#context is up to you muah just love her

[bannannie]

open to: mutuals !

"yikes." as eloquent as a response as you might expect from annie, especially given the circumstances. she was never usually the sort of person you'd turn to in a crisis, so even being told about the sort of sticky situation they'd managed to get themselves in was practically a first. she was so used to being the screw up herself, finding others to turn to, she wasn't used to the roles being reversed like this. what she did have though, were tried and tested methods when these things happens.

it was one of those methods that she opted for almost immediately. the blonde leaned forward from her couch, reaching for two clean(ish) mugs that had been resting on top of the coffee table and putting one in front of her, and one in front of her companion. only then did her hand snake down the side of the couch, pulling out a bottle of peach schnapps that had been kept behind there for times such as these (though granted, she'd thought it would be for her own troubles and not someone else's). clear liquid was poured into the ceramics, with the comment, "i always find it easier to think in a crisis with one of these." as if she needed any justification. "drink up. it'll help, i promise. and then we can try and figure something out."

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die (3; final)

«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »» 

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool? The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows. Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k | Part 3 [final] : 15.8k

@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman

masterlist

WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tags: hoshi loves thighs, corruption kink to the mAX, clit stimulation, oral (f. receiving), breast play, p in v sex (unprotected, 1800s contraception will make you prefer it but pls dont do this irl), making out

[AN]: final part oh my god if youve read the other parts up till now, THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU i hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it, im really proud of this fic and im so happy so many of you have enjoyed it so far. @highvern betaing as always ty for not giving up on me. AS ALWAYS, PLS TELL ME YOUR THOTS IN THE RBS OR THE REPLIES OR SEND ME AN ASK LITERALLY WTV MUAH MUAH HAPPY READING <3

THIS IS THE NICEST PRISON Hoshi has ever been in, which was saying something, because he had been in quite a lot of prisons. 

But it was uncomfortable nonetheless, six grown men tied up and shoved into a crouching space to be done with as the men that prowled above pleased. 

Hoshi would be lying if he said he hadn’t had to restrain from pushing some of those sorry soldiers into the ice waters beyond the glaciers. He had resisted, the crew had resisted, but just enough to convince them of their unwillingness. 

Hoshi had realised early on that there was no possible way of getting aboard Tigress without somehow climbing aboard the King’s boat first. The king wasn’t about to simply hand Hoshi’s ship over, and there was no indication that they'd wait till after nightfall to depart. 

Hoshi also knew that the King would refuse to have him die so easily in the waters of the Green Islands, his pride depended on it. He imagines the man drawing up the specifics of the most gruesome execution the Kingdom would ever see. Hoshi was counting on it. 

The bounds could’ve been broken out of and the locks somehow picked, but Hoshi also knew that he had to wait. Wait for you to find him first. 

“What’s taking her so long?” Jun asks. He’d been the most anxious out of all, the shaking feet and restless moving making it clear. 

“The bomb won’t…go off still strapped to her, will it?” Minghao asks and Hoshi isn’t quite sure he wants to know the answer. 

“It shouldn’t. Not until she pulls the tab. But…”

“But?” Hoshi whips around. “Why is there a but? You were supposed to make sure there was no but!”

“Big bomb, more boom, less predictable!” 

“Are you sure we can’t break out and look for her ourselves?” Mingyu grumbles, the most compromised with his longer limbs folded in uncomfortable positions.

“The minute they know we’re loose they’ll swarm her. There won’t be a way to get to her, not without fighting off every last bastard on this ship. They’ve taken our stuff too, we don’t stand a chance.”

They did, actually, stand a chance. But that was only if they were to break away and head straight for Tigress that was empty and standing right beside this very ship. But they couldn’t. Hoshi couldn’t. Not without taking you with him. 

Nobody dares to suggest the easier route, and he doubts it’s just because of what he wants. 

But panic was beginning to trickle into Hoshi’s veins anyway, the closed off brig refusing to give him any indication of the time of day. 

The sun was only beginning to set when they were taken to the ship, and he knew they were near done for if they didn’t finish what they started before nightfall. He can’t tell how long it’s been, and it eats away at his insides. 

Please be okay. 

And then he hears it, the sound of a body hitting the floors with a loud thud, a chortle of air before it’s knocked out. He finds himself sitting up straighter, pressing his hands to bars of the prison, trying to peer out the narrow walkway that leads to the doors. 

And then you appear in the lamplight, haphazard and ruffled up beyond measure. 

The knife in your hand drips with blood, your shirt torn at the arms, your hands bloodied and bruised. 

When Hoshi sees your face he almost doesn’t recognise you. 

There’s angry blooming marks of red and purple all across your neck and collarbone, your eyes bloodshot and red, watering like you’d been swimming in salt water. 

“Who did this?” he asks before anything else, watching you drop to your knees in front of the prison, unanswering as you fumbled with a giant ring of keys in your hand. 

You jam each key into the lock, twisting it to no avail. Your hands are shaking. 

The crew finally twist out of their loose bonds, Minghao lurching forward immediately, swatting your hands away. He picks out a few skinny pins from his boot, picking the rusty lock. Despite the strange angle, the bars creak open within seconds. 

“There’s…There’s ropes hooked onto the ship on the main deck.” 

Your voice sounds like you’re speaking through sandpaper, talking while struggling to emerge with the bomb you had. 

Hoshi doesn’t know what to do when he crawls out of the space. 

He’d had it all figured out in his head, what would happen in every possible outcome. You getting hurt wasn’t in any of his universal conclusions; especially not on this ship. They’d kill his crew, they might even kill the King with themselves, but you were meant to remain unscathed. 

“Why–why do you look like that? What happened?” Nothing registers in his head, not even when Jun is pushing him out into the hall. 

“Get up to the deck and get out across the lines!” Jun gruffs in his ears. “That bomb’s gonna go off with us still on here.”

He sees the canister that lies in the same prison they had just exited, he sees your mouth moving without sound. All he can think of are the distinct fingerprints around your throat and how it looked like somebody tried to kill you before they tried to kill him. 

“Soonyoung,” he hears you say in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for him to snap out of it. 

His crew is looking at him expectantly. He looks back at the door and sees the crumpled bodies of the prison guards. 

So much for leaving quietly. 

The minute Hoshi is out the door of the brig, he finds a chest next to the collapsed, bleeding soldiers. Kicking it open, he can only scoff as he finds the entire crew’s weapons in such close vicinity. 

He feels better with his dagger at his hip, along with the rest of his knives that he slips into the loops. Even more so with the rest of his crew armed and ready. 

“We know where the deck is.” He swallows, eyeing his crew’s weapons in their ready hands. He knew they’d agreed to ensure the clean sinking of the ship, but the fallen bodies on the floor were an ode to a different route they’d have to take. “Don’t hesitate if someone gets in your way.”

Taking cautious steps to the upper decks, he finds more bodies collapsed onto the floor, bleeding and unconscious. He opts to ask you the details later, wondering how you were able to take down all these guards by yourself. 

It isn’t until they reach the stairs that lead to the main deck that he comes across a guard. 

Before the witness can raise any alarm, Hoshi’s slamming the butt of his dagger into the side of his head, knocking him clean unconscious as he falls off the side of the short railing. 

Clambering up the steps as quietly as possible, he raises a hand behind him to signal his crew to halt, peering into the main deck first. 

The sun is still out, but low in the sky as it dips in the sky. There’s a few people on the deck, pacing and moving about in preparation for departure. Angling his gaze, he finds ropes suspended over the edge of the railing, parallel to the water. 

He can’t see Tigress, but he knows that’s what the ropes are hooked on to. 

“Jun,” he beckons. “How long till the bomb on the other ship goes off?”

The bomb Jun had planted in the first ship they had arrived in should be going off any time now, and Hoshi finds himself needing it to go off now. 

Jun barely opened his mouth to reply when the ship shuddered. 

For a moment, Hoshi thinks the bomb in the brigs had gone off, but when he finds the clambering of boots to one side of the ship, opposite to where the ropes tied to Tigress, he realises their surrogate ship had given its last gift to the crew. 

The rest of the ship would be bounding to the main deck to inspect the noise soon, so he shoots a quick, “Hurry!” behind him before stepping onto the main deck. 

The entire deck is occupied with the ship that lies a ways away across the expanse of sea, the beginnings that would soon lead the entire ship to be engulfed in flames. It’s tilting at a dangerous angle. 

Hoshi stands as he uses the crew straight towards the ropes that lead to Tigress. Glancing, he finds Mingyu and Chan already hanging on the suspended ropes, making their way towards the empty deck of their ship. 

Hoshi keeps his eyes on the occupied men on board, still staring at the lightshow that was their old ship. It isn’t until one of them turns, eyes towards the stairs that lead to the lower decks, that his eyes dart to the unfamiliar men on the deck. 

“Fuck,” Hoshi curses, before lunging, grabbing the man by the shoulders and covering his mouth, dragging him wordlessly to the edge before throwing him off the ship and into the icy waters below. 

“Go!” he hears you rasp brom behind him, ushering him to the ropes. 

The crew is gone, Jun making the last jump to land on the deck. They’re running around, pulling ropes and fastening the sails to push the ship off into open waters as soon as possible. 

There’s two ropes that tie the two ships together, and Hoshi ushers you onto one of them, pushing you to suspend yourself before he follows. 

“There’s not enough time, go to the other one!” you tell him, pushing him to hold onto the other tattered rope. 

Soonyoung eyes your state, “Are you sure you can—”

“Yes! I promise I can, please, before they cut both the ropes.”

So he trusts you, eyes straight ahead to the railing of his ship, gripping the rough, frayed rope to push himself towards the deck. His hands burn, but he finds himself moving ever closer to his final destination. 

His hand grabs hold of the wooden railing of his Tigress at long last, pulling himself onto the deck of his beloved ship. Immediately whipping his head to his right, he tries to find you reaching the ship with him. The crew is preoccupied in attempting to get the ship ready for departure, he finds your form nowhere. 

When he looks back, the rope he had climbed was gone, leaving gaping space in its absence. He trails the second rope, from the hook that had dug into the railing of Tigress’s wood, trailing it to the naval ship’s deck. 

What he sees puts his heart in his throat. 

You stand on the deck of your father’s ship, swarmed by now alert guards and soldiers who swarm you, yelling profanities and orders as they watch their prisoners get away right in front of them. 

Hoshi watches as you lift your dagger, and cut the last rope that ties you together, free to fall and hit against the hull of his ship.

He calls out your name in what could only be described as a guttural scream. 

His crew halts whatever it was they were doing, taking the steps to realise what had just happened. 

Hoshi’s boot meets the top of the railing, ready to take the plunge into the water. He’d climb back up the ship and get you out. He doesn’t know what you were thinking, what he was thinking when he left you there, but he’d get you out. 

Arms pulling him, he’s yanked back and positively thrown onto the deck.

“What is wrong with you?” Minghao yells, pushing his captain back as he springs up. 

“She—”

Your father emerges from the crowd of guards and soldiers that run rampant on the deck, approaching you at the railing of the main deck. 

Hoshi sees the hand that remains on his shoulder, the blood that covers the still bleeding wound, the effort it takes him to simply walk. 

The bruises on your neck, the wound at his shoulder that looks like it was slashed through by a knife. 

And then it clicks in Hoshi’s head, what had truly happened in the hours that you were out of his sight. And all he sees is red.

WITH THE WAY THE words on the pages seem to double, you would’ve thought you were going mad. 

You’re a child, barely grown into your own body as you sit in the dimly lit library of the palace, utterly exhausted, wishing to be anywhere but sitting at the wooden desk with your name on it. The moon barely shone through the window, your only source of light the fireplace that burned in the corner and your lamplight. 

It was a time where you felt like you could prove yourself, that perhaps, the reason your father refused you his approval was because you were simply not working hard enough. And now, at an hour where you should be fast asleep in your four poster bed, you attempt to understand diplomatic structures and everything that made your country what it was. 

It was late, and there was nothing you would’ve liked more than to put your head on the table and rest your eyes for a few tantalising seconds, which you do, right over the book you were reading. 

You awoke in the same place, shaken awake by a panicked looking servant, the sun shining through the great windows of the palace library.

It seems your disappearance from your bedchambers had put the entire palace in disarray, not realising the princess was fast asleep behind the giant pile of books other servants had already skimmed past thrice. 

Not only were you unable to recite the rankings of the constitutions with the vigour your father required, but you were unable to give him a reason as to why you were absent for both breakfast and morning lessons. 

He made the servants kneel in the throne room for hours, and did not fail to tell you that it was all your fault.

And now, in the ice cold of the Green Islands, old and wise enough to know that your father simply needed a reason to despise his heir, you accept the hands around your throat as his final act of terror. 

Red faced and arms shaking, your father does not speak to you as he presses down on your windpipe with all his might. Your vision is going dark and splotchy, and you decide, for a moment, to let him have this moment. 

He’s too preoccupied in applying his pressure to realise that you’ve raised your right foot enough for your hands to fish out your knife from its place, taking positivity in the handle of your knife that fits in your hand. 

Before you can lose consciousness, you raise your arm high, and plunge it directly into his neck. 

Howling, he releases you from his hold, both of you dropping to the floor of the ship with a resonating thud. You cough, sputter and hack, cold hands finding your now warm neck. 

Your father lays clutching his shoulder as he remains in agony on the floor, and you realise you missed the crucial plunge in your own disarray. 

It was good enough, rendering the old man incapable of finding his bearings. 

You watch as he writhes on the floor of the quarters that almost became your figurative deathbed, the same hands that wrapped around his own daughter’s throat now clutching the shallow wound that renders him useless. 

Standing over him, throwing your own shadow on his body, you feel a surge of power, a rush of adrenaline that shoots straight to your head. Perhaps this was your circulation returning from the deprivation, but you let the feeling imprint in your soul, let your father’s broken figure bring you satisfaction.

You leave him there, writhing in pain, digging your knife under the lock of the quarters, pulling back to break it away from the door. The guards stationed outside do nothing as you leave, and it isn’t until you’ve taken to lower decks that you hear the distinct yell of, “Your Majesty!”

Two more guards, who don’t expect an altercation from their princess, simply buffer as you send your knife plunging into them both. You do it deep this time. 

Nobody was innocent, you knew these people as your father’s closest men, and knew that all of them were to remain silent as their King murdered his daughter. And when the remorse doesn’t do that thing where it trickles in after doing a bad thing, you decide you weren’t part of the innocents either.

It’s easier than you would’ve expected to get to the crew in the brig, letting out a sigh of relief as you appreciate the familiarity of people on your side. 

And when Hoshi took his place to guide everyone out and into the open space of the main deck, you let your racing mind rest and decide to trust the man in whatever decision he made to lead you all out. And he did, he led himself and his crew right into the ship that was theirs, safe and where they would have the upper hand. 

Hoshi didn’t know it when he climbed onto the ropes that lead to his boat that he wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t stayed, hadn’t used your voice of authority to keep the soldiers from attempting to shoot at the escapees, cut the rope while Hoshi remained suspended from it, still only halfway there. 

You didn’t look at him when you sliced both ropes before either party could pull back, didn’t register him screaming your name across the void, pretending it wasn’t taking everything out of your strength.

But you couldn’t jump into the water, not now when a dozen of the royal guards remained ready to take the plunge to save their princess as their duty. The same guards that would comply with their king when told the princess was dead for reasons they all knew but were to forget. 

The bomb had to go off first, and you had to keep them away from hooking another line to the ship in the meantime. You were operating on a flawed plan and an overenthusiastic crowd of guards that were moments away from shooting a canon straight into the side of the disconnected pirate ship.  

The distraction comes in the form of your father parting the crowd of soldiers like the red sea, swatting every soldier that attempts to help his bleeding form for anything it was worth. He approaches you at the railing, and for once, you don’t look at the ground in his presence. 

“Bold,” he heaves, the effort in his voice apparent. “Bold of you to think you could slip away.”

“I haven’t tried to slip away, father,” you correct. “I’ve stayed right here, even after you failed to kill me. And I, you.” 

