exchanged, and Ullrich left the brig with his men. The silence returned, with only the same, familiar creak of the ship once again filling the air. Ledo stared, holding what she could of Killian’s gaze as she tried to find something to say in the precious moments that they had. Anything.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” she said weakly. It was all she could think of to say. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she truly cried, it might have been the day she found out about her parents’ deaths.

“Ledoras,” Killian started, trying hard to turn and see her better. He winced as the muscles of his back stretched and strained, and her heart twisted. “Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine.”

“What happened?” The first tear rolled down her cheek, and she had to take in a sharp breath to keep herself steady, holding back the rest. She was glad he could not see it.

“He was trying to get me to be the one to force you to do what he wants.” Another grimace, and the chains clinked against the hull. Ledo could hear that he was angry, too. A lot angrier than he seemed the last time he had come to talk to her. “He thought you would just agree if I told you to. I may have pushed my luck. Managed to stab him with a lockpick.”

“You… What?”

Killian actually chuckled at that, though it was quickly cut off as he took a strained breath. “Aye. In the leg. Self-defense, mind you, he’s lying if he says otherwise. But it just made him angry, that was why he had me flogged. And now he must think using my life as a threat will work instead.”

“I… It will.”

“Ledo…”

She let her head hang, eyes downcast. “I’ll do it. I’ll cooperate with him. I’ll fix his damn guns and engine.” The shame burned her throat, but her pride was already too wounded to care anymore. Ledo may have questioned Killian’s decision to keep her alive over the officers, but this was their reality now. So long as she lived, so would Killian if she had any say in it. And Ullrich was right, he could replace Killian far before he could replace her. If Ullrich had any kind of inclination to think Killian wasn’t worth keeping around, he would get rid of him in an instant. “It will be on my terms if I can manage it, but I… I can’t lose you. I need you. I love you.”

Ledo heard his chains moving again, and she looked up to see him trying to turn around as much as he could, leaning towards the cell bars while the chains twisted above him. He seemed… frightened. “I love you too, but Ledo, please… There’s more. He has some kind of magic now. I saw him heal himself, and he had some sort of spell to make you feel or do things. We still need to find a way out as soon as we can, but I fear this is more complicated than I thought it would be.”

Her brows furrowed. “Dammit,” she murmured. But at least they knew now. “We really need to find a better, safer way to plan than by having you brought down here with flog-”

She quickly fell silent when the sound of the brig’s hatch opening echoed down to where they were. Both of them cursed, nearly in unison before Killian leaned a bit further towards the bars, hissing at the pain it caused. “Ledo, promise me something,” he whispered quickly.

“Anything.”

“If we make it through this, I’m going to be too tired to keep up appearances anymore. No more pretending, and no more hiding. I don't care what the other houses think of us anymore.”

The second tear finally fell down Ledo’s cheek. “I promise. No more games. For better or worse.”

[azlan-snow]

Broadcast Husbands

Chapter Eleven: Luci's Night Out

(Told from Lucifer’s POV. Starts before he enters the gambling den.)

As I prepare to go out into society, (wish me luck), I looked at my phone, and text Charlie. ‘I’ll see you later, okay?’ She responds quickly, saying, ‘Okay!’ She must be happy, since it’s been a couple of centuries since I saw her. Ever since she started her little project, she’s been living there since. I distanced myself from her, still hurt from Lilith leaving. But that changes today! I’m going to go out and meet someone today. Not romantically, of course! I would never. Only to gather information! Even if it’s a bar. Maybe I’ll gamble a little! Meet someone nice in this hellhole. Ha! I crack myself with my own jokes! I’m pitiful, aren’t I. But I can’t afford to talk to myself like that. I have to act like I haven’t been depressed for the past centuries. This’ll be fun.

I grab my hat and head out the door, spreading my wings out and being embraced by a cold gust of wind. I take off, looking for the place I am looking for. I spot it, fly down and mentally prepare myself to enter. “I got this, right?” I push open both doors, startling everyone inside. “Sorry!” I walk towards the bar and see the one I was supposed to be meeting, I think, conversing with others. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I am looking for the Cannibal Overlord. Do you happen to know where she is?”

