#honorable mentions: better man and the very first night

[stillgotscars]

in honor of the 3-year anniversary of red tv, put your top three vault tracks in the tags (for reference: better man, the very first night, i bet you think about me, message in a bottle, run, forever winter, all too well 10 minute version, nothing new, babe)

[seokgyuu]

The Sweetest Thing

All your life you’ve been your sisters’ punching bag. Never good enough. Never fully accepted. When your mother makes one of them choose you as her maid of honor you reluctantly agree. Semi-vacationing in Tuscany with your ‘beloved’ family, you meet two handsome strangers one night and let them do whatever they want with you. Too bad you didn’t ask for their names first.

Pairing: Heeseung x F!Reader x Sunghoon 

Genre: Strangers to ???, Porn with Plot

Warnings: CHEATING!!! reader is hooking up with her sisters’ fiancés, sisters are horrible and suck, mentions of past verbal abuse, reader is somewhat a pervert (she defo is), heeseung & sunghoon definitely are perverts, heeseung & sunghoon are mean, they have nothing good to say about their fiancés, alcohol consumption, adult content MDNI! smut warnings under the cut

Word Count: 9.2k 

a/n: and here it is!! my little box of filth. i wanna give a shoutout to @c-oupsie for hyping this up and telling me to keep going, ilysm!! and also @chwepen for beta-reading!! sending you smooches. <3 now everyone, please enjoy this sausage fest.

Taglist: @skzenhalove, @haelahoops, @deobitifull, @shiningnono, @jakeswifez, @slut4hee, @gyuhanniescarat, @branchrkive, @doublebunv, @capri-cuntz, @jaehyuniewifeu, @whateverhoon, @c-oupsie

Smut Warnings: threesome, dom!heeseung, dom!sunghoon, sub!reader, lowkey public sex, p in v sex, throat fucking, unprotected sex (be smarter than this pls!!!), degradation (usage of the words: whore, slut, filthy, stupid (only indirectly?)), praise, tit job, mc is described to have big tits, sunghoon can carry mc, manhandling, cum eating, cum play, shower sex, consensual sex taping, pls tell me if i missed any!!

Pastel colors are slowly but surely becoming your greatest enemy. You can’t count how many different patterns and matches you have seen on this day alone - and the preparations for this wedding have been going on for months. 

In all honesty, you didn’t even want to be here. As pretty as Tuscany is - this is the last place you want to be at right now. You would rather sit at home and play a game, would rather sleep in and not have your mother be all over you, pressuring you to do better in a job you never wanted in the first place. 

It is your sisters’ wedding. Yes, sisters’. They are both getting married at the same time, same place. Just the grooms are two different men (even though you wouldn’t put it past them to share a man for convenience). Men, you haven’t even met yet. Men, that your mother and sisters kept on swooning over. Look, it is no surprise your sisters got lucky in that department; They are extremely conventionally attractive and they love doing fun things like going out and spending money on things they really didn’t need. 

You grew up with them being six and seven years older than you, making them already inseparable when your mum decided to push another one out. Getting along with them sure as hell wasn’t an easy task, in fact it still isn't. It’s pretty clear you only got the job as Linda’s maid of honor because your mother threatened her to do so. There was probably a very heated rock, paper, scissors round going on between your sister dearests to decide who got to have you. 

And now you are here. In warm, beautiful Italy with yet another color scheme to look over and authorize. You surely didn’t sign up to suddenly become the wedding planner as well. 

“Yeah, that’s perfect, thanks,” you say to one of the florists who are just now setting up the arrangements for the rehearsal dinner happening tonight. 

It’s hot, so hot that you have to take shelter every ten minutes because of the fear of burning up. You don’t usually like to spend this much time outside - let alone in the scorching hot sun, so this is rather the change for you. 

When the florists leave to get another load of flowers, you decide to take this as the next round of shade and air conditioning inside the resort your sisters have chosen for their special day. 

It’s insanely beautiful. High ceilings, incredible murals on the wall, a big round table in the center of the entrance hall with a crystal vase on top, filled with flowers that would make the florist outside turn green in envy. 

The air inside immediately cools you down and you take the moment to sit down in one of the arm chairs in the lobby to calm yourself. Only a week. That’s all you need to survive. A week with your sisters and their fiancés, soon to be husbands and your and their families. Guests would arrive the night before the wedding and as soon as the reception was over - you could finally leave and hopefully not see your sisters for another year or so. 

“Ah, there you are.” You close your eyes for a second. 

“Shouldn’t you be outside?” Linda and Liza are standing in the lobby in their designer sun dresses, very obviously judging you for not being where they want you to be. 

“I just came in to escape the heat for a second, that’s all.” You explain as you open your eyes again. The two certainly don’t look happy. In fact, they roll their eyes and flick their perfect hair over their shoulders.

“Okay, well, time is up. If this wedding doesn’t go according to plan, it’s on you.”

“You don’t want us telling mum you don’t care about your big sisters, do you? She’d be so disappointed knowing you aren’t doing your job right.” 

Your fists almost immediately ball into fists. How many times have they been like this over the three days you’ve already been here? You honestly lost count. One week. Just one week.

“I was just about to go back outside, don’t worry.” 

Anger well hidden away, you stand up and present them with a fake smile, moving to go back outside. 

“Oh and, Y/N?” Linda’s voice feels like a ray of ice hitting you, “try to look a little bit more presentable when talking to our staff. We don’t want them to think we can’t actually afford being here.” 

Your sisters giggle happily all while you bite your tongue once more. One week. Stay calm. One. Week. 

Something about the Italian sky seems different. Maybe it’s because you’re not close to a big city, but the stars shine brighter than you’ve ever seen them. It feels like a movie; the stars and moon so visible with no cloud in sight, the small street of Arezzo you’re currently sitting in - a small restaurant with a small menu but a nice older man that speaks decent English. A glass of wine standing on the small table beside you and the first bit of peace you’ve felt in days. 

It’s when you take your next sip of wine you see them. 

Two men straight out of a magazine walking towards one of the free tables next to yours and sitting down. There is nothing you can do but stare. Both of them have dark hair, one of them a bit shorter than the other. They are dressed elegantly, designer shoes and pants, blazers hanging over their chairs. Even if you wanted to - you could not possibly say which one was more attractive. 

What a nice way to end a horrible day, you think. Smiling, you finish your glass and immediately order the next, not entirely used to drinking so much, but not caring since you are miles away from home and no one here knows you anyway. The waiter nods and then proceeds to go over to the newcomers. The one with the slightly lighter hair and the mole on his nose orders in perfect Italian, with just enough of an accent for you to know they aren’t from here. Your choice of table appears to be perfect for watching them, listening to them converse in a language you understand. 

And it all stays innocent like this - they talk about their flight and about friends - until suddenly the conversation sways.

“I honestly- fuck, I can’t believe we’re actually doing this, you know?” The one with shorter hair says and his friend sighs, taking his wine glass and finishing it in one go. Impressive. There was at least half left in yours. 

“I don’t know what to tell you. We committed and now we’re fucked.”