“Nobody is going to listen to you, child. Give in. This is the easy way out,” he says. 

As if on cue, Jun’s bomb goes off for the second time, but this time the ship shudders with more force. It has your father unbalance and fall, along with multiple other soldier’s stumbling. You grip the railing tight, counting on your father’s need to live. 

Despite your horrid throat and the ache in your body, you announce as loud as you can. “The bomb is in the brig, this ship is sinking.”

The fallen king trembles in a rage you had never quite seen before. Any other time of your life, you would’ve wished for the ground to swallow you whole to be the subject of such anger. 

Except, in the setting sun, a burning ship in the background, a pirate ship that awaits you, and the ground beneath your feet that was actively sinking into the freezing water; you smile at your doomed King. 

“Get to the brig! Secure the lower decks, do not let this ship sink or so help me God!” His voice rings across the deck, spittle blowing from his mouth at the situation. 

And just like that, your father gives you the final gift of clearing the main deck out for you, leaving but a few straggling soldiers that are too preoccupied with either the sinking ship or their bleeding sovereign. 

Looking back, you find the crew of Tigress standing at the railing, you find Hoshi already half over the edge and send him a slow nod. 

Turning back to your father that remains on the floor of the ship that would become his coffin, you utter your next words; for yourself, and the girl that was every second before this, all the way to her first ever memory of sad:

“You’ve taught me to be a ruler fit to be the best for our Kingdom. Consider your death my first act of service for the Crown.”

And then you jumped into the darkening void of the waters below. 

THE COLD FEELS LIKE every nerve in your body ceased to work. 

It was nothing at first, the temperature so intense it had your body numb in the face of shock. And then it grew, to a striking cold, and then a feeling that pricked every inch of your skin like a million needles plunging into your body. It was only getting worse with each passing second, before it was so painful it was hot, going from cold to searing and blistering like you’d plunged into the licks of flames. 

Nowhere in your body did you find a rational sense of mind, something to tell you to kick, flail or float. The warped sky was an orange through the green, only more vibrant. Like there were two ships actively burning on the surface of this water. 

Hoshi’s face appears behind your closing eyelids, like a mirage or a taunt. Like he was there with you when he wasn’t. 

Would he come for you? Would he take the plunge for the girl he held in his arms, promising her something to fill the gap of a companion, right before she killed her own? 

You’d given him what he wanted; your father, his worst enemy, dying as he sank slowly into the bottom of the ocean. You’d run your course of use, and if he was as smart as people claimed, he’d leave you to suffer the same fate as your father. 

He could find his freedom elsewhere. 

And you would find your freedom in the close of your eyes, and the sinking feeling of nothingness. 

Except, you feel a hardness against your body, stronger even than the current of the waters. Moving impossibly upwards, you remember opening your eyes to find a leather cord suspended in the float of the water, before you remember nothing. 

THE GREEN ISLANDS WERE on fire.  

But as unnatural as it seemed, Hoshi had no inclination to register anything but the way the ship in front of him tilts so far out it's already half submerged in the waters. He’d assumed they might have to ready the cannons, but with the way debris and hollowed wood floats in the waters below, they would not need to. 

The King was about to be introduced to Davy Jones’ Locker at the hands of his enemy and successor, but Hoshi could not care enough right now to relish in it. 

Right now, he stares at the direct circumference of water your body had made contact with and disappeared into, like the world would explode if he lost his place. 

“Should I jump as well?” Mingyu asks, already half taking his boots off. However, when the man turns to find his captain gone, he lurches over the railing to find his captain diving into the water through all the debris.

Hoshi lets the momentum of his dive take him as further down as possible, whipping his head around as soon as his eyes open into the abyss. The water ripples and erupts in showers of bubbles as broken pieces of ship come apart to fall into the water. It blurs his vision immensely, any ripple that could be you in the water coming out to be yet another piece of wasted wood. 

The deeper he goes, the more the water presses into his ears. He was a good swimmer, good at holding his breath when needed, but even he had limits. 

When he cannot see any sign of you, he begins to feel the churning of something skin to panic brew. Panic was never good, not this deep in the water. 

Twisting and turning, flailing about in place, moving dangerously closer to the burning ship that continued to drop flaming bits of killing slabs, he finds no sign of you in the water. 

Instead, he watches men in uniform sink deeper and deeper in their failed attempts to stay afloat. 

All he can think about is if they were losing the battle for air, then so were you, somewhere deeper in the void than he was. He prays that he’s looking aimlessly, that you’ve already somehow made your way to the surface by yourself, and you were safe on the deck. 

The beaded bracelet that remained on his wrist, but belonged to you. 

“A reason for you to come out of this alive.”

Even without the encasing on his wrist, you had given him more than enough reason to want to come out of this alive, to want to live beyond just for himself and his duty to the crew he’d taken in. 

He chose the life of a pirate because it was his only out, and every member of his crew that he recruited in succession, he acted as the hand he had needed so desperately in that awful brothel where his mother despised him and his father, a faceless man of Port Ash. 

Amphitrite was not kind, it was a lesson he learned quickly in his first ventures out at sea. So he too, had to learn to be unkind, to survive in the horrid bellies of ships that weren’t his own. And when Tigress came into his life like a vessel of hope, he found a home in her merciful wood, in the ship that he could call his very own. 

Hoshi lived as a free man on his ship, with his crew that had become his brothers in ways beyond what the thick of blood could offer. He did not care if he lived or died after that, as long as it was on his ship, in the waters that held no quarter for anyone, but gave him everything that nothing else could give him. 

And so when you approached him with a proposal so bizarre yet so apt for a man like him, he could not refuse. It may have been the way he saw himself in you, terrified of the prospects  but thirsting for an escape more than the fear that came with it. 

Besides, the king was a nuisance that needed to go, and he found himself agreeing to play the hand too complicated for you. 

What he did not expect was to end up here, in the depths of the ocean in the most uninhabitable part of the earth, trying to pull you out of the cold, unrelenting sea. 

Hoshi realises in that moment that this might ruin him, the possibility of breaking the surface without you. 

He decides that if the heavens do not let him find you, he would simply drown in the same waters that gave him purpose, and find peace with the idea that he would lay rest in the same waters as the person who might have given him something more. 

Kwon Soonyoung, the deadliest pirate to cleave the seas, was in love with you. A princess, so undeserving of a man like him; a bastard, a rogue, a good for nothing criminal. 

And when he spots the all too familiar build of your form, the linen shirt under the corset he had tied for you just hours ago, the dark brown trousers that signified the change he’d brought into your life, he swore to leave everything he’d ever known to thank the skies and seas for bringing him to you.

His burning lungs, screaming and searing for air, grabbing for your suspended arm that looked as defeated as your closed eyes. Tugging you towards him, he wraps his arm around you to press you to him as tight as he could. 

Relief. And with the warm sting in his eyes that he doubted was from the salt in the water, he’s sure of everything he’s felt with the feeling of you in his arms. 

With the bruising on your neck, the bleeding wound in your father’s shoulder, he finds it within his breaking body to begin kicking upwards. 

Every limb, every cell, every hint of life in his body shrieked with its efforts to make him stop. There was no air in his lungs and he’d lost track of time in his search for you, he doesn’t know how long he has. 

But if the blots of nothingness in his eyes were anything to go with, he doesn’t presume he has much. In a last ditch effort, he attempts to kick his boots off to weigh him down a little less, holding your dead weight tighter than anything. 

He was so close, he could feel the warmth of the upper levels of the water change in its temperature on his skin. The glow was near blinding as the orange refracted on the disrupted surface of the ocean, so close yet so far. 

Inch by inch, kick by kick, memory by memory, he does everything left in his drained power to touch the surface. 

And he does, breaking out hand first into the burning air of the world above, taking the longest gasp of air he ever has in his life. Once he’s sure he knows where he is, he pushes you up further on his chest, your head resting against his collarbone, still unconscious. 

“Stay with me, princess,” he pants into your ear, hoping you could hear. “I’ve got you.”

Chan and Mingyu are in the water beside him, pushing him towards the pulley that awaited them. 

Mingyu makes an attempt to take your weight of his already struggling captain, but Hoshi finds himself holding on to you tighter, simply urging him to help him back on the deck. 

The minute your head hits the wood of the deck, he’s checking your pulse. There’s no regard for the chaos that ensues around Tigress, both him and his crew too preoccupied with the way you were not breathing. 

“I–I can’t feel anything,” he stutters his words as Seungkwan places a less panicked hand at your neck, under your nose. 

“It’s weak, she’s taken in too much water.”

In an instant, he reaches for his knife at his hip, only to realise it was gone, lost somewhere in his rescue. 

“Knife,” he rasps before repeating louder. “Someone give me a knife!” 

The minute a hilt is in his hands, he’s pushing you over, to reach the back of your constricting corset, pushing his knife into the complicated sailing knot he’d tied it into before, breaking it free. With both hands, he takes hold of the top of the corset and rips it clean in half. 

Turning you back over, he presses his hands over your clothed stomach, pushing into it with all his strength in an attempt to get the water out of your system. He keeps his eyes on your face, and when he sees no sign of you coming round, he feels another set of hands pushing him off. 

Seungkwan takes over for his weakened captain, pushing into your stomach harder, attempting to get a break out of you. 

“Why isn’t she coming around, what’s going on?” He throws the question aimlessly as he takes your unmoving face in his hands, trembling from everything. 

Only a moment later, he hears the glorious sound of you sputtering like something was stuck in your throat, promptly spilling out an ungodly amount of water onto the deck as you retch loudly. 

Sitting up from the force, your hands clamp onto the deck as you cough and heave, Hoshi’s hand coming behind you to thump your back hard, pushing you to throw up any remaining seawater from your body. 

The sight of your back moving up and down, the audible sound of you taking in air; it was enough for Hoshi to simply lay on the deck and pass out. 

You rear your head and look up at him, both of you still breathing heavily. 

“You’re okay,” he assures, gulping. He takes your face in hands cupping it very gently as he speaks to you. “Go with Seungkwan, you’re okay, you’re safe.”

Nodding, you let yourself be helped up by the rest of the crew, watching as you’re led to the lower decks of the ship. 

“Open your shirt, let me see the wound,” Mingyu says, and Hoshi doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Looking down, he sees his shirt soaked in red, sticking to a wound on the right side of his torso. He didn’t even know where he got it. 

It looks like a shallow gash, but enough to leave a scar. He takes it better to have it tended to while he was still high on adrenaline and he couldn’t feel much of the pain. 

By the time Mingyu and Minghao are done cleaning him up and Hoshi’s standing upright with wobbly legs, he finds the two burning ships beyond his own mere floating structures of wood that were in slow flame. There’s too much debris, too many bits of everything that bob in the large expanse of water to make out any bodies. 

“There’s nobody,” Mingyu tells him. “Most of them were in lower decks when it all went down. Trapped themselves.”

“And…?” he asks in silence. 

“He stayed on the deck until it sank,” Minghao informs. “Yelling about how he…about how he should’ve finished her when he had the chance.”

“Horrible king and somehow an even worse father,” Mingyu scoffs. “Made it better to watch him die.”

“He didn’t suffer enough,” Hoshi croaks as the marks on your throat dot his vision. 

Just then, floating in the water, illuminated by the final streaks of setting light, Hoshi sees it. A darkened purple cloth right next to the hull.

“That,” he points out. “Get that out of the water.”

The late king’s purple cape laid on the deck of Tigress, darkened with water, but also with his blood.

To the Kingdom, this cape would be the last piece of their King that was gone too soon. But for every person on this ship, it would forever be their spoils of war.

Hoshi makes sure the cape will be dried and stored, ordering his crew to begin their slow journey out of the Green Islands, before he too crumples onto the deck unconscious. 

IT WAS A SPECTACLE to see Hoshi in his element. 

Something about how he seemed to beam, like this ship was charging him a different kind of energy. It was infectious, the rest of the ship decreasingly sour as they put on musical performances on the main deck while they cleaned the floors. 

As relieved as you felt, the tight ball of anxiety refused to leave the pit of your stomach as you grew closer to the Kingdom. Nothing could prepare you for the shitstorm you’d have to deal with the moment you’d step onto the soil off a pirate ship of all things—let alone as Queen. 

The first few days following the ship's exit from the Green Islands were difficult, if that was all you had to describe it. You took to your hammock for most of the day, curled up as you pretended to sleep, only waking up when one of the crew would come down to force feed you and to make sure you hadn’t died. 

You knew they were doing all this to make you feel better, and somehow it was working. More than halfway through your journey, you began to feel more like yourself, emerging from your cave to visit the deck on times other than the nights. 

Even now, as you sit on the floor of the deck with Seungkwan, who hands you an all too familiar stack of parchment, you feel nothing as you take them into your hands. As you read his handwriting scrawled in ink, you appreciate your past self for having the sense to keep them all. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better now,” he says to you. “Had us worried for a while there.”

“Sorry.” You smile weakly. “But thank you for…everything. I don’t think I could ever express how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. All of you.”

“I’d like to think we’ve gone past the status of mere business partners,” Seungkwan chuckles. “Lion befriends the bear? Whatever it is. But know we’d do it again.”

Blinking back the sting of tears and doing your very best to not let the warm feeling in your chest overwhelm you, you place the letters on the floor next to your folded legs. When you look up, Seungkwan's eyes are on your neck.

“They’re taking their time to fade, aren’t they?” you say. 

Seungkwan has a hard look in his eye, “I guess you didn’t need your letters to remind you of anything after all.”

Your mind wanders, drifting past how easily this crew could have been forgotten in the unforgiving elements. Perhaps you would have let the man that wrapped his hands around your neck finish his job.

“Was getting captured part of your grand plan?” you ask Seungkwan. 

“Hm?” It takes a moment to realise what you may be questioning him about, smiling slightly. “What makes you think we went in with a plan?”

“I thought I asked you to man the wheel?” Hoshi stands above the both of you.

“Not to batten down the hatches,” he side-eyed his captain. “Clear waters ahead, the wheel does not need manning.” 

You zone out as they squabble over nothing, not finding the heart to be entertained by their back and forth. Seungkwan either loses or forfeits, because you feel him rise from next to you, only for his captain to take his place. 

“What are you thinking about?” Hoshi asks. 

“Everything,” you sigh. 

“How come Seungkwan gets a thank you for your service and I don’t? Need I remind you who jumped for you and who didn’t?”

Rolling your eyes, you answer him, “Thank you, Captain Hoshi Kwon, I am forever indebted to your service.”

He chuckles in exaggeration, “Oh please, all in a day's work.”

“I mean it.”

“Hm?”

“I never did say thank you. But you did jump for me when you didn’t have to.”

“Who said I didn’t have to?”

“Our deal was done.”

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “Our deal was to get you out when you jumped. I merely honoured that promise!”

“Merely?” you raise a brow. “Was it all merely a matter of conscience?”

His gaze locks with yours. “Don’t ask questions you know the answers for. I would’ve jumped even if you asked me to rope myself to the mast.”

“Please. I have enough blood on my hands and I haven’t even sat on my throne yet.”

“Blood is only on your hands if you tell a soul of what you’ve done,” Hoshi utters. “You’re the only living soul who knows.”

“And you are…?”

“Pirate. Our word means nothing.” Hoshi smiles. 

The thought hangs in the air as you take in the man in front of you. He’s changed an era’s worth, yet all the same. His hair is longer, going from his initial shorter crop to curling around his ears, shielding his eyes. It makes him look younger, like a boy with much to live for. 

That, and the multitude of notable scars he’s added to his collection, many of which have somehow been because of you. The wound at his torso is doing better, but far to go in its quest to heal. 

Hoshi senses something amiss even after his sermon. Breaking his gaze, he turns to look straight ahead at the raised bow of the ship instead. 

“Do you know how I got my splendid reputation for being the filthiest pirate on the seas?”

You can only stare, “I have a few guesses.”

He chortles, “Other than my criminal status.”

“Tell me.”

“Unnamed sailors have the odds of a peanut facing its inevitable fate of being crushed under a straggling boot. Pirates don’t see the government as their enemy when they’re own supposed brothers are more likely to jam a cannon in their mouths.”

