#custom hand made vanity

[dreaming-of-brent]

Richmond Bathroom Example of a mid-sized transitional medium tone wood floor and wallpaper powder room design with raised-panel cabinets, white cabinets, blue walls, an undermount sink, marble countertops, white countertops and a freestanding vanity

[daily-borgia]

Richmond Bathroom Example of a mid-sized transitional medium tone wood floor and wallpaper powder room design with raised-panel cabinets, white cabinets, blue walls, an undermount sink, marble countertops, white countertops and a freestanding vanity

[justonehiddles]

Contemporary Kids in Calgary Stunning image of a young girl in a room with a medium-toned wood floor and white walls.

[primehyuck]

dress

this is the hair, the face, etc

aka Mark thinks you look really pretty tonight (very “only bought this dress so you could take it off” / “can we hear it for the dress” esque )

word count: 3.5k

contents : pretty much pure smut, pussy worship, soft dom mark, oral (f receiving) , body worship - mark thinks you’re REALLY REALLY pretty, mirror sex (kind of), lots of pet names, established relationship, mark seduced me as i was writing this

“Don’t you look pretty?” Mark smirks at you from where he leans against the door frame and you smile softly at him in the mirror, taking off the jewelry you’d worn to dinner with your friends that evening. You place the items gently inside the white vanity he’d had made for you when you moved in together the year before.

“Thanks, baby.” you take him in, fresh out of the shower in sweats and a big t-shirt. He looks too hot for his own good, his hair the longest it had been since you’d met, freshly bleached strands curling over his eyes.

“Did you have fun?” He slinks up behind you, warm fingers toying with the thin strap holding your dress in place, his left hand shutting the top of the vanity before pressing heavy to the front of your hip.

You nod “It was nice to have some girl time, as much as I love spending evenings with the boys.” you scrunch your nose earnestly, thinking of Mark’s best friends who had treated you like family since day one.

“I’m glad, though you should have seen the look on Jisung’s face when he learned you’d be at dinner with your old roommate and he was stuck cooking for the rest of us” he murmurs and you can feel the smile on his face as he rests his cheek on your shoulder. The combination of his warm breath on your neck and thick lashes blinking over your skin makes you shiver “I was sad that I missed you before you left.”

“We ended up going for a cocktail before dinner,” you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair and he lets go of the dress strap to trace up the inside of your arm. Mark turns his head to press his lips to your shoulder, pretty brown eyes blinking at you in the mirror once before skimming down the reflection of your body.

His gentle fingers drifting over your arm make your skin tingle and you can hardly breathe when he grips your bicep firmly, supporting your arm as he kisses over the shape of your shoulder, all the way to your elbow and back up again.

“Is this new?” He mumbles, the hand on your hip moving to tug at the hem of your dress. You nod, and he smiles before guiding your raised arm down to rest at your side, fingers lacing through yours. You watch in the mirror as he drags his nose into the crook of your neck, tilting your head to the side to make space for him there.

“Pretty,” his eyes catch yours in the mirror again.

“You already said that.” you tease weakly, failing to keep your breathing under control.

“My bad,” Mark chuckles quietly, left hand stretching to rub your thigh, no effort needed to hike the short dress up enough to expose your panties “I mean, you look gorgeous. Good enough to eat.”

You're surprised your knees don't buckle when he shifts his hand between your thighs to cup your clothed core.

“You think?” You mumble, turning to face him rather than his reflection. He blinks slowly at you, nodding once before his lips are on yours.

His kiss fills your lungs and you both moan. The fingers that were warming your core finds your shoulder to spin you toward him without loosening his grip on your hand. He presses you against the vanity, free hand finding a home on the back of your neck while he brings your joined fingers down, rubbing over where his cock strains against his pants. Your dress rides up to your hips when he pushes your ass firmly onto the surface of the custom table, lanky fingers digging into your skin.

“You’ll have to let me take you somewhere in this, love showing you off” he mumbles against your lips before trailing his own over your chin and down your throat “somewhere I can fuck you while you're wearing it.” You feel his cock jump at his own words, arching your chest into him when he licks gently over the swell of your breast on display beneath the low cut neck of the dress.

“Anytime,” you gasp, the hand not pressed between your bodies pulling gently at his hair in an effort to bring his mouth to yours again. He complies easily, pushing your intertwined knuckles into your clothed pussy and you feel him rut against your forearm at the damp spot growing there.

“Shit, the thought of me fucking your perfect pussy in public turns you on that much?” He stops kissing you for a second to tease meanly before taking both of his hands away from your body and you have to plant yours on the vanity to stop your head from banging into the mirror behind you.

“I want you to fuck me now” you pout, reaching pathetically for the fabric of his baggy clothes, but he’s just out of reach. You huff at him, quickly going for your own dress.

“Be patient baby, please. You’ve been able to see yourself all night.” he tuts, having to step between your legs to hold your wrists still “let me spend some time with the dress, too.”

You whimper when he drags your hips to the edge of the sleek wood to grind you against him, “Fuck, you drive me crazy.”

You take advantage of his hands being on your hips to wrap your fingers through his damp hair, dragging his mouth to yours. Mark’s hands are everywhere; pulling your dress up to your waist, leaving hot prints in the wake of his fingers, gliding over the skin of your thighs before hooking beneath your knees to keep your legs open. When you try to wrap your arms around his neck he easily pulls out of your desperate grasp, but you can see the wanton look in his heavily lidded eyes.

“Gonna make you feel as good as you look,” he rasps and you nod eagerly. His fingers drag over the straps of the dress before deciding against it, leaving your upper body covered “If that's even possible.”

He pulls you off of the vanity and guides you to the bed, keeping your body flush to his until he lays you back onto the mattress. The mirror hanging on the wall above the desk tilts down so you can see your reflection from the edge of mattress, the way Mark had specifically designed it.

“That’s better, want you to watch.” he smiles, glancing behind him to make sure the only part of yourself you can't see is what he's blocking with his own body as he drops to his knees between your legs. He rubs the heel of his palm into your clothed center, fingers digging into your pubic bone while he peppers kisses up your legs. His hand keeps your hips from bucking up when he licks heavily into the crease of your thigh before he moves his palm to press a wet, open mouthed kiss to your underwear. He sucks the fabric between his lips before his strong fingers pull your underwear up tight against your pussy to perfectly outline your already engorged clit and Mark’s cheek rests heavily where his mouth had just been on your thigh.

“Shit, baby.” he groans, stretching the fabric of your underwear in his fist, shifting it side to side and watching your lips move with it “I did this to you?” he asks gruffly, face sliding further up your leg until you can feel his breath on your soaked core.

You choke out a weak affirmation as he releases your panties, moaning when the stretched out fabric sticks to you. Your whole body shudders when he leans forward, nosing over your clit and inhaling deeply, dark lashes fluttering prettily against his cheeks.

“Mark, please-“ you gasp when he opens his mouth fully over you, dragging your panties away from your skin with his teeth and sucking at the ruined fabric.

Sometimes Mark feels a little pathetic between your legs, completely intoxicated, essentially trying to drink the taste of your pussy off of your underwear. The fact that he's so desperate for you, and yet he still has complete control never fails to inflate his ego, and as always it has his dick straining painfully against his sweats.

He moves the limp fabric to the side and uses two eager fingers to pull you apart, exposing your clit and Mark swears he sees it pulse, the idea making pre-cum leak from his dick like a broken faucet.

“Could stare at this pretty pussy all day,” he murmurs, not even looking up at you “but then I wouldn’t be able to taste it.”

You both let out sighs of relief when his tongue finally makes contact, laving over your wet folds. He moves urgently, wanting to touch you everywhere but settling with one hand palming gently over your inner thigh, the other keeping your hole open for his tongue to fuck into. When you open your eyes to look down you see his own closed gently, blissed out as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Your eyes flicker toward the mirror, gaze following the firm circles Mark is tracing into the skin of your thigh, the callouses from hours of guitar make goosebumps rise on your skin. You wish he’d take his shirt off, the black material stretches over his strong shoulders as he moves his mouth over your pussy. You lace your fingers through his blonde waves, his moan vibrating through you when you tug at his scalp. He moves his mouth over you with intention, wetting his chin and nose as he buries into you, never spending too much time in one spot in an effort to spend as long between your legs as possible.

“Fuck, baby, I’m already so close.” you gasp, the few minutes of teasing wound you up like a clock, the gentle flick of his tongue over your clit enough to make your entire body shake. He looks up at you, blonde curls getting caught in his lashes. The deep brown of his hungry eyes is almost enough to make you cum until he suddenly pulls away.

“No, no, no,” you wiggle yourself toward his mouth and he has to close his eyes for a moment to restrain himself, wanting almost nothing more than to make you cum on his tongue over and over and over.

“Needy girl,” he leans away from you and you whine again until you realize it’s to tug his shirt off and toss it to the side. Both hands press back into your legs as soon possible, rubbing over your shins and thumbing into the pit of your knee before gliding up your inner thigh.

“You’re teasing me.” you pant, your own hand threatening to sneak down to rub over your spit soaked clit but he stops you, glaring.

“I don’t think so, baby.” he deadpans “you can make this easy or you can make this hard.”

“I make you hard.” You smirk, attitude overpowering your need to orgasm and Mark tilts his head in surprise.

“You know eating your pretty pussy does more than just make me hard.” He raises an eyebrow, reminding you gently of all the times he’s cum from grinding into the mattress while going down on you “makes me fucking crazy.”

Your breathy laugh turns to a moan when he puts his mouth back on you, nose buried in your skin. He drapes your thighs over his bare shoulders and it takes what feels like less than a minute of his tongue rolling over your clit to get you right back to where you were. You groan angrily when he pulls away again.

“Why?” you can barely get the word out, feeling your legs move up as your boyfriend shrugs beneath them.

“I told you to watch” his arms reach from around the outside of your legs so one hand can push your chin, directing your eyes to the mirror while the other drifts over the soft silk of the dress that might as well be suffocating you. You watch the muscles in his back flex, your toes pointing to dig into his shoulder blades.

He follows your gaze, guiding your leg down onto the mattress and shifting his tosro out of the way so you can see yourself, swollen and wet from the torment of his mouth.

“Tell me what you see.” He commands softly, the hand supporting your leg moves quickly to rub over your soaked center and you blush when you realize you can hear his fingers gliding over you. You both watch the reflection of his middle and ring finger slowly pushing into you. You’re so wrapped up trying to keep your eyes from fluttering shut that you barely notice the way his breathing quickens, mouth dropping open slightly, cock twitching as your pussy sucks his fingers in.

“I see you-“ you begin to choke out but he shakes his head, crooking his fingers up into your g-spot and cutting you off.

“No baby, tell me what you look like.” He turns his head to kiss the thigh still draped over his shoulder, fingers hooking up and dragging over your g-spot at a painfully slow pace.

“I look, fucked,” you moan when he nibbles at the soft skin his lips just passed over “desperate.”

“Hmm, what else?” He dips his head in to press his swollen, pink lips to your clit, smiling when you squeak weakly “tell me what I want to hear, angel.”

“I look,” you whine again, back arching off the mattress when he takes his fingers out of your fluttering walls in favor of rubbing them over your clit, so gently you’re not even sure you’d be able to feel it if you weren’t so worked up “pretty.”

You watch the back of his head nod in agreement, stroking his fingers over your clit in a lazy circle before dipping down into you once and traveling back up.

“That’s right,” He coos, free hand groping at your tits, thumb brushing over your perked nipple as best as he can through the layers covering your upper body “what makes you so fucking pretty?”

“My mouth,” you whimper, relief washing through your body when he keeps his fingers inside of you “my tits,” your hand reaches to cover his and he smiles up at you, expectant eyes waiting for one more answer “my pussy. You make me feel so pretty, Mark.”

His chin and nose are covered in your slick, moaning at the taste when he licks over his lips, forehead falling weakly onto your pubic bone, rubbing his nose against your throbbing clit as he nods in agreement.

“My gorgeous girl, every part of you is too fucking pretty for me” He moves back to face your body again, taking his fingers from your pussy and replacing your knee over his shoulder, reaching up to meet his other hand on your chest. He palms at your breasts through the dress, shoulders breathing heavily beneath your legs while he curses himself for not at least taking your bra off, dying to tug at your nipples beneath the silky fabric. Sometimes his attempts to edge you become self-torturous, but the way your whole body shivers when he rubs his nose into your clit harder makes it worth it.

You test his patience by pushing at his head, trying to get his mouth back where you want it and he concedes, but let’s go of your breasts to traps both wrists in a single hand. His pink tinged cheeks make your heart skip a beat as you watch him rub his face in your pussy, sucking your clit into his mouth eagerly before licking back down into your hole.

“Please, please, please,” you beg and he looks up at you with those pretty brown eyes when he hears your teeth chatter, pulling away with a moan that makes your back arch toward his mouth. He drops your wrists, unable to stop himself from palming over his pants, pre-cum forming a wet spot on the crotch almost as soon as he dropped to his knees for you.

“I got you, baby.” His voice is barely audible over the ringing in your ears. He uses the hand that isn’t on his dick to spread you as far apart as his fingers can manage “fuck, look at that pretty clit.” he’s sure of it now, your clit is literally pulsing, body begging for an orgasm that he can’t wait to taste. He glances up at your shivering figure, straps of your dress fallen off either shoulder, chest rising and falling dangerously quick.

A cool blow of air through his pursed lips surprises your system, entire body spasming as your orgasm hits. You think you hear your boyfriend’s “no fucking way” before his tongue starts fucking eagerly into your dripping pussy, pressure from his nose on your clit making sure the orgasm lasts so long you have to push him away.

“That was fucking incredible, I didn’t even touch you” Mark stands, stripping off his pants and forcing himself into you before you have the chance to take a breath.

“Oh my god,” you gasp at the same time he chokes out “so fucking tight”, making quick work in stripping you to rub his hand over your chest. His head falls back, mouth falling open when the aftershocks of your orgasm make you squeeze around him.

“Kiss, please.” you have pins and needles in your fingers when you lift them to his shoulders, pulling him toward you eagerly to catch his mouth. A sturdy hand cups your cheek, kissing you deeply as he begins to move his hips. His tongue is hot and heavy on yours as he fucks into you, catching every short inhale in his mouth. You want to cry when he pulls away, but are quickly overwhelmed by how fucking good he looks.

His strong chin juts out when he stares down to where his cock slides in and out of you with eyes so heavy you’d think they were closed if he didn’t mumble something about “your pretty pussy was made for me, so fucking wet”. His abs are drawn in tight, your arousal shining on the skin of his lower stomach and you reach out to touch him, dragging your fingers over the dark patch of hair growing below his belt line. He slows his assaulting pace to lean into your touch, grabbing your wrist and drawing your slick soaked fingers up his chest and into his mouth, sucking lewdly and shutting his eyes. His hair is a mess thanks to your desperate hands, sweat dripping down the side of his neck.

“So fucking dirty baby, know I'm addicted to the way you taste,” he grunts, dropping your hand in favor of spreading your legs as far as he can “the way you feel.” He slows his hips almost to a stop, dragging his cock out of you intently, listening to the sopping suction sound you make together when he slides back inside just as slow.

“Hear that, pretty baby, how much your pussy needs me?” eyes focused on where the angry, pink head of his cock prods at your entrance “can’t believe you’re real, and you’re all mine.”

“All yours,” you whisper, not trusting your voice “all yours.” his lips pull up smugly, but his eyes shine with adoration as he brings his thumb up to your mouth and watches you eagerly suck on the digit before dragging it down your quivering stomach to land on your clit.

“That’s right,” he can’t help the deep groan that tears from his chest at the look on your face when he starts to rub in smooth circles, your eyes fluttering shut “shit, you’re so fucking pretty. Look at yourself, want you to see what I see.”

He forces your eyes toward the mirror, hips picking up speed again while his thumb stays working over your swollen clit.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum baby. Always make me feel so fucking good.” you moan at his words, thighs clenching around his hips “need you to cum with me, show me that you can take it all.” he practically begs, and you feel white hot pleasure shoot up your spine, the pace of his hips and thumb on your clit working easily with his hot words in your ear.

You make a noise between a moan and a scream, nails leaving indents in his shoulders, grinding your hips up toward his sloppily. His bicep shakes under his weight, fucking into you viciously, eyes focused on the blissed out look on your face that he knows is because of him.

“That’s it, take that fucking cock baby, take it.” all you can hear beneath his words is static sound when you feel him tense before he thrusts into you for a final time.

You can’t even hold your eyes open when he drops to his forearms to grab your flushed cheeks, kissing you lazily, letting you melt into him while he softens inside of you. You hum happily when his soft lips drag over your nose and cheeks, compliments falling on ringing ears and for a second Mark is nervous that he broke you.

“You okay, baby?” he rubs gently at the mascara smeared under your glazed over eyes and you smile softly up at him with a nod

“So good,” you assure him, lifting your neck to kiss him again and he happily obliges, laughing against your lips as you cage him in with your legs when he tries to pull out, murmuring a genuine “don’t go.” that makes his heart flutter in his chest.

“Not going anywhere, don’t worry.” he promises.

———

masterlist

[mrkng]

3/4 Bath - Rustic Bathroom

[eddiesxangel]

The Kissing Booth | E.M x G!N!Reader

Cw: flufffffff, mild angst on Eddie’s part. Smooching. Reader wears lipgloss. No use of pronouns.

Wc 1.4K

Eddie could not believe this was happening to him.

“Nope, nope, no way, man. Over my dead body-“

“What my boy means is he is grateful he is not being suspended and will graciously accept his punishment of volunteering at the school fair.” Wayne looks at his nephew with a glare in his eyes that Eddie hasn’t seen in a very long time.

“Great, then it’s settled,” Ms. Laughlin, the guidance councillor, smiles.

It was happening. Eddie was being served the most gruesome punishment, and all because he skipped P.E. of all classes.

Eddie Munson was being forced not only to participate in the school fair but to work the kissing booth, of all things.

How on earth would he survive this? Not only would he be the laughingstock of the school, but he would also have to endure the absolute embarrassment of having no one come up to his booth, and he would also have to be forced to participate in extracurricular activities.

“Just wait until Hellfire hears about this boy,” Wayne laughs as he drives him and Eddie back to the trailer.

All Eddie could do was roll his eyes; he could never show his face again.

“You’re not going to believe the rumour I heard today.” Nancy looks at you from over her shoulder. She is sat at your vanity.

“What?” You asked, intrigued, as you got dressed and got ready for tonight’s festivities.

“A little birdy told me that a certain someone is working the kissing booth tonight.” She smirks.

“Who?” You challenge her back.

“Who, what?” Robin walks into the bedroom from the bathroom.

“Nancy knows who is working one of the kissing booths tonight, but who’s telling me” you pout.

“Ohhhhhhhh,” Robin smirks knowingly.

“Oh, not you, too! Come on, who is it!”

Robin and Nancy give one another a nod of the head before Nancy speaks.