“Just that we aren’t getting actually fucked.”

They look at each other before they laugh, shaking their heads. Meanwhile, your ears perk up. 

“Fuck, I really don’t know the last time she let me hit it, Hoon. I think I’m going crazy.”

“Yeah, same here. Like, yeah, we fucked once the day before her flight. But literally only missionary and she didn’t suck me off.”

“Again? Dude, is she ever even putting her mouth on it?” 

“Nope. Ever since we got engaged she’s like this fucking prude. Is yours like that too?”

“Yeah. I got her flowers and her favorite chocolates and she still wouldn’t even jack me off, like fuck, if it’s gonna be like this forever I can just go cut my dick off.”

Jesus. These two seem to be in very happy relationships. Makes you almost feel better to not be in one. Even if your mother would beg to differ. She’s been desperate for you to find a match for ages. For whatever reason, really, considering her two golden girls were about to get married to rich and handsome heirs. 

“Just one good blowjob, man, that’s all I want, really. I miss getting some good fucking head.”

The way short hair looks at mole - with so much understanding and pity, you can’t help but chuckle. Chuckle loud enough for them to take notice. 

Their gazes burn on your face before you even see them. But when you do your smile dies and instead makes room for horror. They heard you laugh at them. Even worse, they know you’ve been listening. Shit. 

Thankfully, you are three glasses of delicious white wine in and the fourth one is almost empty. Which means you aren’t the sweet little wallflower you’d usually be. Scary, how alcohol can change people.

“Oh, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped.” You apologize, placing your hand over your heart. 

“Agreed.” Short hair says, his eyebrow raised. Now, with both of their eyes on you, it seems like they are even more attractive. Perfect faces with pretty eyes and soft looking hair. Handsome men in unhappy relationships that fail to give them what they need. It’s almost comical how the switch in your head turns over, how the persona you normally never let anyone see until you’re in a secluded space comes out and gives you the courage to speak your next words.

“I just couldn’t believe my ears,” you let your finger glide over the rim of your glass, eyes on the two men with your tongue slipping out to lick over your bottom lip, “how anyone would be opposed to having sex with you.” 

Oh.

Sunghoon and Heeseung’s ears perk up just like yours did earlier. Eyes widen slightly as they understand the innuendo in your words. 

They think about the same thing - the last time they took a girl together. Probably during senior year in college. Back then, they used to do that regularly. Having almost the identical type in women. Instead of having to let her choose, she’d get them both. 

But it’s been years since then. They are in committed relationships now, about to get married. And still - neither of them can deny that you fall right into their usual prey, or well, the prey they’d chosen back in college before their parents had picked out their wives for them. 

It’s the way you look at them, the way your eyes say so much more than your words. It is also the way both of them feel like they are 22 again with nothing but getting their dick wet on their minds. One thing about Heeseung and Sunghoon - they always worked perfectly in a pair. Back in college and now, too. They can almost read each other’s minds at this point, only a short exchange of looks needed to know neither of them gave a single fuck about anything right now.

“Want to sit down with us?” Sunghoon asks and points at the free chair opposite them. You smile. 

“It’d be my pleasure.”

The very small bathroom stall is crowded with three people, but you make it work. 

Sunghoon is holding your head in place, his cock buried so deep down your throat he’s seeing red. You’re perfect. The sweetest thing on the outside, and a filthy little whore behind closed doors. You literally begged him to thrust down your throat without paying you any mind. You wanted, no, needed him to use your throat, to act like you were nothing but his little fuck toy. And, shit, he was more than happy to do exactly as you asked. 

His hips are moving in rapid speed, his groans music to your ears. Drool is running down your chin and dripping onto your knees. He is not holding back, he is just doing whatever he wants with you and you are throbbing. Throbbing around Heeseungs fat cock that is fucking into you with no care in the world. 

Heeseung is sitting on the toilet seat, his hands on your hips, cock rapidly leaving and entering your sopping hole. His head is literally spinning at how fucking good you feel. He bets you’d also sound fucking perfect if only Sunghoon’s cock wasn’t in the way. He can tell by the way you are already squeaking around his best friend’s cock, how your pussy is continuing to spasm around him after you already came on his cock once before.

“Take it, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Heeseung breathes out, hips speeding up and your eyes roll back into your head, your body seemingly on fire. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been fucked this good by a strange or, in this case, two strangers. All you know is that you’ve already cum before and that Heeseung surely will get you over the edge another time. He’s thick and veiny and he fills you up so good there was nothing you could do but cum after only a minute of him fucking you like an animal. 

“Shit, look at you,” Sunghoon groans, one hand now wrapping around your throat, his eyes glossy as he stares down at you, still fucking down your abused throat, “you’re a perfect little fucktoy, aren’t you? Enjoy being used by two cocks, huh? Fuuuuuck, you’re gonna make me cum, fucking slut.”

Heesung feels you squeeze around his cock, feels the way you suck him in even deeper. 

“This filthy little thing likes when you talk to her like that, Hoonie. Squeezing my cock so fucking hard.” His head tips back and his mouth drops open as he focuses on his pleasure, already fantasizing about stuffing you with his cum. He moves his hands up, squeezing your perfect tits over your dress and you moan around Sunghoon’s cock, tears streaming down your face. Every touch, every thrust, every word is getting you closer to another high. With Heeseung’s hands on your breasts you can freely move your hips now, bouncing up and down on Heeseung’s cock, matching his thrusts perfectly. 

There is no chance Sunghoon will last much longer. Your mouth, your throat - he’s scared he already developed an addiction to them. Maybe it’s the long time he hasn’t experienced anything like this, but right now it feels like no throat has ever taken his cock so well before.

“Where should I cum, huh? Down your throat? On your pretty face?” Sunghoon groans, his cock twitching over and over before he finally pulls out, jerking himself off so you can answer the question. 

“Cum on her tits, look at those fucking perfect tits, bro.” Heeseung decides to answer for you and Sunghoon smirks as he watches Heeseung get your tits out of your dress for which you thankfully don’t need a bra. Your perfect tits bounce free now and Sunghoon nods, eyes glued to them and how they bounce now that Heeseung continues to fuck into you, your back now arched against him. 

“Fucking hell, such fat fucking tits,” Sunghoon is in a trance, mouth dropped as he jerks himself off with the help off your spit and his precum. 

“Tell him to cum on your tits, slut, come on, tell him how much you want his cum all over you,” Heeseung whispers into your ear, his cock still continuing to ram into your g-spot like it has never done anything else. 

You moan loudly, eyes flying open and Sunghoon almost doesn’t need you to say anything - your fucked out face could well be enough to make him cum. 

“Pl-please g-give me your cum, want it a-all over my tits, pl-please, need it so bad!” You cry out and Sunghoon feels his orgasm hit him, thick spurts of cum landing on your tits and neck, some even on your lips that you hungrily lick off of them, only making another spurt come out of Sunghoons cock. 

“Holy fucking hell, shit,” he groans, falling against the stall door, his chest heaving. 