He lets out a heavy sigh before continuing, “My mistake wasn’t that I was on the losing side in my early days, but more about how I was leaving nothing behind when I was done.”

“How humble,” you hum. 

“Dead men tell no tales. When it’s worth it, it might be better to leave a straggler or two to live to tell the tale. A routine stab in the jugular can turn you into somewhat of a myth.”

“Am I a survivor?” you question. 

“You may be sovereign on land, but you’re also an unnamed pirate,” he responds, turning back to lock eyes with you. “And you’ve left nobody to tell the tale.”

No one listens to a pirate, and everyone listens to a Queen. 

“This isn’t to say there won’t be a legend that follows you.” He quirks a brow as he speaks. “Shows up and claims her father and his entire ship and crew sank at sea, only to befriend his sworn enemies in the aftermath. And then it evolves; she sent a cannon through her fathers ship, he died at the end of his own daughter's sword, she cursed him to captain a crew of the undead for eternity.”

“Have I planted the seeds for yet another ghost story?” It’s difficult to not giggle at the thought, despite how morbid. 

“You’ve given yourself substance,” he says, a little stronger than before. His eyes too, wander to your neck and the bruises that refuse to budge. “Beyond just a royal or even a pirate. You did it for your honour as a human being, and that may be braver than anything I have ever conquered.”

In your anxiety ridden, feeble mind, your thoughts had convinced your conscience that everything would be over the minute your father’s heart stopped beating. That it would bring you peace at last. 

And it did, especially when it felt like you’d gotten rid of this constant monster under the bed that had followed you far into adulthood. But from the bleeding heart of the creature emerged yet another one of its brethren, and then another and then another. 

Smaller albeit, but monsters nonetheless. Problems nonetheless. 

Weeks of this, and in one short interaction, Hoshi seemed to have given you the key to turn this monster into a pet. 

On instinct, you feel your hand reach up, brushing against the skin of his cheek. It’s an all too familiar setting, seated on the deck of a ship too close for anybody but yours’ comfort. But without the rum and resentment, of course. And how you doubt he’d pull away this time. 

Very lightly, you brush your lips against his. It was nothing but to simply feel him again, to feel a semblance of familiarity. 

You feel him take your hand that rests on his cheek to place a kiss on your palm, nuzzling his nose into the concave of your hand. 

Everything that was to come seemed a little more possible in that very moment. 

Even more so when his fingers found the sensitive areas of your coloured throat, when his lips closed against your jaw, only to trail lower and to press into the marks his fingers continue to trail tucked into your neck. 

That night, when slipping into your hammock felt like the most unbearable prospect in your near future, it couldn’t possibly be worse than uttering your next question to the man that seems to fix it all.  

“Will you stay with me?”

With nothing but the light snores of the rest of the crew and the creaking of the ship, both you and Soonyoung laid in a hammock most definitely not meant for two. Head on his chest, ear pressed against where his heart beats under his scar, it’s bliss. 

The feeling of his warm body against yours and the scent of him settling in your lungs, you decide that this was enough. At least for now. 

IT WAS DIFFICULT TO give yourself the full list for obvious reasons, but it does seem to help when you tick off all the possible reasons why your patience has run as thin as it has. 

Sitting at the decorated seat at the convened court of old men appointed by your father, you briefly wonder if you should finish them off too amidst your flash of anger. The men continue to squabble and babble about the next course of action, slamming their wrinkled hands on the pristine table and sending their own daggers of threats to the other inhabitants of the table. 

“If you’d like to send a search party for the King’s body, be my guest,” you finally speak, having had quite enough when the throb in your temple worsens. “But remind me what troops you’ll be sending to the North if your best men will be gone for months attempting to find a body they never will.”

The dispute in the North side of the Kingdom was taking up most of the conversation anyway, and you doubt they’d put customary burial rites over their own glory of victory the North would bring. 

“Your Majesty—”

“I would happily jump on the next search ship for my father,” you lie through your teeth. “But I watched him drown in front of my own two eyes, and as the next sovereign I cannot let you waste our resources for something that will both risk our soldier’s lives and have them come back home empty handed.”

Perhaps you had come off slightly more heartless than you intended, so you quickly add, “Please, let my father rest in peace.”

That seems to end the conversation easier than you had expected, but they’re quick to jump to the next issue not long after. 

“The court would also like to bring light upon the palace guests.”

Tightening your jaw, you slump against your seat slightly. “What about them?”

They remain silent as their mouthpiece attempts to form the right words for the following question, mostly because you’ve addressed this multiple times beforehand but they continue to sit restless. 

“Allow me to help you, Lord Bridge,” you sit up straighter, intending to put this matter to rest. “My guests will remain here for as long as they do, and if you have any more arising issues towards my guests I will only take it as your collective issues towards me.” 

In the moment of silence, you continue, “The Kingdom is in a place of instability as we are all well aware. I find it most appalling that you remain fixated on trivial matters of the palace’s domestic code of conduct than you do for the wellbeing of this country!”

Silence yet again as you wait for their forcibly rehearsed chorus of apologies. 

“Our greatest apologies, your Majesty.”

The pain in your temples becomes near unbearable as you dismiss the table after that, screeching your chair as you push it back as loud as you possibly can to do nothing but spite the men. 

Turning the corner out of the room, you catch the open gates that lead to the paved gardens outside, the sun seeping into the marble floors indoors. Taking an instinctive step towards the gardens, you find most of the crew sprawled onto the grass as they soak in the sun. 

Chan and Seungkwan look like they’re wrestling, their laughter ringing throughout the open court while their captain snaps at them to cut it out, only to get roped under one of their headlocks all the same. 

There’s a call of your name and a giant wave from Mingyu, who spots you from beyond the flower beds. Still leaning against the gates, you smile and wave back. 

Years the halls of the palace had gone, never hearing laughter in its walls. And something about watching them let themselves ruin the petunias and laugh so loud it echoes, heals you just a bit. 

Even that night, when you find yourself in your giant four poster bed you’ve slept in since you were a child, this time dozing under the arm of another, you feel the itch of a healing wound somewhere in your heart. 

Soonyoung laid with you for every night on the ship since that night, and stayed even here where the space was big enough to host the ghosts of your worries if not distracted. 

He had found you on that first night in the palace still awake, haunting the library fireplace with another stack of papers to keep you company. 

“Can’t sleep?” he’d asked as he picked up some of your documents. 

“Clearly not,” you huff. The papers were mere decorations as you attempted to find an excuse to leave your rooms. 

“You realise you won’t be much of an effective monarch if you exhaust yourself to death?”  

There was no answer to that, especially when you were absorbing nothing of your new duties. You’d expected to fall asleep on the armrest of the uncomfortable settee whenever it was that you exhausted your brain of thoughts, even then refusing to sleep in that large bed. 

He’s awfully persuasive, because as he tucks you into those very sheets, about to leave but not before placing a kiss on your forehead You stop him. 

“Stay. Please.”

True as he has always been, he does.

THE CROWN IS HEAVIER than you had expected, even more so when it remains on your head for longer than your previously practised sessions walking around the throne room. The crew was exceptionally good at giving you things to train with, including fraudulent rodent scares to ensure the crown would not topple from your own head the minute you rise from your coronation.

And now, as you finally remove the decorative piece from your head after your actual coronation to replace it with something lighter for the following ball, you find relief in the fact that you’d only ever have to wear the actual thing only a few times in your life. 

Everything moves as smoothly as it could, the decorated pirates that saved their Queen from a horrid shipwreck taking up most of the attendees attention as they either question inquisitively or send snarky remarks to the men who are well versed in how to rebut in true informal manner. 

The past months had taken up more of your time than you had anticipated, and during the latter half of the still twinkling party, you attempted to spot the person you’ve been trying to corner all night. 

Soonyoung stands at the edges of the gathering, empty handed as you watch him reject yet another offer for a drink from the trays that float about. His attire is the most formal you had ever seen, his face scrubbed and hair pushed back for the glorious occasion. 

Approaching him from the sidelines, you take hold of his wrists and pull him towards one of the many doors in the ballroom and into a hallway you knew for a fact was rarely ever frequented. 

“I feel I haven’t seen you ages,” you say once you’re sure you’re alone. 

“Probably best for you to keep busy,” he replies with the smallest smile. 

“Have the wrappings on your wound come off?”

Looking at his covered torso, he runs an instinctive hand over where the wound was. “Just a smaller patch now, but it’s nearly there. Disappointed it won’t scar too much.”

“Disappointed?” 

“These are my spoils of war, miss princess,” he adds with a smirk, before correcting himself. “Ah, miss queen?”

“Doesn’t have the same ring,” you comment. 

“The crown suits you.” His voice is soft and sincere.

Scoffing a little, you answer, “I would hope it did.”

“Although, I do prefer you in trousers and a knife.”

Laughing, you can only agree. Especially in your heavier than yourself dress and jewels. “I think I prefer them too.”

At the mention of your new status, he asks, “Shouldn’t you be milling between your new subjects?” 

Keeping your eyes on his face, you wait until he meets your gaze. “I have more important things to attend to.”

He breaks eye contact first, and you can feel the distance grow further. One reach and you could take his hand in yours. 

But you don’t. 

“I know I’ve been quite busy, but…” you trail off as you attempt to find the words. “Is something the matter? What’s going on?”

With a long sigh, he runs a hand through his kept hair, effectively tousling it a little. “I was going to wait until after the ball to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

He makes no moves to look at you when he utters his next words. “The crew and I will be leaving at dawn tomorrow. We’ve taken up enough of your space and it’s best if we don’t intrude any further.”

It’s like you’ve taken a blow to the chest, the air knocked out of your lungs as you register what he’s just said. “You’re….you’re leaving?”

“I would think we’ve both gotten what we wanted. We had a deal.”

Deal? Why was he mentioning that now?

“Are you going to abandon me too?”

His head snaps up to finally meet your eye, mouth opening closing as words betray him. 

“What happened to what you said about gaining you? All of you?” There’s a blatant accusation in your words.

“And you have! We’ll visit. Assuming the state doesn’t want my head on a pike anymore,” he chuckles uncomfortably. 

In a moment of desperation, you take his hand in both of yours; his scarred, gnarled hands that tell you even in the dark who’s warmth it is that you feel every night next to you. 

“Stay. Stay with me, please,” you plead. “I can’t live in this place alone, I despised it when I was young and I’ll only despise it even more now.”

Soonyoung brings his other hand to clasp over both of your own, eyes closing as you hear him take a somewhat shaky breath. “I’m doing this for the both of us.”

“So am I! I can’t possibly rule a kingdom by myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone—”

“I don’t want someone! I want you!”

He begins to whisper your name, moving his face away to blink rapidly. 

“How do you feel about becoming a pirate king? I can never forbid you from the waters, that’s your home, and you will have it.”

He does not look at you, but you know he’s listening more intently than ever before.

“But I ask you as someone who loves you more than I have ever anything else, will you stay and marry me?”

Soonyoung falters as he absorbs the fact that you’ve just proposed to him. 

“I—” he stutters. “The court—”

“The court wouldn’t dare to deny me the man that saved my life.”

You squeeze his hand tighter, moving impossibly closer. 

“And even if they do, I'm ready to fight for the man who fought for me. So answer me as a man and not a pirate, Kwon Soonyoung, will you marry me?”

Soonyoungs mouth enclosing over your own is all the answer you need as you feel him break free of your hands to let them find your waist instead. Amidst the pile of fabric he pushes himself into you as close as possible, letting your hands guide his head to move against your mouth. 

It’s everything, as you grip onto the back of his shoulder, pressing unforgettably into his open mouth. He takes in your bottom lip between his own, sucking before letting go, only to engulf your mouth once again. 

“We’ll figure it out,” you whisper against his lips, feeling the nuzzle of his nose against the apple of your cheek, hot tears spilling from your eyes. “I promise, we’ll figure everything out.”

He shushes you when he feels you shudder in his hold, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. “No need to torment your pretty head. Not right now.”

For once, you listen to your pirate captain without a fight, simply feeling the stretch of your lips as he moves down to capture them once more. 

The pressure of his hands isn’t nearly as strong as it would’ve felt without the layers upon layers of fabric that cover your form, but standing in this desolate hallway, you swear his fingers might as well be caressing your bare skin underneath. 

The thought sends your mind into a dazzling spin, letting go of his mouth with a gasp, suddenly needing to take a step back. 

“I have to—I have to go back inside,” you breathe into his slick mouth. “Meet me outside my quarters at midnight.”

As scandalous as it was, you could not deny how alive it made you feel to be like this, meeting in darker corners in the dead of night. But for now, you allow him to fix the bits of your ensemble you could not see. With the bad of his thumb, he blends in the smudges of your rouge, swiping at your lips ever so delicately to ensure he leaves no trace of himself. Tucking the loose strands of hair back behind your ears, and finally, fixing the encrusted crown on your head, a flash of one of the diamond’s gleams reflecting onto his perfect face. 

“You’re beautiful.” There’s a dazed look that graces him. “Beyond beautiful.”

With one last innocent press of your smiling mouth onto his, you promise him your midnight. 

BY THE TIME IT was finally an appropriate hour for you to excuse yourself for the evening, you were near to exploding entirely. 

Whispers of “Are you alright, your Majesty?” plaguing you through your already racing mind. It was beyond difficult to keep the constant shaking of your foot unobvious, however you could not simply up and leave whenever you wanted—at least not yet. The monarch would remain in an unstable authoritative position for quite some time after ascension, and with the unorthodox situation at hand, you assume you’d really have to push yourself if you were to be of any use as sovereign. 

But when the time finally came and you were escorted out of the grand ballroom, only mere ticks away from the resounding bells of midnight, you were holding back from breaking into a sprint. Outside your quarters it was empty, but you remain steadfast in your refusal for your ladies in waiting tonight, promising you could dress yourself for bed on your own. 

Standing at the double doors of your rooms, still the princess’ quarters as you refuse to move into the Queen’s rooms, you stand waiting. The two guards remain staring straight ahead, and you wait for the clicking of your ladies to go muffled before you ask. 

“Has the Captain approached?” 

“No, your Majesty.”

You try not to feel disappointed, despite knowing the midnight bells were yet to sound. “If he does, allow him in, please.” 

Opening the double doors, you half wish you had let your ladies help you out of the god awful dress, tight and loose in all the wrong places. The jewels are thrown haphazardly on your vanity, needing the heavyweight of them off of your body. 

Perhaps months of little to no bedazzling had rendered you incapable of wearing anything mildly less comfortable than linen and leather, but you suppose you’d slip back into the habit just as easily as you slipped out of it. Your nightgown feels like heaven on your tired, tired body, and the dimly lit interior of your bedchamber is only encouraging you to slip under your covers and fall deep into sleep. 

That was one thing about the ship you doubt you’d ever miss. 

Three rapt knocks outside of the heavy double doors have you sitting rapt at attention, hastily making your way to the door from your vanity. Pressing the front of your nightgown down, you open the door slightly and poke your head out. 

Soonyoung stands at the door, nervous of all things, still clad in his full suit. You smile as you let him in, closing the door to turn the lock. 

“Your guards mortify me.” 

“Oh? So they’re doing their job right?” You walk up to him and grasp onto his lapels, pulling him down to meet the lips you’ve missed so much despite only being hours apart. “Why? Has this big bad pirate found his match in the palace guards of all places?”

“Hmm,” he’s humming against your lips. “I could take them both.”

Giggling like you were in love, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close. 

“I hope you weren’t bothered too much,” you say. “The aristocracy seem to have being a pain in the ass written in their birthrights.”

“I think they were too scared to approach, probably thought I’d start swearing and snatching the pearls right off their necks. Some of them were bearable, asked me how long my sword was.”

It’s difficult to not laugh at that, “Well?”

He raises his brows unceremoniously, “Won’t you like to know?”

Taking the opportunity while you giggled uncontrollably at the situation, he goes back placing never ending kisses to your mouth. Sighing involuntarily, you melt into him once again, infinitely more relaxed than in the hallway. 