“Eddie Munson.”

“Ha ha, very funny; you think I’m going to believe that? How gullible do you think I am?” You snort.

“No, it’s true! Shelly from the student council told me when we were working on the student paper! Instead of detention, this is his punishment, to help out at the fair tonight.” She wiggled her brows at you suggestively.

“Who else’s working it?” You try and ask casually.

Your friends knew about your crush on Eddie. It had been about a month since you confessed to one of your late-night sleepovers.

“Um, I’m not too sure what other guy, but I think Chrissy is working the girl's booth. Nancy shrugged.

“Cool…cool…” you turned to the closet, now faced with a sense of anxiety to find the perfect top.

Eddie was actually dying on the inside. Ten minutes until his “shift” at the booth, and he wanted to book it.

Running away would solve his problems, right? He would much rather be suspended than have to endure this humiliation. This was a cruel and unusual punishment.

He watched from the sidelines as Josh was at the booth currently. He was the senior star quarterback on the football team. Everyone wanted him. He could just see now the long line disbursing once he stood there.

"Hey man, you're up next in 5." Eddie was snapped out of his internal monologue when he felt a hand resting on his shoulder. He wasn't sure how long he had been there stewing with his own thoughts. "Don't worry, it's not all bad. Some customers are cute," Josh smirks.

Oh god. What if he actually had to kiss someone tonight? He hadn’t thought of that option. Like, what if some actually came up? What would he do? Are they expecting tongue?

“You have some gum or something?” He asked quickly before Josh left.

He smirked and tossed him a pack of icy mint.

“Thanks.”

Eddie peaked around the corner to where the booth was set up. The fair was set up on the school football field. There was a small sign that said be back in 5 and no lineup to be seen.

That made Eddie feel a bit better; no one was there. That took some humility out of it.

Before Eddie could back out and run, he felt another hard hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Munson, your time to shine.” Jeff and Gareth practically dragged Eddie to the booth, kicking and screaming.

“You’re the worst friends ever,” Eddie huffed as they backed away from the booth. Watching him so he won’t run away.

“You can't serve the time and shouldn’t do the crime.” Jeff laughed.

“That’s not-“ Eddie was cut off mid-sentence as he saw Robin and Nancy pushing you towards the booth just like he had been moments ago.

“Don’t make me do this,” you plead with your best friends.

“You have to do it,” “It’s now or never,” “He’s right there. Just have him your ticket and pucker your lisp. It’s not that hard,” Robin and Nancy whispered in your ear as they dragged you towards Eddie.

“You guys, please, I can’t!” You say a bit too loudly as you fight back your friends from pushing you up to the booth.

You can see the look on Eddie’s face as you are pushed up the step of the booth. He looks disappointed? Disgusted? You’re not too sure.

You let out an embarrassing squeal as you stumbled in front of Eddie. “Um hi”

Despite not being well-acquainted with Eddie, you couldn't help but notice him whenever he walked by. You only exchanged a few words in passing and learned about him through your friends. Although you never had the opportunity to spend time together, you found him to be irresistibly charming and incredibly good-looking. Whenever you caught a glimpse of him in the cafeteria, he never failed to bring a smile to your face with his silly antics and infectious laughter.

“Uh hey,” he spoke back, clearly uncomfortable.

“Busy night for you?” You ask, trying to delay the inevitable.

“Uh nope.”

“Good,” you smile; the thought of Eddie kissing anyone else made you want to vomit.

“Good?” He cocks a brow at you. “The thought of nobody wanting to come up to the freak of Hawkins High is good to you?”

“Oh I didn’t mean it like-“

“Why are you even here?”

“Oh- well- I um-"

“No, I get it. You’re just here on a dare, or you lost the bet, right? I really thought better of Nancy and Robin; I thought they were my friends… You know I heard you say you can’t do this. I understand the thought of kissing me is so terrible that-“

You couldn't help but cut off Eddei from his intrusive thoughts. You held his face with both hands and smushed your lips together. The thought of Eddie thinking that about you was far worse than the fear of kissing him.

It wasn't everything you had dreamed of. However, the kiss was still nice. You felt the eruption of butterflies fill your stomach as Eddie deepened this kiss himself. You kissed him until you could no longer breathe. Only then is when you pull away.

“Woah”

“I hope that was okay.” You shy away.

“Yeah.” Eddie sighed as he took you in.

As he gazed upon you, he was struck by how pretty you were, which he had overlooked until now. The sweet aroma of strawberries wafted from you as the strawberry lipgloss lingered on his lips, just below his nose.

“Um, here,” you jut out your hand with the crinkled ticket you hadn't yet paid with.

“Oh no, no, the house,” Eddie said without thinking and that made you giggle.

“Well, I really only bought a ticket for this, so I might as well cash it in.” you flirt.

“Ok, yeah, sure. Two for one.” Eddie took the ticket from your hand and brought it back to cup your cheek before kissing you again.

You could hear the giggles and cheers of your friends from behind you in the distance, but your main focus was on Eddie. His soft, plush lips. His minty taste, the way his soft hair tickled your cheeks.

“Ok, lovebirds, that’s enough.” the supervising teacher returned with an unimpressed huff.

You begrudgingly pulled away, but with a smile nonetheless.

“Can I get your number?” Eddie’s mouth was moving before his brain could catch up.

“Come find us later, lover boy.” Robin giggled while snatching your arm and pulled you away before you could answer.

“Dude!” Gareth clapped his hands, having witnessed the whole thing.

“Maybe we should sign up for this,” Jeff laughed. A little jealous of what he just witnessed.

After you, Eddie didn’t care if he got another customer for the rest of the night. Maybe this whole kissing booth thing wasn’t too bad after all.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Of thorns and blooms - Lewis Hamilton

request: "Can I request a Journalist reader, who lewis has his eye on and she interviews him and smexy antics ensue after the gathering. She wears a light up floral crown which lewis finds so cute and when they they celebrate an anniversary, he gives her an actual crown." - @omgsuperstarg

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Fashion Journalist! Reader!

wordcount: +3K

a/n: It took me sooo long to get the tone to this one right, but I hope it was worth the wait.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Y/n adjusted her dress for the hundredth time as she waited for the next person she would interview, the humidity in the air boiling them all in the enclosed paradise the famous steps of the MET. The buzz of the Gala was like a living entity. And tonight, she wasn't just a fashion journalist, she was a guest, courtesy of a hand-delivered invitation from Anna Wintour herself.

A small proud smile played on her lips. It had been a long road, from the early days working in college fashion blogs to the owner of her own digital media platform. She had conquered every step on the ladder the had envisaged for her career, and the MET Gala was the cherry on top.

Her gaze swept the red carpet, catching a flash of black that snagged on her breath. Lewis.

They'd met a few times before, most notably for his iconic Vanity Fair cover in 2022. Shot in pink, in none other than Valentino, it had been a bold choice, and she had made it justice in the interview. I was a peek into the soul of a man who rarely had let himself be seen that way. It was raw, honest, and had garnered her more praise than any piece she'd ever written.

On the human level there had also been something else, a connection beyond the professional aura, but it had remained just that – a spark.

Over the years, they'd stayed in loose contact. She would congratulate him on a good race, he would message whenever he read one of her articles, a selfie once, holding her printed fashion annual he'd found at an airport in Dubai.

It felt like a secret language, a shared appreciation in their vastly different worlds.

And that night, he looked…untouchable.

A vision in a custom Burberry creation. Although not far from the usual black, his overcoat was anything but ordinary, adorned with hand-embroidered floral motifs that shimmered under the camera flashes, the thorns in his necklace a powerful statement. Heritage and resilience.

As Lewis neared her corner of the press pen, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His eyes scanned the crowd, and when they landed on her, a flicker shone within them. He diverted his path slightly, heading straight for her.

"Y/n!" he boomed, his voice surprisingly warm for someone who always tried to maintain his stoicism.

"Sir Lewis Hamilton" she replied, offering a professional smile. "Looking sharp."

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "You clean up nice yourself, Voltaire."

"Voltaire?" she raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Your floral crown. You quoted Voltaire on gardens being the only art that imitated nature in your preview of the met" He gestured towards her head, where a crown of intricately woven white flowers sat, each petal tipped with tiny LED lights that cast a soft glow. "It looks incredible by the way."

Her smile widened. "Maria Grazia Chiuri and I had a blast designing this piece. We wanted to honor the history of the floral crown, worn for centuries, but with a modern twist."

Lewis leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You always manage to find the hidden meaning, don't you?"

She met his gaze, the intensity surely not lost to her. "Fashion is all about meaning, Lewis. It's a language, a way to express ourselves." His gaze holding on to hers as she continued “Your statement in this Burberry. It's a powerful one”

He tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes, but just as he was about to answer back a microphone was thrust in front of them. A reporter, eager to get a quote looking impatient.

"Mr. Hamilton," the reporter began, "your outfit is quite…unexpected. Can you tell us the inspiration behind it?"

Lewis straightened his shoulders, slipping back into his professional persona. He launched into a detailed explanation of the Burberry design, his voice smooth and practiced. Y/n listened, captivated by his words and by the way his gaze flickered back to her every few seconds, a silent promise of something.

When the interview ended, the reporter scurried away. Lewis turned back to her; his smile warm. "They only gave me a few minutes," he said with mock disappointment.

"Well," she teased, "perhaps you could tell me the "real" story later," she finished, mirroring his playful tone.

A slow grin spread across Lewis's face. "Perhaps" he replied winking, a gesture that would have sent a lesser woman reeling. "I’ll find you later." He gestured towards the throng of celebrities and socialites milling about.

As Y/n wandered into the museum, she navigated the wave of guests with small talks and greetings alike. Her platform had gained traction over the past months, and her presence was becoming increasingly sought-after. But tonight, the glamor felt secondary as the show stoppers stood behind glasses of exhibitions.

As she stood and admired one of Balmain’s first collections, a familiar figure caught her eye. Lewis, leaning casually against a pillar, a glass of champagne in his hand. He was alone, just observing her, a smile breaking across his face as he saw she had noticed him, he made his way towards her, his movements graceful.

"There you are," a low rumble in his chest. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Hardly," she replied, a playful glint in her eyes.

"So," he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "tell me about this secret language of fashion."

"Where do I even begin?" she laughed, a genuine, carefree sound. "Every stitch, every embellishment, every cut – it all tells a story. A story of who you are, where you come from and how you want to be perceived."

The conversation flowed easily, a back-and-forth about the art of fashion, their contrasting worlds, and the subtle messages woven into every outfit. Lewis, she discovered, was surprisingly well-versed in fashion history, his knowledge going beyond the surface. He spoke of iconic designers, groundbreaking trends, and the evolution of style through the ages, his voice filled with genuine passion as he recounted how he had learned so much from her own words.

"You know," Lewis said, his voice softer now, "you're not like anyone else I've ever met."

" This one is not gonna cut it" she asked, her heart skipping a beat.

"Right…" he said, his gaze locking on hers. "But I meant it though. You look at the story behind people. That’s rare."

His words hit her like a sucker punch, laying bare a truth she hadn't dared to public admit. She had always craved for connection with people, and fashion, she had discovered, was her way to reach for those who held their stories and dreams in their eyes and heart.

Heat rose to her cheeks, and she looked away, breaking the intense eye contact. "Perhaps you see the same," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He leaned closer; his breath warm on her ear. "Tell me about your dreams, Y/n. What stories are you trying to tell?"

And then, when she couldn’t avoid his gaze on her anymore, when the silence of his question had almost drowned her, a booming voice cut through the air. "Lewis! There you are. We have to get going."

Lewis sighed, pushing himself away from the wall. "Right" he said, a touch of regret in his voice before he turned abruptly to Y/n, as if he had just decided to take a jump "I have a proposition for you."

Intrigued, Y/n raised an eyebrow. "A proposition? Do elaborate, Hamilton."

He leaned in again, close enough for his lips to brush against her ear. “Are you, by any chance, willing to pass on those other after parties and come to mine?”

Y/n seemed to be taken aback, but just like before, when she was about to answer him, he shot her a look “I’ll text you the details. I’d love to know your stories.”  And with a final lingering look at her, Lewis offered a charming smile. "Until later."

The afterparty held a low-key energy, a contrast to the frenzy of the Met. Y/n found herself at Lewis's expansive New York City apartment, surprised by the choice of venue. It wasn't the club she'd thought of, but a tastefully decorated space that felt more like a home than a celebrity crash pad.

Lewis had introduced her to a motley crew of people. Some of his friends, but mostly, a mix of young, up-and-coming designers, photographers Y/n knew by reputation, and even a couple of journalists she had came across an article or two. The air buzzed with conversations, a refreshing change from the interactions of the Met.

As the night wore on, the crowd thinned. Y/n found herself gravitating towards a corner where Lewis stood, deep in conversation with someone she remembered to have seen at some shooting before.

"That's Kelly," Lewis said, noticing Y/n's approach. "A design prodigy. Just landed a gig with Channel"

Kelly's smile widened as Lewis introduced them. "It's an honor to meet you, Y/n," she said, her voice brimming with excitement. "I've been a huge fan for a while now."

They chatted for a while, the struggles and triumphs of breaking into the fashion world. Looking at the young woman's vibrant energy, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the platform she'd created.

But as Kelly was whisked away by another group, a comfortable silence settled between Y/n and Lewis.

He gestured towards an empty stool beside him. "Mind if I steal you for a bit?"

Y/n accepted the invitation, a playful glint in her eyes. "Only if you answer a question for me first."

"Shoot," he said, taking a swig from his drink.

"This isn't exactly the afterparty I expected," she said, gesturing to the relaxed setting. "Why here?"

Lewis chuckled, a low rumble that made her feel inadequately naïve "Maybe this is the real me," he said. "The part that doesn't crave the constant spotlight."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conversational whisper. "I thought you'd like this kind of party. I like to distance myself from the buzz when I can"

Y/n nodded, a smile playing on her lips. "A safe space."

"Something like that," he replied, his gaze lingering on her for a beat too long.

"So," Lewis began, breaking the building tension "I’m still waiting to hear about your dreams"

And so, for some ungodly pull, at a rather uncomfortable stool, she opened up to a man she had never really expected to create any kind of connection. Maybe, exactly because she never so that coming, it felt so easy to tell him her most guarded hopes.

She spoke of her platform as a way to democratize fashion, to give a voice to those who felt unseen, unheard. She spoke of empowering individuals to express themselves through who they really were, regardless of social status or bank balance.

As Y/n talked, she noticed Lewis's eyes gleaming with genuine interest. He wasn't just listening politely, he interest genuine, his questions insightful and thought-provoking. And she wondered if it was really that unexpected to find this depth hidden beneath him.

"That's incredible" Lewis said, his voice filled with admiration. “You’re giving people the tools for them to tell their stories."

"Exactly" Y/n said, a sense of understanding as he smiled with her. "It's about self-expression, about telling the world who you are."

A thoughtful frown etched itself onto Lewis's face as she leaned into the counter. "You know," he said, pausing mid-sentence, "you're quite a puzzle, Y/n."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Me? A puzzle?”

"There's this incredible fire in you" he continued, his voice low and husky, "a passion for giving others a voice. But then there's this… " he trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

"What?" she scoffed playfully. "I always thought I such was an open book."

Lewis chuckled; a dark, sexy sound that surely didn’t go unnoticed. "You talk about empowering others, yet I get the feeling there's a whole story you haven't shared of where that desire comes from"

Their connection had been simmering throughout the night, unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Now, with Lewis's gaze holding hers captive, it threatened to tip over.

The conversation around them seemed to fade away, swallowed by the growing awareness between them. Y/n felt his unspoken questions echoing in her mind, a challenge she couldn't ignore.

As the night wore on, the guests gradually dwindled. One by one, they bid farewell to Lewis, leaving him and Y/n alone amidst the empty bottles and scattered laughter.

Y/n found her gaze drawn to him again. He stood by the window, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, his profile sharp and captivating. The urge to break the silence, to bridge the growing gap between them, became overwhelming.

She rose from the stool, her movements deliberate, and walked towards him. He turned, his surprise evident in his eyes.

"Everyone's gone, I should go" she said softly, her voice barely a whisper.

"Don’t. Please" he replied, his gaze still locked on hers. "I’d love if you could stay and"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. Y/n cut him off, stopping just inches away from him. The air crackled with electricity, the unspoken desire a tangible force between them.

She glanced at the faint outline of his abdomen in the fabric of his Dior shirt, her fingers tracing invisible circles on the soft fabric. Then, in a bold move, she let her nails lightly scratch across his chest, sending a jolt of heat through him.

Lewis's breath hitched. He pulled her closer by her waist, his eyes burning into hers.

Their lips met in a heated kiss, a clash of urgency and teeth. Lewis's hands roamed freely over her back, his touch numbing her to the surroundings. He was hungry for all of her.

Y/n found herself caught in the current, her own desire rising to meet his. His lips traveled down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses.

A dark part of her, a voice fueled by the intoxicating aura of him, entertained the idea of becoming just another name on his long list of conquests.

But then, as his hand reached for her thigh, a wave of clarity put an end to the haze. This wasn't a one-night stand she craved. This connection, potent and undeniable, deserved more.

Y/n broke the kiss, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. "Lewis," she whispered, her voice husky.

He stared at her, confusion, concern and desire evident in his eyes.

"Dinner first," she said, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "Then maybe we can explore this mystery you see in me."

A slow smile spread across Lewis's face, the heat in his eyes softening to amusement. "Dinner it is," he agreed, his voice raspy. "But consider this a warning. I don't give up easily."

Sunlight danced across the Aegean Sea, glowing through the large round window of the yacht's cabin. Y/n stood before the vanity, applying a final touch of lipstick, her reflection a picture of contentment.

Five years. Five years since that MET and Lewis's afterparty, a whirlwind that had swept them off their feet and turned their world upside down.

A soft knock at the door startled her. "Come in," she called out, her voice filled with a hint of anticipation.

The door creaked open, and Lewis stepped inside. He was a vision in his crisp white linens, his hair free from the braids.

But it was the velvety box in his hand that held her attention.

"There you are," he said, a playful glint in his eyes as he walked towards her.

Y/n watched him through the mirror, her heart still skipping a beat whenever he was around. He stopped behind her, his warmth radiating through her back.

"What's that?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"A little something for my favorite fashion journalist" he replied, his breath tickling her ear as he leaned close.

He opened the box, inside, nestled on a bed of white satin, lay a breathtaking piece of jewelry – a floral crown crafted from delicate diamonds. Each petal was meticulously designed, some adorned with tiny thorns, others bursting into bloom.

It was both graceful and powerful. And it wasn’t quite a necklace, nor quite a tiara. It was a piece of art.

"Lewis," she breathed, her voice filled with awe. "It's…incredible."

He took the crown from the box, his touch gentle as he held it up to the light. "Anne Wintour helped me design it," he admitted, a hint of pride in his voice. "She said it reminded her of your outfit at the Met Gala, all those years ago."