Heeseung, meanwhile, grabs your hair and tilts your head back as he does his final thrusts, filling your pussy with his seed, white making you feel warm inside and tipping you over the edge, milking him for all he has with your own orgasm, high pitched moans escaping you as your toes curl and your hands grip the material of your dress. 

Once he’s done fucking both of you through your orgasms, Heeseung helps you up, his cock slipping out of you. You’re a little shaky on your legs and Sunghoon catches you before you can fall, his eyes immediately going to your tits that are covered in his cum. He licks his lips. 

“If we had more time I’d take you to my room and fuck those tits until they are covered in even more layers of my cum, baby.” He mumbles, one finger scooping up some of his release and shoving his finger in your mouth, watching in awe how you eagerly suck it clean. 

“Holy fuck, you’re perfect.” Heeseung has put his cock back into his pants, considering to get it back out just to have you lick it clean of your and his juices. He decides against it mainly because he knows there isn’t much time. He and Sunghoon have to get back to the hotel, their fiancés probably awaiting their return. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Sunghoon says, but you shake your head, only putting your tits back into your dress and stepping back into your panties.

“I wanna keep it for a bit, keepsake if you will.” 

Both men are silent. Where the fuck have you been before they got engaged to the sisters from hell? For a second they contemplate just keeping you. Using you for when their soon to be wives were being difficult again. 

Obviously, though, this was just a fantasy not meant for reality. 

Perhaps it’s well deserved. Having the worst morning all week, the day right after you fucked two strangers in a restaurant’s bathroom. Two engaged strangers. It’s not a surprise that you didn’t care about the blurred lines of their… relationship status, considering you’ve had quite a few hook-ups with married men who were out of town and needed someone to fulfill their needs while their perfect trophy wives were sitting at home waiting for them. Not the proudest thing you’ve done, but whatever gets you cumming. 

Today, your sisters seem to have it out for you especially. You blame it on the nerves, after all their perfect fiancées are about to arrive today. Everything needs to be in order, their dresses, their hair, their nails, everything. 

You’ve become their personal stylist, nail artist and hairdresser all for nothing more than a chuckle at the way your shirt rises up and shows your stomach that they love to comment on. It’s a win-win situation, for sure. 

“Can’t you see you’ve made a mistake!” Liza screeches, pointing at her (to your eyes) perfectly drawn eyeliner. You blink at her and take a deep breath. Six days. 

“I apologize.” Quickly, you move to fix your error, but your sister slaps your hand away and rips the pencil out of your hand.

“No, thank you. I’ll do it myself, like everything else, you useless piece of trash.”

Six. Days. 

Since there is no point in responding to her, you only nod and turn to Linda who is currently checking herself out in her hand mirror. 

“Anything I can do for you?” You ask, feeling ridiculous. One could think you’re their personal assistant and not their younger sister. 

“Just get out, Heeseung and Sunghoon are about to arrive and I don’t want them seeing you first thing, imagine their shock.”

Heeseung and Sunghoon. 

Something rings in your head. Had they ever mentioned their fiancés names before? Probably - why else would they be so familiar to you. 

“Alright. I’ll be by the pool then.” 

Neither of them deems it appropriate to even slightly acknowledge you before you leave the room.

A huge sigh leaves you the second you step out of Linda’s room and instead head for your own. Just a quick change into a bikini and down you go. A few hours in the sun, maybe a couple laps in the pool. Another bit of peace while your sisters are occupied. Sounds like the perfect morning to you. 

Just that, when you reach your room and change into said bikini - you notice a bruise right above your hip. Your eyes widen at the sight, moving closer to the mirror to inspect it. There is no other possible reason but what happened last night. 

“Shit,” you mumble, looking around your clothes for this one light pink scarf you could easily wrap around your hips as some sort of cover. The last thing you want is for your sisters to see this and ask questions. Bad enough you had the face and figure you had - imagine their outrage if one of these was even further damaged! 

For as long as you can remember your sisters had been your biggest haters. No matter what you did, if you changed your hair or your wardrobe, they’d be mean to you about it. To them, you were nothing but an unwanted addition to a family they had deemed already perfect. Neither of them had ever wanted another sibling, especially not six and seven years apart from them. Suddenly, you were the center of attention, had your mother cradling you and loving you and not giving them the attention they were sure they deserved. 

Even now, at their grown ages, about to get married, they couldn’t seem to get over it. 

From an outsider's perspective their lives were fairly more successful than yours. With great jobs in high positions, a perfect routine that included gym visits four times a week, and of course their perfect soon-to-be husbands. If it weren’t so frustrating it might have been funny how they literally kept them from you - kept everything from you. Blocked you from their socials to not be associated with you, living in their own little bubble, acting like you didn’t exist. 

So, expect your surprise when Linda called and asked you to be her maid of honor. You had only accepted because you know your mother would be devastated if you didn’t. 

That all seems like an okay trade for the view of the hotel pool right by the beach, your body rubbed in sunscreen and your sunglasses on top of your nose listening to music and enjoying your moments without a sister (or mother) around to tell you what to do. 

But your life wouldn’t be yours if your peace weren’t suddenly interrupted by the high pitched laugh of one of your sisters floating through the air and reaching your ears. It hadn’t even been half an hour. Maybe, you think, they won’t even come over. After all, they had hidden you away from them for as long as they had been together. Perhaps they wanted to wait til the day of the wedding next week to finally introduce you. 

Curiosity gets the best of you at last. Who are these men they’ve been gatekeeping from you, who have been nothing but your mother’s pride? Slowly, you turn into the direction of the high pitched laugh, opening your eyes behind your sunglasses. 

And the world around you seems to shake. 

“No fucking way,” you breathe out, moving quickly to get up. Panic arises within you, sheer ugly panic that has your body shaking. This can’t be true. This can’t be happening! You move to throw your phone and headphones onto the lounge chair, your eyes darting back and forth between here and your sister’s location, finally freeing yourself of all the things that can’t get wet to jump into the pool. It seemed like the only way not to get noticed by them. 

There are several other people in the pool and the splash of you jumping in had been drowned out by the sound of a child laughing and screaming. You stay underwater for a good while, thanking your strong lungs, and only come back up when you feel like enough time has passed for them to have left - only to be met by absolute horror. 

They had taken seats right next to your stuff. In their bathing suits from Chanel or Prada or whatever, they looked breathtaking. Not that they would ever get into the pool. It wasn’t them, though, who made your blood turn cold and the insides of your stomach threatening to say hello again - it was their fiancés. 

Short dark hair, beautiful faces. One with a mole on his nose. The other with clear shock in his eyes. 

The men from last night. 

As if to remind you further, you feel the bruise on your hip suddenly starting to throb with pain. You wince and look down, noticing your make-shift cover up being gone. Wonderful. 

Your sisters notice you now, their eyes widening when they see you in the state you’re in. Dripping with water, your hair pushed back out of your face, your body dressed in nothing but a flimsy bikini. They had always envied you for your breasts - not that they would ever admit this. But seeing them right now made them even angrier, after  all Heeseung and Sunghoon were right here and could see those monstrosities! 