Soonyoung’s eyelashes brush against yours in a whisper of their own, only reminding you how close you were to him in the moment. His kisses go from soft and fleeting to something with a little more vigour. The warmth of his mouth goes back to overtaking the lower half of your face, sucking and licking into your mouth like his life depended on it. 

If your mind was reeling when his hands were merely ghosts of pressure over your heavy dress, the feeling of his palms and fingers so distinct over your nightgown, the only thing separating you two, is enough to have your knees begin to buckle. 

From your waist, they move to your back, before caressing back to the sides of your waist, thumb running in circles. Gentle handfuls of your flesh, bunching and letting go of the material of your nightgown. Very soon, his mouth leaves yours and instead moves to your jaw, the air in the room letting you feel the wetness that he leaves behind as a passionate trail.

He soon reaches the junction of your jaw and neck, leaving a particularly long suck in the area that has a gasp leaving your mouth. Remaining in that area, you feel the pleasant graze of his tongue on your skin, only making you tilt your head farther out to let him carry out his loving. 

Your mind wanders back to the hands that grope you in ways that would defame you, the unseemly palms that have you needing to feel him all the same.

With grazing hands, you slip your fingers underneath his jacket, pushing it off one shoulder. He understands the message, flicking it off of his frame before loosening his cravat and throwing it somewhere behind him. 

Unlatching from your neck, he comes round to face you to find your face the epitome of disconnected and dazed. 

“Can you wait for me on the bed, my love?”

“But—” The thought of him being even an inch away was most aggravating, but he cuts you off before you can refute. 

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Soonyoung rests his forehead against your own, taking your hands in his. “I’m right here. I just need to take this awful suit off.”

Your face must have been peculiar because he’s immediately jumping, panicked. “Uh—do you not want me to, we don’t have to, I just thought—”

“No!” you yelp, wide eyed. “I, um, I’ll wait. On the bed, I mean.”

He lets you walk over to the giant four poster bed, pushing the flow of your gown down when you realise how high it had ridden, cheeks burning scarlet at the thought of exposing so much. 

Hearing ruffles from behind you, you cannot bring yourself to look back at him, already extremely lightheaded and afraid that the sight might make you faint altogether. 

Perhaps you were experiencing a delayed case of sea legs, because it’s more difficult than usual to make yourself comfortable on the soft beddings. You make a futile attempt at slowing your breathing. 

By the time Soonyoung is done, meeting you in the middle, you keep your eyes on his face as he’s immediately climbing over to kiss you softly. Hand on the back of your head, he guides you to lay flat, adjacent to the headboard so you’re laying on the breadth of the bed. 

He handles you like you were made of glass, and it only makes the strange ache between your legs increasingly present and uncomfortable. 

Noting a cool feeling on the base of your throat, you open your eyes and catch the leather cord that dangles from his neck, the letter opener charm that’s attached to the end of it connecting you two as your lips part. Just beyond, through the dip of his collarbones and the valley to his chest, you catch the scar  that curls above his heart. Even lower, you find the smaller wrappings of his scarring wound. 

You trace over the edges of the new addition, shaking hands as you try your best to not brush over the wound. 

On the other side, Soonyoung has his hands on shin as his body hovers over you between your legs. Curling around, he caresses the skin of your bare calf, drifting to the back of your knees. He takes the opportunity to lift your leg, urging you to wrap it around his waist. 

The action has gravity doing what it does best, the hem of your nightgown dropping to bunch over the junction of your leg, your entire thigh exposed for the air. 

Soonyoung takes no time to let his hands wander higher, taking light handfuls of the flesh of thighs, dragging his grip further and further up. 

“Nearly tipped the ship over when I saw you in those fucking trousers,” he says, eyes closed as he drags his mouth over the inner part of your thigh. 

The sound that leaves your mouth is breathy, mind preoccupied with how quickly he was making his way towards the apex of your thighs. He’s using his mouth like he used it on your own lips, nipping at the flesh before biting down hard. 

“Soonyoung!” 

Tongue running over the patch, he sucks on the area to sooth the bite. It’s taking everything out of you to not twitch uncontrollably in his hold, the heat in your core reaching temperatures you’ve never experienced. 

Unlatching himself from your thigh, Soonyoung rears his head slightly. The sight has your head rolling back, mind drifting to the face of the man who’d visited you in your dreams, the same man that had now made home between your legs. 

Before you realise it, the bunched hem of your nightgown is flown upwards entirely, fluttering as the fabric lands on your stomach. 

Your heat is bare underneath, evident with the way Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the now fully exposed part of you. Your chest continues to rise and fall as you lift your head to look at him, eyes half closed and mind muddled.

“What…What’re you doing?” 

Soonyoung looks like you’ve disturbed him from a trance, snapping up to look at you as you ask him your question. 

It hardly registers in his mind. What was he doing? Was it not obvious—

Ah. 

If the mere sight of your bare thighs weren’t enough for him to release his load onto the sheets untouched, your unawareness might just end up doing it for him. 

Of course you didn’t know why he was at eye level with your cunt; women from this world were not supposed to know. 

The buzz in his mind renders him useless for a few moments as his vision blurs, the pain in his lower region unbearable. The thought of him being the first person to do this to you, to pleasure you like this; he wasn’t sure if he’d make it till the end of the night alive. 

Screwing his eyes shut, his palms full of your thighs, he drops his head and counts to ten. 

“Will you let me show you how a Queen is meant to be worshipped?” 

Wet mouthed and unhinged eyes, your arousal was doing nothing but multiplying at the sight of him. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.” 

It takes you less than a moment to nod your head, eyes locked with his. 

Bringing a hand closer, he dips one finger into the beginnings of your hole. Bringing some of the glisten onto his fingers. Your lips are parted and he brings a second finger to gather your arousal, rubbing over your entrance ever so slowly. 

The motion makes you let out a heavy exhale, gripping onto the bunched fabric at your stomach till your knuckles turn white. 

With little warning, you feel his fingertips push and drag upwards, right over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Immediately, he’s rubbing your arousal all over the area, rubbing your clit in rhythmic circles with both fingers. 

You can’t stop it when you throw your head back and let out a slight whimper, relishing in the feeling that overtakes every last sense and capability, anticipating the next surge of pleasure that courses through your entire body like you've been struck by a bolt of something.

Vision obscured, you loll your head to the side when you feel his fingers retract, confused. 

All you catch is the outstretched nature of his tongue, and how it lands directly where his fingers were. 

You let out the loudest moan yet, back arching off the bed as he licks a forceful drag up your cunt before moving back down your clit, circling your hole with the tip of his tongue, right before repeating. He flicks your nub right where he’s found you twitch the most, back and forth as your hips begin to fail at your suppressed stutters, his hands needing to pin you down onto the sheets to continue. 

He becomes more generous, laying his tongue flat now as he massages your nub so good. Your thighs are closing around his ears and he does nothing to stop you, nearly suffocating between them. Hips going from their stutters to a grind, you find your hands flying to his hair, grip tighter than you thought you’d come down with. It doesn’t help that he’s now taken a finger to circle your entrance while his lips suck on your clit. 

“Soonyoung.” It’s all you can say, throat incapable of forcing anything but his name, the burn behind your eyes only making it harder to not say it louder. 

When he pushes the finger in, it has you letting out a moan, the foreign feeling against your walls only forcing them to clamp onto his digit. Gradually, you feel his pace quicken as he slides his finger in and out of your hole, his mouth still doing beautiful things to your cunt. 

It doesn’t take long for him to shove in another finger, stretching your hole as you let out a constant string of noises through the pleasure, ever-building as every passing moment only scrambles your brain further. 

And then you feel him groan, a vibration throbbing through your system. 

It’s suddenly all too much, and before you can tell him what’s going on, you’re rendered incapable. You don’t know where your limbs fly, but all you feel is white hot and overwhelming to an unbelievable degree. 

“Oh–ungh—” Your body is telling Soonyoung all he needs to know as he only pushes into your pussy even further, letting you ride out your high as you claw at him in every way possible. 

Inevitably, the feeling subsides and you realise you’ve been reduced to sobs, tears streaking the sides of your face. Laying flat with your head still on the sheets, you stare at the ceiling of your four poster, trying to remember where you were. 

Barely noticing the man that now hover above you, you hear him whisper. “Are you alright?”

Nodding weakly, you don’t even try to lift a finger in the remaining aftermath. 

“I need words, my love.”

Swallowing thickly, you give him a breathy, “Yes.”

The lower half of his face glistens in the light like unorthodox diamonds, and all you can think about is how you need him closer to you. 

You make an attempt with your nightgown, your trembling arms, still coursing with the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

Soonyoung decides to help, hands pushing your spine into an arch as he pulls the slip up and over your head, now entirely bare in front of him. 

You watch as instead of throwing the fabric away, he brings it to his mouth to wipe the slick off, tainting the gown with your essence. 

Mouth over yours in a salty kiss, you pull him into you as close as humanly possible, needing to feel his heat, his weight, his scent as close as possible. His mouth reaches your throat again, lips brushing over the expanse as he places open mouthed kisses over the nearly faded marks. 

His hands are lingering once again as they ghost the sides of your breasts, thumbs coming close to your nipples before retracting in a caress. He takes them in handfuls as he goes back to busy your lips with his own, massaging the mounds with a pressure just enough to have you reeling. 

Flicking your nipple lightly, he goes back to circle the bud with thumb again. Making himself further familiar, his fingers begin to pinch and pull at them, pressing down to get a noise out of you, one that you sound as you breathe into his mouth. 

Trailing over your stomach, he pushes himself off of you. On his knees, he takes the distance as his chance to look at you in your entirety for the first time. Your fucked out expression and your lack of words is doing nothing but fueling him, your loud breaths somehow more sinful than anything he could ever do to you. 

In one swift motion, he’s slipping his arms beneath you, pulling you up so he can lay you against the headboards and pillows. You barely register what’s happening, having given yourself up to him long before. 

Grabbing one of the millions of cushions on the bed, he swings one over. Using no strength of your own, he lifts your hips and places it down beneath you, effectively propping you up. 

And then he’s meeting you at eye level, hands cupping your face. “I need you to listen to me, darling.”

He waits for confirmation, of which you can only nod, still seeing mild stars. “Do you want to stop?” 

It's a visceral reaction; the violent shaking of your head, the hand that flies to his bicep. “N–no!”

You pause as he grips onto your upper arms tight, right as you continue. “I just—a moment. Don’t stop, please.”

Leaning down, he places a long kiss on the corner of your mouth before moving his head to fit into the crook of your neck. He nuzzles his nose against the skin below your ear. 

“I’m right here,” he whispers. “For as long as you want me.”

His kisses go from desperate to something with a little more intent, pressing his lips into your neck consistently. Oh so gently, it begins to feel like a draught. He turns into calm just as he could become chaos, bringing you down from the after effects of his own actions. 

The hum that leaves you is unthinking, fingers remaining deep in the roots of his hair. Your own nose is pressed against his hair, his scent mixed with sweat infiltrating your nostrils. It fills your head with a pleasant buzz, one that you feel force a pull at the corners of your mouth. 

“I meant it when I said it,” you murmur into his hair. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

Raising his head, he meets your eye, smiling slightly. “I believe you. Forgive me for making you believe I was trying to leave you.”

“You weren’t?” 

He presses his lips into a line, exhaling as he drops his chin to his chest. “I’ve needed to be selfish my whole life just to survive. Leaving…I wasn’t sure how I would’ve gotten on that boat in the morning without taking you with me somehow.”

Moving back to look at you, you realise very quickly there’s more to the mere glassy look in his eye. “For once, I wished to be anything but a pirate, to be anywhere but near the sea. Not when you wouldn’t be there with me.” 

Taking one of his beautifully decorated hands to your mouth, you kiss the soft of his palm. “You’ve done more than anyone ever has to protect me.” 

You laugh against his hand, “This is my turf, captain. Let me protect you… protect us.”

Something injects you with a dose of bold, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his raised shoulders. “But…I believe we were in the middle of something. I’d hate to ruin the mood.”

The smirk that graces his lips is immediate, pushing you back down onto the sheets as you let a laugh escape you. 

And then you feel something warm graze your bottom lip, pointed in the way it pushes inwards. He’s brought the glinting letter opener charm up to your lips, the trinket pinched between his fingers as he continues to keep it on your mouth. He kisses you deep as the metal remains between you two, your hands run across the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple as he props himself between you. 

“I love you,” he cuts between the kiss to groan, the charm dropping from between your mouths to your chest. 

“I love you, mmh—” His fingers have found your clit mid confession, rubbing quickly as he attempts to get you all hot and withered again. 

Your legs raise on instinct, back arching as he rubs you mercilessly, the pressure building quicker than it had before. 

“I–I think—” you start to tell him, and it seems it’s all he needs to remove his fingers entirely. 

“Soonyoung!” you yelp, landing on the bed with a thud. 

Looking down, you find his hands wrapped around the length between his own legs, and you realise this was your first time seeing it. Past the white-oozing slit, his tip is a painful looking red. If his hands weren’t already pumping and he hadn’t already lined himself up to your hole, you would’ve taken him into your own palms, done exactly with your mouth that he’d done with his own. 

But you can’t find it within yourself to stop him when you feel the initial push of his bulbous tip against your hole, the stretch causing you to drop your mouth open. 

“Fuck,” you hear him curse, and when you look up you find his own eyes screwed shut. His hands grip the plush of the pillow beside your head as tight as ever, face askew like he was holding himself back from combusting entirely. 

Slowly, you feel the stretch turn into something akin to a burn, a sting in the back of your eyes. You let him push himself into you at his own pace, the never ending battle between your mind and your refrained hips ever present as you attempt to keep them at bay. 

He keeps his pelvis flush against yours ince he’s sheathed himself inside you entirely. BOth of your pants fill the thick air of the room, the throb of your walls around his shaft leaving a tremble in his forearm despite your forsake. 

Hand somewhere above your head, you feel Soonyoung pull out ever so slightly before pushing back in. Just like this, in shallow thrusts, he pumps himself in an out of your walls in a slow pattern. 

It begins with a simmering tremble of pleasure that prolongs as he drags his cock in and out, and then in and out, and then—

Your eyes fly open when you feel his hips slam against yours with a resounding sound, fingers gripping his arm as he does it again, your moans penetrating the air. Before you know it, he’s hiked your legs up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking as he goes back to snapping his hips into you. 

“Oh, Soonyoung.”

Your nails are digging into his bicep like it was the only thing tying you to this earth, the only thing keeping you from passing out entirely. He’s taken up a brutal pace, pistoning into your clamped walls with a vigour unmatched. 

All Soonyoung can hear is the stretch of your moans and groans directly in his ear, the obscene squelch of both of your fluids mixing at your middles. Your hands have migrated to his back, clawing at the skin like you’ve been utterly possessed. 

He can’t seem to mind, not when they’ll simply become reopening wounds every time he’ll have you like this, all to himself and no one else. He wonders vaguely if your guards outside can hear the way you’re losing yourself in him just as he is in you, wonders if it appalls them that a filthy pirate gets to have their Queen in his arms as her vindictive pleasure. 

One hand rubbing over your slick clit, he pulls back to sit on his heels, the angle allowing him to keep ever part of you occupied, his spare hand coming up to toy with the pillow of your breast. 

It’s all too much, for the both of you as your collective noises become increasingly frequent and high pitched.

And then he’s pushed you over the edge, the shake of your thighs electrifying as you nearly scream out in the bliss of your high. Hands moving every which way to find a grip as you let the feeling crash into you over and over again. 

“Oh, that’s so good, so good, oh my goodness.”

You’re still in the middle of your climax when Soonyoung can’t take it anymore, letting himself release his load inside of you like a mark. It’s a mess of force and pleasure as the both of you lose sight of your strengths and weaknesses, the feeling of his hot cum shooting into your walls only prolonging your orgasm even further. 

He continues to thrust, continues to play with your nub, continues to flick at your nipples despite the orgasm subsiding. It’s all suddenly too much all at once, the sharp jerk of your body and your voice asking him to stop. 