Y/n held her breath as she looked at the jewelry. The floral crown, a memory of their initial spark, now reimagined with diamonds. The strength and beauty of their love that had blossomed despite adversity.

"The thorns," he said, her voice barely a whisper, "they represent the challenges we've faced, the distance, the different worlds..."

"And the flowers," he finished after clasping it to her neck, his voice husky with emotion, "represent our love, always blooming, even in the face of those challenges."

He adjust it to her skin, his touch gentle. "It's meant to be worn by someone who sees the world differently, who tells stories with every thread" he said, his gaze holding hers.

He cupped her hand in his, his eyes brimming with love. "Someone who wears her heart on her sleeve," he continued, his voice low and husky.

She turned and their lips met slowly, a lingering kiss that spoke volumes of their love and shared journey.

"Happy anniversary, Y/n," he whispered, pulling away but not letting go, his eyes shining brighter than any star.

"Happy anniversary, Lewis" she replied, the diamond floral piece catching the sunlight and reflecting a thousand tiny rainbows in their eyes.

______________________________________________________________

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[phoward89]

Based on this ask

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Coryo x Big Booty!Reader, Smut, p in v, creampie, cussing, breeding kink, Dom!Coriolanus

Coriolanus Snow has classic tastes when it comes to his life. He has a sophisticated image, so of course he wears gold rings on his hands; never silver. Full Windsor knots in his satin ties, custom 3-piece suits made with only the finest material, and fine dress shirts that have to be starched. He wears cufflinks and all of his shoes are floor shines with 3 or 4 inch heels (because Coriolanus' 6ft frame needs to be even more intimidating so he can tower over everyone that's beneath him). His taste in food is classic, but upscale as well.

And when it comes to women, well, his taste is classic when it comes to that as well. T&A does it for him.

Coriolanus Snow’s a tits and ass man. The bigger the better too. And when he started dating you, well his classic tastes were definitely filled.

You're, in his opinion, the whole package. To Coriolanus, you're so beautiful both inside and out. You have a personality that just pulls him in. You keep him engaged and on his toes with conversations. But your physical appearance is what attracted him to you in the first place. Your curves make his mouth water. Nice tits and a nice big ass, just what he likes.

And your big booty is something that he loves. Seriously, Coriolanus can't get enough of it. And watching you sitting at your vanity in nothing but a white bra and panty set, hair up in rollers while doing your makeup for the dinner he's taking you tonight as his plus one makes him grin. Your white lace edged panties cling to your big booty just right and the way your plump ass sits on your vanity bench has Coriolanus mentally swearing to have you fuck him in his favorite position tonight when you get home from the dinner the University’s hosting for the Political Science majors of the Senior Class of 14 ADD (After Dark Days).

“Are you wearing the pearl jewelry set I got you for your birthday, Peaches?” Coriolanus asks you, buttoning up his crisp white dress shirt as he stands by his dresser- which has jewelry box open with his various cuff links (including pearl ones) and his chunky gold rings in it.

“Yes, Coryo.” You nod. Lightly dabbing your blending sponge on your face, you tell your boyfriend, “I’m wearing them; thought they'd look nice with my dress.”

Your dress is a strappy white gown that's form fitting. A dress that's hanging up on the door of your side of the walkin closet.

“I thought they'd pair nicely with your dress as well, my darling.” Coriolanus remarks while grabbing his pearl cuff links from his jewelry box and putting them on. “How much longer til you're ready, Y/N?” Your boyfriend asks, walking into thw walkin closet to grab and put on his dark maroon and white stripe vest and its matching dark maroon dinner jacket.

“Not long; maybe 15-20 minutes.” You assure him as he finishes getting dressed.

Coriolanus loves how sweet your booty looks with your clothes hugging it just right. He's always smacking it or grabbing it- a result of loving that big booty of yours. Whether it's in the privacy of his penthouse, that he moved you into, or out in public. He doesn't care, he just wants to feel your perfectly peachy ass in his hands.

But when he grabs your ass in public it's sometimes embarrassing.

Like tonight, his large hand keeps sliding south off of the small of your back to rest right on your plump ass. An ass that he loves, that he thinks looks perfect in the white dress you're wearing tonight for the formal dinner he's attending with you as his plus one. But it's not appropriate in the pre-dinner party cocktail setting, so you have to keep dragging his hand up and off your ass.

Despite standing around and talking to various people (high ranking people might you add since everyone at this dinner whether they're a professor, student, or plus one is a somebody in Capitolite high society- your own boyfriend included) Coriolanus has no shame and keeps grabbing your ass. It's very annoying. You even give him a slight side-eyed look, silently telling him to stop it. But your boyfriend has not shame; Coriolanus just gives you a loving smirk only to slide his hand back down to grab your ass again.

“You're gonna be my good lil cowgirl tonight, Peaches.” Coriolanus whispers into your ear, his baritone dark and lustful, while giving your butt a light squeeze as his friend Festus Creed along with his longtime girlfriend Persephone Price head their way over to you and your future political star boyfriend.

And you knew what he meant by his remark. He wanted you to fuck him in reverse cowgirl tonight so he can oogle and smack your ass. Oh, how his whispered promise of the night’s future events had your panties dampening.

Damn him.

Now you're stuck with wet panties all throughout tonight's long drawn out dinner. That bastard. Coryo always knows how to get to you.

And he knows the longer you're stuck in wet panties for the more desperate you'll be to fuck yourself on his cock once you get out of those panties.

What Coriolanus loves more then anything in the world is to stare at your plump, perfect ass while you ride him reverse cowgirl when you're fucking. Yep, he loves to watch your ass jiggle as you take him deep while bouncing quickly on his cock. It's one of his favorite positions for you to fuck in.

“Fuck. Your ass is so fine, Peaches.” Coryo groans as you quickly ride him, pushing your body quickly up and down while facing the foot of the bed. You're gripping his thighs in your hands, your nails digging into the skin of his sinewy muscles, as your knees frame his hip bones. “Yea, that's it baby girl, make that big ass jiggle for your man.” The platinum blonde orders, his deep baritone thick and husky, as his icy eyes are glued to your large, sweet ass cheeks as they bounce up and down as your tight cunt quickly takes his large cock in and out, in and out at a pleasurable pace.

Looking over your shoulder at your disheveled boyfriend, you give him a sultry smile. “You never get tired of watching my big booty as I ride you, huh?”

“Oh, Peaches, I told you when we first got together that I'm a tits and ass man; that the bigger the better.” Your boyfriend smirks. Reaching a hand forward, he grabs your ass and groans, “Your ass is perfect and it's all mine.” Giving your ass a hard smack, that echoed throughout the room and mingled with the led wet sound of your pussy fucking Coryo's cock, the platinum blonde orders, “Tell me your ass belongs to me, Y/N. Say it, Peaches, or you're not cumming tonight.”

And you know he means it. If you don't tell your possessive and obsessive boyfriend what he wants to hear that he'll take over, fuck you til he cums, and will leave you high and dry. He's done it before early on on your relationship when you played stubborn and didn't summit to him. But you learned your lesson; now you summit even if you don't want to.

It's all just dirty bedroom talk, right?

Coryo doesn't actually think that your ass belongs to him, does he?

No.

No, he can't.

He can't be that possessive and obsessive towards you, can he?

No, it's just bedroom talk. Dirty talk that gets him off.

“My ass belongs to you and only you, Coryo.” You tell your boyfriend in a high pitch mewl as the tip of his cock bruises your cervix; sending shockwaves of pleasure up and down your spine.

“Goddamnit, I love your ass.” Coriolanus confesses, his tone tight and husky. Smacking your ass again, he orders, “Go on, fuck yourself fast and hard on my cock til we cum.”

Coryo didn't have to tell you twice.

You use the grip on his thighs as leverage, helping your upper body control your faster than lighting movements. Quickly, you impale yourself on your boyfriend's large cock- letting out whines and whimpers every time your special spongy spot deep inside of you gets hit just right by the large cock that's stretching your cunt open wide. Sweat rolls down your brow as mewls of pleasure escape your lips. With every move you make your pussy clenches; pushing you closer to your orgasm.

Coriolanus is loudly groaning out, “Fuck, baby.”, while watching your ass bounce up and down just right. His baby blues are blown black by lust and they're transfixed on your ass jiggling quickly. “Fuck, Peaches, I'm gonna cum soon.” Your boyfriend forewarns you of his upcoming orgasm. Grabbing your ass cheeks in each of his large hands, he uses his strength to slam you up and down his twitching cock at a punishing force.

“Coryo…I'm gonna cum.” You moan, nearly toppling over from the brute force of your boyfriend moving you to fuck his cock as if you're nothing more then his personal fuckdoll. The only reason you're not face first between your boyfriends spread eagle legs is because of the tight hold you have around his thighs- nails digging in so deeply that crimson’s trickling down the pale skin.

“Go on and cum, Peaches.” Coryo orders before groaning, “Cum so I can fill ya up with my seed; knock ya up.”

His husky words sends a jolt right to your aching cunt and suddenly you're cumming with a loud moan that's only one word: Coryo.

Coriolanus doesn't let you ride out your high gracefully. No. I stead, he slams you down even harder on his cock. His cum heavy balls begin to tighten up as he tells you, “You're gonna look so beautiful knocked up with my heir. Can't wait to see your tits and ass grow along with your belly swelling with our child.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your boyfriend curses before shooting a thick rope of his hot seed into your womb. Your name falls from his lips as he cums.

He pushes you forward, causes your butt to jiggle in his hands. Coryo smiles, his eyes shining with lazy lust, as he watches his cum slowly leak from your clenching, tight, abused hole like perfect pearls. Pulling you up to lay next to him, Coriolanus adjusts the two of you to cuddle so that his head rests on your tits while his hand holds your ass.

The two things on you that he absolutely loves; that attracted him to ask you out- causing him to fall obsessively, possessively, and madly in love with you.

Your tits and ass.

But if you ask him what he prefers on you, Coryo will honestly answer that he loves your large ass. Without a doubt, it's your big booty that really does it for him.

After all, he did give you the nickname Peaches because of his undying love for that big booty of yours. An ass that he thinks is the sweetest peach in all of Panem.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @lady-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile I

Pairing: Alastor x Female!Reader

Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: It's going to turn dark very quickly, but let's enjoy childhood innocence heh... It's my first time writing for Alastor so I hope I'll do him justice.

“ Do you promise to be a good girl, love?”

You gave your mother a beaming smile while she was doing your hair in front of her vanity. You were trying not to bounce with excitement , your parents have decided to move to New Orleans, in Louisiana,  thanks to your dad's new job. Your mother was born there and she was talking about a friend that she couldn’t wait to meet again! 

You couldn’t help being happy to see your mother so cheerful, even more so when she told you that this particularly cherished friend of hers had a child around your age!  You had to say goodbye to your playfellows in your old country so you were eager to make new friends here.

Once your mother finished styling your hair, you jumped off the chair and gave a little twirl in your new dress, making your mother laugh. She took you in her arms and kissed you on both cheeks as you giggled. You turned your head towards the door as your father came in with a tired smile. He went to kiss your mother then yourself on your forehead.

“ Are the most beautiful ladies in town ready ?”

You blinked as you looked at the trees surrounding the house that you were walking toward. Your mother held your hand while chatting eagerly with your father who had a fond gaze as he was admiring her. She stopped once she saw the door open and a black woman ran toward her, your step on the side as she gave a crushing hug to the lady. 

You tilted your head, watching your mother’s friend. She had a beautiful smile, dark hair held in a bun with a red ribbon and eyes that looked like they were made of chocolate.

“ Oh , I’m so happy to meet you again Marie! Look at you, glowing like the sun! But where are my manners? You already know my husband of course, but let me introduce you to my sweet little girl !” Your mother exclaimed as she pushed you toward the lady who smiled widely as she set her gaze on you. 

She crouched before you and kissed you on both cheeks just after you introduced yourself. You blinked, confused but the lady explained it was a french custom called “ La bise.” 

“ Oh dear, you are just the cutest ! Please do come inside, I’ll call my son so you two can play together !” Marie said as she clapped her hands together, inviting you to enter the house. 

You bounced into the house, excited to finally meet your future friend, what kind of game will you play? Tag? Hide and Seek? You were unbeatable in those games. Nobody could catch you, you were like the wind, untouchable, uncaged… You look around the living room, as the adults did their things, and look at a picture: it was obviously Marie with a man and a little boy. You took the photo carefully and examined it, the boy had a wide smile, similar to Marie’s,he had glasses on. He looked small–

“  Do you not know that it is rather rude to touch others' belongings?”

You squeaked and turned around to find the boy in the picture in front of you, the photo hidden behind your back. His arms were folded in front of his torso, one eyebrow raised up with a closed smile and eyes staring at you, unlike the photo he wasn’t wearing glasses and his skin was almost …caramel like? He was a tad smaller than you…Wait, what did he say?

“And it is rude to come unannounced behind a lady!” you replied making yourself even taller than the boy in front of you. It was embarrassing being catched red handed like that! He tilted his head, never losing his smile.

“ I see no lady.”

“ What-”

“ Alastor, mon coeur, there you are !” Marie came into the living room with your mother, smiling. She kissed the boy's forehead and looked at you. “ This is my son, Alastor, he is nine years old. Bébé, I hope you were polite and said hi.” You saw the boy- Alastor's smile twitched a little as he looked at his mother. You were going to show him that you knew your manners, you were not rude! You kissed him on both cheeks just like his mother did to you a few minutes ago. You took a step back to introduce yourself  but you saw him looking at you, eyes wide open, his smile frozen and… was his cheeks-

“ Oh, excuse my daughter ! Sweetie, you don’t just randomly kiss boys like that!” your mother said as she apologized to Marie who was just laughing, commenting on how cute you were. Dang it, did it make you ruder to Alastor’s eyes ? As both of your mothers went into the kitchen Alastor walked closer to you, his face way too close!

“ It’s rude to look at someone face this close!”

“I need to be close to see when I’m not wearing my glasses, if not, everything is… Blurry. So I'm not rude… ” He said with a polite smile, taking a step back from you. Maybe you judged him too quickly, he didn’t know what you were doing with the photo, when he said that he saw no lady, maybe it was because he couldn't see so–“ But now that I have seen you up close I can clearly say… I see no lady.”

“ You–!”

“ Kids, time to eat !”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 You stared at Alastor as everyone was enjoying the food - which was delicious -, he was smiling as he answered your parents' question or even helped his mother. You were a good girl, no question asked here… But this boy, saying you were rude… You were just curious and bored! You watched as your mother asked Alastor what he liked to do. As he opened his mouth to answer you fake a sneeze and hit him in the shin with your shoes. 

You looked up to see Alastor staring at you with a wide smile. You waved at him, apologizing, smiling sweetly.

“ You have such a polite daughter!” Marie said as she patted your head.You beamed at Alastor, take that! You opened your mouth to say a heartfelt thank you but Alastor kicked you in the same place that you did. Your knee flinched, hitting the table making your glass fall, the water inside it wetting the table. You panicked as you said sorry trying to prevent the water from falling on the floor.

“ Excuses accepted !”

You looked up to Alastor's voice, as he gave you a big smile before drinking from his glass as the adults laughed at his answer to your panicking apologies. You were fuming, it was your moment! The adults were giving you their attention, their compliment, you were making your parents proud but he stole it from you, so easily !  

“ Why don’t you both go play outside ? We will call you when the desert is ready.”

Alastor stood up from his chair, smiling at you. “ I know many games we could play.” You nodded and followed him outside.

As soon as you were out of the house you tried to kick him but he avoided it so smoothly you just stared at him in shock. He looked at you with a beaming smile.

“ So unladylike.” 

“ You know what, we’re going to play games, and you should go wear your glasses because you won’t see my victory coming!” You said, stomping your foot on the floor, your fist clenching.

“ I don’t need to see something that will never come.” he chuckled as you stuck your tongue at him, he couldn’t even see you properly so who cares. You stopped as you saw a swing attached to a big tree. You ran toward it with an excited smile, it’s been so long since you saw one! You sat on it and began to swing, higher and higher. You closed your eyes as you tilted your head backward, bending your back toward the grass.

“ Jump.”

You blinked and dug your feet into the ground, dirtying your shoes in doing so. You looked at Alastor who was in front of you.

“ I beg your pardon?”

“ No need to beg “ what a smartass “ When you reach the highest spot in the air, jump.”

“ And why should I do this ? I could hurt myself and dirty my dress !”

“ Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were scared, my mistake.” he said, looking bored still smiling. You didn’t know why, but you didn’t like this expression on his face, even more that it was destined to you. You squeezed the swing’s ropes.

“ Don’t stay in my way, I’m doing it.” You watched as his face wore an expression of surprise. He stood on the side as you went higher and higher. You had a weird feeling in your stomach as you looked at the ground underneath you as you prepared yourself to let go of the ropes and jump… You looked at Alastor who was watching curiously, you knew he didn’t trust you to actually do it. Well, maybe he saw you as rude, but he will not see you as a coward ! 

You let go of the rope and jumped.

It felt like time had slowed down, you felt like floating for a short moment, you could feel a warm feeling in your body before dropping to the floor on your hands and knees. You didn’t move, even when you heard Alastor’s step stopping next to you. It felt.. good ! You stood up excitedly.

“ Wow! Did you see that Alastor ! I did it ! Haha ! That was super amazing !” you said, jumping around while clapping your hands together. You turned to him, pointing your finger in his direction. “ Now it’s my turn to find a game!” Alastor nodded, still smiling, waiting patiently for your instruction. You looked at the tree and grinned. “ Climb that tree without falling!” He looked up at the tree than at you, shrugged and began climbing. 

You looked at him as he climbed the tree easily, sitting in a branch, smug.

“ I should thank you, now that I’m here, I don’t have to see your face.”

“ My face is pretty !”

“ Pretty ugly.”

“ Alastor !”

You played all afternoon together, laughing and teasing each other. You laid on the grass, trying to catch your breath as Alastor was sitting next to you, out of breath too. You stared at him and grinned 

“ I have another game… Ready?” He nodded as you sat up. “ You need to put your hands on the other person’s face and tell a secret.” He raised one eyebrow, his smile twitching. “ For example!” you placed your hands in front of his eyes, making him more blind than he already was. “ I… I had a great time with you.” You kept your hand on his eyes, smiling. “ And when I take off my hand, it’s like you've never heard anything.” 

You took off your hands as he nodded slowly. He stared at you and looked away “ Do you know another game?” You blinked, a pang of disappointment in your heart, didn’t Alastor have a great time with you..? You looked at him, biting your lips. 

“ We can play.. Hide and Seek..?” Alastor turned his eyes toward you with a glint. “ But without your glasses I don’t know if you would be able to catch me..” you sighed but he stood up, excitedly. 

“ No worry, go hide, I’ll come find you.”