And yeah, they see. See your body in that bikini that is leaving nothing to the imagination. See your tits almost falling out of the bikini top - tits that were covered in Sunghoon's cum not even 24 hours ago. They see your pretty face, your long eyelashes, droplets of water sliding down your soft skin. 

Heeseung and Sunghoon don’t realize the gravity of the situation yet, right now all they think about is how they’ve hit the jackpot because you’re in the same hotel as them. Right now, neither of them knows who you are besides the girl they’ve fucked the night before. 

“Y/N!” Liza screeches, “get out of that pool right now, you look ridiculous!” 

Linda gets up and grabs one of the towels next to her, throwing it into the Pool. She wants you to cover up, needs you to cover up. 

It is then that Sunghoon and Heeseung slowly understand. Your name. They have heard that name before. Time and time again. 

“Mum made me pick my ugly little sister as my maid of honor, Hoonie, can you believe her?” 

“Ugh, Y/N, called today. Wanted to congratulate us. Can you believe her? I bet she is so jealous, Hee, she could never get a man to stay. She’s just… too…. ew.”

You’re their sister. Their little sister they have nothing good to say about. 

You. The girl from last night. The girl who potentially could become the best fuck of both of their lives. 

If they had been able to, they would have looked at each other. But they are too mesmerized by you getting out of the pool with the towel wrapped around your body, or at least around your upper half. They can still easily see your legs, your perfect thighs, the little bikini bottom that does almost nothing to cover up your ass, can see the bruise that is a clear indication of what happened last night. It’s safe to say they are both growing harder in their trunks. Relatively bad timing. 

“Sorry, I told you I would be at the pool,” you mumble once you get out, grabbing for your stuff.

“I don’t think so, I would have remembered that!” Liza hisses, her arm sneaking around short hair. So, he must be Heeseung. Heeseung who had his cock buried inside of you mere hours ago and whose cum was most likely still inside of you. 

“Just go back upstairs,” Linda shoos you away with her hand and you let your eyes wander to mole next to her. Sunghoon, then. Sunghoon who had been craving a mouth around his cock, Sunghoon who had his cock in your mouth, who had cum all over your exposed tits. 

Your body heats up and you quickly turn around to leave. 

“It was nice to meet you!” Sunghoon calls after you and you swallow hard, not turning back to them before you leave. 

Dinner that night is horribly awkward, to say the least. The fact you’re even allowed to participate is insane. Your parents are delighted to welcome you once you sit down, your sisters and their fiancés showing up a little while after you. 

As it turns out, the two men had insisted you’d join them for dinner. Judging by the way they look at you, you feel like they’d rather have you be their dinner. 

Nothing could have prepared you for this. For the utter want you see in their faces, the utter want you feel in your bones. It makes all of dinner extremely awkward, makes you press your thighs together, shove around your food on the plate because suddenly your appetite is for something entirely different. 

But you know you can’t. The first time, so you tell yourself, was fine because you didn’t know who they were. You even go as far as to blame your sisters for this, after all they had never bothered to show you what Heeseung and Sunghoon look like. 

Now, it’s different. Now you know who they are. And as much as you despise your sister’s, you don’t think you could do this to them. 

… Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Because the second you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and find yourself pressed against yet another stall door, you know you’ve been lying to yourself.

It’s Heeseung, his hands on your hips, digging into the bruise on your side, having you moan in no time.

“What are the fucking odds, hm?” He whispers, his breath hitting your face. You open your mouth to answer, but Heeseung dips forward, his tongue sliding into your open warmth, his lips pressing down on yours. It doesn’t matter what you thought of before, doesn’t matter who he is. Your body is taking over, melting against the strong man, against his chest and arms. 

Heeseung kisses you hungrily, like he has been starving for days. He had wrapped his hand around your wrist and yanked you into the one bathroom stall for men, had claimed you as his for the next few minutes.

“We-we can’t!” You cry out, pushing him away, but Heeseung only grabs you harder, turning you around, your chest hitting the door and a gasp escaping your mouth.

“If we can’t, why are you so fucking wet, baby?” His fingers are inside your cunt the next second and your eyes roll back, hips already chasing his touch. He smirks behind you, shoving your dress up with his free hand. Your backside is a sight to behold and he licks over his lips before landing a slap to your right ass cheek. You squeak. 

“I guess bathroom stalls are just our thing now, aren’t they?”

Just that this one is spacier. You’re pressed against the door that leads right into the open restaurant. You can hear the people outside, can hear the sound of cutlery meeting plates, of glasses clinking. 

“Hee-Heeseung, yo-you’re my sister’s fiancé!” You tried again, even though your hips were already bouncing on his fingers. Heeseung chuckled lowly.

“Don’t tell me now you care about the fact I’m in a relationship. It seemed like yesterday you couldn’t wait to get this taken cock shoved into your pussy.”

He’s not wrong. You bite down on your lip and turn slightly, looking over your shoulder into his dark eyes. God, he’s beautiful.

“Please,” you pout then, and his smirk comes back, his nimble fingers freeing his rock hard cock. You lean back against the door, your cheek pressed against the cold wood, your hands on either side of your head. Your pussy is dripping down his fingers and once he removes them, you’re already impatient to feel his huge cock fill you up.

Wiggling your hips, he lands another slap on your ass before shoving his cock into you, both of you groaning once he bottoms out. 

Then, he doesn’t show you any mercy. One of his hands sneaks around you, pressing down on your mouth to keep you quiet as he fucks you right into the door. He is panting, staring down at the way his cock slides in and out of you over and over again. His other hand fishes for his phone in his pocket, halting his thrusts for only a second to concentrate on opening the camera on the phone and hitting record. 

“Need to bring Hoonie something to jerk off to later,” he grins as he continues to fuck you, your moans getting numbed only by his hand. He just feels too good. Feels like no other cock you’ve had before. He’s big, wide and so god damn veiny. Every vein seems to drag along your walls, seems to push you closer to the edge. Your eyes are rolling back as your ass bounces off his hips, as his thrusts become sloppier with every second. He needs to cum soon and so do you. There isn’t much time for this, no time in fact. But he’s been craving you, and so has Sunghoon. Thank all the luck in the world for him to have won that rock, paper, scissors round. 

“God, you take it so well, you’re such a good little whore, aren’t you? All ready to go when I need to get my cock in you, fuck.” 

Heeseung’s words make your pussy spasm around him, his next groan deeper than before. He changes the angle slightly, fucking into you faster and harder, his orgasm getting closer with every little squeeze of your pussy. 

“Gonna cum so hard into your pussy, gonna have you sit at that table with my cum trickling into your panties.” He breathes into your ear and bites into your earlobe after, causing you to triple over the edge and cum hard around his cock - taking him right with you. 

He curses as he fucks both of you through your orgasms, his cum filling you up, warming you from the inside. 

Planting kisses on the back of your neck, Heeseung pulls out, watching his release drip out of you. 

“I could get used to this,” he says and puts your panties back into its rightful place. 

It doesn’t stop there. And it also doesn’t stop with Heeseung. But while Heeseung is more daring (coming to your hotel room at night, sending you pics of his dick after a shower, telling you to send him a voice note of you cumming), Sunghoon decided to take his time to make his move. You know it’s coming. You just don’t know when. 