“Soon—Soonyoung, it’s too much.”

Hands coming to a halt and his thrusts slowing, you feel him ease himself out of you. 

It’s a sight Soonyoung doubts he could ever forget even if he tried, your still pulsating walls doing everything but keeping the milky white of his load inside you, globs of the liquid spilling out as you shudder near lifeless on the bed. His hands grope at the inside of your thighs, pulling your lips apart to take in the mess he’s made. 

He can’t help himself when he pushes two fingers into your hole, feeding his cum back into your hole right where it belongs. 

You’ve only barely started to come round when he meets you at eye level, plopping next to you on the bed. 

“Hi,” he grins. 

“Hi,” you breathe back, hands coming up to touch his face. 

He lets you breathe for a few moments as he finds himself getting off the bed to find your tainted nightgown, moving back to you to spread your legs and wipe you clean as best as he could. 

You find it within yourself to allow him to pull you into a sitting position, a cup of water from the nightstand pressing against your tired mouth. 

“Come on, just one,” he urges as you slump against his chest. 

You take a few sips as he coaxes you into drinking the full cup and half of the second helping. 

He gives up as he holds you against his chest, brushing his fingers through your tangled hair to push past your face. 

“Are you alright?” he asks you. Your eyes are closed when he leans down to place a peck on the apple of your cheek. 

“Mhm,” you muffle. “Want to sleep.

“I’d let you, but…”

“Soonyoung, I can’t go again,” you whine. 

He chuckles, “I meant to ask where we could find some sugar around here. You barely ate anything at the ball.”

“The kitchens?” you answer with a floating question mark. 

Soonyoung can’t help it when he squeezes you so tight it has you complaining loudly, not being able to sustain the love just in the tiny expanse of his heart. 

“Come on, let’s get you some cake before both our hearts give out.”

BUNDLED UP IN WARMER clothes, the only thing the palace walls hear is the tiny whispers and giggles of you and your lover as you make your way to the kitchens. 

It’s empty at this time of night, the dying embers of the fireplace the only source of light. Soonyoung uses every last bit of his thievery to manage to find a basket of dough balls, the syrup more readily available at the table in the centre.

The tingling in your brain can’t seem to decipher the overwhelming happiness that floods you from the ends of your hair to the tips of your toes. Especially when you call out his name amidst his shuffling, your heart can’t take the grin on his face as he hurries to join on the floor in front of the fireplace. 

Arm looped through his own and your head on his shoulder, you decide you’d be quite okay dying like this. 

The dough balls are cold and the syrup is probably a little too sweet, but you can’t possibly complain when it warms you just the same. 

“I’ve despised my name my entire life,” Soonyoung starts in the silence, picking at the insides of his treat. “Some old merchant sailor was giving his ship away in exchange that the taker would take care of it. He’d built his Tigress from the first board to the last sail, but the years had made their mark. It was practically falling apart when I took it off his hands.”

He pushes the remaining bit of the pastry into his mouth, muffled as he continues, “He had a strange name, said it was given to him by his crew when they realised he was born without a name. Hoshi. I liked it well enough so I kept it.”

“Soonyoung—”

“That one. I wanted to replace the name I loathed, the one my own mother gave me.” You watch as his throat bobs as he swallows. “Ash is my birthplace, my mother worked in the brothels where I was born only because she couldn’t get rid of me.”

Taking one of the hands that wrap around his arm, he brings your fingers to your mouth, kissing the tips of each one. “I despised that name, until I heard it from your lips.” 

“Soonyoung.” It felt right on your tongue, like you were destined to say his name. 

“Yes, my love?” He smiles softly. 

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says as he kisses you again. “Thank you for keeping my name, thank you for giving it life.”

You take the opportunity to grab one of the syrup soaked dough balls from the basket and stuff them into his mouth. “Enough, don’t tell me all this luxury’s made you soft.” 

It was a jab but a lighthearted one in any case, you loved to see this side of him and you doubt you would ever get enough of seeing him like this. Vulnerable with his softer smiles and squinted eyes. 

Bringing one of your digits to your mouth, you suck the remaining syrup off your fingers. 

Soonyoung is quick to take notice as he takes your hand and brings your fingers up to his mouth, running his tongue over the pads of your fingers to take in the remaining sugar left on your fingers. 

He keeps his eyes locked onto yours as he sucks on the tips of your fingers, making sure every last hint of sweetness is gone. 

And then he’s kissing you, tongue in your mouth as he moves against your lips slowly. 

Breaking apart, you whisper, “As much as I’d love to, the bakers will be coming in any minute now.”

Soonyoung’s grin is dangerous, and you find out why the minute you feel his arms loop around your waist and under your thighs, lifting you clean off the floor of the kitchens. 

You squeal before you can help it, his lips finding home in your neck as you laugh as loud as your chest would allow. 

You could get used to this. And you will. 

THE SERVANTS CARRYING THE giant stack of plates nearly topple over when you sprint past them, yelling a loud apology over your shoulder as you do nothing but hasten your pace. 

The paper in your hands is clutched tight in your fists as you run to where your carriage awaits, near yelling at the driver to make it to the docks before the streets would be full of the early morning merchants and bakers, slowing the gallops of the decorated horses. 

The town is waking as your carriage races past, the beginnings of the new day making itself known as the sun peers through the gaps of the houses. You’re incapable of sitting still, your heels tapping against the floors of your cabin incessantly as the docks grow nearer and nearer. 

And then you see it, the rush of dock handlers that see the royal carriage slow to a stop in front of the boardwalk. You slam the door open before any of the tens could do it for you, breaking into a sprint as you find the distinct flag of the royal crest wave high on the other end of the docks. 

You had already seen Soonyoung off in the dark of the night as he made his way to the ship that was near ready to depart as you slide to stop in front of the anchored ship. 

There was nothing sane about what you were doing, the chortles and shocked noises of sailors and merchants deaf to ears as you finally spot him near the prow. 

His eyes meet yours and he has to do a double take. 

Panting and needing to hold onto your knees for support, you peer up as you watch him run towards the ramp that leads down to the docks to see you, to ask why you were here when he’d kissed you goodbye mere hours ago. 

By the time he meets you at the wobbly boardwalk, you’ve somewhat recovered.

“Are you alright?” he asks you as soon as you’re within earshot, hands grasping onto your upper arms in evident concern. 

“I had to tell you, this came in right after you left.” You brandish the paper clutched into your fist, smoothing it over as the light catches the red stamp at the bottom. 

It takes him less than a minute to realise what it said, eyes blinking rapidly and mouth gaping like a fish. “They…They said yes?” 

“They said yes,” you repeat, nodding furiously as you break into a smile. “We can get married, Soonyoung, they said yes.”

His arms are crushing you before you know it, wrapped around you so tight as he buries his face into your neck, repeating it like a mantra, “They said yes…”

By the time you part, he keeps his arms around you, still embracing you in front of the entire port. You take hold of his face bringing it closer to you. 

“Three months, and then you come home,” you breathe. “And I get to marry you, in front of everyone.”

Soonyoung lets his lips meet your own in a chaste kiss as he corrects you, “I get to marry you in front of everyone.” 

There’s a thud of something nearby, and you look up to find the crew of the Tigress hanging over the railings of the newly appointed naval ship that looked suspiciously like a pirate’s. 

“He can’t come back home, if he doesn’t leave!” Seungkwan yells over cupped hands. 

You’d like to send him an affectionate gesture involving your middle finger, but choose to save him in front of the crowded port. 

“You’ll miss me, Seungkwan, just you wait,” you send him a pointed glare that he simply scoffs at. 

He might miss you, but you’ll definitely miss the lot of them when you return to a significantly emptier palace. 

“Don’t let the royal snobs walk over you, you’re a better sailor anyway,” you tell Soonyoung. “Not that I needed to tell you, anyway.”

“I promise on our future wedding to be a complete menace.” He grins at the declaration as you admire him in the morning light. 

One last time, you memorise the dips and hills of his features, pressing your final kiss into his lips as the voices telling him to hurry it up grow louder. 

He blows you a kiss from the railings as the anchor is hoisted, and you send him one right back. 

As your carriage trudges its path back to the palace, at a pace more acceptable for both the stamina of the horses and the integrity of the structure, your eyes remain glued to the shrinking ship that fades into the distant horizon. 

There’s a pang in your chest, one that brings a tear to your eyes. It’s all very dramatic, the way the melancholy makes a home in your heart. An inkling tells you how you’ll probably become quite used to the feeling, learn to greet it like a friend. 

For now you enter the lighter palace, and take your place on the chair in your study and find solace in the ideas your mind brings. 

That no matter how long Soonyoung will remain far from you, he will always come back home to you. 

Always. 

[AN]: ty for joining my babies on their journey, i cannot thank you all enough for reading all 48fuckingK words of this i love you guys truly!!! thank you for all the reblogs and comments on the other parts, it makes me genuinely so happy to see you guys enjoy this universe that i've built. I read every single comment and know i appreciate all of it so so much <3

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies! About a certain fox’s career and about bottoms potentially spoiling their tops…

Anonymous asked:

So I’ve seen around Leona x Idia and politely ask you for some (and please don’t make the wholesome) headcannons if your able to

Anon! Unfortunately, I’ll have to politely refuse because we don’t really ship Leona and Idia :(

Anonymous asked:

Honest John should make an Onlyfans. How do you think he would do with that?

Anon’s out there using his legal name 😭 Jk this one also isn’t his legal name…

I think he has a lot of potential! There would be a learning curve because he properly doesn’t know how to use technology super well, but he knows how porn and pinups work, so… Even though his taste is a bit old-fashioned… I think that would make him fit into a very specific niche 🤔

And if it works, that would make him euphoric – imagine earning money like that without really risking it?? People who have money to spend really are naïve saps! He would laugh at them as if he is not genuinely enjoying himself for the first time in forever lol

Realistically, his biggest issue is that he absolutely doesn’t have a credit card to receive payments, and he doesn’t have a proper ID, but with the right kinds of friends that’s probably easy to fix!

Anonymous asked:

bless you for the rookvil love the art its so wonderful!! <3 and the rookvil girlies on your priv X aaa <3333 Rook in lingerie is such a treat!! i remember you said she doesn't like to be touched and i was wondering if there's a specific reason you say why? is it just rook girlie or all the top girlies? omg do any of the bottoms return the pleasure for their tops or spoil them back? ok ill stop buT I DO LOVE THE ART MUAH love it. ty for the food! <3

Anonymous asked:

wait do the boys also spoil their tops... oKA y im done im donne lmao im sorry ! stay hydrated have a wonderful day/night

Thank you, Anon! <3 I’m happy you love them, both the ones we posted a couple of days ago and the girlies! Rook in lingerie is indeed a treat and a special rare occasion for Vil only…

As for Rook not liking to be touched, (ignoring my bias that I’m going to address in a minute) it’s more of a Rook thing: she prefers to do “the hunting” and pinning someone down completely is like her instinct. If asked though, she would just say that it would get her too aroused and her heart wouldn’t be able to handle it. Maybe there is some truth to that statement, but… Vil is absolutely allowed to touch her much more than anyone else would, and she mostly does it when she wants to see Rook worked up and agitated. Vil says that it’s like teasing a feral dog that likes the pets but also doesn’t.

As for the rest of the ladies, I kind of talked about this here in the last reply. We are biased towards bottom!girlies receiving all the attention, and this for sure affects how we see top!girlies’ preferences lol But I think not all of them are as much of touch-me-nots as Rook: Rook isn’t even the worst one out of them. Azul is one of the biggest ones; she hates being touched unless she is the one demanding that, and sometimes it gets ridiculous with her. But Ace, Jack or Kalim are not as bad, and Floyd flip-flops as usual. But none of them would let the bottom!girls take the lead completely.

So yeah, while technically all the bottom!girlies could still pleasure their tops, this just isn’t the dynamic we usually gravitate towards, like I explained in the linked post. It all depends on context, I guess. I think they would do a different kind of spoiling, like teasing, dressing up a certain way, allowing something that wasn’t previously allowed, all that stuff.

With the boys it’s easier though! I can see pretty much all of the bottoms being willing to give their tops a blowjob or a handjob depending on a situation, some are more willing than others though~

The ones that are the most likely to do it are Vil (big fan of rewarding with a bj), Silver (he is such a good boy), Epel (he is eager to please and to prove himself!!) and Deuce (he acts first and thinks after, and sometimes it puts him on his knees because he feels too much love towards his top and wants to express it).

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday

Tagged by @messyhairdiaz @prettyboybuckley @monsterrae1 @rewritetheending @spotsandsocks @putijeansdiaz-ronordmann @eddiediass @jobairdxx @cowboy-buddie @bekkachaos

Thank you so much, I adore every one of you! Muah 💖

(I've given up on ever actually just sticking to seven sentences for this 😂)

Here's a little scene I whipped up today from the very smutty and heartbreaking fic I and the beloved @elvensorceress are working on

For context: this scene occurs after Buck’s leg gets crushed by the ladder truck. Eddie is in the hospital waiting room while he's in surgery.

Eddie opens his mouth and speaks past the unbearable pressure in his throat. “Shannon, how did–what are you doing here?”

She collapses into the chair beside him and brushes the wild, frizzy edges of her hair out of her face. “I saw the explosion on the news. God, Eddie, I’ve been so worried.” She places one hand on his shoulder and the other on his face, rubbing her thumb across his cheek.

Eddie wants to fall into her lap and sob. He wants to tell her not to touch him. He wants to tell her that he doesn’t deserve these comforting caresses. He wants to shake and scream. He wants to shrivel up and die like the cold muscle in his chest. She’s been worried about him and he hadn’t spared a thought for her, because he’s fucked up and selfish and something inside him is cracked and bleeding and wrong and he wants to rip it out of himself.

He wants Buck. He wants depthless eyes and shining smiles and a splotch of pink and endless rants and wild, gesturing hands and a rumbling voice and silly jokes and a large, warm body cradling his own and a heart so big and beautiful whose beats compliment Eddie’s.

But he can’t have it, he can’t have it, he can’t have it.

Why can’t he have it?

He remains still beneath Shannon’s touch, simultaneously hating it and reveling in it. “I–it wasn’t me. I was in the ambulance. Buck is–” hurt screaming bleeding dying not with me not with me.

His eyes flutter closed and he turns his head into her palm, unable to stop himself from taking the comfort she so willingly gives even though he doesn’t deserve it.

“I know, Eddie,” she says softly, carefully guiding his face back up until he is looking at her. “I saw it was Buck crushed under the truck. And I–I’m so sorry. I got here as fast as I could. I know that–” she pauses and chews on her lip before continuing, “Is he okay?”

Eddie wants to ask what she knows. He should ask what she knows.

Have you put together how messed up and wrong I am? Have you seen the way my heart and soul lift when he is around? Have you seen and felt and tasted the stain of him on my body? Have you noticed how I can’t breathe right without him? Do you know that he is a galaxy, bursting and bright and colorful, and I am the dark expanse enveloping him? Do you know how much our son loves him? Do you know Chris loves him like he loves us? Do you have any idea of how much the both of us will be devastated beyond measure if we lose our Buck? Do you know I love him like I should have loved you?

Tagging @spaceprincessem @hippolotamus @shortsighted-owl @honestlydarkprincess @eddiesbleps @achillesbuck @singlethread @megsvstheworld @gayedmundodiaz @rose-buddie @rogerzsteven @comaboybuck @buddierights @buddiefication @buckleysbee @ebdaydreamer @swiftiebuckleys @usercowboy @ajunerose and anyone else who wants to share!

[bejeweledmp3]

"if anyone asks i could post a sneak peak" me! I'm asking! please do post if you want to, just know that im looking forward very much to the rest of the story, and thinking of it, i just don't want to send you asks about it too often and bother you too much

anon i love you. please come bother me about totp as much as your heart desires. I did struggle with finding something to post because this chapter is a lot more tied together than the last one, in terms of what happens (which i learned by looking through the doc for something that could be understood without giving Too Much away, lmao). anyways, i hope you enjoy this bit!!! i love you muah muah!!!