You were hiding behind a tree, not because you didn’t find a better hiding spot, but because you were sure of your skills and Alastor was blind as a bat. If he happened to see you, you would just run out of his… vision perimeter. And furthermore, you wanted to see him look for you and fail to find you. You were still hurt that he didn’t tell you a secret like you did, so you wanted to win this last game before going home. 

You smiled as you saw him walking towards the bushes. You put your hands on your mouth, trying to stifle your giggles. You were going to have so much fun. He wasn’t in much hurry, and you were beginning to be reckless. It was becoming boring… you looked at the orange sky, it was going to be night time soon…You closed your eyes. Should you claim your victory before Alastor lost himself in the dark woods? Yes, it would be the safest–

“ Found you.”

You opened your eyes and saw Alastor face above your face with a big smile. As his hand came toward you to catch you,claiming his victory, you ran. You looked behind you as Alastor gathered himself, he seemed shocked about your reaction, but he was soon running after you. You couldn’t help but laugh as you ran toward the house, you felt free knowing that he could never catch you.You saw your parents outside and stopped once you were near your mother and turned toward Alastor with a beaming grin.

“ I won. You found me, but didn’t catch me.” you said, out of breath.

“ It’s a tie then..” He sighed with a knowing smile as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“ I’m happy that you both had a grand time. Look at your clothes, sweetie…”Your mother tried to wipe some dirt from your dress but she couldn't do anything about it. “ We have to go sweetie. Say your goodbye.”

 You felt a pang of sadness as you realised your parents were ready to leave. You walked toward Alastor, pouting.

“ Well.. Goodbye…” You looked at the floor, tears in your eyes. You didn't want to go, you had so much fun with Alastor. You flinched when you felt his hands covering your eyes.

“ I had fun and… you are pretty.” You froze as he kept his hands on your eyes. You wanted to see if he was still smiling, or.. was he teasing you… But the rules of the game are clear. You will not talk about it even if you wanted it badly. Maybe you could arrange some other rules?

You opened your eyes once you felt his hands moving from your face. Alastor was already next to his mother. Marie kissed your cheeks, promising that you could come whenever you wanted. You felt a feeling of relief knowing that it wasn’t the last time you could play with Alastor.  You waved goodbye to Alastor and Marie before going home.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After your bath you chatted with your mother about your afternoon with your new friend.

“ He can’t see from up close ! I hope he will wear his glasses next time” you said as your mother put you to bed. She tilted her head, confused.

“ Alastor can see up close perfectly fine darling, he has some problems seeing far away but it’s mostly when he is tired. So, don't worry too much.” she kissed your forehead, wished you goodnight and left.

He can clearly see up close…

He can…

You screamed his name with anger in your pillow. It wasn’t a tie and he knew it. He won the game! You could almost hear his giggles! Next time you see him, you’ll show him!

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓

Eddie munson x fem!reader

Summary: not much of a plot here. You go to Eddie for some of that marriage iguana.

Warnings:smut, slight choking, some praising. Mention of drugs (weed), no use of y/n, Eddie refers to the reader as baby, good girl, and sweetheart.

Word count: 1.2k

A/n: Not proofread. I don't know where this came from. I got bored and was desperate to write a little smut.

18+ minors dni

You were only supposed to be going to your neighbor for some weed. That's it. That's all you need. No sex this time around you repeated to yourself. You just needed a little bit to help get you through through the rest of the week.

Work had been hell for you. On top of just life being difficult in general. you needed something to help ease your nerves. Eddie hated random visits. Except when it came to you. His "favorite" he'd call you. No matter what you knew you could count on him for just about anything.

You knocked pretty hard on his front door. Three fast knocks followed and then nothing. He didn't come to the door. You waited and waited. Still no answer. When it was obvious Eddie wasn't going to answer the door your let yourself in. You knew he was home. His van was parked right there next to an old broken TV.

He didn't care if you just walked in. Matter, of fact, he even offered to give you a key once. You eased your way through the front door and made your way over to his bedroom. A room you've become very familiar with over these last few months. You saw him lounging back with a guitar over his lap. He was strumming away lazily on the cords.

Eddie heard you walking through the kitchen to the back slowly over to him. You don't know how he heard you over his playing.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite customer. What will it be today? Weed or my dick?". He half joked, putting his guitar down next to him.

His humor could be mistaken for arrogance by anyone who didn't know him.

You crossed your arms over your chest." Just the weed this time, smart ass."

"Fine, I'll only be a sweet ass." His remarked sarcastically. Eddie made a face and raised his hands up in surrender.

At this point, you don't know what your relationship is with him. You definitely didn't want it to end, though. You did enjoy the friendly back and forth banter. Even if you acted annoyed, you really weren't. The sex was great, too. That was something else you didn't want to end either.

Eddie grabbed the little baggy off his vanity. He knew what you liked and how many ounces you bought from him. He walked over to you, dangling the weed in front of your face.

"Ya sure?" He raised an eyebrow at you. He tossed the bag in your hands. You knew what he was getting at. You knew what he was hinting at.

"Ya sure?" You repeated in your mind.

"I'm sure." You hesitantly spoke. You and him stared at each other for a couple of minutes. Only to you, it felt like hours. You were lying, and he could tell.

Now you find yourself naked in his bed yet again. your legs were spread wide open. His body pressed on top of yours. The head of his cock rubbing against your clit. You did this every time you went to him for something. You never just left with whatever you came by for.

Eddie had his hand around your throat. He stops teasing your clit and drags the head of cock to your opening. He slowly pushed himself in to your dripping cunt. Once he was completely inside of you. He stills for just a few moments so you can get used to the stretch. Eddie let out a long, deep moan, sighing with pleasure feeling your walls hugging around his cock. All it took was one wrong move and he would cum immediately.

"Ooh god!" Your voice croaked. His windows were wide open in his trailer. Anyone outside could probably hear you.

"Better be quiet baby don't want the neighbors to know what we're getting up to in here." Eddie warned. He didn't care who could hear. But he loved to mess with you.

You pout but nodded. "I'll try to be quiet." You didn't care who could hear you anymore.

"Mmm, you're such a good girl." Eddie purrs in your ear, causing you to whine. He pulls back and slams into you harder.

Your body jolts forward, and the grip he has on your throat tightens. You wrap your legs tight around his lower back, helping him go deeper inside you. You were moaning so loud calling out his name.

He licks the shell of your ear. "You feel so good, baby." His voice is low and husky, sending a shiver up your spine. "So fking wet and tight-"

"Eddie, please!" You begged.

He makes a mocking pout. "Please, what?" His eyebrows raised slightly.

"Pleeeease," you beg him again over and over.

"Be a good girl and tell me what you want. You know I have no problem giving you what you need." Eddie smirked, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip.

You're trying to find your words. His drags his cock almost all the way out of your cunt leaving only his tip. Your head feels like it's spinning. Your face is getting hot, and your body is covered in sweat. He was breathing heavier and grunting louder.

"F-faster- I need you to fuck me faster." You continued to beg. Eddie was leaving wet kisses all down your chest with his hand still holding your throat. His other hand moved to squeeze your hip.

"That's my girl." He praises and drives his cock back inside your aching cunt. He lets go of your neck to caress your cheek.

You leaned into his hand as his pace quickened. The springs in his bed squeak with every thrust of his cock. Your eyes squeezed shut. Your moans sound almost desperate as he pumps cock inside you. Your walls clenching around him. Earning you low groan from his soft lips.

you can't speak or barely think. You're trying so hard to say anything at all. You couldn't even mutter a thank you. You can’t even remember why you went over to his place to begin with. Was it for weed? Did another pipe bust in your bathroom? You dont know, and you dont care.

"I," you paused, licking your lips, "i- shit..." You fumbled over your words. No one has ever made you feel like this before. Your walls were pulsating around him. He was hitting your g-spot just right with every hard thrust.

Eddie has you so cock drunk you can't form a cohesive thought. He formed a sly smirk on his face when he saw you struggle to speak. He noticed you were getting frustrated with yourself.

"Mmmfph! Ed-" your body was writhing underneath his. Your was hung open. Your eyes were all glassy. Your whiny moans were deafening almost.

The loud schlick sound his cock made when he plunged it in your tight cunt. Your walls pulsating around him. You could feel every inch of him.

Eddie shook his head again and laughed to himself. He kept hearing you stammering over your words. He felt a little bad. Just a little. But he loved watching you get this way. It was such an ego boost for him.

So he decided to speak for you. He already has an idea of what you were trying to say. Your nails were digging into his back. You knew you probably were drawing some blood from him. They were practically embedded into his skin.

"I know, sweetheart, I know." Eddie cooed, griping both of your hips now. "M'gonna take real good care of you."

[ilovejoostklein]

Sweet Vodka

Joost performs at the club you bartend at and thinks you’re pretty // joost x fem!reader

part 1/2

nsfw: smut

-

It would be a miracle if you’d walk out tonight with your sanity, much less your hearing. You were on the other side of the club, hugged by the neon pink and purple lights that reminded you of the sunsets outside that you always missed. Ever since you moved to the Netherlands for university, you have been working like a dog to pay your way and enjoy life in a new country. It was tempting not to sneak a drink or take a shot with the customers, the ones that were friendly enough to ask an extremely drunken man or tourist, now and then to drink away your loneliness.

You dressed nicely today as your manager warned you it would be a lot busier than usual. You ironed your black work blouse for once, you wore the clean waist apron and slacks that hugged your figure rather than the stained, comfortable ones. Your legs were hidden by the counter, you figured it was pointless to be uncomfortable through your eight-hour shift just for the sake of vanity. Your hair was pulled back neatly, and a few strands fell out against your flushed face as you had a full bar and were trying your best to manage with your coworker. You did your makeup just enough so that it wouldn’t melt off, but still accentuated your features even in the dim club. 

“It’s crazy tonight.” You shouted to one of the four other bartenders tonight, Laura, as you passed each other, a drink in each hand. 

She shook her head, “Not as crazy as the performer.”

You glanced over your shoulder towards where the source of the beaming lights and densely crowded stage was. You were quite far away, you couldn’t make out the tall blonde man who somehow had the crowd mesmerized. You smiled to yourself, it was cute how he was jumping around the stage and was so carefree, it was a nice change from the performers singing ballads or DJs who took themselves too seriously. 

“It’s cute.” You said, earning an eye roll, causing you to protest with a laugh “ What .” 

“This is his last song and he and his friends are about to give us hell when they get over here.” She warned. “It always happens with these younger performers.”

Laura was like your work mom, and you hated it when she was right. The set ended, the crowd was louder than ever with their goodbye and dispersed out the door, towards the bar, or stayed on the dance floor for the DJ’s set. It made the night run smoother that your shift was over in only an hour. The rush rolled off your back, people weren’t ordering fancy cocktails, opting for shots, and just wanted to get wasted. 

“Bring these to the back.” Laura suddenly tapped your shoulder and nodded towards a tray with a bottle of vodka and five shot glasses. “For the performers.”

You took the tray without a second thought and made your way to where the performers stayed. it was behind where the stage was, protected by a bodyguard and a key that you had clipped to your keychain inside one of your apron pockets. 

Tonight, one of the bouncers was there and luckily let you in, saving you from performing a balancing act. You thanked him breathlessly, walking into the fluorescent halls and squinting immediately. It was strangely desolate, the club was an older building and the bright white lights against the intricate architecture gave you a cold feeling. The lowly feeling of servitude and marching up drinks for a performer and his friends, who would either treat you sweetly or like the dirt on their shoe didn’t help your nerves. 

You followed the commotion of men laughing and talking in a mix of Dutch and English. As you suspected, your ears were ringing quite intensely , your head and eyes ached from the brightness and loudness of his hour-long set. Upon reaching the weathered door, you took a deep breath and knocked.

The door practically flew open and you felt yourself die from the embarrassment of how the room went silent, even if you couldn’t see inside. “I’m here with the bottle you ordered.” You announced tensely. 

“Thank you.” The man who opened the door said, taking it from your hands with a warm smile. You noticed his eyes scanned you from top to bottom before coming back to meet your gaze. “Why don’t you come inside?” He offered. 

He only had the door open, just enough to take the tray from your hands. It wasn’t the first time a performer had invited you back. Nothing ever came of it besides someone from his team thought you were cute and wanted to take you to wherever they were staying, but you always politely declined, never even stepping foot inside. How many people were in there, five, ten? Did they bring back women from the crowd and just want to add you to the bunch? The possibilities made you withdraw from the door, making your timidness painfully obvious from the way you stepped back and your eyes darted to the floor. 

“Just come in for a quick drink.” He pressed gently. “So we have an excuse to get another bottle.” 

You were dying for a drink and to get away from the commotion, a quick shot wouldn’t hurt you. In all honesty, your curiosity got the better of you as well. You never saw the inside of that room and the performers themselves had never spoken to you besides for their drink order. 

To your surprise, only five men were sitting on the couches watching something on the TV. Two of them were smoking, making the room smell heavily of cigarettes which made you grow even dizzier. It was common here, but you never could get used to the pungent smell of tobacco.

What overwhelmed your senses more was the performer himself, Joost. You knew his face and his name from the promotional posters plastered around the club. You couldn’t help the blush that engulfed your cheeks and the coldness that spread across your chest. He had the sweetest smile you’d ever seen, it lit up his whole face and radiated warmth. You felt yourself burn completely in his presence alone. 

“Please, sit.” Joost made space for you on the couch right beside him. “I don’t think it’s good to drink standing.” 

You watched one of the men pour the shots, and you realized they were of course a glass short as they couldn’t have possibly accounted for you. You watched awkwardly, folding into yourself as they slammed the glasses down and the other men turned their attention towards each other. 

Joost reached over for the bottle and turned to you. “Your turn.” He began to take the cap off and your eyes slightly widened as you realized what he was doing. “Open.”

You nervously opened your mouth and closed your eyes, praying internally that you wouldn’t spit it out all over the table, or worse his clothes. He poured a little over a shot in your mouth and you swallowed quickly, the bitterness killing whatever appetite you worked up and blanketing you with the warming goosebumps that hard liquor brought over your skin. 

The men chuckled at the grimace on your face as you quickly wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. It was sticky with your lip gloss and the remnants of vodka, but you desperately wanted another shot to soothe your nerves. You felt too many eyes on you, and the mood of the room had completely shifted from your presence. 

They announced that they wanted to go sit by the bar, it was too quiet in the dressing room for their liking, and they were hungry, grabbing their coats, and taking a few more shots before leaving. You had a suspicion from their sudden shift in demeanor and fleeting glances that they wanted to leave the two of you alone. 

“I’m Joost.” The man stuck out his hand, you took it for a firm handshake before bringing your hand towards his lips and pressing a kiss against it.

You introduced yourself, watching as he looked up from your hand, soft lips still pressed against your skin and his eyes fixed on yours. It was like it was morning again, looking up at the blue sky but the darkness of his pupils reminded you it was just his eyes, bringing you back to the reality of the room. 

“Can I have another drink?” You couldn’t believe you had the nerve to ask, but he smiled that adorable smile again and nodded. 

“Of course.” He opened the bottle and poured another shot and a half into your mouth. “Another one?” He questioned, watching as you struggled to swallow the disgusting vodka. 

“No, thanks.” You said, feeling the warmth again that you loved so much. 

“Good, because I wasn’t going to give it to you.” He said, you felt yourself smile. “One shot was enough.”

“You’re right.” You watched as he poured a shot for himself. “We have great beer, you know.” 

He hummed as he took the shot as if it was water. “Are you trying to get away from me already?” He asked playfully. 

You wondered how worried your expression was before you spoke because he quickly tried to assure you, “Unless you have to get back to work.” He reiterated. “I don’t want to hold you captive.”

“No, it’s not that.” You laughed, “My shift is over soon anyway.” 

A smile spread across his face, it was so charming you felt an overwhelming need to kiss him, but you blamed that on the alcohol. “Oh.” He said, “I’m lucky.” 

“You’re lucky?” You questioned, the two shots taking full effect especially because you had them on an empty stomach. 

“I wanted to invite you to my apartment.” He said. “I saw you on the way inside, you’re very pretty.”

You were taken aback by his boldness. In the few months that you were here, you’d be so unsuccessful with dates. You were so lonely in your apartment, beautiful as it was you made it into your cozy haven to return to after a long day at school or work. It slowly ate you up inside that you had no one to share it with, and you returned every night to a cold, empty bed. You felt the breaking point right within the room, you couldn’t bear to return to a desolate apartment again. 

“Come to mine.” You said it without a second thought, the burning brush on your cheek returning to your face. 

It seemed that Joost couldn’t believe you either. His head turned to the side and his eyebrows furrowed as he seemed to inspect your unsure expression. It seemed that both of you were tipsy, with flushed cheeks, and staring at each other in an eerily quiet room. 

“Really?” He questioned. “Do you take people back to your apartment often?”

“No.” You retorted, still not able to get over how direct he was. “I haven’t had anyone over, yet.”

He let out a dry laugh, “I can take you on a date then.” He offered. “Or, I can come to your apartment and take you on the date after. Your choice.”

You could tell he was genuine, and self-assured in he didn’t have to misguide and press you for anything. Charisma exuded out of him, you couldn’t get enough. You were never one to hook up with a stranger but for whatever reason this time was the one, and likely last exception. You couldn’t stop staring at your reflection in his eyes, or taking in all his features when he smiled. You felt yourself lean closer to him, smelling the cologne on his skin and clothing that was dull, crisp fresh scent. 

It was like a string was woven in between your bodies, and kept bringing you closer. Joost’s hands cupped your face and brought you closer so that your chests were pressed up against each other. You felt your eyes flutter shut as his lips pressed against yours. They were soft and bitter from vodka and sweet tobacco. This was all purely lustful, shameless physical attraction. You thought he was the hottest man you’d seen since you arrived, and to him, you were too pretty to pass up. 

The kiss deepened, and you heard him moan softly every time he pulled away and it drove you wild. You felt yourself growing bolder and more confident as you grabbed his shoulders tightly, bunching up the smooth cotton of his shirt so that he’d be on top of you. He sighed deeply, pulling away to pepper kisses against your cheeks, moving down to your neck to lick and suck against the sensitive skin. 

You gasped loud enough that it made him put his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. He pressed his knee between your legs, drawing out a muffled cry as you writhed against his knee and took what little bit of pleasure he was giving you. 

He kept kissing and sucking on your neck, alternating sides, making sure to kiss your cheeks to cool the tension between you so that you didn’t up just fucking on the couch at your job. He could tell how much you liked it, you were already such a mess beneath him. It gave him the suspicion it was a while since anyone had touched you like this. The thought of it only excited him more, that you let him, a man you didn’t know at all, be the one to have you this way. 

Joost felt himself growing impatient, and he could see from the way you were holding onto him and rubbing over the bulge in his pants that you were too. He didn’t want to fuck you on the old, worn-down couch at the club, he knew that you’d both want to shower, and the thought of a sloppy fuck turned him off. 