Heeseung is like a wild animal - he can’t get enough of you. He wants to have his hands on you, his dick in you and his cum all over you as many times as he can. But the week only has seven days, and you only have four more to go until this whole thing is over and they are married to your sisters. 

Four days until you won’t be around them all the time, four days until Heeseung won’t be knocking on your door at two in the morning asking you to get on your knees. He fucks you like he owns you, like he knows your time is limited. It is, after all. He leaves marks where it is hard to spot them, kisses you in places no one has ever kissed before. 

Yes, the nights with Heeseung are special and steamy and perfect - and yet you wonder where Sunghoon is in all of this. You see the way he looks at you, and you did get a dick pic from him the night you and Heeseung fucked at that first dinner, courtesy to him seeing the video Heeseung took of you. And that is the thing, Heeseung films you. He films you when you’re on top of him, when he’s behind you, when you got his cock down your throat, when you’re bouncing up and down his cock. All of it goes straight to Sunghoon, all of it leads to Sunghoon cumming all over himself in the bathroom and sending you a picture of it. He never leaves his room, though, never does anything about it.

It’s day minus three til the wedding and you’re at the beach with everyone. The other maid of honor has arrived, and so have the two best men. Jake and Jay, they had introduced themselves as and judging by the way they were looking at you… they knew exactly who you were. If you weren’t so busy with Heeseung, you’d gladly have slipped into one of their rooms at night. 

You’re laying on your towel, happy to have everyone around you be busy with something that isn’t you. Your book is in your hands, the words getting more and more raunchy, your thighs pressing together. Perhaps this isn’t the best place to read smut, but it’s not like you have any control over when these scenes happen in the book. You just know every word hits you deep and has you biting down your lip. Even with the soreness still left between your legs from last night's visit, you feel yourself growing wetter with every sentence. 

“In broad daylight, sweetheart, really?” 

The voice makes you flinch, your book flipping closed as you turn around, spotting Sunghoon standing right above you. He is wearing a slight smirk on his lips and you feel your cheeks heat up. Not just because he caught you with your book but because he’s standing there in nothing but his trunks, a cup of iced coffee in his slim hand. His chest is defined, so are his abs. His arms look strong, toned, like they could throw you against a wall and hold you there. You swallow the lust that is daring to come up.

“What do you want?” You hiss, sitting up and looking at him. 

He hasn’t really talked to you much. Too busy giving you looks and pretending like he didn’t when your sister or parents or any other already arrived wedding party approached him. 

“What would I want?” Sunghoon asks back, tilting his head. The view he has from up here, your tits sitting in your bikini top, looking as delicious as they always did. It takes all in him not to drag you up and take you in front of everyone. 

You snort and roll your eyes, turning back to your book.

“Well, if there is nothing you want, you can leave me alone.” 

He watches you, how you lay back on your stomach, how you open the book and look for the page you just read. Licking over his lips, he roams his eyes over you. At this point, he has lost count of how many times he’s looked at you. How many times he has waited in the bathroom at night for Heeseung to send the videos, the pictures. As much as he was jealous, he enjoyed looking at you as he used his lubed up hand to get himself off. Except… for the last two days. He hasn’t sent you a picture of him with his cum all over his torso or thighs for two days because he simply hadn’t let himself reach climax. He’s been edging himself for all this time, waiting for the right time to unload all of his seed… preferably on you. 

It doesn’t feel like enough. Just getting to watch you through a screen, imagine what you would feel like. Your mouth, he remembers. Vividly. Your pussy… he can only wonder. Only guess when Heeseung sends him those videos or when he tells him before they head down to breakfast. 

Letting his eyes wander over your frame, your neck and back, your hips and ass, your legs… 

“Get up.” He says. You don’t move. 

He growls.

“I said,” his voice is low and warmth gathers at your core, “get up.”

It is when you still don’t move, Sunghoon feels his patience run thin. He places his iced coffee on one of the tables next to the lounge chairs.

Then, he is quick to pull you up, both his hands on your hips, a yelp coming out of you as he skillfully gets you on your feet. You stare at him with wide eyes and your mouth agape. Oh… your mouth. He has to restrain himself - already half hard in his trunks. Sunghoon looks around, sees his fiancé in a conversation with your mother. An idea flashes before him and he smirks slightly, alarm bells ringing in your head. What is he planning?

Not even a second passes when he grabs his iced coffee and spills it all over himself.

“God, watch where you’re going!” He yells, making all of your family members and their friends look at you. This little shit. 

Linda immediately jumps to her feet.

“Look what you’ve done!” She screeches and you press your lips together, acting the part of the guilt ridden sister.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to!” You defend yourself, but your sister just shoots you a deadly gaze. 

“My darling, are you alright?” She is looking at Sunghoon now at his coffee stained self. He shakes his head.

“I really wanted that coffee. And these are my favorite trunks,” he sighs, “come on, Y/N, you’re gonna get me a new coffee.”

“I can get you a new coffee, babe!” Linda tries, her fingers wrapping around Sunghoon’s arm. It fills you with a sense of triumph when he moves out of her grip.

“You didn’t do this, honey. She did. Go back to your lounging.” He says it to her, but looks at you. And, god, you don’t think you’ve ever been more aroused in your life. 

It starts in the elevator up to his room. His hands are on your tits and your tongue is in his mouth. He groans when he feels you grabbing around his cock, hand swiftly inside his swimming trunks. There are no words being exchanged, only moans and sighs and gasps as he presses you against the wall, your kisses getting deeper and heavier by the second. 

Sunghoon has never wanted anyone as much as you right now. His cock is begging to be freed, leaking into his trunks. His thoughts are spiraling, a part of him just wants to push those skimpy bikini bottoms to the side and just fuck you right here, no matter if someone could walk in at any second, the other wants to take his time, bring you to his room and explore every inch of you. 

When the elevator stops at his floor, he drags you out, glad no one is around to see as he pushes you against the wall next to the now closing elevator doors, his hand immediately moving between your legs. He moans at the wetness already there. Well aware you haven’t been in the pool or the ocean today. 

“Fuck, look at you. So fucking wet.” He mumbles against your lips, pulling them into yet another heated kiss just as his fingers slip underneath your swimming suit, making you whimper. Your hips roll against his hand and he bites down on your bottom lip, fingers getting closer to where you want them, need them, the most. 

But he pulls away, grabbing your hand and leading you to his room, getting the keycard out of the small pouch he had in the pockets of his trunks. You watch as he opens the door, watch as impatience and need radiate off him and another feeling of triumph, of confidence overcomes you. He is actively choosing you over your sister. He wants you not her. 

Once you’re inside and the door is closed, you find yourself stuck between him and yet another wall, or in this case, door. His first mission is to get your tits out, his hands losing the strands of your top, the little fabric falling onto the floor a second later. He licks over his lips.

“I’ve been dreaming of these, baby,” he whispers, “come on, get on your knees.”