Ever since that late-night conversation about the paperweight, Tim and her had been making a mutual effort to not ignore the Hawkins-Fuller-shaped shadow that followed them everywhere. It wasn’t a big deal (or more appropriately, they were both trying really hard, in some unspoken agreement, to not treat it like a big deal). She found that the key was treating it less like it was a very important topic for the both of them (which it was) and more like it was a part of their histories that they just so happened to share (which, she supposed, it also was). 

Kim would come home and rant about something that had happened to her, and instead of changing topics when she realized that to understand whatever she wanted to say Tim would need context from when she was a child, she would give him said context as best as she could. If that meant talking about Mom’s pointed silences, or Jackson’s eternal mix of camaraderie and cruelty, or, most importantly, her dad’s love that never seemed to come out right, then so be it. 

She had to admit, somewhere deep down, that she liked the way Tim would hang onto her every word, as if what she had to say actually meant something to him. When she stood in his kitchen during the late afternoon, talking and pretending she was helping out with dinner, she couldn’t stop the feeling of being a little girl, talking her dad’s ear off after some other kid’s birthday; only that this time what she was saying was being very carefully remembered, a snapshot of a life she couldn’t shake the feeling that Tim had always wanted to know more of. He never asked for her to do it, never demanded more than she was willing to give, but she was sure she wasn’t imagining the way he would light up at her stories, even the less than pleasant ones. Some part of her believed that Tim deserved to know it all, and so she kept telling him things as best as she knew how to.

[dyslexicandakeyboard]

muah. muah, mauh. Anti bullshit. Don'r read if you like Talia. And don't go harrassing Talia stans.

I'm tired. So I'm just reading up No Man's Land and I came across Talia. Again. Yay.

I want to go through a scene with full context and say why it bothers me so.

So for context, Gotham destroyed after a plauge and earthquakes. Gov said, you are no longer in the country and Gotham was barred off. The LoA along with Talia did some shitty stuff too.

First intro to Talia is regular. These people have a habit of showing up unwanted or detected.

Then this

Maybe I'm just overly sensitive but I hate this. It's not like they both fighting. He's in his hotel room and she slapping (drawing blood) him for telling her to leave? And it's portrayed as a good thing (and that they still have feelings for each other? That's what some people say.)

He pulls away, rejecting her, multiple times.

Something which I've always found very interesting is that Talia (and Ra's) mainly call him nicknames given by them or his alias. "Detective" "Beloved". More on that as a wider topic in another post maybe.

I understand that point of her dialogue is to rouse Bruce and say that he's acting "dumb" in this situation. Maybe it's my modern sensibilities but it comes out wrong. Talia sounds more possessive (and objectifies Bruce basically) more than anything.

The idea that he's dishonoured her by being in a bad mental place. The lack of calling Bruce by his name. Constantly tying his worth to her. That his importance lies directly in the fact that she loves him.

Again, the same problems as listed up above. Also (small segue), I will never understand the constant posting of these panels (usually out of context) to state that either Talia and him had sex (it's vague and I'm pretty sure they don't) or that Talia values his consent (which is the hinge for their argument).

She undermined his consent at the very start of the interaction. Violently. He's told her to leave him alone. Multiple times. She doesn't listen.

What's interesting to me is that with this interpretation of the relationship, its explictly stated that they wouldn't work out due to the fact that Talia is more attracted to the ideas of Batman than Bruce as a person (evident by the fact that she never call him by his name) and that Bruce, now, has Gotham and protecting the citizens on his mind. It's also implied that Talia knows that it's an endless war between them because they are opposed on their morals. Making her visit to Bruce useless for the furthering of their relationship.

*deep breath*

Finally, if they did have sex, that would be real disgusting. I'm not saying they did, but if people do interpret it that way (it's a pretty vague ending) then this encounter would quite literally be rape.

Bruce:

A pretty clear no.

Talia:

If they had sex, those phrases have rapey-vibes. Plus, we never get any confirmation that Bruce did give consent. (And if he did, one could argue that is was more forced due to the circumstances)

[thinking-about-sw33ts]

Headcannons for the New Side Characters!

Context: Spending Valentines with the New Side Characters. (Thirteen, Raphael, Mephistopheles.)

Theme: Fluff, Valentines Special.

Imagine spending Valentine’s with Thirteen:

Thirteen thinks of an idea for Valentines, blood inspired matching things!

It’s perfect for her spooky self and of course you go along with it because you absolutely would do anything for her!

So you guys decide to buy small vials that could be hanged as well as buying a chain for it!

Arriving back at the place she’s staying at for the exchange program, you guys get started!

She finds a sharp pin, disinfecting it, and assuring you it will only be a pinch.

She pricks both her’s and your finger, the blood dripping inside the vial until it finally fills it up.

After that before the small prickle could dry up, you guys begin to stamp your bloody fingerprints on vintage paper, overlapping them, essentially making a heart!

Each of you has your own individual copy and she puts cute bandaids on your hand, including her’s that she got from Luke!

Did I mention she absolutely has the most fluffiest and comfiest skull printed blanket, as well as treats she got from Luke that you two share while watching sappy romance movies?!

“There!” She finishes placing the cute bandaid on your finger. She kisses the area making a high pitched “Muah!” noise. You place the blood vial necklaces around each other's necks, giving eachother multiple pecks and tiny kisses. In the end, you both just end up laughing at each other, in each other's embrace, swaying in her room. “Okay! I’ll go pick the sappiest romance flick we can watch on hellflix! Can you grab the treats Luke made for us on top of the table?” You nod, getting ready for an extreme cuddle pile, probably not being able to finish the movie and falling asleep on one another.

Imagine spending Valentines with Raphael:

You both were discussing what you two were going to do for Valentines! Something you both can enjoy together y’know!

You two went on your D.D.Ds to look for ideas until he came across one that caught his eye.

It was a jar full of folded paper that had different colourations for different things such as Pink for reason why he loves you, Blue for quotes/lyrics, Green for coupley things you guys must do, and White for cute things/habits you do.

You think the idea’s neat so you go along with it!

Oddly enough though, you guys don’t open it on valentines, rather at the end of the month.

And so you guys are chilling in Raphael’s bed, all cosy, taking turns, unfolding the paper in front of the other, and spilling its contents! With the lights a dimmed orange/yellowish hue, and calming violin music in the background!

After you guys are done saying what each folded paper says, you exchange the jars and can read it whenever!

“I love you for your amazing smile and personality. You’re able to shine brightly even in the worst scenarios.” Raphael confesses, giving a gentle smile. You blush at that, closing your eyes, and picking a coloured paper in your jar. You unfold the blue paper, reading. “I can’t stop staring into your ocean blue eyes, your ocean blue eyes~” You recited the lyric with its beat. He goes to pull another piece of paper but realises that he has finished his jar. You look over to yours as well, empty. You guys laugh it off deciding to just cuddle with each other and talk, listening to the beautiful music in the background!

Imagine spending Valentines with Mephistopheles:

You actually came up with the idea, proposing it to him! Which he agrees!~

You guys write as many love letters as you can before Valentine’s day.

Making it as vintage and sophisticated looking as you guys can! So I’m talking about vintage brown paper, wax seals, perfume, kiss marks, etc!

You end up writing around 5-10 letters and Mephistopheles… Let’s say too much to count.You bet he’s super proud of his letter pile and presents/recites it with confidence!

All that confidence soon leaves him, once you start to recite your letters for him, making him speechless and flustered. In the end, he ends up being a stuttering piece of work!

Of course with every letter you guys read to each other, you have to kiss the said letter!

Oh! And I can’t forget he takes you out to a fancy dinner!! Do I have to remind you he’s noble and almost as rich as Diavolo?!

You finish reading your letter addressed to him, making him blush. “W-well, that was a lovely letter, dear…” Mephistopheles compliments, taking the paper from you, putting purple lipstick and kissing it. You two slowly finish your letter pile. At the end, he comes over to your side, going down on a knee, taking your hand, and placing a gentle kiss on top of your hand. “I invite you to have dinner with me at 8 o'clock sharp. Don’t be late.” His stern voice falters but remains. “I’ll pick you up.”

[osakiharu]

HELPING THEM DYE THEIR HAIR !!

part 1 | part 2

content : gender neutral reader, fluff, shits and giggles because i think this would be a funny experience, suggestive comments from kazutora and sanzu whoops, swearing because why not, mikey is a little ooc - he’s less traumatised in this one because i said so

characters : mikey, kazutora, sanzu

notes : wrote this because i desperately need to change my hair but i have to wait for ages and im going a little insane rn - might do part 2 with rin and ran

˗ˏˋ MIKEY

- he got a haircut and he looked so good. we love short hair mikey here 👩‍💻

- he loved it too <3 it had been so long since he had short hair and he kept shaking his head around because it felt so light 💀

-then he said he wanted to dye it black and you were like oh :(( because you realised how similar his hair was to shinichiro’s

- he didn’t seem sad about it though - it was more just like a “what if i dyed my hair black it would look cool” sort of thing

- you knew it was also kinda to do with shin but you never asked him about it

- it’s a relaxing experience <3

- you do everything for him because he’s completely clueless about anything to do with hair

- he likes the smell of the dye and keeps picking up the bowl to smell it

- “why is it white if it’s black hair dye?” very confused and is very entertained by watching it turn darker on his head

- half way though his eyes are almost shut because it feels nice <3

- he kept wanting to lean back on you but every time he did he got dye on your shirt </3

- he gives you little story times about emma’s hair experiences

- “yeah, once she got it cut and she didn’t like how it looked on her… so i tried to help her but i kinda just made it worse and she cried.”

- you remember emma wearing a hat to cover her fringe for a little while because she didn’t like it so you guessed that was why

- “i thought it looked fine, but then she called hinata and she started laughing!” sits there like >:(

- he doesn’t want to get any on his forehead or around his face so he takes the brush off you and starts going around the edges - you’re surprised how careful he was

- he was so concentrated that his eyebrows furrowed and he looked so cute :((

- got annoyed when you kissed him on the cheek - “y/n, if you distract me and i get this all over my face i’ll kick you.”

- kisses you afterwards though <3

- when you’re finished you gather his hair up and put it in a blob on top of his head and he thinks it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen

- takes pictures and sends them to his friends with no context

- he washes it out himself but doesn’t do it properly so you have to make him go back and do it again

- i know damn well he takes fast showers. stinky mikey >:(

- when you finish drying his hair and sorting it out he’s pretty quiet - you can kinda guess what he’s thinking about

- “y’look so pretty, mikey,” you kissed his cheek, “suits you.” <3

- “hm, thankyou, angel.” muah i love mikey

- calls draken later on because now they both have black hair and he’s all excited about it

- “ken-chin, we’re basically twins!”

- mikey>>>

˗ˏˋ KAZUTORA

- king has to touch up his roots - he lets them grow out really far too

- there’s just over three inches grown out and he’s like whoops i couldn’t be bothered

- prefers to do it with you because it’s more fun and he doesn’t wanna make his hair fall out - once he did it with chifuyu and they both decided that they’d never do it again

- usually gets the bleach in other parts of his hair because he isn't careful and he never puts the rest of his hair back

- you put his hair in two braids this time and he is not happy.

- “i look like that haitani motherfucker with his stupid blond strip in his hair… looks like a bee, i hope he changed it because he looked fucking stupid.” kazutora doesn’t like looking like ran

- laughs when you laugh at his insults though

- he can’t stand the smell of the bleach at all

- scrunches his nose up when he watches you mix it together

- “god, that fuckin’ stinks… it’s hurting my nose!” you agree with him on that one

- y’know how people put foil on their hair when they dye it to separate it - he does that but he didn’t know how to fold it or anything so you come back to the bathroom and he’s sat with a ball of foil on his head and his whole forehead out like “look 😁”

- embarrassed when you tell him it wasn’t necessary to do that

- he likes it when you take his hair out of the braids - he loves it when you play with his hair so he sits with his eyes half shut and smiling to himself because he’s so relaxed

- gets you to play with his hair a little extra while he’s waiting to wash it out <3

- said he showered in the morning so he was like it’s fine we can wash my hair over the bathtub

- he was giggling the whole time because it was so hard for you to wash the front of his hair from that angle and you kept slapping his forehead 💀

- “how come purple shampoo doesn’t turn your hair purple if it’s got all that purple pigment stuff in it?” not now kazutora.

- gets water in his eyes on top of it all

- enjoys having you wash his hair though - even though it’s chaotic it makes him feel all fluffy n shit inside <3

- it’s so fun and you’re both just laughing the whole time :(

- when you’re finished he wraps his hair up in a towel and he looks so cute

- “my knees hurt from kneeling down, is this how you feel sometimes?”

- boy.

- anyways his hair didn’t fall out and now he’s getting you to dry his hair for him too <3

˗ˏˋ SANZU

- “i’m gonna dye my hair pink.”

- when sanzu first said that you couldn’t imagine him with pink hair at all. if anything you thought he would dye his hair black or something darker

- now you can’t picture sanzu without pink hair

- but because of the colour it fades quickly and ehm.. because sanzu’s natural hair colour is so light if you let it grow out too far..

- it literally looks like he’s going BALD

- like as soon as he decides that you have to dye it thats when you do it no questions asked

- you’re busy and can’t do it today? okay, sanzu will just drag you there by the leg don’t worry

- he always mixes the dye though because he’s really particular about the colour - like there’s a certain ratio he has memorised, mostly because the first time he did it he almost looked like a highlighter and he didn’t like how bright it was

- “the fuck are you putting on gloves for?” believes in dyeing hair with bare hands

- he does the top and front of his hair whilst you to the back

- always puts on music because he finds dyeing his hair kinda boring

- makes your life ten times harder though because he leans over every 2 seconds to change the song or he keeps moving his head around to the beat of the music

- “haru, stop moving your head! i can’t do this properly if you keep moving.”

- “just move with me then, sweets.” he’s so annoying <3

- he does that thing where you kinda swing your head to one side and then the other and clicks his fingers to the beat of the song as a joke and he looks like a complete moron - makes you laugh though

- it’s his version of ‘dad dancing’ he says

- once all the dye is on he can’t leave his hair alone and has to keep messing with it

- “it’s fucking itchy.” he says whilst pushing the short parts of his hair up like a spike…

- it gets all over his forehead and hands and it doesn’t come off when you wash it

- “looks like i fucked a fairy or something.” he knows what he means

- “what?”

- it also gets in one of his eyebrows <3 when he sees it he just stops and goes :0

- you’re giggling because you know that it’s not gonna come out for a while and you’re trying to tell him it’s fine, his hair kinda covers it so it’s okay

- he let an intrusive thought win and just dips his fingers in the left over dye and rubs it in.

- “i said it would wash out, why did you do that?” you’re trying not to cackle at him because he just realised what he did

- “fuck.”

- he had pink eyebrows for almost 2 weeks after that

- ran and rindou will never let him hear the end of it.

reblogs appreciated <3

@swtsuya because sanzu and kazu >:)

[random-anxeity-dumbass]

ALSO enstars selfshippers reblog this with your favorite card(s) of your f/o or f/os!! feel free to explain why!!

[chryblossomjjk]

practice - pt. 2 | jjk (teaser)

→pairing: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader

→genre: college au, fwb, smut, angst, a lil fluff

→rating: M

→warnings: a spank, a partial erect peen, jk being a teasing menace >:(, jk taking off tuxedo mask costume n revealing himself as a switch, jk villain origin story also revealed this chapter lol (is he really a villain tho? u know the vibes maybe unrequited love maybe not), shower sex!!!, smut with more detailed warnings list will be provided in actual fic

→summary: Everything is wet. You and Jungkook tangled up on the shower floor and your eyes after he leaves.