He pulled away from you to grab his phone frantically from the table to text his friends, asking them to bring the car around to the back. His face was wet, his shirt was unbuttoned, hair disheveled, your legs in his lap. His heart pounded against his chest and the excitement filling his body was unbearable. He prayed that you didn’t live far away. 

“What’s your address?” He asked, not looking at the glowing screen of the phone. The light reflected against his sharp features making you lose focus. 

“I just live up the street.” You said, desperation seeping from your tone. “We could walk there.” 

Joost thought about it briefly, before deciding he’d save himself from the added torture of having to walk with you. He imagined how you’d look under the warm street lights, how the wind would blow through your hair that he’d let down, the way the cold air would pinch your already flushed cheeks. He knew your eyes would sparkle so much it would make the stars envious. He’d chosen to be selfish. 

“We have a car.” He said, “Just tell the driver where you live.”

You wondered why he would opt for a car ride that lasted no more than a few seconds, but it didn’t matter much. You arrived at your apartment, a small two-level building where you lived on the upper level over a newly vacant property. It was charming, an old, brick building with white trimming on the windows and flower boxes with pale pink peonies. You led him upstairs, not before fumbling with the key so much it made him laugh and smack your ass to hurry up. 

The two went up the stairs like teenage lovers, the lightness and excitement of it all brought you so much comforting relief that it wasn’t a dirty affair. He didn’t walk up with you in silence, his mind only on one thing. Even if you both were acting on purely physical intentions, there was a sense of playfulness rather than secrecy.

Joost brought a duffle bag with him, from the car, presumably a change of clothes and things he needed to spend the night. He asked to use your shower. 

“I’ll be quick.” He called out as he shut the door. 

It was strange having another man in your apartment. You sat on the couch, listening to the echo of him humming in the shower and the water hitting the porcelain. Your mind began to wonder, if you should open the bottle of red wine you got as a housewarming gift that was collecting dust in your cupboard, whether your coworkers were annoyed that you disappeared and would interrogate you on your next shift, if you should run to your room and grab a nice underwear set or if you should just come out in a towel. 

You heard the water stop and felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. You began to wonder if this was the best idea if you should get the wine in the cupboard or tell him you were too tired. When he stepped out with your towel wrapped around his waist, nothing else, the inhibitions seemed to melt away and were replaced with nothing but desire. 

“I left hot water for you, don’t worry.” He said, the smile on his face almost felt mocking. He felt the burn of your eyes against him, even watching as the water beads rolled against his soft skin that now smelled of your body wash. “Be quick.”

You realized in the shower that he didn’t leave much hot water, you should’ve known from all the steam in the room and that was leaving his skin. You had time to shave and scrub your body down with a floral scrub and the same body wash he used, but you had to wash your hair with cold water which made it miserable to come out with freezing skin and hair. You wrapped yourself in a towel and blow-dried your hair just enough to warm you up a bit.

Opening the door let in a gust of cold air and caused you to come out shivering immediately folding your arms over your chest. The silence was heavy, and only broken by Joost’s soft laughter. 

“Let me warm you.” He offered, standing up from the couch with the towel loosening around his waist and bringing you into his arms. “Where’s your bedroom?”

You felt yourself blossom in the warmth of his arms, holding his hand you led him anxiously to your room. You were glad you’d left your lamp on and everything neat, he’d probably look at you more favorably and it helped to set the mood. The warm orange light glowed against his lightly defined muscles, his skin was supple and almost malleable in your hand as he hovered above you, letting the towel fall on the floor and taking yours off. 

His fingers were still clad in silver rings, the cold metal made you flinch as his hand ran against your breasts and squeezed down. He kissed you on the lips, long and languid before kissing down your chest and taking a nipple into his mouth. 

You moaned softly under your breath, and through your half-lidded eyes, you watched as he removed his rings and reached over a bit aimlessly to set them on your nightstand. Your mind couldn’t keep up with the fluidity of his movements, unable to register the pleasure from his mouth and now feeling his fingers rub circles around your clit. 

You were so wet for him, Joost felt himself grow weaker in impatience. He felt he’d break, lose himself in desire, and take you all at once instead of the slow burn of foreplay. As his fingers rubbed against your pussy, he felt his hand grow slick, he teased one of his fingers at your entrance and your body reacted strongly, begging him without the need for any words to fuck you. He wanted to be selfish, he wanted to eat your pussy until you begged for him to stop and finish deep inside of you. 

Just finger fucking you was more perfect than he could’ve anticipated. The sound of the room was obscene, the way you two moaned and panted, and how wet you were as his two fingers pumped inside of you, you felt more than relieved you didn’t have the downstairs neighbor to worry about anymore. You cried praises as your head rested in the crook of his neck, biting and kissing. 

He kissed down your chest and left your breast with a string of saliva, his eyes meeting yours as he began to kiss down your stomach until his head rested between your thighs. You couldn’t fathom how someone could touch you so perfectly, how someone’s lips could be so soft and his kiss send electric bolts through your body. He kissed the insides of your legs softly, his touch was almost feather-like and you wanted to scream from the frustration his incessant teasing brought you. 

“Please, Joost.” You finally said in a drawn-out sigh. “Stop teasing.”

You felt yourself grow hot with intensity, a mix of emotions brewing inside of you from the way he laughed in response. He rested his cheek against your thigh, you looked down at his smiling face before he pressed a wet kiss against your clit, and before you could force out another word. You looked at the smug expression, the way his eyes met yours he knew that he had you wrapped around his finger. 

He propped your legs up on his shoulders and you felt all your senses muddle in the overwhelming pleasure that engulfed your body. Your jaw grew slack, murmuring incoherent praises as he ate you out. Your free hand tangled in his hair, being careful not to pull too hard. It was like actual strands of silk, pulled strings of thread that glistened against the soft light this man was nothing less of angelic. 

Yet there he was, face between your thighs and worshipping you. You felt the wetness drip from your thighs, his warm tongue teasing your clit as he continued to pump two of his fingers inside of you. When your legs began to grow weaker, the coil inside of your stomach becoming tighter, and begging for release he withdrew his hand and pushed your thighs apart to maintain his control of you. 

He knew you were close, you realized that you didn’t have to speak much with him. He focused on your clit and sucked down gently, drawing out the most beautiful, pathetic sounds from you as the tension grew unbearable. You had never come so hard, your eyes became wet with tears and the release was never so intense with anyone. Not when you were with past partners, and not when you were alone. It seemed to last for minutes, your entire body washed over with the most incredible feeling, tossing and turning you into bliss. 

Joost didn’t let you have a moment of rest, seeing you in this state, like hot metal in his hands he wanted to strike you when you were at your most vulnerable. He kissed you deeply, his tongue pushing into your mouth he wanted you to taste yourself. You kissed him back with the little strength you could muster up, biting his lip and pushing your tongue into his mouth. You stayed like that for a while, kissing passionately with almost no rhythm, just for the sake of touching each other. 

He pulled away, still keeping his nose pressed against yours. “I have to get my condoms.” He said a bit begrudgingly. 

You didn’t know what was coming over you, as you grabbed his arm and kept him on the bed so he wouldn’t leave. 

“I’m on birth control.” You assured him, desperately wanting to deprive yourself of nothing. You had already anticipated and accepted this would likely be the last time you’d get to fuck him. 

Joost realized how much of a mess he’d made on your bed, from how wet you were from taking his fingers and mouth to his pre cum dripping down his shaft and onto your sheets. He frowned a bit, maybe this was a dirty affair and he was kidding himself. He was so desperate for you he was certain he’d grow embarrassed at his lack of constraint, he wished he could’ve been a less needy lover. 

He pumped himself in his hand, and the wishes he had for more constraint again seemed to be nonsensical and burrowed into his mind. He watched you spread your legs for him, sleepy eyes looking up at him as your chest and cheeks were flushed with a deep blush. He lined himself up with your soaking pussy, pressing the tip inside he felt that he could die tonight and be happy. 

He fucked you softly until he could push himself inside of you completely. You were so tight, so perfect for him he let you wrap your legs around his waist so that he could fuck you slow and deep. He didn’t want to be rough, he loved how you embraced him fully. Your pussy squeezed against him, your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms held his face against you as you peppered desperate kisses against his face.

Both your skin and his were now tacky with sweat. He fucked you perfectly, his cock nudging against the spot that made you squirm beneath him and numb your lower half with pleasure. You wondered if it was possible he could make you finish this way, from how he hugged you, kissed down your neck, and how he filled you up so well you wouldn’t be surprised. 

He was growing tired, fucking you sloppier with less coordination. He smoothed down your hair away from your face and whispered into your ear, 

“Can you get on top of me, baby?” He asked so sweetly you couldn’t live with yourself if you said no.

He pulled out slowly, taking your place on the bed. The apples of his cheeks were a deep red, his hair a bit disheveled as he made himself comfortable on the mountain of pillows you kept on your bed. 

“You’re so pretty.” He mumbled, his hands rubbing up and down your waist. 

His touch was so tender, the way he held you in place and helped you lower yourself onto him. You winced a bit at the stretch and gave him a weak smile, trying to keep your nerves from wondering if you could take it. 

It hurt so good, that you pressed your hands against his chest and moved up and down on his length. The room filled with the sounds of your pants, the sound of your pussy taking him and the way he groaned your name and warned you he was getting close. 

Joost felt himself lose his composure, it dwindled slowly as he was watching you ride him, your perfect tits in his face and the way your eyebrows knitted together in pleasure. It gave him such a rush knowing that it was because of him. He held you in a place as he bucked his hips up, fucking you from beneath and taking back the control he had relinquished. 

He had sat up, still keeping you on his lap to bring you into another smoldering kiss. He helped you to keep riding him, you were bounding up and down, holding onto his shoulders for support anticipating for him to finish inside of you. His head fell back as he bucked his hips up as much as you could manage, both of your movements grew harder, more desperate, and messy.

“I’m close.” He groaned, one arm hugging around your waist to press your body closer to his. “Oh, fuck baby.” He cried out in drawn-out whisper. 

He wouldn’t admit it, just like you, he’d never finished so intensely. It was perfect, drawn out like honey dripping down a spoon, the sweetness of the feeling and stickiness of both of your arousal against his thighs. He came with a pathetic string of moans, whimpering against your shoulder as he emptied himself inside of you. 

You’d never let a man do that before, but it felt like the first hit of a drug. You were hooked on the feeling. The intimacy was so intense, you felt perfectly intertwined with him and you felt the urge to tell him that you loved him it was so good. You two stayed like that for a minute, holding each other in a gentle embrace as your chests rose and dropped in deep breaths, calming down and weathering the storm of your shared passion.

“Can I sleep here?” He asked, breaking the silence. “Please.”

“Of course.” You answered breathlessly. “I just need another shower.” 

“Can I come with you?” He leaned over to kiss your cheek. “I’m tired, I promise.”

-

this is a cross post from my ao3 :) send in requests for one shots if you’d like

[dollsorwhatever]

More Cleo

Some more Cleo updates since my last post about her on here! I mostly post on twitter nowadays but I like to keep this account somewhat up to date, especially since I can be more long-winded here lol "Casual" Cleo (rerooted Ghoul Spirit Cleo) is finally finished! She's been mostly finished for a month or so but I dragged my feet doing the hair rings lol.

They're inspired by a set of wig rings found in the tomb of Sithathoriunet (Middle Kingdom, 12th Dynasty), shown here at The Met and here in an earlier Met exhibit, displayed on reconstruction wigs.

I couldn't find any metal beads in the right sizes or color (and I wanted them to be the same shade of gold as her accessories) so I made these myself with a handful of coffee stirrers that I painted and cut into little rings lol Other than the hair rings, she's been given a pair of shoes since my last post (Goreganizer Cleo's shoes with the Skullettes dremeled off and painted), a new choker that I made by cutting MB Cleo's ponytail holder into separate pieces, sanding off a few parts and reassembling it (the cartouche on it actually spells her name btw!), a Gloom and Bloom Cleo purse that I painted to match her shoes and a new clasp on her kilt made with a G1 Cleo vanity bracelet. Also, it was pointed out to me yesterday that the hieroglyphs on this top (from G1 I Heart Fashion Cleo) spell out to say "oh my Ra" phonetically lol. A nice touch that I never noticed! And I also finished up this Cleo a while back but never posted her here lol

Her headdress is a heavily altered and repainted Monster Ball Cleo headdress; I just wanted the "core" of the headdress so I removed everything but the cow horns and sun disk with my dremel, then drilled a hole through the back and pinned it to her head lol. The bracelets are all g1 Nefera bracelets that I repainted (as well as Nefera's necklace) and her shoes are from Skulltimate Secrets Cleo but repainted to match the rest of her accessories, and the hair rings are repainted G1 sig/Howliday Cleo bracelets. The first two 'tiers' of hair are her original rooted hair, but the longest tier is an extension that I made and pinned to her head. My general idea is that this is something she'd wear for temple ceremonies or religious events, or as a model for portraiture and statuary that represents her as an embodiment of Hathor? Not sure! My SS2 Cleo custom got some small updates shortly after my last tumblr post about her, mostly just her new headdress and new fishnets that actually fit her lol

And finally a group shot of my current Cleo lineup:

Skulltimate Secrets Cleo (far left) and Goreganizer Cleo (second to the right) are still WIP but they look good enough to be part of the shot! I also have a partially rerooted Monster Ball Cleo waiting for a new fit too, but there's no room on this display for her and she's barely dressed anyway lol

[kleftiko]

❦ KITTEN

cw: mature, mdni!, reader is a stripper, gentleman!aizawa that’s about to snap (yummy), also there’s a collar lol

PART 2 | MASTERLIST

“eraser head!” you call as you sit at your vanity. the dressing room wasn’t very crowded at the moment, and that’s probably why aizawa chose this time to walk in.

“y/n.” he nods. you pout.

“if i have to call you by your stage name, you have to call me mine.”

“not a stage name—hero name.” he corrects you.

you push your hair back, ready to go now that you’ve changed and taken off your makeup. effectively, you jokingly ignore aizawa, standing up with your bag as you hear him sigh and say, “kitten.”

you smile. close enough.

initially, he called you kitty, that was your stage name for the sole fact that you loved hello kitty. but shota decided on ‘kitten’ along the way, and because you liked him, you accepted it.

“will you be walking me home today, shota?”

he ignores your use of his first name and nods.

you two first met after a stalker incident. the emergence of quirks in society gave certain men the idea that they were above the morals of society. unfortunately, you were the target of one (being a stripper is not a safe job), and eraser head was who you turned to. over time, he came as a customer a couple times, but really, he would walk you home at the end of your shift.

it became obvious that he started walking you home because he wanted to. he told you himself that the stalker was not a threat anymore a few months ago, yet he continued to see you at the ungodly hours of the day despite his tired eyes.

you wanted him. you made that clear. he was apprehensive. the first excuse was that you were too young. you reminded him you were barely four years younger. the second was that he was protecting you. its been nearly half a year since there was any semblance of a threat towards you.

you were chipping away and he was breaking.

upon reaching the front door of your apartment, you say, “chamomile with honey.”

it was how he took his tea, and it was a slight command for him to come inside.

he didn’t argue.

you fix the drinks and bring it to him as he sat on the couch.

“oh! i have something i need your opinion on.”

you quickly left the room to change.

aizawa barely showed emotions. you danced and flirted and wore your skimpy outfits, but nothing. his eyes stayed on yours, arms crossed like always, and calm expression on his face. you wanted to see his face break, blush, you wanted to see his head thrown back.

so you come back to the living room.

he takes a quick study of your outfit. not as long a look as you wanted, and no physical reaction.

“it’s cute.” he says.

you huff and step closer.

“really? that’s it?”

“i like the collar, its good for work.”

you had no intention of wearing this to work. even for your profession, this was out of your comfort zone. it was definitely a kitty—ears, collar, accompanied by your nails—but the skirt was a belt to show your panties and it dug into plush of your thighs with garters that you just wanted to take off.

you sigh in defeat. you wore this for him and only him.

“you don’t look happy.” he comments.

you admit, “i was hoping for more.”

he holds your eye contact for a second before he lifts his finger to spin—asking you for a twirl.

you smile and obey, giving a nice mini fashion show.

he doesn’t say anything, but his finger makes a beckoning motion and you walk towards him.

“give me a lap dance.” his voice sends vibrations up you spine.

“what?”

“i can pay you.” he assumes that’s the problem. “your costume’s cute, but doesn’t look too comfortable. wouldn’t be good if you can’t dance in it.”

“i’m not on the clock.” you mumble.

his hands reach out to your hips, grabbing you and turning you around before pulling you onto his lap; your back to his chest as the breath gets knocked out of you.

“neither am i.”

[andshesaidwhat]

Cherry - Clay Beresford

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six |

Summary: After the boundaries are pushed a bit too far, you and Clay agree that you both need to be more careful about adhering to the rules going forward. That lasts for all of about ten minutes…

Warnings: angst, descriptions of sex work, alcohol consumption, dry humping, coming in pants, nipple play, the pining is strong as ever.

Playlist | Masterlist

After another week went by with no sign of Clay, you began to wonder if he was busy with work or if he had just finally decided that you weren’t worth his time.

This was why you hadn’t wanted to be involved with someone like him. You didn’t like how much it consumed your mind. He was all you were able to think about lately.

You had replayed that last meeting in your head over and over, cursing yourself for pushing it so far but craving to feel that fire again. You hadn’t even touched him, but that connection had still been the most visceral thing you had ever felt.

You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror, wondering how you’d let yourself fall in this deep. You knew better than to get roped into the romantic ideology that men like him subscribed to, but things with Clay felt…different.

“He’ll be back, babes,” Frenchie spoke, coming up behind you and resting her chin on your shoulder.

You held her gaze in the reflection of the mirror, softly sighing as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“I’m not worried about that, French,” you told her, shrugging dismissively. “He’s just a customer, that’s all. He’s no different than any other patron here.”

“Except for the fact that he owns a multibillion dollar corporation,” she said, quietly. When she saw your wide eyes, she scoffed, “What? I have eyes, doll face, I can recognize a celebrity when I see one. Besides, he’s been plastered all over TMZ enough times that he could get rich from the royalties, alone.”

“He…” you paused, glancing around to make sure the other dancers weren’t listening. “He just wants some privacy. I don’t think he wants it getting out that he’s spending so much of his time in a place like this.”

“You mean you don’t think it would fit his lovely public image?” Frenchie joked, snickering as she nudged you. “I’m joking, Cherry-pop. The man has every right to live his own life without it becoming the next big news story. You don’t have to worry about me running my trap. The other girls, however… They may not talk, but they’re certainly waiting for their turn with him. If you’re truly so tired of him, maybe you should let one of them take him off your hands.”

You felt a sudden spike of anger as the bitter taste of jealousy settled on your tongue. Frenchie smirked knowingly at you, laughing quietly as she shook her head.

“Just a customer my ass…” she snorted, walking over to sit down at her station. “You want my advice? Rules are meant to be broken — and I’m not just talking about the club.”