The woman in between them looks at me with wide eyes and a smile. “Hello Lucifer! My name’s Rosie. A pleasure to be meeting you in person, your Majesty.” The woman curtsies generously towards me, the other two companions also bowing towards him. 

“Who’re you guys?” 

“My name is Vox, your majesty. This is the Gambling Overlord, Husk,” the TV headed man says.

“Gambling Overlord?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” the cat-looking demon says, his tail prominent and swaying. “If I knew you had an important meeting today, Rosie, I wouldn’t have asked to have the appointment today.”

“It’s quite alright! But could you be a dear and pour us some drinks, Husker?” 

“Of course. What would you like to drink, your Excellency?”

“An apple martini would be lovely. Thank you.”

“Right away. And for you, Rosie?”

“Just a whiskey on the rocks.”

“Coming right up.” The cat man walked off to retrieve the ingredients needed for the martini and left us three. “So, how is the current Overlord situation?”

“Peachy, your Highness. Almost everyone is keeping to their respective territories.”

“Almost?”

“Velvette and Valentino are encroaching on other’s territory, threatening to start a war.”

“Interesting. On whose territory?”

“Mine,” says the man named Vox. “They’re trying to bait me into leaving my husband and creating a triage of power together.”

“Husband?”

“The Radio Demon, sir.” 

“Never heard of him. The only Overlords I know and get along with are Rosie and Zestial.”

“That makes sense. Zestial has been down here a very long time.”  Husk returned with our drinks and left again without another word to us. 

As the three of us talked, people became more and more interested in me. Vox noticed my uncomfortability. “Would you like to go somewhere less hectic, Your Grace?”

“Grace? Please. I’m the King. But yes, I would. It seems that we are drawing attention to ourselves.”

“Follow me. Goodnight, Rosie.”

“Safe travels, everyone!” Vox, Husker and I leave the den, and walk towards the edge of Pentagram City, conversing and laughing on our way there. And there just happened to be Charlie, my beloved daughter’s hotel, renovated and everything. “What happened?”

“What do you mean happened?”

“To my daughter’s hotel! It didn’t look like this!” Husk spat out his drink as he heard this. 

“Your daughter? Charlie’s the Fuckin Princess?!”

“Of course she is! Don’t you see the resemblance?” Husk stares at me, tilts his head sideways, and nods before speaking. 

“Yeah. You both have eye bags that could carry a circus. And rosy cheeks.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Ya heard me. Look at ya’ daughter and you’ll see.”

The doors are opened in response of Vox’s knock by what I’m guessing is the radio demon, but I’m not 100% sure. “Who’re you? What are you doing in my daughter’s hotel?”

“Your Majesty! Didn’t think we would receive such a Royal guest! Especially this late at night!” The man smiled devilishly. It was highly unnerving. “My name is Alastor. A pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure,” he says as he offers me his hand to shake. He’s about twice my height, same thing with Vox. He kneels down, as if he were submitting to me, bowing his head as I shake his hand.

“That’s really unnecessary, Alastor.”

“It’s quite proper. Ma didn’t raise a disrespectful man, that’s for sure.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. It’s what you deserve. Your daughter is resting for now, she’s had a rough day, according to my husband.”

“Oh. You’re Vox’s husband, huh?”

“Indeed! Proud to be his one.”

“What made Charlie’s day so bad?”

“That’s something we can discuss inside, Your Excellency.”

“Very well.” We all walk in and place ourselves accordingly in the main room by the fireplace. “Charlie and I met with the first man today, and it went horribly wrong.”

“You met with Adam? That son of a bitch isn’t deserving of my daughter’s time. How bad was it?”

“Bad. He moved the extermination up six months.”

“I can’t do anything about it, either.” I sigh heavily, burying my head in my palms, feeling helpless. “If I may interject, your Majesty,” the red demon asked, his smile ever so present.

“Go ahead.”

“I believe Charlie merely needs a chance. She’s determined, and is rather adamant about this.”

“And?”

“Charlie just needs someone to believe in her,” Vox exclaims, looking at me in reassurance.

“Very well.” I stand up, knowing good and well that I need to return home. “When I come here tomorrow, act like you’ve never met me. Charlie doesn’t need to know about tonight.” All the men nodded in agreement. As I depart, I hear something from the Radio Demon.

“He’s different than before.”