→notes: sooo um, this was supposed to be pwp but now its a three part series- so yeah lol. v anxious about this bc i feel like it won't live up to ur expectations from part one :'(( i don't want to make promises but will most likely be up this friday at 7pm est. if you're a new reader, part one is HERE. ALSO HAPPY BDAY TO THE SWEET ANON THIS IS FOR U BBY! love u guys muah.

| PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE |

The innocent touches trail down your lower back. You get lost in the gentle motions of his fingertips, dancing across your skin in swirls and shapes. All you hear is his heart beating, your cheek flush against his damp chest . 

It’s so close but so out of reach. Intangible.

The faint thump lulls you into trance. Your brain can’t even process the sharp sounds of water hitting tile. Just Jungkook.

A quick swat brings you out of the clouds and back to reality.

You peep out a small moan, jolting forward from the impact. How humiliating.

“You like when I do that,” he hums, corners of his lips stretching into a smirk as he smooths his palms over your stinging perky cheeks. “When I have my way with you. Don’t you, baby?”

Baby. He’s never referred to you as something so… endearing. You nod, face still smushed into his skin. 

“You’re more submissive than I thought you’d be.”

“You thought about me before we started hooking up?” You retort, voice taking on a teasing tone to hide the flutter in your chest. He wanted you too. The thought was comforting. Reassuring. 

“Mmm, maybe.” His hardening cock, brushing right against your inner thigh, told you the answer. “The version of you in my head was confident, though. Knew what she wanted and took it. So fucking sexy.”

He whispers the last part, pupils darting to your lips, licking his own in preparation. Silver lip ring shining from the saliva. His dark tresses slicked back, no doubt silky and pliant from your conditioner. You’ve never wanted anyone so bad. 

You close your eyes, expecting a sweet kiss from his soft plump pout.

It never comes.

“I get you’re still learning though, so no biggie,” he shrugs, pulling his head back, keeping his lips hostage from desperate ones. 

Asshole. He's taunting you.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You pull away, giving him a clear view of your scowl, trying to look as menacing as possible.

“It’s not a bad thing…,” he coos, patronizingly. “Just the Bambi I know would never let a man tell her what to do.”

If he was trying to get a rise out of you, he was succeeding. Knowing exact what buttons to push to get you worked up, sexually and emotionally. It's a scary thought, that Jungkook could 'have his way' with you in any context.

Your blood was boiling, and not from the scorching hot streams falling out of the shower head.

“I don’t,” you argue. “And I always take what I want.”

“That’s not true,” Jungkook shakes his head, tutting his tongue at you. “Because you want me so bad and you haven’t done anything about it.”

© chryblossomjjk 2022 [do not copy, translate or repost]

[little-lightning-lavellan]

What if I just dropped this part of the next chapter with zero context.

What then.

“Call me ‘hart’ again.” A demand, but not one born of anger or fear. No, Mellan was looking to her feet less and less, even as she criticized him, and the creature was treading on becoming just as smitten as she was arduous.

“I thought you liked ‘imp.’” Solas exhaled, the scope of the room narrowing less to a place full of people and more to a concept of a room featuring Mellan. “You have to admit, it suits you.”

“Humor me?”

“I see…” he acquiesced with little turbulence. “Ma heart.”

“Again.” The determination she held within her throat before vanished by a hair, her shoulder blade within his hand wilting just so. Like fragile paint chipping away in the rain, so was her resolve to stay away from waters she should not test. 

She’d read a story once within the library of a maiden laying cursed in dreaming due to touching a forbidden spinning wheel. Mellan felt as if she understood the princess’ plight a bit more now. What would be the harm in just a little prick?

“This is an odd bit of a grounding exercise,” Solas spoke softly, not wanting to arouse suspicion in those around them should his comrade need to make a hasty retreat. “Mellan, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Please, I just,” She shook her head, no real explanation given. “I want to hear you say it.”

Now why did that feel like a declaration? Was it the way she looked up to him whilst she said it? He was meant to be the one grounding her, and he was going to end up doing a poor job of it if he kept staring dumbfoundedly down at her like he felt he was now. Yet, her eyelids looked heavy, resting on her flushed cheeks. Her shoulders were slowly wilting right along with his ability to stand up straight, and he muttered “Focus,” as if it were to her, to keep her mind on the dance, when he was clearly stumbling right along with her at the snap of her pretty little bruised fingers.

“Ma heart,” he vowed to the causation of his ruin, and bent himself to lean closer to her face than he should, should he remain a gentleman.

“Again--” 

“Mellan,” He veered off course to keep her honour intact, and whispered into pointed ear. “The music has stopped playing, ma heart.”

Anyway Happy Solstice goodnight I’m not sorry, muah 💋

Tagging lovelies:

@pikapeppa @because-im-hap-hap @rosella-writes @emerald-amidst-gold @oxygenforthewicked @varric-tethras-editor @fade-touched-shenanigans @the-dreadful-canine @smashingpigeons @blueheaded @drunken-drengr @reonerra @dungeons-and-dragon-age @dreadfutures @darethshirl  @fiadhaisteach @bogunicorn @ashalle-art @kantrips @shift-shaping @noire-pandora @palepinkycat @debgall @malewifezevran @1000generations @drag-on-age @siennamain @dalish-spectre @raflesia65 @thevikingwoman @kumaronoa @midorimaddie @sassyseeker @musetta3 @rivainisomniari @in-arlathan @melisusthewee @jellydishes @effelants @potatowitch​ 

[spacejellyfish3]

So I watched—and loved—Fear Street on Netflix. It’s fun, it’s scary, it’s very well directed, impressively shot, and delightfully queer. I’m also really excited to see where it goes next, since it is a trilogy of films that are APPARENTLY COMING OUT ONE AFTER THE OTHER IM BEING FED VERY WELL

Um…

Ahem…so anyways…I’m super stoked to foray into the 70s for the obviously Friday The 13th homaging next installment. But I as I’m wont to do, I have thoughts, I have theories, I have several analyses bursting out of my brain for zombies to eat.

And so without further ado; here’s my Fear Street theory (and yes, all of the spoilers apply):

So…yeah.

Sara Fiers is not the villain. She most definitely is not.

That’s pretty unlikely given the intensely unsubtle foreshadowing in the opening credits ALONE.

No…the witch isn’t the villain at all.

Sunnyvale is.

It’s particularly interesting to me how much the high key in your face opening credits establish very clearly the dichotomy between Shadyside and Sunnyvale; one town full of murder, mayhem, and misfortune, the other prosperous, picturesque, and peaceful. It’s the difference between Killer Central USA and The Sunniest Place On Earth. And that, in my opinion, is—forgive the pun—shady as all hells.

In fact, it’s so very much and exceedingly reeking with suspicion…

It’s stated extremely plainly throughout the film how Shadyside has continuously descended into a pit of death and suffering as the years pass by, while Sunnyvale remains rich and pleasant and as safe as can be. That cannot be a coincidence—especially in a horror movie, a genre where almost nothing is ever coincidental.

And if Buffy the Vampire Slayer has taught me anything at all, it’s that supposedly idyllic towns that market themselves as “sunny” are never ever to be trusted at all costs.

Ever. Never ever ever.

The main reason I find Sunnyvale sus is pretty obvious, however: if they weren’t, why even mention the difference in the towns’ wealth and safety? Why bring up that conflict? Why even have two towns in the first place? What would be the point if there’s no relation? Sunnyvale’s entire existence within the story, and their relative prosperity in comparison to Shadyside, seems very much like a clue that they’re involved in some freaky deaky dealings and possible black magic. They wouldn’t bring up these details if they weren’t gonna matter in the long run; you don’t spend that much time and effort just to set up a red herring.

Unless it’s just bad writing, which might be probable but seems unlikely for this specific property at least…

Another big indication comes in the witch’s supposed motivations…which don’t seem to exist beyond “muah ha ha murder” and “generic revenge” if we’re being completely honest here. But that flimsiness made me take a closer look into the visions Sam got after her blood seeped into Sara’s grave and as she got closer to death: a swarm of bees, red tinted almost like blood got splashed onto the camera, a girl screaming into the ether, an image of the Witch’s Mark, and who I presume to be Sara yelling “YOU! IT’S YOU!” over and over again. But when I look at that and put it in context with the motives the 1994 cast comes up with, there’s not much cohesion, is there?

Revenge as a motive wouldn’t explain why Heather was killed in the cold open. It also wouldn’t explain the weekly tragedies that befall Shadyside. If Sara wanted revenge on the town that tortured and killed her, why all the drama? Supposing she can possess the dead, why not just necromance an army of unkillable zombie monstrosities to raze the town in one go and get all over with? Why is this bitch out here doing the most? It doesn’t add up and it doesn’t make sense.

And if you take all that in tandem with the various tragedies of Shadyside—the ways people were murdered, the consistency of the massacres over the years, etc—it starts to paint an intriguing picture:

These deaths aren’t passion filled or emotive or generalized, they’re targeted (at those whose blood has mixed with the witch’s grave) and more importantly: they’re low key ritualistic. It screams of the classic sacrificial deaths and equivalent exchange. Sunnyvale’s peace and prosperity is very likely rooted in a demonic ritual that both feeds on the suffering of Shadyside as well as directly cause it as a sort of feedback, taking the brunt of the bad luck, poverty, and decay meant for Sunnyvale only heightened and magnified to insane degrees. It’s why so many deaths have happened over the years: it’s a clear method of perpetuating that state of perfect, suburban idyllia.

And honestly if this theory does turn out to be the case, it’d serve as an excellent metaphor for wealth inequality, possibly gentrification, and most definitely exploitation of the lower classes of the socioeconomic hierarchy by the upper crust elite WASP 1% so as to perpetuate the status quo of the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer and continuing to suffer. That itself is kinda sorta already supported by the text of Fear Street too in that Sunnyvale is made up of mainly privileged white suburbanites who live in antebellum architecture style houses and manors blanketed by green grass and white picket fences whereas in contrast Shadyside is home to a clearly diverse and multiethnic population that is disenfranchised, poor, low in prospects, high in death and suffering, and living in relative squalor…

So imma leave that here and I hope y’all add your own theories and observations if you can and want to. I’d love to read them so please don’t hesitate to reblog with your additions and stuff!

[smutty-ki113r]

wait can i get a creepypasta matchup? omg. nsfw or not idc.

so i’m like 5’6, brown hair medium length, green eyes. i get a lot of compliments on my eyes/eyelashes, and lips. my pronouns are she/her. i have tattoos and i literally want a whole lot more. i love goth men and women and then like hot demonic shit. idk why

i love laughing and making people laugh. people say i have a really dry sense of humor. sometimes i feel really narcissistic but i don’t really pay attention to it. i get annoyed and upset very easily. i’m a chill person to be around. i’m always moving or fidgeting. i love all types of music, anything that can make you feel good or anything that makes you headbang. i’m a metal head but i can go from megan thee stallion to like, behemoth or some shit. i tell people that i’m goth on the inside bc literally all i wear is oversized t shirts and leggings bc that’s the only thing im comfortable in.

i’ve had people say that im kind of intimidating at first, but i don’t see it. it sometimes takes me a while to warm up to people, but once i feel i can trust you, im literally a ride or die and i will constantly bother u with memes and wholesome shit. if you break my trust i won’t be friends with you again. i can’t really go back to someone like that. unless im desperate idk

idk what else to put but i love sending people random photos and memes with no context. i love leaving people speechless. i also hate slow drivers, organized religion, capitalism, and conservatives. but i love cats. like a lot .

I match you with…..💝JEFF💝

Out of all the creeps I think the ideal matchup would def be Jeffy. Your entire personality just seems to match up with him.

You know who else is intimidating at first? Or all the time? Jeff. It would take him a while to warm up to you too but eventually you guys are *chefs kiss* power couple. Jeff probably has tattoos too, maybe knives, or skulls. He’s not exactly goth but you could probably get him to wear platforms and a choker if you nag hard enough.

Jeff is…well…Jeff, he laughs a lot, especially at the most inappropriate times. He will laugh at the darkest jokes you’ve ever told, he loves that about you. Jack is the kind of person that acts narcissistic but denies it fully, claims “I’m just the best”. He also gets annoyed very and I mean very easily. When he rages it’s hard, be careful to not step on his toes too much, or push too hard. He is actually super sensitive and fragile about his trauma.

I think he loves headbanging music, anything to make him swing that hair of his wildly. He looks like a thug, but we love him regardless right? Steal his shirts. He will get pissed but not too much, actually loves them on you. It’s a way of marking you.

He is probably like “what the actual fuck is this” when you send him a meme, but eventually he learns that it’s another way you show affection. He might send a ha ha. I have a feeling he hates capitalism too, and slow drivers. He’s a menace on the road.

You didn’t send me your kinks so I couldn’t tell what you liked :( Hope you liked it though! Lmk if you did! Or not! Whatever you like! Muah muah!

[thelovelyghostwriter]

Children’s Development ft. KuraNeon Kids

Okay, I’m studying this so... What do my hxh-infected brain do? Combine it for KuraNeon!! So I kinda noticed in fanfics, a lot of times, children’s development and their age doesn’t tally actually. Sometimes they speak more words than they should or do things that are not supposed to be their capacity. 

Cast: Pairo Nostrade (1st son; firstborn), Chrome Nostrade and Xenon Nostrade (twins; second) and Aurora Nostrade (1st daughter; youngest). 

Note: I’m not gonna cover language because... well... it’s not tested so the language may not be accurate. 

Okay here we go: 

Children’s Drawing 

Each children have their first representational forms. 

Context: All the KuraNeon children are drawing. They are going to show it to Kurapika. 

P.S: All photos are from stock photos with non-copyright (aka free pics to use). 

Aurora Nostrade (Age 2) Drawing: 

Age 2 Children: No meaning at first; just scribbles/lines

Chrome and Xenon Nostrade (Age 4): 

At age 3 to 4, children use lines to present object boundaries and they draw their first pictures as a person. But still inaccurate. 

Pairo Nostrade (Age 6): 

He drew Mama... Aww.

At age 6, they start to draw things with a bit of realism and had the body detached from the arms and legs, but there’s still lack of 3D elements in the drawing. 

Neon: Wow, good job kids! I love all of you. *Muah*

Pretend Play in Children 

Aurora (Age 3): *Playing with Barbie doll* 

Kurapika: Sweetie, what are you doing? 

Aurora: Tea party with princess. Papa, you want tea? 

Kurapika: Okay. 

Symbolic Function: From age 2 to 4, children starts to use symbols (Barbie) to represent a concept (Princess) 

Chrome (Age 4.5): You be doctor, like Uncle Leorio. 

Xenon: Okay, you... patient. 

Chrome: Doctor, *coughs coughs* I’m sick! 

Children like to do make-believe and take up different roles. 

Context: It’s raining, they can’t play outside. 

Chrome (Age 4): The clouds are sad and they are crying. 

Xenon: Mama’s skeleton [from her collection] is sad. 

Aurora (Age 3): *Sad because she can’t play outside, her eyes becoming red* 

Pairo (Age 7): Don’t cry, Rora. We should just play hide-and-seek. 

Animism: Children believe that objects have “life-like qualities”. 

Context: They play hide-and-seek, Pairo is the “It”. He finished counting. 

Aurora: *Hides behind the curtain, her feet can still be seen* 

Chrome: *Hides under a the table, but his feet can still be seen*

Xenon: *Hides in a TRANSPARENT box, he still can be seen*

Uh yeah, kids think that so long as they can’t see you, you can’t see them. 

Conservation Error 

Pairo Nostrade (Age 5): *Showing the glass, filled with juice* Papa, I want more juice. Too little. 

Kurapika: We don’t have enough. I would need to buy more. 

Pairo: But I want more! I want more juice! [He’s kinda spoiled like Mama; hot-headed like Papa] 

Kurapika: Okay. 

*Kurapika pours the juice into a taller, but slimmer glass. The amount of juice is still the same, just different glass* 

Kurapika: Here you go. *Gives the taller slimmer glass filled with juice* 

Pairo: Yay, thank you Papa! 

Children don’t have the concept of volume, number, matter, length. If you pour the same amount of liquid in a taller glass, they think it’s more LMAO. 