Her words sank in, settling heavy in your chest as you looked away from her. You sighed, shaking your head as you busied yourself with touching up your hair and makeup.

Sal walked into the back, clipboard in hand, and he idled on over to you. He looked up, glancing between you and Frenchie as he sensed the tense atmosphere.

“I don’t wanna know,” he said, sighing. “You’ve got a customer, Cherry. Room four. The kid’s gonna buy this whole place out sooner or later. Dunno what you’ve been doing to the boy, but keep doing it.”

As Sal walked off, you felt your heart begin to race. He was here. Oh, god…he was here. You didn’t know whether to feel ecstatic or to crumple in a complete panic. You settled for a dazed middle ground as you took one last look at your appearance and adjusted your lingerie set.

“Mr. Admirer awaits you,” Frenchie teased, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You glared at her with a huff, feeling your palms growing sweaty.

The hallway seemed to go on forever as you made your way down to the looming door of room four. With a shaky hand, you reached for the handle and pushed it open.

Your breath escaped you as you walked into the room and met the gaze of his dazzling blue eyes. Your heart was in your throat and your feet felt rooted to the ground. You had thought a week would be enough time for the effects to wear off…but no.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you said, quietly.

Clay’s eyes locked onto yours, his face flushed as he spoke with just as much tenderness, “Cherry.” He walked toward you, his movements slow and deliberate. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve thought about you every day since we last saw each other. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come back.”

The confirmation that he’d been thinking about you as much as you’d been thinking about him tugged on your heart.

“I was beginning to think you’d ran for the hills,” you joked — though your voice betrayed your doubt. You held his gaze until it became too much to bear, then you looked away and cleared your throat. “We, um…we may have pushed the boundaries a bit too far the last time we met. Going forward we should probably stick to the rules.”

“Yes,” Clay agreed, nodding. “We need to respect the boundaries.”

His eyes told a different story, however. They burned with desire, his gaze lingering on the curves of your lips. His fingers twitched by his sides, as if itching to reach out and touch you.

“I’ll try to behave,” he confirmed, his voice hoarse.

“Thank you,” you said, biting back every urge to say fuck it and break every goddamn rule in the book. “Besides, this will give you more time to ask your questions and tell your stories.”

“Oh, I have a story to tell you, Cherry,” he smiled, moving to sit down on the couch. His eyes never left yours as he leaned forward, propping his elbows onto his knees. “It’s a story about a boy who fell for a girl, but couldn’t have her. He would do anything to be with her, but she was out of reach. He would dream of her every night — of the way she looked at him and the way she made him feel. He would wake up every morning hoping that she would be there, waiting for him…but she never was.” He paused, his gaze intense as he looked at you with longing. “The boy would wonder — was it all just a dream? Is this a dream, Cherry? Are you just a dream? I’m beginning to think that I’ve made you up in my mind as some sort of psychotic delusion.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart pounded as you smiled at him, a hint of laughter in your voice as you asked, “You think I’m made up?”

“I think that maybe I’ve created you in my mind,” he breathed. “Maybe you’re just a figment of my imagination.”

You stared at him for a moment before you said, “Stand up, pretty boy.”

Clay rose from the couch and moved to stand in front of you, his body tense with anticipation. He was ready to do anything you might ask of him.

“Yes, Cherry?”

You moved closer until you were a breath away from him, peering up into his eyes.

“I may not be able to touch you, but there are still ways that I can prove to you I’m real,” you told him. “Can you smell the subtle hint of perfume on my skin?”

Clay’s eyes closed as he inhaled deeply. The sweet, faint scent set his senses ablaze as he sighed.

“Yes,” he whispered, his eyes opening to lock onto you. “I can smell you.”

“Good,” you smiled, leaning up to let your lips hover near his ear. “Can you hear my voice?”

“Yes,” he nodded, shivering at the soft sound of your whispers. “I can hear you.”

You walked around his frame, moving behind him as you stood on your tiptoes to gently blow on the back of his neck.

“How about that? Can you feel that?”

“Yes,” Clay gasped at the tickle of your breath, feeling goosebumps erupt onto his skin. “I can feel you.”

“See?” You grinned, walking back around him until you were stood in front of him again. “I’m real, pretty boy.”

Clay’s gaze was locked on you, his heart thudding inside of his chest. He could see you — the way you batted your lashes, the way you smiled at him.

A small, fond smile tugged at his lips as he whispered, “I suppose you are, Cherry.”

“Good,” you smirked. “Now that we’ve got that settled, why don’t you pour me a glass of that champagne you brought.”

Clay breathed out a laugh as he turned toward the ice bucket. He grabbed the bottle, popping the cork and picking up a glass. His hands trembled slightly as he poured the drink, watching the bubbles fizz to the top.

“Here you are, Cherry,” he said, handing out the glass for you to take.

You held his gaze, smiling as you reached for it. You weren’t paying close enough attention. Your fingers grazed his as you took the flute from him and you gasped, letting go of the drink as it fell to the floor with a loud clank.

Electricity zapped your fingertips. The touch was so small, but it had happened. You had touched him. After weeks of building up boundaries, your skin had finally touched his.

Your chest heaved up and down as you stared at him, wordlessly. His eyes were wide, his own breaths coming out in ragged pants. He could feel the electric current between you.

“Cherry,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

“I…” You attempted to speak, but words fell short. You were stuck in his gaze, feeling the remnants of his touch on your fingertips. So light, and yet…it was the catalyst to undo the final shred of your resolve.

Your eyes wandered down to his lips. His full, perfect lips…

“Cherry,” he breathed, his own gaze following suit as he leaned closer to you. “Please.”

There was nothing you could do to stop your body from moving on its own accord as you reached up to grab his face, bringing his lips down to yours.

Clay instantly sighed into your mouth, wrapping his arms around you to pull you close to him. His warmth enveloped you as he parted his lips, his tongue pushing past to taste yours.

The world around you melted away as your bodies melded into one another. The spilled champagne was long forgotten and the music faded into the sound of ragged breaths between you.

You were both lost in the moment, in the sensation of your lips touching, in the thrill of breaking the rules — of giving into your desires.

You pressed your body into his, relishing in the contact. You tried to memorize the way he felt against you — the way his hands roamed, the way he held you, the way he tasted.

He kissed you like he needed you — like yours was the only air he could breathe.

Without breaking the kiss, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of the couch. He stumbled, falling down against the cushions and bringing you with him. He groaned as you straddled his lap, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as the kiss grew more intense. Your nails gently scraped at his scalp, earning a small shiver as his breath hitched. You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, gently biting down on it.

Clay moaned, his hips surging upward as he pulled you closer. His large hands wandered up to brush over the cups of your bra, squeezing softly.

You whimpered against his lips, arching into his touch. You were craving more, craving him.

His fingers traced across the thin fabric, tugging lightly at your nipples. His actions elicited a soft cry from your throat and he hummed in satisfaction. He used his thumbs to circle the sensitive buds, letting his tongue dance against yours.

It was ridiculous how natural this was for him. He didn’t even have to open his eyes to play your body like an instrument he’d known his entire life.

You moaned into his mouth, feeling the arousal pooling between your thighs at his teasing touch. You could feel the ache burning within you — the need, the desire.

You adjusted in his lap until you could feel his erection pressing up against your core. You ground your hips down against him, gasping at the friction of him pressed up into you.

Clay groaned, his eyes snapping open to meet yours. The blue in his eyes was nearly non-existent, his pupils blown with lust. The intensity of his gaze would’ve made your knees buckle, had you still been standing.

“Cherry,” he panted, his voice hoarse. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you breathed, grinding against him. “God, I want this.”

Clay grabbed your chin, moaning softly at your response. “Then take what you want,” he demanded. “Show me how much you want me, Cherry.”

You held his gaze as you slowly moved your hips, watching his eyes flutter at the sweet friction. You leaned forward and captured his lips again in a slow, passionate kiss. You grabbed his chin and tilted his head, kissing across his jaw. You trailed your lips down his neck, nipping and sucking at his pulse point before soothing the area with your tongue.

You moved your mouth up to his ear and whispered, “You feel so good, pretty boy.”

Clay’s eyes rolled back as his head lolled to the side. He kept a firm grip on your hips, dragging you back and forth against his crotch.

“Yeah, Cherry,” he groaned through heavy breaths. “Feels so fucking good.”

Your soft moans against his ear caused his hips to buck as his mouth found yours again. You could feel the constant friction beginning to stir a steady thrum of pleasure that was building in the pit of your stomach. Clay gripped your ass, kneading the flesh as he moved you faster against him. He returned your kiss with urgency, the desperation he felt evident in the way he devoured you.

“Fuck,” he panted. “You’re going to make me come like this.”

You held his face, giving him a knowing smirk as you continued to move against him. His eyebrows were knit together as he tried to ground himself, but the pleasure was too intense. His hips met yours at a particularly delicious angle and a whine escaped your lips. His eyes darkened further as he repeated the action, both of you desperately chasing a release. You gripped onto his shoulders for leverage, gasping for breaths as you felt your body humming with need.

Both of you were teetering on the edge, nearing the precipice. He rested his forehead against yours, holding your gaze as the space between you was a mingle of breathy moans.

He thrust upward, meeting you movement for movement as your bodies moved as one. The need to finish this, to reach the peak of pleasure, overwhelmed you both. You were caught in a dance of pleasure, of desire, of hunger. You danced with abandon, solely focused on the connection between you.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, pushing you further. “Finish the dance.”

You shivered the moment you heard the word baby slip from his lips. You whimpered, biting down on your lip as he coaxed you closer to the edge.

“I want you to finish it with me,” you panted, trying to hold on to the little restraint you had left.

“Anything you want, baby,” he nodded, a low moan sounding in his throat. “Anything you want.”

His hips surged up at the perfect angle, hitting you exactly where you needed it. He repeated the motion, reaching up to gently cup your face.

“Let go, Cherry.”

You held his gaze as your body soared over the peak, falling into a fit of pleasure as you gasped. Clay watched with rapt attention as you came, the sight alone sending him to his own release. He let out a strangled groan as he buried his face in your neck, clutching you tightly as you both rode out your highs.

Moments passed, your breathing ragged as your bodies both moved in sync. Finally, you both relaxed against each other. He pulled back, looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes.

You held his face, tracing his swollen lips with your thumb before capturing them in a slow kiss. He hummed, contentedly, returning your kiss with sweet devotion as his hand cupped the back of your head.

The world was hazy as you both pulled back, gazing into each other’s eyes. You struggled to catch your breath, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it all.

“Cherry,” he breathed, caressing your cheek softly. “That was…”

“Incredible,” you finished for him, smiling softly.

Despite your better judgment, you laid your head down on his shoulder and buried your face in his neck. You inhaled the musk of his cologne, breathing him in as you relaxed in his arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, holding you close as he gently ran his fingers through your hair.

You knew that this was a mistake you’d be sure to regret, but you wanted to bask in the affection. You hadn’t known such comfort in so long…

“Tell me another story,” you whispered, clutching the fabric of his shirt in your fists — as if he’d fly away if you didn’t hold him down.

“Okay, Cherry,” Clay smiled, stroking your face with his thumb. “How about the story of a young boy who grew up with a dream to make something of himself — to continue a legacy. He worked hard, chased his dreams, and eventually found success…” he paused, his fingers trailing up and down your arm, “…but even with all of the fame and fortune, he still sought something more.”

“Why did he want more?” You asked, tracing the buttons of his shirt with your finger. “Was he unhappy?”

Clay’s smile faded slightly, his eyes losing their playfulness. “No, not unhappy,” he said, softly. “Just lonely.” His fingers intertwined with yours, his thumb rubbing your palm. “He found himself successful, but it wasn’t enough. There was a void he couldn’t fill, no matter how many people surrounded him. Then, one day, he met someone…”

You sat up in his lap, facing him. You held his hand, playing with his fingers as you waited for him to continue. He watched you intently, his heart in his throat.

“He met someone who made him feel alive,” he continued, softly. “Someone who saw past the fame and the facade. It made him realize that…maybe he’d been chasing the wrong legacy all along. Maybe a life well lived is less about the fortune, and more about the people you’d want to share it with.”

You held his gaze, feeling the threat of tears sting your eyes. You opened your mouth to respond, but the shrill ring of the timer sounded — signaling the end of the session.

“Shit,” you cursed, grimacing. You looked at him with apologetic eyes and said, “I have to go work the rest of my shift.”

Clay’s heart sank at the sound — the sudden reminder of reality. He didn’t want you to leave. He didn’t want the moment to end.

“Yeah,” he whispered, softly, his voice filled with disappointment. “Work.”

“Don’t worry, pretty boy,” you told him, holding his face in your hands. “You’re the only rule breaker I’ll allow.”

You leaned down to place a gentle, slow kiss to his lips before climbing off of his lap. Your body immediately missed the warmth he provided. You felt hollow, having to step away from him again.

“Thanks, Cherry,” he whispered, smiling sadly. “I’ll hold on to that.”

He stood up and straightened his clothes, trying to shake off the lingering sensations.

You couldn’t help but glance down at his crotch, stifling a giggle at the wet patch that had formed on the front of his pants.

“You should, uh…you should probably cover that,” you laughed biting your lip.

Clay blushed, his eyes dropping down. He groaned, an embarrassed smile pulling at his lips as he untucked his shirt to hide the evidence.

“Yeah, I should,” he murmured, his cheeks pink.

You couldn’t resist reaching up to kiss him one more time. He sighed against your lips, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. He kissed you like he may never get the chance again. You could feel it down to your toes as he poured himself into this fleeting moment.

You pulled back and rested your forehead against his as he peered down at you.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

He held your gaze for a moment longer before stepping back, giving you space. He knew you had to get back to work, and he respected that. Still, a part of him wished you didn’t have to go.

“I’ll see you around, pretty boy,” you said, taking one last long look at him before leaving the room and returning to the real world.

You missed him the moment he was out of sight. You wanted nothing more than to run back into that room and tell him to take you away — but that wasn’t a story you could write for yourself.

You changed into a clean costume, but you could still feel his touch against your skin. You never wanted to wash that feeling off of you.

When you walked back up to your vanity, Frenchie looked at you with a shit-eating grin.

“You little rule-breaker,” she whispered, poking your arm with a laugh. “The smell of sex is practically wafting off of you, babes.”

You couldn’t help but blush, frantically shushing her as you looked around. Realizing that nobody else was paying attention, you bit your lip and looked back at her.

“Do you think I’m taking a huge risk, French?”

“Yes,” she nodded, without hesitation, “and it’s about time you did.”

You sat back in your chair as her words sank in, unable to shake the feeling that this was the start of something that would change your life forever.

By the time you were gathering your things and getting ready to clock out for the night, Sal met you in the back with a wad of cash. You took it from him, seeing a tiny piece of paper sticking out between the bills.

When Sal retreated back to the front with a grunt of acknowledgment, you grabbed the paper and unfolded it.

For Cherry,

From Your Pretty Boy.

Your heart fluttered. Your pretty boy. The implications of that word alone were very dangerous.

You gasped as your turned the paper over, bringing your hand up to your mouth.

Across the back, he had scrawled his phone number. You stared at it long enough that you could have committed it to memory. Those numbers stared back at you, daring you to risk everything.

You wouldn’t call him. You couldn’t call him. That would mean breaching every rule in the book — both the club’s and your own.

No matter how badly you wished that they could, your worlds could not collide. There was a reason why Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. You both existed on opposite sides of life.

If you were to bridge that gap, to cross that divide, it would surely be your ruin.

————————————————————————

tag list

@bxbyysstuff @dollyiia @haydensbbg @dinorawrss @ann4zw

[fanaticsnail]

You Kissed the Clown? Part 4

Ok, this chapter got out of hand. I had been dwelling on it for a little while before I did a final few readthroughs. There might be still some grammatical errors and formatting issues, but here it is!

Word count: 4,675 (I am so, so sorry!)

Part 3 is here.

 After marinating in the deep warm liquid of the large porcelain tub for what you deemed to be an appropriate amount of time, you stepped out of the soapy liquid and dried yourself with a large, fluffy towel. Placing a robe from within the bathroom around yourself and gathering your pile of dirty clothes, you made your way back down the hall to find the guest quarters containing your friends.

Your hair was wrapped up in the fluffy towel in an attempt to dry the strands with more haste than simply air drying it. Your bare feet being the only sounds omitting from the long hallway, you strained your ear to hear light conversation coming from the guest quarters. You reached for the door handle, let out a deep breath and made to face your mismatched crew of straw-hat pirates.

“Oh my dear, how was your bath?” Nami asked you once she saw your form entering the space.

“It was relaxing, thank you,” you responded with a sweet smile. You raked your eyes over her and studied the fine clothes she was wearing.

“Wow, red is absolutely your colour!” you exclaimed at her, gesturing to the dress she had chosen to wear for the evening.

“Where were you when I needed you, tinkerer?” she smiled before turning to Zoro and Luffy, “this is what I was talking about. You guys didn’t give me anything to work with!”

Zoro scoffed and craned his head back to stare at the ceiling while Luffy craned his head to the side in confusion.

“I said you still looked like Nami,” he shrugged, “and you do! What was I meant to say?”

You rolled your eyes and laced your arm in Namis, leading her to the vanity and sitting her on the stool in front of it.

“I’m thinking hair up?” you suggested with a downturned smile, quirking your eyebrow in suggestion. She shrugged and looked over her features.

“Definitely an updo,” you said, gesturing to her short locks. You used your eyes to ask permission to touch her hair, to which she nodded in response, “maybe a few face-framing pieces down. Lower to the nape of your neck I think. With some feathers?”

Her eyes seemed to brighten just a little as she nodded at your suggestion. You picked up the brush on the counter of the vanity and began to draw her hair into the palms of your hands and twirl pieces around your fingers. You heard Zoro move to the place behind the changing shield and begin removing his bathrobe and sorting through the clothes he had chosen.

“What are you wearing, Captain?” you called over your shoulder while holding your gaze on the locks of the orange-haired woman sat in front of you.

“Nami picked out these for me,” he said with a broad smile, “classy, no?”

You brought your eyes up to view your captain in the silver lined mirror in front of you, looking over the dark vest and pant combination held in front of him.

“Very you, love,” you nodded, returning your eyes to the hair in front of you as you began pinning some of the pieces in place. You smiled slightly, catching Nami fawning slightly over herself as you fashioned her hair to suit your vision.

“How did you get so good at this?” she asked you, meeting your eyes in the vanity, “this girly stuff.”

“My mother,” you responded with a smile, “she used to wear her hair showcasing several of our handmade pieces to demonstrate our craft to the customers in the shop.”

You placed a few white-tipped feathers in Nami’s lower bun, securing them with several small brass pieces. Nami nodded slightly for you to continue talking.

“And when she deemed me ready,” you said, focussing on one brass piece and slotting it within her hair, “that task fell to me.”