You do as told instantly. Dropping to your knees, eyes focused on him and only him. On how he now shoves his trunks down slowly, his cock, hard and red at the tip, springing free for you to admire. Your pussy starts throbbing. How badly you want him inside you, how badly you want him to fill you up with his cum, joining Heeseung’s from last night. 

“Open up, slut.” Again, you obey. Your mouth drops open, tongue sticks out and Sunghoon’s cock twitches at the sight. This is what he has been dreaming about. Your mouth around his cock, your perfect heavy tits naked and oh-so ready to be painted like that first night. 

“Good girl, so, so obedient.” He moves closer, right hand around his cock as the left is leaned against the wall, helping him keep his balance. Slowly, he brings the tip of his cock to the tip of your tongue, watching as you lick over it immediately. His eyes don’t leave yours when he begins shoving it in, his chest heaving. There is a good chance he might not last long, but he won’t let you leave this room without his cock having been inside you and if that means going again right after his first or second load. 

You take him like a pro. Feel him slide down your throat, hitting the back of it before going even deeper. You choke just slightly, breathing through your nose. He stops only when he is fully buried, his breath getting heavier with every passing moment.

“You take it so fucking well, what a good little whore.” Sweat is pooling at the top of his forehead, his knees about to give in. He begins to move his hips slowly at first, but when you tap his thigh, he takes it as a sign to go harder. And, shit, does he go harder. Throwing his head back as he brings both his hands to your head, holding it in place as he thrusts down your throat over and over again. His balls hit your chin whenever he moves to bury himself again, his moans and groans nothing but music to your ears. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” He groans in pleasure, pulling his cock out and the next thing you know there is cum all over you. Your tits are full with his seed, your neck, your chin, your face. You gasp slightly, staring at him with your lips swollen from the roughness of his movements. He breathes hard, hand around his cock to hold it steady as waves of his pleasure make more cum land on your tits. 

“That’s right, look at you, fuck,” his eyes are glossy watching your tits covered in his cum, his cock not losing any of it’s hardnes even after the amount of cum he just left on you. It’s not hard to notice. Your fingers scoop up a bit of it, sucking them clean and not letting him out of your sight. Sunghoon feels like he might have reached heaven. 

“You’re so fucking filthy,” he grumbles, pulling you up by your arms and crashing your lips against his again. He pulls you to the bed and pushes you down, watching your cum-covered tits bounce as you fall. You know what he wants and you slightly sit up, your elbows behind you, watching as he moves on top of you. His eyes are still so full of hunger, of need, of pure and hot lust. 

His cock slides between your tits, his hands pushing them together around it. Then, he begins to thrust again. Just like he had wanted back at the restaurant. Fuck your tits covered in his cum, add a little more. 

You feel like the luckiest woman on earth with him like this. Using you to get off, his cock fucking your tits like a madman, whimpers and moans and groans, his head thrown back as he enjoys the feeling. It is even better than his imagination. Every second feels like he’s gonna ascend any moment now. His skin is tingling with desire and he wonders if it’ll ever stop. Right now, he thinks, he could probably go on for hours, for days. Just you and him and your tits and your mouth and your pussy. 

When he looks down again, sees the way you look at him, see the way his cock looks sandwiched between your breasts, Sunghoon can’t help but cum again, less than before but still enough to cover your chest and neck, adding even more paint to the already perfect canvas. 

Exhaustion is starting to spread through his bones, but he’s ignoring it. Instead, he pulls you up with him again, kissing you hard, fingers now finally finding their way into your bottoms again. He shoves them inside you immediately. 

“Sunghoon!” You cry out, fingers gripping his strong shoulders as he places you on his lap, straddling him. He fucks you with his fingers, hard and fast. Your pussy squeezes them, your arousal dripping onto his bare thighs.

“So, so wet. So fucking filthy with my cum all over you. Tell me, baby, are you a whore?”

“Y-Yes!” You squeak. He grins wickedly, adding a third finger to the two. You cry in pleasure, bouncing up and down on his long, perfect fingers.

“So eager to be called a whore. Fucking a taken man, two taken men. Your sister’s men. Aren’t you ashamed?” He breathes into you ear and you moan again, nails digging into his skin.

“N-No!” You answer and he laughs quietly, thumb now pressing down on your clit. You feel the first tears starting to pool in your eyes.

“Oh, but you should be. Such a dirty fucking whore, full of cum, getting her pussy fucked by her sister’s fiancés fingers,” He chuckles, “and soon his cock.”

You reach the edge just then. When he promises you his lengths, when he tells you how ashamed you should be. As if you don’t know. That’s what makes this whole thing so ridiculously hot. 

He fucks you through your orgasm, kissing your mouth again, tongues slashing against each other in a heated fight. You need him to fuck you. Right now. And as if he could read your mind, Sunghoon picks you up, hands underneath your thighs, lips never leaving yours and brings you to the spacious bathroom. 

First, he fucks you in front of the mirror. Makes you watch yourself, getting fucked like a cheap whore by his sister’s soon-to-be husband. He makes you lick his cum off his fingers, thrusts them as deep down your throat as his cock is penetrating you. 

Your pussy might be the best he’s ever had. The second he was buried inside of you, he knew he was done for. Knew this couldn’t be the last time he did this. Every bit of you, he wanted for himself. He even thought about asking Heeseung to back off, which he knew his best friend never would. Not with you. Not when you were this perfect. Fulfilling their every need, letting them do with you whatever they wanted. 

When he gets you in the shower, he washes the drying cum off of you softly. He’s still inside of you, his still not fully satisfied cock. You squeeze around him, throb around him. You need him to do more, he knows it as well as you. But he’s gentle. Uses a sponge to get every bit of his seed off your body, his lips kissing your cheeks, lips, nose, neck and breasts. It’s almost too soft for you. 

This is supposed to be about nothing but sex. He is supposed to fuck you, call you names while you’re at it and then disregard you. Instead, he’s being gentle. 

That is, until the door outside opens and your sister’s voice interrupts the softness. It makes room for yet another wicked grin and Sunghoon’s first thrust inside of you for minutes. Your hand flies to your mouth covering the pathetic whimper that would have come out. Sunghoon’s eyes sparkle.

“Hoonie? Are you in the shower?”

He begins to thrust again, his hands on your hips, staring into your eyes as he gives you his fucking all. Your eyes roll back.

“Yes, darling. Your stupid sister managed to get me all sticky with that coffee!”  

Your pussy fluttered at the words. He grinned wider.

“Oh, like it when I call you stupid?” He whispers into your ear, cock twitching rapidly as he bites into your neck, hips showing you absolutely no mercy.

“Ugh, I am so sorry about her! She’s not just a klutz, she’s also insanely dumb. I can’t wait to never see her again after this is done.”

Perhaps these words would have hurt you, if Sunghoon wasn’t railing you like the god he was. Every thrust was smooth and yet hard enough to make your toes curl. He made quick work to lift you up, your legs now wrapping around his middle as he continued to fuck into you, moaning into your neck to drown out the noise. 

“Yeah, she is a real piece of work,” he finally replied, his eyes staring into yours as he smirked. 