[noritoshiikamo]

honestly not proud, but i was in uh...yknoe relationship of sorts with a 23 yo back when i was still 15-16. it went on until i was 17, freshman year in uni. i was so hung up with this idea, and i loved his voice (lmaooo). it never got physical tho, i at least had that sense but we did indulge in all other things a teen shouldn't have. honestly, a huge part of my sexual education came from that situation 🙃I've always been praised for being the mature kid, and somehow whatever that was made me feel validated (ofc i didn't know this at the time). he was charming and he seemed so smart hahahha and his dogs were adorable (two german shepherds!!) :')) i legit thought that i was genuinely feeling the closest thing i could have for like/attraction/care for a person but i realize that some of my issues now as an adult may have stemmed from that experience. i dont like talking about it, and there's only one person in the world who knows about it. it took me years to process that that wasn't anything close to "love" at all - never thought of it that way, but it's for the lack of a better word in this context haha. now i share this with u ahhhhhhhh

omg it felt like grooming, i dont want to say that it does but im glad you got out of that, i had same shit happened to me when i was like 15-16 and it was with girl older than me and we did a lot of sexual things that i actually regret afterward bcs she was so hung up with her ex and i felt like she was just dangling around and used me and there was never a mutual attraction/love at all and it really messed up myself and my view on love and sex too but it was years ago. plus i didn’t think a girl could do it to me and its such a toxic mentality.

 you’re strong cool person, im glad you realised your worth

im glad youre alright and safe and bold enough to tell me the story, i feel honoured to listen to it, hope you found someone who loves and genuinely cares for you in a healthier way! muah muah u deserve a lot of kith and hugs

fuck it everyone sent me their dirty secret i wanna judge you all 😡

[zrw]

Letter 1.0.1

><

I'm writing this to you on Thanksgiving Day, it felt fitting despite us not celebrating it, so instead I will be wishing you a merry Christmas. A tad bit older photo added for depth, immersion and personalization while reading. None of it is scripted in any way, the idea is to make me emotional & it will all be written on the go. Make sure you read it all, and you will never hear from me again. Please do respect my terms also and do not under any circumstances share this letter or it's contents with anybody. Remember, only you will truly understand the context and true meaning of this letter. Quite likely it will change your whole perspective on me, but it won't matter anymore. If you think you're the bigger victim and believe you've had it worse than me & that you've suffered more and dealt with more... well, a bit of a free of charge reality check for you... you're dead wrong. I'm the one who is being tormented maniacally and brutally every other night, to the point where I simply don't know what's real and what's not. Scared of living life, kind of. It's clear to all I made a mistake last year. No weasely lies and fabrications in this letter, this is the Me you've longed to finally see. Anxiety through the roof, among other things/issues. I'm deeply sorry, Annie. Bless you & bless me, more importantly. Please tell me you forgive me. Do not dare to share any of the contents of this said letter with anybody, be a grown-up and act like one for once, you live all alone, now try and impress me, it's far too personal, a glimpse of me, and meant for you alone. Only you will understand the context of this letter. You're not exactly the golden carrot of the yield, but this one should be fairly easy to follow - Keep it to yourself, and stay quiet about this, I'm begging you. You're not legally obligated to do anything, this is your life and you make the rules, you're a good and kind gal, you're by no means a bloodthirsty vampire like some of them, and as I made very clear it wouldn't be fruitful & would shortly after turn into a proper clown fiesta, and possibly a meaningless waste of government resources. You wouldn't gain anything at all from this. I was going to say let me know if you need anything, and I'll gladly donate a fair sum to your PayPal, and it kind of made me realize that is something that would be morally and legally wrong of me to do, it wouldn't feel like a donation, it would almost feel like I'm trying to buy you and win you over, after causing this much pain to your heart, which I deeply regret. (I'll pay for your nsfw future cosplays maybe? Jkjk, leave that avenue to the twonks who'd actually find pleasure in doing that.) I don't donate much anyways online, if I'd donate it'd have to be an actual animal charity, I feel like when people think of charity they instantly think of like some Cancer Foundation or elderly/orphan fund, not that those are not fair causes, it's just that some dying/sick animals really need our support too, and they're just as worthy. After this i'm doing my own thing & staying away from you, promise. I'm a great citizen, mind my own business and never cause trouble. I just needed for my own sake to send something meaningful and pure your way. Everything that you will see here comes from the heart & I will do my best to be as honest as humanly possible. Whenever I begin working on these long 50,000 word essays I always tend to fear that I forget something crucial or run out of time, so let's hope it doesn't happen this time around. The writer usually spends 10 times the time and effort the reader does, so please do sit down, get comfy, and please read all of this letter. This is going on your SC and Tumblr & will be deleted once the timer on my stream deck reaches zero, you have a tendency to take photos and eventually show them to outsiders, this will ensure it's a one-off, and for your eyes only. It is mainly to apologize to you, among other things. To make you realize that in just 3 years time I'll be completely "reformed", as they say. If you must know "breaking the law" to say sorry could be considered as... noble, in most countries at least. Without a doubt in my mind they'd love for us to bury the hatchet and shake hands, but after this "letter" to you I am actually done with you altogether, and you'll not be hearing from me ever again... unless fate says otherwise. Do remember that this and me apologizing to you for being an awful male, this was mostly done so I can live, function and mentally function like a normal human being again, I will get to that later on in the letter, all you should know now is that it was more of a ME thing, and less of a YOU thing, if that makes sense. Needless to say I have 8 VPNs total with unlimited data running on all of my systems including 2 iPads, laptops, and even phones, to ensure that my IP is impossible to find and non-existent. Just a quick pitch, you could've used common sense to figure that one out yourself. Naturally somebody as wealthy as me would be untouchable, at least in the virtual world, where everything is simple and made easy. I am quite clever, yes, yes I am indeed. But I would not use it for evil deeds, deep inside I am a shockingly kind and nice guy. Oh, you were looking for a bad boy? We can talk, my dear, you know full well that I'd be/become anything for you. No candlelit dinners so I can compliment your cheekbones? You have kept your eyes open, and tonight your knowledge of me is getting greater and greater. You could write a book about us. It almost feels like deja-vu, I've been here studying and doing research on you, now I'm giving you the sheer opportunity to do the same. And 4 years after first talking to you online (in 2014), I, I touched your cat's black fluffy tail once, and catbug, she ran right away, it almost looked like she did a tiny leap forward before running. Yes, it was her 100%. I'm a shining star, just waiting to unlock my full potential, it will happen when the right time comes, you can never rush such things. My financial status would only indicate I have great things waiting for me and a brimming bright future ahead of me, should I play all my cards right, I do adore graveyards, but there is no reason at all why I should perish in the next 5-15 years. I can only hope that you're smart enough to not mention any of this to your mom, I realize you two are close, but being a grown-up means you know what to mention to somebody and what is better left unsaid. Wiser to let this one go and keep it to yourself, no need to waste government resources, and do understand that being fortunate and getting me potentially taken to a mental asylum for 3 weeks would not benefit you in the slightest, I've made it very clear that I don't associate myself with social outcasts, and we of course are done for good after this bit, so let's make it count. Being respectful is calling you a lady even though I full well know it's a girl in sheep's clothing I've been dealing with, hard to tame, always needs to have it her way, borderline blunt at times.. how come Annie the girl does not have a feminine soul, a bit odd, perhaps I do rest my case. You certainly are special, as your mom would say, she means you're not like the other girls. You're way different & not necessarily in a good way. Wanted you & Nora for the experience... Do find you both quite boring, even on the dating spectrum, she's the snappy one, you're the calm one. Will surely do better in the future. As far as I go... I'm your little ghost. I'm a spirit, roughly 500 years ago people like me were considered as and called witches, simply since we were ahead of our time. As you know there are good and bad spirits, I would stand somewhere in the middle as a classic inbetweener I've always been, casually swaying towards either or, but ultimately staying put in the middle. Some days I hate you, other days I love you... Yet here I am ending this "letter" to you with the words "I Love You", and perhaps "Muah" on top of that should I feel classy enough, as always, on the cheek, one final time. Do remember that I will always remain near you & overseer your doings, we don't need to interact, in fact it would be silly to think we can't co-exist in eachother's hearts. When you get the strange feeling that you can't find the explanation for, perhaps it's just me, and nothing more. It's been a sheer clown fiesta witnessing the names and things you've called me thus far. What's new, right? At the very least you don't take me for a joke anymore, which is wise of you, since I'm not. The casual 21st century term "stalker" simply insults me. Even somebody with as little intellect as you would know that stalkers are for years, spirits are for lifetime. I'm nothing less than a S-P-I-R-I-T, one with high capability & intellectual intelligence. I've never commented on your idiocy or your weird friends (90% of them are weird), I'm awfully passive and neutral. I've never insulted/talked-down-on the soyboys, e-slags, pre-mature losers, weebs, memers, or entitled punks you interact with every now and then. No point including the 16-21 year old boys and girls in that category, as I understand how these underage and barely of age children follow you, and you see yourself as their "mama" and friend, not strange in the slightest, not the harvest of living inside of a box for the majority of your life, when fantasy is taking over, sis. Those kids are the only community you have left... surely it would be cruel to let them off the hook, you can't let them go, some of them still see you as a role model! ~ I suppose you could say I'm on a whole different level, and people like me tend to not notice people who are "less". But good luck to them, perhaps some day they too will get themselves out of their holes and start moving towards things that actually matter. Speaking of which... God bless Great Britain if you actually end up scoring an actual decently paying job after all your studies. I would donate a fair few braincells to you... If I didn't have such a bright future ahead of me. In a universe where employers and companies actually did background checks on people before hiring, a silly bean like you would never score anything worthwhile. Personal assistant for a single individual would probably be your peak. Back to me... I am a millionaire, as you expected, seeing as how doors just open and close for me and my kind. I never worked even a day for what I have, but the people before me certainly did. Even more wealthy now in fact, as of last year, now that my professor and casual alcoholic of a grandpa is finally under ground, he was respected by many, but his lifestyle choices were hilariously fractured. See? We (are) similar, kind of. Ah, how I hate drinking and alcohol, I literally drink only twice a year and always feel guilty after, I hate people that consume alcohol in the spirit of the party at clubs or live concerts, and those who tend to constantly drown their sorrow and unhappiness into the bottle. I adore a good coffee and tea though. Living a promising life of luxury, hence the 3 years I will take to improve myself, improve my body to the maximum for the sex appeal and quality of life, get your name 'Annie' with a mini thorny rose underneath tattoo'd on my left arm, so I can take you to places and talk to you, enjoy your company & so I would never forget you (not that there is a chance in hell I'd actually ever do, of course, hahaha.), dye my hair pale/pastel color, purple in 2020, letting it heavily fade to soft pink, After that focus on the pastel spectrum of colors, re-do my driver's license, own a 40k car, but have not driven anything in 3-4 years, begin buying land and potentially own more land, farmhouses, households, countryside villas and mansions than some of the more wealthier businessmen in my area; as you can tell "owning" things & writing are two big passions of mine, the latter for expressing myself and influencing others, and so is real estate, country and marketing to an extent, legally change my first name to something sleek such as Jed, Jed Nei... or you know whatever else that feels unique and not-so-common; pick a powerful name that people will remember (and fear, jkjk), basically get my life on the line/on the rails and get a woman who will massage my strong pectorals with oil every Sunday morning only to ensure I will be more than ready to take on the next week. I adore romance, but still feel that death is the most romantic thing out there. Now of course she could cook for me just fine, but i'd actually really want to taste something you've cooked, as long as you do the cooking with just an apron on and absolutely nothing underneath. Oh Annie, unlocking your true potential would be a really easy task for me. You like cherry blossoms, I on the other hand like 400 year old oak trees. However our worlds could of collided & you could of been my sweetheart under the bright sun and moon. Currently own 2 countryside 2 floor homes and plenty of actual land around them, looking to expand in the future of course. Imagine leaving your silly big city life behind. Imagine laying there (on a hill) naked on the grass in the middle of the day, or relaxing in the bikini, depending how confident you are with your own body, and breast size, I also would not be totally satisfied if mine looked so "below average", but god does your bottom/bum make up for it. Loads of flowers that I can gather and give you, or put in your hair, plenty of forests nearby perfect for mushroom picking, hiking or picnics, loads of plants, fruit bushes, ponds, fruit trees, acorn trees ideal for climbing, farmland, greenhouse, ponds big enough for swimming, cyan blue skies large and wide enough for any balloon or kite you may want to play around with. Or if that’s not entirely your cup of tea then we can plan our big vacation to the Canary Islands in Spain, whatever you like, as long as you stay with me forever. You're a sweet creature and I'm certain we could of started something unique & exciting together, but that's all gone now, i'm still certain that I could of loved you right and shown you extreme passion, to go to bed with you and make you feel happy, loved & excited for the next day, our next day together in paradise. This is not a fantasy tale/dream, this could of potentially been our reality, assuming I would accomplish all my goals, and you willing to leave your current life for me. But why dwell on what could of been, I will never feed you fresh strawberries straight from the greenhouse, I will never "own" you, you will never be my girl, my companion, my life's purpose. I see now why I felt so heavily against friendship with you... being your friend considering the things I had planned for us, that would only lead to romance and love, that friendship would be over so quick you could not even call it one. Oh, and, I can be very sensual and passionate at times. And possibly start a IRL vlogging channel on Youtube in 3 years time, just to influence & motivate others and to portray my lifelong journey to greatness with the dozen obstacles I had to face and overcome along the way, making it all even more bittersweet, especially the main final goal, which if you can recall is to become the biggest standalone landowner/businessman in my area. Maybe you'll randomly stumble across the channel one day & wonder what could of been & what you missed out on, not only that but you'd also visually see the beautiful landscape and things I talked about earlier. Oh and I'll definitely purchase at least one or two more expensive cars, driving around with just one specific car all the time, obviously being somebody who clearly is able to afford another one, it feels kind of lame. P.S I've never ever actually been obsessed with you. You were just a girl I liked because of a few key factors/reasons. Plus we seemingly have dozens of things in common.And we have reached the part where I'll try and explain why writing this was needed for me, and my mentality; Are you a demon baby/girl? If not keep reading and don't even think about showing this letter to anybody else. If you are however... Come with me & with the assistance of our genitals let's try and produce a demon child. A bit NSFW, but we're 25 and nobody else is going to see this (Right? Good gal.), so I'd so-so-so take you raw on the floor in every single position imaginable, your front hole would naturally be so loose afterwards that no guy would want to or feel comfortable with doing it with you anymore. White stuff would go in both 'A' and 'V' holes several times to ensure pregnancy is triggered. Jeez, having and making a baby with you would be so unbelievably sexy. Anyways, back on the topic we go, so me and my issues I've been dealing it... I mentioned it at the start & will do it again... If you think you've been affected by this or you've had it worse/suffered more than me... Well think again. Ever since earlier this year I've had horrible anxiety, hearing unnatural beings and things talk to me and gradually hearing their voices around me. I don't think I'm losing my mind or going crazy, but this does all feel very real to me. Always closing my door at night, not even trying to, it just comes naturally to me to do it, much like a habit. I fell in a deep pit, and I'm so sorry to you, I really do apologize, my dear. My darling Annie. now my situation is being abused and i'm being taken advantage of by these demons/ghosts/shades, I'm now shaking for no reason, it's not even cold in here, it's awful. Psst, I'm not a monster. Imagine being too messed up mentally to go to the grocery store/supermarket alone & having to call your mom and tell her to bring you some food and supplies - telling her that the reason for it is that you have a massive headache right now & that you're unable to get out of bed. Yikes, that does sound bad. And to make it even worse, it has happened more than once. I feel like I need a 12-hour nap after sending this letter your way, feel a bit odd all of sudden, please read it all, it's a glimpse of me and my story and life. I can only hope that I will feel better and be able to go back to living my life like a normal human being now that I threw everything out there and apologized to you. I will leave you be now. It's a peek into my life essentially. I really do adore your tight little pale pink p*ssy, and Nora’s all the same, you gals are & stay important to me. Please do respect my terms and do not under any circumstances share this letter or it's contents with anybody. All the best to you and your family. I Love You. Muah. 💞