You smiled at your work, placing your hands on her shoulders and bringing your face down to her level and looked at her in the vanity.

“You’re really good,” she commented, turning her head slightly to gaze at the back. You picked up a smaller mirror and held it to the back of her hair and angled it in a way she could see the rear of her updo.

“Thank you,” you responded warmly. She offered you a sincere smile and you placed your hand once more on her shoulder.

You heard Zoro cough, prompting you to turn to view his attire. You let out a low whistle and Nami nodded in approval at the dark suit he chose with a tanned shirt beneath it.

“Nice ensemble, swordsman,” you complimented him with an arched brow, which he in turn smiled at the ground in response to your words, almost bashfully.

“Now,” Nami said, interrupting your train of thought slightly while rising from her seat at the vanity, “lets sort you out. Can’t have you attending dinner in a bath robe with your hair in a damp towel.”

You laughed at her comment and followed her lead to the many racks containing a vast collection of tinted silks, satins, chiffon, cotton and feathers. Several items drew you in, but one in particular had you buzzing slightly. A deep, blue dress held you in a trance as you pictured the colour matching the irises of your newly infatuation’s eyes. You reached for the material and smoothed your hands over the frock. Several layers of tulle, fine satin and chiffon fell over the gown with a corset-style back. You held the fabric as you imagined yourself being twirled before being held in the arms of the clown captain. Your eyes began to glaze over as you leant in to your fantasy, imagining the music playing as he held your body against his and whispered his loving desires into your hairline.

“That one?” you heard Zoro ask over your shoulder, noticing how close he truly was to you. This immediately broke the spell you felt over encumbered by. You shook your head before presenting the material to him.

“Oh, I’m sorry Zoro. Did you want to wear it?” you taunted him while removing the hanger from the rack and holding it up to his torso and furrowed your brows in playfulness, “not really your colour.”

You heard Nami laugh as she continued to sift through the racks for something more appropriate than a ballgown for you to wear to dinner. You laughed and turned to put the dress back onto the hanger, only to have your movements halted by Zoro grasping your wrist lightly.

“You’re thinking about the clown again, aren’t you,” he murmured in your ear, in a low enough tone that only you (to your current knowledge) would be exposed to. You inhaled sharply before shaking your head and putting the gown back onto the rack and turning to face him. While training with him and discussing the prior battle he engaged with against Buggy, he noticed how your expression changed. Your posture would stand slightly less alert, eyes glazed over slightly as you pictured the shared kiss in your mind again.

You challenged him with your eyes, opting to not speak to give yourself away. The way his eyes searched yours left an unsettling feeling in your chest.

“You know he’s murdered potentially millions, destroyed towns and nearly killed us, right?” he asked you, holding his hard gaze. You felt a small wave of sadness come over you at the thought of the violent crimes he had committed in his acts of piracy.

“You can’t change a person that far gone,” he uttered to you, breaking his gaze from you to look at your captain, “and if you leave, it’ll break him.”

You followed Zoro’s gaze to look at your captain, now freshly adorning his vest and pants. He reached up to readjust his straw hat and smiled broadly at you both.

“What do you think?” Luffy asked, and without missing a beat; Nami responded.

“You look like Luffy,” she yelled over her shoulder. You saw the captain smile and nod his head in response.

“You’re right. I do look like Luffy,” he confirmed, sitting down on the plush stool in the centre of the room again.

You felt Zoro remove his hand from your wrist and place it on your shoulder as he leant in closer to you and whispered into your ear.

“You can do better than some psychotic clown,” he said before releasing your shoulder from his grasp and turning to take up his swords and fix them on his hip. You furrowed your brows and pursed your lips, shaking your head slightly at the words and continuing to sort through the materials.

“This is the one,” you heard the voice of Nami call from a rack several isles over.

You turned your head to look at the dress she was cradling in her arms. The way you could describe the outfit she was holding out to you would be whimsical. Something from within the pages of the novels you would read while attending the shop back home.

You smiled broadly and took the dress from her arms with a wide smile.

“This is beautiful,” you commented, immediately taking the dress behind the changing screen and pooling the robe at your feet. You stepped into the dress and brought it over your hips first, before placing your arms in the sleeves and pulling it over your torso. You stepped out from behind the screen to reveal the dress. Nami smiled at you as you presented your back to her.

“Would you mind doing me up?” you asked her, pulling the strands of your drying hair over your shoulder to aid her with her task.

“This looks so good on you!” she commented, placing her hand on your zipper and pulling it to the hilt. You walked over to the vanity and looked yourself over, nodding in affirming her words.

“You’re right, it suits me,” you declared while running your fingers through your hair and beginning to fashion it in a style you were accustomed to wearing in your family’s shop. You placed several sentimental pieces of jewellery in your hair, interlacing them between several braids you managed to weave in a few minutes.

A knock appeared at the door, indicating it was time to commence the birthday meal of Miss Kaya, you walked to the side of your captain with a smile.

“Well,” he said, “let’s go eat!”

He offered his arm to you, which you took with a laugh and allowed him to escort you to the foyer where several variety of hors d’ouevres were being offered on silver platters by the staff. You accepted a class of sparkling wine from the tray while retracting your arm from Luffy’s elbow.

Luffy sprung to commence his dining experience, opting to skip the beverages and go straight to the source of the delicious smell he had been craving. You were left alone slightly, as Zoro was speaking with Klahadore, Nami was conversing with Usopp and Kaya while the other members of staff would offer trays of food and beverages to your crew and another man who was introduced to you as ‘Merry’.

You continued to have the uneasy feeling of being watched by someone, often peaking from the corners of your eyes to catch the source in the act – only to find nothing awaiting your gaze. You sighed and raised the champagne flute to your lips and took a small sip of the tart, bubbling liquid.

“Something the matter?” you heard a voice purr to you, pulling you from your trance to meet the gaze of Klahadore. You felt yourself jump a little at his introduction, bringing your attention fully onto him. You sighed before smiling at him, hoping he did not sense your uneasiness at his presence.

“I’ve not had a good pampering for some while, Mister Klahadore,” you said with a warm smile, “I’ve been at sea for longer than I ought to have been, I think.”

He hummed in response, offering you a fresh glass of champagne; which you accepted graciously. He took the empty glass from your hand and replacing it with the full one, “you seem to be one affiliated with the finer things in life.”

“I have been educated, yes,” you responded, narrowing your eyes slightly at his accusation.

“I mean no disrespect,” he said, using the palm of his hand to adjust his glasses closer to his eyes, “you just do not seem like one suited for piracy.”

You maintained your narrowed eye contact, scepticism displayed in questioning his unintentionality of the subtle jab.

“Yet here you are,” he continued, pausing between each word.

“Here I am,” you confirmed with a smile, raising your glass to your lips and sipping at the wine while looking over to make eye contact with the swordsman of the crew. You widened your eyes at him, hoping for him to catch on to your subtle cry for help at being left alone with this unsettling figure. As unaware as one could be in this type of situation, Zoro pointed to the butler with his chin and shook his head in question. You mentally screamed at him, hoping for some unnatural telepathic ability to inflict great harm on the clueless swordsman before attempting to calm yourself and returning your gaze to the butler at your side.

“You’ll be escorted to the workshop after supper,” he said with a twinge in the corner of his mouth before continuing with a small list, “there will be a work bench, some oil, some better tweezers, screws, nuts, bolts, a red hot poker, soldering metal, a blackened glass visor, magnifying glass, and to rehash your words; how did you put it?”

You widened your eyes as Klahadore leant in ever so slightly to your ear and purred into it like one would taunt a helpless, flightless infantile bird.

“A bloody stiff drink,” he uttered with a small chuckle in your ear. You sharply inhaled a breath at this comment and stepped slightly away from the butler, prompting him to teeter his laughter slightly and readjust his glasses before adding, “I’ll escort you myself after I lay Miss Kaya to rest in her chambers.”

You nodded your head to him with an uneasy smile, confirming your attendance before walking over to the place Zoro was standing.

“What the hell was that,” you whispered in a berating manner at him.

“What the hell was that,” he said in the same hushed tone, gesturing to the place you were once standing in with the butler, “when I said you could do better than the clown, I didn’t mean moving on from one unhinged weirdo to the next.”

“What the hell, Zoro,” you hissed at him through clenched teeth, “I was giving you the signal.”

“That you wanted to kiss him? Yeah, I saw,” he whispered back.

You groaned at the comment, using all of your willpower to not smack the swordsman upside the head. Breaking you out of your thoughts, you were alerted to the beginning of the dinner by Klahadore as he escorted Miss Kaya to the head of the table.

“I’ll give you a lesson on what the signal is later, swordsman,” you hissed at him, brushing past him and plastering a fake smile on your features as you entered the dining room.

Unlike your companions, you had been trained in debutant-like manners in your education for formal negotiations with upper-classed individuals. You waited for Klahadore to ensure Miss Kaya was comfortably sat in her chair before reaching for your own to take a seat, unlike Zoro, Luffy, Usopp and Nami who sat down as soon as they found their designated chairs. You mentally sighed at their inappropriate table manners before nodding to Miss Kaya and taking a seat at the table.

You commenced your meal after Miss Kaya took her fist bite, enjoying the meal so dutifully prepared for you; choosing to keep yourself away from engaging in conversation with the troop. You were feeling so unlike yourself, completely thrown by the act you had committed days prior. Usually, you displayed your bubbly, semi-flirtatious and intelligent personality with an organic ease. You furrowed your brows at the thought that the clown had a fierce hold on your very soul, a pull urging you to bring yourself over to him and give in to your unbridled emotions.

And at this thought, you finally snapped. You refused to dwell on the improbable circumstances of ever seeing Captain Buggy again, and especially foster a romantic relationship with the; as Zoro so eloquently put it: some psychotic clown. You had come too far in your crafting skills, education and ability to challenge a persons apprehensions with your charisma to throw it all away to be some love-struck puppy for a powerful sea-captain on an insane rampage. You shook your head from your thoughts and plastered a smile on your face and began to make conversation with Merry who was seated beside you.

You were shocked when Luffy decided to stand up on the table and walk over to the woman who had so openly invited to host you within her halls that your words halted in your throat, causing you to do nothing but to gawk at the scene presented before you.

“Everyone, out of this house at once!” Klahadore demanded, to which Kaya responded.

“No,” she said with a gentle cough, “it’s late. Let them stay the night.”

Klahadore reached for Kaya, bringing her to her feet and beginning to escort her to her bedchambers.

“As you wish, Miss Kaya,” he relented, “but they are to be out first thing in the morning.”

He led her up the stairs, causing you to rise to your feet and bid Kaya goodnight.

“Well, that went pretty well,” exclaimed Luffy with a playful smile, “don’t you think?”

Silence engulfed the dinner guests seated around the table as they all contemplated the sheer ignorance of their young captain. You rolled your head back with closed eyes, hearing a slight click front your left side as you groaned at the knowledge you were about to undertake handling a potentially dangerous item for the cat-like butler.

“I’m retiring to the guest quarters,” you exclaimed, turning with a smile to the ram-looking Merry and giving him a polite bow.

“Sleep well,” he said with a wide smile. You gestured with your eyes to your remaining comrades and suggested with a subtle crane of your neck to exit from the dining room. Nami sprung to her feet after pushing her chair back in response to your gaze. Zoro creased his brows and shook his head in question, prompting you to roll your eyes.

“At least someone understands what ‘the signal’ is,” you said under your breath, linking your arms with Nami and escorting one another up the stairs towards the suite you were all sharing.

You both walked in silence towards the room, enjoying being in the comfort of just the two of you. She seemed to pay close attention to several of the more shiny pieces littering the many benches throughout the hall as you walked.

“Did you live in a place like this?” she asked you, continuing to fix her gaze on a gold-dipped light fixture.

“Absolutely not,” you replied with a small smile, “I grew up with my siblings in an apartment above the shop.”

She hummed in response, continuing the slow pace you kept on your way to the suite.

“You would work with stuff like this, though?” she unlaced your arms and picked up a pristine silver box and weighed it in her palm, “rich people, stuff.”

You sighed and took the box from her hands, “yes, I worked with this stuff.” You placed the item back on the bench before turning to smile at her.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked her with a shrug, “that we were well off? That I was exposed to the finer things in life?”

She creased her brows and crossed her arms at your comments. You sighed and took a step towards her.

“Look, Nami,” you said, placing your hands on her shoulders, “I did overhear parts of your conversation with Zoro. Eat the rich and all that.”

She unlaced her arms and widened her eyes a little at your statement.

“Wealth doesn’t equate to happiness,” you said, searching your gaze into hers, “and every penny I earnt was spent running the shop, and caring for my fourteen younger siblings when my mother passed.”

She let out a small gasp at your declaration and gave you a look of slight sympathy.

“Now,” you said, releasing her shoulders from your gentle grasp with a smile, “let’s agree to not judge one another for our histories and move on. I won’t pity you or pry your past from you, and we don’t question one another’s life choices, yeah?”

She nodded slightly at your words and you both continued on to your chambers.

BONUS BELOW

Holding a hand up to his missing ear, the famed clown captain sat atop his stage chair and hanging on to every word he managed to hear you disclose from its place among he assumed was the bottom of a skirt? His feet were both dangling over the left arm of the chair as he rested his head on the right arm, laying completely down on his back on the firm, wooden base.

He recalled letting out an insane amount of laughter at the fact that he had manage to unintentionally woo you with a simple kiss exchanged between you. He did not restrain his chuckles as he eaves-dropped the private conversation you seemed to be engaging with yourself about in the showers.

“How could this particular woman be so desperate for me,” he maliciously spat with an air of smug confidence surrounding him, “all I did was threaten her and in response, she kissed me.”

He laughed again, kicking his feet slightly at how utterly ridiculous the whole situation was. He pressed the blank space his right ear was no longer attached to and continued to listen to you argue with yourself.

“It wasn’t even that good of a kiss anyhow,” he heard you mutter to yourself in an echoing room.

“Not that good of a kiss, my right ass-cheek,” he growled, sitting up from his reclining position and planting his feat on the ground, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees, “it blew your absolute mind, baby. You’re crazy about me!”

He smirked at his own comment, before an uneasy feeling in the pit of his chest began to grow slightly.

“I didn’t even enjoy it that much,” he heard you say, also listening to the sound of a tap filling something large.

“Didn’t enjoy it that much?!” He yelled in a slight fit of rage, bringing the attention of Cabaji as he entered the tent. Buggy’s frown deepened at your words as he felt his chest bubble slightly at the feeling of inadequacy.

“Who are you talking to, Captain?” he asked.

“Shut-up!” he barked at him, “get out, I’m busy!”

Cabaji held his hands out defensively in front of himself and backed away slowly to return to the green room, leaving Buggy alone with his thoughts.

Buggy had a deep frown plastered on his face as he continued to hang onto every word he heard escape your lips.

“He could’ve been faking,” he heard you whisper to yourself, “it could’ve all been an act, a trick to lull me into a false sense of security, only to kill me after he was done with whatever he was doing with Luffy.”

“No,” he felt himself whimper slightly at your comment, dropping his frown and widening his eyes. The pit in his chest appeared to be growing and overcoming him slightly. He brought his other hand up to his lips and traced them with his fingertips lightly, attempting to bring the memory of the taste of you back to his skin.

His memory was flooded with your tender touch. His immediate reaction to push you away and inflict harm on you for daring to pull his body into yourself completely dissipated as you gently brought his body flush against your own and placed your lips against his. He remembered his sinister frown falling away from his brows as they turned upward in shock as he whimpered like some touch-starved stray animal against your embrace. Against his better judgement, he wanted nothing more than to hold you there for as long as you were willing to freely give him. He remembered lacing his gloved hand into your hair and pulling you gently into his embrace, squeezing the soft flesh of your back.

He had never felt a touch like yours before. This was his first encounter with another person so willing to freely express this amount of affection to him, he never wanted to part from your embrace – even ignoring the fact he felt you reach into his pocket to claim one of his throwing knives. He didn’t care if you were going to attempt to stab him in that moment, he would survive and you would look completely and utterly stupid. He was enjoying your touch and didn’t want to tear himself away from your clutches to brace himself for something as small as a dagger in his side.

While bracing himself in expectation of feeling the sharp object to be pried into the flesh you were exposing beneath his jacket, he felt your hands begin to explore his flesh, prompting a unrestrained moan to escape his lips. He wanted more. He wanted all of you, to be with you completely. If you were not holding him so firmly against yourself, he felt as if he would’ve become a puddle of broken pieces below your feet. Your touch brought him to his knees, in a hypothetical sense.

He cradled the empty space his right ear was missing from and felt overcome with the need to be in your presence. He was brought from his concentration on your words as he shook his head to bring him back into the present.

“What the hell?” he asked himself, looking at the position he was sitting in while cradling his ear, “why am I so focussed on you? I don’t even know your name!”

He gasped as he heard the final words escape from between your lips in a tone just above a whisper.

“I think I’m in love with Buggy the Clown.”

His jaw grew slack as he opened it in shock, the feeling in his chest warming his torso with an uncomfortable new emotion. His body slumped back into the broad backboard of his chair as he shook his head slightly, mouth continuing to hang agape in shock.

He felt his eyes begin to glaze over slightly, replaying your final words over and over again within his mind like a well-lit merry go round.

“That’s-,” he uttered in a voice below a soft murmur, “that’s all I ever wanted.”

He felt the well within his chest overflow and shoot tingles throughout his body. He closed his jaw and gulped back the saliva collected in his mouth as he continued to focus on your confession. He dropped his hand down from the empty space beside his head and hung it beside his shocked body. He looked down at his chest as the warmth continued to spread over his form as he came to understand the emotion he was feeling.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered with a wide grin forming on his face, a subtle bashfulness arising alongside a large warmth to his cheeks, “I love you too, baby.”

He let out a teetering giggle with a twinkle in his eyes as he came to terms with the adoration he had developed for you. He couldn’t wait to see you again, to tease you before pulling you into his arms. His love, his queen. His.

Part 5

[hiraeth-sonder]

Kept Dove - Purgatorio

Yan!Sunday x Reader

Even if a bird with clipped wings can only fly so far, it is a freedom nonetheless

TW: pseudo-incest, suicidal behaviour, stalking, general manipulative and toxic behaviour

//Characters may be OOC, please go easy on my glass heart. Spoilers for the 2.0 story quest but also I may not remember things correctly so- Not at all accurate to future patches/lore. Excerpts from the Song of Songs.

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Through veiled curtains and under warm lights, you tug your socks up with a careful hand, your eyes tracking the movement through the large mirror across you. The soft sheer fabric ascends your leg, trailing up and up until it reaches exactly above your knee. Just the slightest askew, you check once more, turning your leg and watching how the edge on your inner leg dips down, sneaking your finger under the garter to readjust its height. When deemed satisfactory, you reach for your sock garters, clipping the metal fasteners onto the ends as the upper ends hang limply by the side of your leg. You do the same meticulous routine for your right leg, putting your legs together to ensure that they are perfectly even. 