“No wonder she can’t get a boyfriend! Who would ever want to be with that?” 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, pressing his body closer to yours, kissing you again, his tongue licking sensually over your bottom lip. It makes a shiver run down your spine. 

“Anyway, where did she go? I didn’t find her in her room.”

Sunghoon reluctantly parts from you.

“No clue. She got me a new coffee and stormed off like the big baby she is.” 

He grabs your tits again, squeezing and massaging, nipple between forefinger and thumb, leaning down so he can put it in his mouth and suck and bite down, your hand on your mouth pressing down harder. 

You explode around him. Squirt like a fucking porn-star, liquid shooting out of you and down his legs, mixing with the water of the shower. Sunghoon’s knees are once more about to give in. He moans against your lips, hoping Linda didn’t hear and at the same time also hoping she did. Your climax makes him cum for the third time that day, his hot semen filling your spent pussy, painting it white like the clouds. 

“That, she is indeed,” Linda laughs, “anyway, we’re gonna go get dinner in the city, baby. I’ll be at Liza’s room, love you!”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer and Linda just leaves. You feel like no words were even needed to understand. 

Once you’re sure Linda is gone for good, Sunghoon and you step out of the shower. It’s quiet between you, quiet and somewhat heavy. You don’t like it one bit. You’re quick to grab your bikini and put it back on, relieved to know you most likely won’t find your sisters back at the beach where you’re headed now. 

You don’t turn around again when you leave the bathroom. And you also don’t expect Sunghoon to say anything. Still, when you open the door to leave, you feel just a tiny bit disappointed that he doesn’t hold you back. 

How utterly pathetic of you. 

Heeseung doesn’t come for you that night. You wonder if it’s because of Sunghoon and decide it most definitely is because of Sunghoon. 

Yet, the slightly younger male doesn’t come to seek you out either. 

Tonight, it’s just you. 

And perhaps, you think, that’s just how it’s supposed to be. 

to be continued...

header & divider credit to the wonderful @wongyuseokie <3

[thatonegayship]

Hey man me again, it’s nearly 3am and i was curious. What would theoretically happen if someone (say a human bully, or a lesser uninformed demon or smthn of the sort) were to put down and talk absolute shit about Dipper with the anticipation of Bill joining in and/or being impressed and agreeing cause here’s this super cool and sexy guy surely he also thinks Dipper’s a useless freak right? How would Bill take this kinda confrontation about his husband? Would his reaction vary depending on wether or not Dipper was there? (I lowkey think it would but I’m just a worm in a bait bucket uk) (also sorry this comes across like a fucking critical thinking question from a middle school textbook)

At best someone talking shit about Dipper gets a long lecture about all the reasons Dipper is way, way cooler than them! And some broken bones. That's Bill's husband, he picked a great partner, and he is not going to pretend otherwise for someone else's ego.

The rant's absent if Dipper's around, but frankly? It'd be better for the bully/demon if Dipper was around to hear someone dissing him to Bill. In that Bill would refrain from the most gruesome acts within his mortal's sight.

Though if they're smart, they'll notice the way Bill's looking at them, and take that brief amount of time to run.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Everyone is sending GIF requests, so, here is mine. Hint: Jealous John? (Though I doubt this man can ever be jealous but...whatever comes to your genius brain)

Thanks!

@sweetwolfcupcake SWEEETS!!!!! I loved this prompt SO MUCH!!! You're such a genius. *kisses your head* I hope you like this! 💗💗💗

Bodyguard!John Wick x Shy!Curvy!Fem!Student!Reader

⚠warnings: threat of noncon (not John), mention of parental death

For the record, you didn’t mean to fall in love with John Wick. But he was nothing like the other goons your father had tasked with guarding you before.  Wick was tall, and handsome, and had the soulful eyes of a poet. You know he’s dangerous; he can kill a man 30 ways with a pencil (the men of your father’s Bratva will not shut up about it) but he seems so…gentle. And the thing that really proved your undoing?

That good looking bastard was bookish, and it did something inconceivable to your lit major brain. Ever your dark shadow, you spent countless late nights in the library together, and so many Saturday afternoons browsing the used bookshops, combing for treasures. He would rescue the books that looked better fit for the waste bin, taking them to repair. Maybe he was there to protect you, for your father had many unsavory enemies, but it was easy to forget when John discussed with you the finer points of the Bloomsbury Set or the themes of Anna Karenina.  

Maybe your father assigned John to you because he was one of the few gangsters around in his brigata one could trust to guard a relatively innocent young lady–that didn’t mean John was safe from you. You just couldn’t help yourself; you’d like to plead insanity, your honor, the night you finally broke and tried to kiss him, while he was helping you with your homework for Russian Lit 301. 

How stupid you felt, how utterly pathetic, when he’d very kindly dislodged you from his so soft mouth, looking at you with pity in his sad dark eyes. “You know…we can’t do this,” he told you.

Mortified, you’d fled to your room and cried, knowing you are the most ridiculous human being on the face of the earth.

What were you thinking?

You are nothing like the tall, ethereal creatures that populate the clubs where Wick frequents with your father. You are shy, and curvy, and frankly…a nerd. An old soul, your father would say fondly, but you know he is just being kind.

You’re not sure how you got it into your head, that you were going to make Wick sorry. You’ve never been one for going out, but you decide to give it a whirl, wanting to be anyone but yourself. You decide to go to the Red Circle, to hang out with the other Bratva brats who care way more about clubbing and clothes and who’s fucking who, than classes at NYU. 

At first you really hate it–but after a few shots of vodka, it’s not so bad. John has to hang back, keeping an eye on you but not interacting with your friends. He’s scary good at lurking in the shadows, but you know he’s keeping an eye on every move you make. Maybe that’s why you let Alexsei kiss you, the son of a semi-friendly loan shark who works in proximity with your father. You don’t really like him, if you’re being honest. But he’s not totally hideous–and he’s there–and John will have to watch it all. 

You and Alex start to have a thing. It’s no big deal. Something to do, on the summer break from your studies. You invite him over to watch a movie, knowing you’ll have the house to yourself. Your father is always at his office doing business, your idiotic brother is always out getting into trouble with his khuligan friends, and your mother…is dead, God rest her poor soul. 

You can tell Alex is a little drunk, when he shows up at your door. He’s very handsy, when you settle in on the couch to watch the latest mindless action flick, his pick. It’s ok, until he tries to unbutton your pants.

You have a secret. 

You’re 21, nearly graduated from university–and you’re still a virgin. 

This is not a thing you intend to give to Alexsei Plushenko. You don’t even really like the way he touches you.

“Stop, Alex.”

“Don’t be scared,” he tries to coax you. “This will be fun.”

“No,” you say. “Let’s just…”

He covers your mouth with his, shutting you up, his heavy body pinning you on the couch. “Don’t be such a stuck up bitch.” His groping fingers squeeze your breast clumsily, painfully, before fumbling with your jeans again. You try to push him off, but he’s heavy, and strong.

Suddenly, he is yanked from you like he weighs nothing at all. You hardly recognize what is happening at first, until you hear the sound of flesh striking flesh. John is on him, his iron fist meeting the younger man’s face. 