Hung on a hanger was a blouse, with no evidence of wrinkles or lint. Gingerly, you slip it off and let the cool fabric caress your bare skin, once again peering into the mirror to straighten the ends only to carefully push every little fabric-covered button through equally miniscule openings. It hugs your form perfectly when finished, tailor made to adhere to your body like a second skin, with bishop sleeves to be held together with custom cufflinks. You do so, deft fingers piercing the fabric with the golden optics before clipping the ends of the shirt with the once hanging garters. 

Your skirt comes next, prudent and pure. You step into it and bend ever so slightly, bringing it up to your waist to fasten the button that would keep it closed. It is only now that you pad across soft carpet towards your lineup of shoes, from sensible flats to respectable high heels, of shined leather to patent, fit for any occasion. You hook the backs of a pair of heels with your fingers, making your way back to your vanity to slip them on. It is now that you turn your attention to the perfumes decorating the front of the gilded mirror, each of them gifts handpicked by your siblings, bottles easily distinguished by your sister’s fondness for winsome designs and your brother’s partiality for elegance. You uncap a lacquered white glass bottle, the airy and floral aroma that comes from the nozzle is one of their favourites.

There is a light knock at your door, a gentle rap of knuckles against hardwood. It is merely a courtesy, he has no real need to announce his presence when you have long known he would come. Your eyes do not even have to glance at the ticking clock, the knowledge of the minute hand’s exact position of twenty minutes to eight a matter you have grown familiar with over the years. 

“Come in.”

Familiar, practised steps barely sound through your room, a few strides until a silhouette appears behind you. Letting out a soft breath, your eyelids flutter close as you turn your head away from the mirror. “I’m afraid you have little to help with today.”

“I merely wanted to check on you,” Your brother’s voice is delicate, even in your mind there is a kindness to his lilting rise. 

A sigh escapes your lips. ‘Check on you’ can mean all matters of things, whether it truly does entail merely checking on you is a test only known to him. Your eyes open upon the slightest hint of movement, watching through the mirror as gloved hands pull your hair back, reaching for a tie to bundle it up into a half-bun. The action in itself is practised and skilled, moreso a reminder of how many times he has performed such on the women of his life, it sends an inexplicable grief aching in your heart. 

He lowers himself to your level, and as the warm lights cast an intimate gleam upon his features, you get the day’s first look of your brother. Golden eyes softened in gentle fondness, or perhaps some amalgamation of it, cool steel locks lay in perfect formation as his soft wings unfurl to reveal his stately countenance. There is a soft smile pulled across his lips, yet for some reason you must wonder why that tightness in your chest exists so. 

“Happy?” You manage to croak out, still fraught with his full attention on you. 

Sunday tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, clearly admiring his work as he hums, “Very much so, you look quite comely like this.”

You glance at yourself in the very mirror that has aided your preparation, the small wings at the back of your ears hang downward in some odd shame, the sharp tips of your halo glinting with a keen shine. The dark wings flutter lightly, and that recurring shame seems to bubble back to the top of your mind everytime you are reminded of their existence. A corvid among songbird and dove, a stain in their otherwise blemishless perfection. A pathetic excuse for a halovian, you had little sway, little influence, little image. Your very existence was a means to uphold their depiction. 

You were just the child taken pity upon, the mutt picked up from the side of the road to house and feed. Thus, you are an extension of them, whatever you do, however you look, it all went back to them. You sometimes wonder whether they know how much you pale in comparison to their light. 

All too quick to shove such a treacherous thought to the back of your head, it would be a cold day in hell before someone pries that thought from your brain. He casts you an inquisitive gaze, one you wave off with your ascent from the chair. Your steps, three steps slower, accompany his longer strides, padding out from soft carpet to thudding wood. 

Leaving the mansion is always some arduous task, and you suppose that there is no one to blame but your brother for all the fuss that needs to be sorted out. Twisting hallways, confounding rooms, even the little sandpit of the Golden Hour, it made it so that leaving required his notice, lest you end up arbitrarily lost. Of course, this also meant that you were severely limited in the times you got to leave the mansion, since he always had so much to attend to in the day. And it is not like you refuse to learn, but rather that you cannot learn its ways that you remain unaware. Furthermore, it is exactly because that he does so much that you find it hard to even bring up your grievances about such a matter, how could you? So even if you yearn to see the world far beyond what he has allowed you to see, you very often keep your mouth shut and play at content. 

As you emerge from those familiar depths, a wing raises itself to shield your eyes from the sudden influx of bright lights. Penacony, the city of dreams they call it, but to you, it has been nothing more than an incandescent lie. Why else would your sister leave?  

It is then you see her, with her flowing light blue hair and her familiar visage. Her attire remains the same as all the advertisements you see with her face plastered on them, her halo tilted to the right and the gems under her left eye in flawless position. Yet, in your heart, your most sincerest of affections borne from years of companionship, you know that it is not her. There is nothing that would infer this thought, the locum in front of you a perfect copy in all matters, but you cannot help but deny the image in front of you.

Turning to Sunday, a slip of your true thoughts revealed through the furrow of your brow, “Who is this?”

“A fool, nothing more,” He spares you a glance, but says nothing else. 

“Will she listen?”

It is only then you manage to meet his gaze, not a second more and not a second less, his voice is placid, revealing nothing even now, “You trust me, no?”

“Of course, but I just worry…” Your plea seems to go unheard, and you wonder whether you were even meant to come along if it meant you would only receive this kind of treatment. 

“Shall we depart?” He offers to the ‘Robin’ in front of you, dignified courtesy and trained care. You remain behind, watching on. His voice rings in your head, the only part of him you get, “Fret not, dear sister, all will be well.”

In your heart, something twinges with an acrid twist. Though this ‘Robin’ is clearly some cheat, he still treats her the same, still has that leak of affection. You have always known that he never took to you the same way she did, he could try to play at siblingly affection, could try to interact with you the same way he did her, but you knew that he never meant it. The daily check-ups, the gifts, the occasional contact, it all means nothing to him, and in the end, is that not what he does best? Lying with a sweet smile on his face, tempting you with a delusion all the while he wishes for nothing but your descent. The only one he could never perform such deeds to was his own sister.

Yet even in front of a fool, with the face of your sister, you could feel no hatred towards her. Because she has never done anything to warrant such, not when this dream of theirs is one you have done everything to uphold, not when she might have been the only light in your life. So even if what stands before you is a fake, even if you do not know what your brother has planned, you will keep your mouth and play at content. 

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

In the end, he had never even told you where the day’s itinerary would take you, so when you had found yourself in reality’s Reverie Hotel and met with an interesting situation, you had much to restrain from expressing. A group of four people you have never truly seen before and a man from the IPC, seemingly engaged in a difficult matter. They do not seem to notice your approaching footfalls, neither does Alley.

“Alley, just a moment,” Sunday speaks up, gentle yet assertive

“The Family cannot allow guests to enter a dream while bearing burdens.”

The crowd, now aware of your presence, shifts their attention. The grey-haired youth catches your attention, so clearly out of place yet seemingly intertwined, you can only ponder why. Still, it is not as if their gazes remain on you, rather it would be more accurate to say that they were never on you in the first place, positively enraptured by the natural radiance 

“Speak of the devil, look who's here! It's Sunday, the most handsome man in Penacony! Along with the singer renowned across the universe: Robin!” The blond, who you vaguely recognise as hailing from the IPC introduces the two of them with a flair, clearly playing up the flattery. 

‘Robin’ turns to face him, an amused smile playing at her lips as her eyes crinkle in mirth, “He said you were the most dashing person in Penacony, how interesting.”

An older man and a red-haired woman stand before you, their expressions shifting to alert, yet they are paid no mind. 

“I’ve kept you waiting, Mr. Aventurine. This way please, let us speak in private,” Your brother offers, a request that is taken with a courteous quirk of the blond’s lips. 

Your ‘sister’ instead takes charge of caring for the rest of the guests, “Astral Express guests, please come this way and rest your feet.”

It is by now that you have completely mentally checked out of the situation, your presence clearly not noticed nor ignored. Though you yearned to return and perhaps sleep the rest of the day away, your feet automatically flanked the guests of the Astral Express so as to guide them, your eyes following after the grey-haired youth who seemed to yearn to run after Aventurine. Oddly, they do not do so, obediently following after the pink-haired woman. 

You keep your posture perfect and your expression pleasant, not quite hearing but watching, eyes tracking lips so as to turn your perceived attention to whomever was speaking at present. Your ‘sister’ still enraptures, no matter the truth of her nature. Your ears pick up the vague mention of an apology, her hand held to her chest in polite regret. It is only when the redhead’s lips, a woman you believe is called Himeko, move in a manner that seems to be directed to you that you tune back in, a pleasant smile still painted as you meet her gaze.

“And who’s this? I don’t suppose we’ve met before, have we? Ms..?” She offers, playing at cordiality though it is clear she may be a little on guard.

Your lips move to answer far faster than your mind, practically instinctual. The response you get is kindly, one you are not sure is genuine but it makes your head rush. 

The older man, Welt, calls your name, a sound that feels like it should belong on his tongue. There is a familiarity to it, the kind you would hear from an older relative. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

The rest of them start with their pleasantries, and for some odd reason, your chest tightens with a yearning. You had watched them band together earlier, seen the way they interacted with one another and even through your haze, could all but feel the amity between them. These were people who were bound together by chance, people who have simply decided to become this family and not only played the roles, but might as well be actual family. 

“Thank you, it's a pleasure to meet all of you as well.”

‘Robin’ seems to fade into the background, a sight you are not used to, but this fool’s interest in you is not a matter you are too worried about. Rather, the new-found attention you found yourself under was now almost overwhelming, too much yet not entirely unwelcome. 

“If we’re not overstepping, may I ask how you’re affiliated with Mr. Sunday and Ms. Robin?” Himeko’s voice is sweet in your ears, a soothing sound.

“They’re my siblings, my older brother and younger sister to be exact.”

The pink-haired youth you believe is called March 13th, is almost all too excited at that answer, yet it dies to wonder, “That’s cool! But why haven’t we heard about you before?”

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m merely not as noteworthy as them….” Your play at humility is almost entirely accepted, a notion you are at least glad for. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice your brother’s approach, a signal to return back into the background. With a hand to your chest, you bid your exit, “If you’ll excuse me.”

It is another haze that clouds over you when your brother arrives to slot himself into the conversation, one that once again seems to block out the words spoken. 

“I apologise for taking up everyone's precious time, and we shan't keep you any longer. If you need anything else while in Penacony, The Family stands ready to serve,” He hums, genteel and ever flawless.

‘Robin’ follows suit, her hand to her chest as she continues the courtesy, “May your dreams be beautiful and pleasant.”

Your eyes fall upon the Astral Express, and though your heart knows what can only be imagined can never be brought to reality, you could not help but wish that you had never been brought in to your siblings. Perhaps in another life, perhaps in a dream far more beautiful and pleasant than this one. 

“May your dreams be beautiful and pleasant.”

You were tired, so very tired. If Penacony truly was the world of dreams, yours must be some sick joke for your life to turn out this way. Given this glimpse of what could have been, how could you even bear to keep living in this illusion?

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

 His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

The marble railing is cold against your bare feet, one wrong step and you’ll be sent careening off the side of the building, falling into a never-ending abyss. In the distance, playing on the record player, was the vague lilt of your sister’s voice. You could barely hear it through the wind, yet the very fact that she was there, truly or not, was more than enough. You have all but memorised her every song, humming along as though she was with you.

In a thin nightgown, you have long been free from the confines of your strict dress, hair let loose and face bare. Any matter that once adorned your form has been stripped, left exactly where they belonged in your room as your legs danced along to the melody. Chasse, a whisk and a natural turn, your arms wrapped around some imaginary partner, it all came to you without little thought, merely letting the music guide your form. You have never danced before, never thought yourself fit to, only read about the basics in a book a time forgotten, but you think you enjoy it. Perhaps in your next life you will be a dancer, no matter the fame, it would be something you could do without fear of tarnishing another’s image. 

Caught in your reverie, you are scarce to hear the knock on your door, the heave of heavy wood and the quick steps to the open balcony. Through the flowing curtains and under the starry night, your brother still looked nothing more than empyrean, regardless of the unnerved furrow of his brow and the dilation of his pupils. You do not stop from your actions, continuing to let your body move along the wind.

“What are you doing?” He manages to utter, not as gentle yet cautious. 

Humming, you return his question with another, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Your dearest brother, the man who allows himself only the most minute interaction with you, the man who would not even meet your eyes beyond the confines of your home, though his words sounded as though they came from a more composed man, the slight tremble to his voice told you more than enough. 

“Dear sister, you won’t die even if you take such drastic actions.”

“You’re right, but at the very least I’d be soporose, no?”

There is a pained edge to his voice, visage finally broken out of that placid facade, “I don’t enjoy these words you’re saying.”

“When have you ever?” You laugh, eyes crinkled in levity as a smile pulled across your lips. Bare feet halt from their untethered sway, leaning to meet your brother’s gaze. Your words crawl out from your throat, hoarse from use yet elated nonetheless, “I’m sure that if I were to even look into that head of yours, those few thoughts you dedicate to me would be nothing but pure odium.”

Perhaps you would have been less inclined to disparage your brother once upon a time, more desirous of his attention for once, yet it is now you could care less. His focus means nothing to you now, not when he could not even bother to do so when it mattered most. Even if he threw himself at your feet and begged you to come down, you find it hard to believe you would listen in this state. 

Sunday’s voice is soft, yet simultaneously it is the loudest you have ever heard it, “You seem so convinced that I do not care for you, have you ever read beyond what your eyes tell?”

“Would you let me?” The air in your lungs feels faint, turning your voice breathy as tears strangely dew at your lower lashes. 

Would he even let you witness such? Let himself become vulnerable and open his tempestuous mind for you to pick and pry? You do not even believe he has allowed any other to come so close. Yet perhaps this is what you need to quell that storm in your chest, the last nail in your coffin, your last reason confirmed. 

He nods. 

Through dark veils and cloudy bubbles, you see it. The truth of his neglect, the reality behind his constant avoidance, his performed favouritism, all of it some cruel and horrific attempt to distance himself from emotions deemed iniquitous. All those times the clock would read seven forty, all those times you believed him to arrive on some schedule, that damned bird had been in your room all the while. Tucked away in some corner too high for you to notice, it stood watch at all hours of the day, keenly broadcasting your most natural state to him as if it were nothing more than the daily news. 

What a monster love can be, its dark shadow following you everywhere, in your most private and public moments, you have never been alone. Longing to embrace, alabaster hands ghosting over skin and breath fanning across bare chest, desiring to possess, to keep that object of yearning within a gilded cage and to tuck the key away. Twisting yet ever rigid, covetous and desirous, it is no wonder that your very existence should always be tied to him. There is no you without Sunday, no crow without dove, for what is a pious man without his conflict of sin?

“I love you,” He pleads, finally raw and true, finally directed to you. His face twisted in pure desperation as he approaches you, with his arms outstretched as though to compel you from your perch, your brother practically begs, “So please, stay with me.”

Beneath your gaze, beneath you, he is but a wretched thing. You never thought him stupid, yet for him to think that this was enough to wipe the slate anew, you must have overestimated him. 

You bark out a harsh bite of laughter, void of mirth and filled with scorn, “Do you expect me to just forgive you just like that? A measly ‘I love you’ and years of indifference can just be forgotten?”

“Sunday, you’re nothing but the last etching on my grave.”

Your feet leave the cold marble, tipping off into the unknown abyss below as a breeze flies through your wings. 

Your sister’s face flashes before you as your eyes flutter shut, her soft smile the one thing keeping your head clear and your limbs limp. You hear her sing, even past the rushing wind. Your dear sister, the one person who had been keeping you looking forward to another day, her crooning voice that played from the record player in your room, it is now you hear her clearer than ever. 

A bird that has never flown can only fall when thrown down, wings unable to catch the wind and soar from its cage, yet it is because it has never flown that this feeling is still a kind of freedom. And as your skin pebbles from the chill and your hair flows along your descent, you have never felt any freer, even if it is only for a brief moment. 

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Through lace curtains and under warm light, a hand caresses your leg as it tugs white socks ever higher. Soft fabric clinging to your skin as he raises it to your thigh, far too intimate, far too familiar. He does the same for the other leg, knelt at your feet with his head bowed, the socks are nothing but perfectly aligned as per his preference. The garters hung around your waist, silken material his own hands placed upon you, he grasps the clips as he attaches it to the socks, ensuring he does not blemish your skin beneath. 

Your arm raises when he brings the blouse, silky and smooth. Sunday lets the cool fabric kiss your arms as he buttons each clasp, meticulously pushing them through each miniscule opening. Another piece he had ensured would fit you without fault, it followed the natural lines of your form without fail. He smooths the shoulders down and presses a kiss to the top of your head, moving to pin the sleeves with optic shaped cufflinks. Coaxing you from your seat, he has you step into your skirt, brought up to your waist and clasped neatly. Your shoes, perfectly shined heels tailor made for only you, are slipped on and buckled. Even the sweet florals of your perfume, another white lacquered glass bottle he gifted all those years ago, is applied by his hand. 

His dear sister, someone he has tried so hard to keep at an arm’s length, someone he has done nothing but debase in that torturous head of his, now stands before him, obedient and adoring. Far too tempting to keep away, his arms move to embrace you, resting at your waist.

Instinctively, your arms raise to wrap around his neck, weight leaning against his hands as he bows his head to press a kiss against your lips. You accept him languidly, your eyes fluttering close as he brings your bodies to but a fingertip’s distance. It almost seems meant to be, how they move against each other in a rhythm known only to the two of you. 

“I love you,” He murmurs against your lips, the words leaving him so naturally that if one were to tell him that he could finally utter these heavy words to you, that him of the past would have merely waved it off. “More than you could ever know.”

“.....love…”

“..you….”

Your wings flutter shyly around your two faces, as though to hide away from the rest of the world, even your halo trembles ever so slightly, an endearing act as you try your best to convey your affection to him. Still, that does not discourage you from attempting to cling onto him.

He smiles, pressing another, more chaste, kiss to your lips to tide you over. Recovery has been hard for you but he finds he quite enjoys having you so feeble for him. Barely able to even form full sentences through telepathy, it meant that he would be able to hear your sweet voice much more often. You were no songstress, but it is your humming that truly provides him with succour. Furthermore, having you so dependent, so keen for his help, it only serves to soften his heart. 

To reintroduce you to the rest of Penacony not as his sister, but as his dearest lover has been easy, and he can only thank his foresight for keeping your very existence so negligible. You would finally get what you have always yearned for, no matter what lies you told yourself, his full and utter adoration, demonstrable and undisguised. Lest you try to leave him once more. So he will keep you in this cage with him, care for you and love you so that beyond reasonable doubt, you shall have no desire to spread your wings once more.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.