“John! Stop!” 

Wick looks up at you, meeting your eyes in a primal lock of stares–your heart drops and soars again, as you feel as though you’ve stumbled on a wolf over his kill, and the wildest thing?

You get the inkling that wolf is jealous. 

“Don’t hurt him anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. A beating will make some complications for your father. A death? Could mean war.

Wick punches the handsy young man one more time, his eyes never leaving yours, before hauling Alex up by the collar and frog marching him out the front door, tossing him down the concrete steps of your home.

John finds you waiting for him in the marble foyer, his eyes wild, his knuckles torn. You don’t even know what to say. 

“What did you even see in him?” he finally demands, clearly annoyed.

“He wasn’t you,” you answer without thinking.

Wick steps up to you, toe to toe, so that you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. His hair has broken free from its slicked back style, tendrils in his eyes.

He’s never looked more beautiful, your savage savior.

“You’re trying to get me killed.”

You shake your head, the very thought anathema to you. You are transfixed, unable to look away, unable to think. “You’re too precious to me,” you admit, and screw your eyes shut the moment you admit it, a spear of mortification piercing you from your heart to your stupid, aching, cunt.

“Milaya…” 

It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said to you.

Your eyes drop to his knuckles, torn open in his defense of you. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Not to me.” You don’t know where you get the courage, to take his hand, and lead him up to your room. You can hardly believe it, that he actually follows you. In your ensuite bathroom you dab at his knuckles with a washcloth, slather him with ointment and plaster him with bandaids. You run out of sober flesh colored ones, so the last cut gets a Disney bandage, Ariel and sea-flowers decorating this severe man’s knuckles. 

He lets you do all this, watching you intensely with those dark eyes you’re certain can see into your soul. You stand too close–and he lets you, this haunted man who watches over you day and night. Your whole life you have never wanted for anything, your father’s money buying you all your heart could possibly desire.

Until now.

You find it hard to meet his eyes, zeroing in on a spot of blood on his stark white dress shirt. 

“Y/n.” With a gentle knuckle under your chin he turns your gaze up to his again. “You are too smart, and too beautiful, to be wasting your time with a fuckboy like Alexsei Plushenko.”

The first part you already knew. The second, from this man’s lips? Your knees nearly collapse out from under you, a flood of excitement and dread coursing through your system. You almost can’t stand it–it’s like being burned alive, and your native shyness rears with a vengeance. 

You try to flee, back to the safety of your room, and your books, your imaginary lives that can’t really hurt you–but he catches your hand. His grip is not hard, but it is enough to stop you dead in your tracks. 

“Y/n…” He’s pleading with you, but you don’t understand what he’s asking you. 

“You said you don’t want me, John…” you say, still unable to meet his eyes. “So let me go.” 

He answers by pulling you against him, the solid line of his torso a brick wall beneath the hand you raise to catch yourself. But bricks are not warm, like the flesh beneath his designer clothes. You can feel the wires in your brain sizzling, the synapses simply melting down. Your heart is Chernoble waiting to happen. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You said–”

“I said, ‘We can’t.’ Not, that ‘I don’t want you.’”

You almost cannot breathe, your heart attempting to beat out of your chest, a ringing in your ears that drowns out all else. There is nothing, nothing, in this world you’ve wanted more, than to hear those words from this man. But now that he’s standing before you, against you, holding you–you cannot move. You do not know what to do. 

He solves this problem by cupping your cheek in his big hand–God, how you’ve noticed those hands–and then he is pressing his mouth to yours, gentle at first, but then…hungry. As though John Wick has been starving, for you, and it’s all you can do just to stand there and take it without melting into a puddle on the floor. His arms wrap around your back, holding you, lifting you to your tiptoes as he devours you. When at last he pulls back you are left seeing stars, struck utterly speechless with your hands on his broad shoulders. 

“Tell me to stop,” he raggedly demands, his eyes boring down into yours. 

Finally, you find your courage, meeting his stare. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper. 

“Good. Because I don’t think I can.” He kisses you again, just as hungrily as the first time, his arm an iron band around your waist and his fingers sneaking up into your hair. That’s your kryptonite: your hair, and blithely you know he can do anything and everything he wants to you now.  

Your father is a bad man, but you have not had a bad life. You have never known hunger, or true physical pain. He has protected you from the violence of his world. He has played things smart enough that not even the FBI can touch you, even though they absolutely know what he is and where your family gets its money. Despite all this, you have been dying inside, a slow, withering demise, until John Wick’s lips touched yours. He is the life-giving rain over the desert; your heart is a field of wildflowers erupting in a superbloom. 

This time, he leads you, in between kissing you, to the loveseat at the foot of your bed. He sits, and only when he tries to pull you into his lap do you resist. “John…I’m too…much,” you insist, conscious of your generous flesh and what it would be like to set that on top of him, afraid he’ll be horrified. 

However, he just scoffs at you, grabbing you up anyway and guiding you down. For a moment you are weightless–he knows how to upset a person’s balance, how to use their weight against them to put them on the floor. This time he uses it to put you on him. You’re not exactly proud of it, but the ease with which he utterly manhandles you makes your long-neglected lady parts sing with desire. 

“You are perfect, dietka,” he insists, pulling you closer with hands on your round behind, “And I am very strong.” For the first time in you can’t remember how long–he smiles at you. That beautiful half smile with a sparkle in his dark eyes that takes your breath away–you love him so much it hurts. 

This time you don’t feel so shy, about kissing him. You feel like your bones are filled with butterflies, and you both moan and giggle as you do your best to devour each other from the mouth down. Aside from an appreciative squeeze of your thighs bracketing his hips, he doesn’t try to seduce you, even though you know you absolutely would have given him anything he asked you for. He is content, just to kiss you, for this night at least, and oh. He’s good at it too. 

You decide you would burn down the world, for one more kiss from John Wick.  

Later you find yourself snuggled in your bed with John, fully clothed, your head on his shoulder as he toys with the fine hairs at the back of your neck. His touch is heaven, and with your legs twined with his it’s hard not to squirm and writhe against his muscled thigh like a horny little gremlin. 

Later, you tell yourself. It can wait for later. 

Like maybe, tomorrow. 

“We’ll have to be careful,” he warns you. “If your father…” 

If your father found out, the best thing that could happen to John is getting fired. 

“I won’t let you get hurt,” you promise, kissing his bearded cheek, praying you’re telling the truth.

He chuckles at this; a deep sound you feel more than hear. “I thought that was my job?”

“You know what I mean.” 

“I know.” He looks down at you with a tenderness that curls your toes. “It would be worth it, for you.” 

Your heart has suddenly decided it would like to take up residence in your throat–permanently.

“Oh, John…”  

He kisses you again, a soft brush of lips that renders you weightless. This is how you die: it’s almost too much to stand, this impossibly full feeling in your chest. Then he narrows his eyes at you playfully. “You have been driving me mad, you little minx. I wanted to kill everyone who so much as looked at you in the Circle.” 

You snort at the thought–you do not understand, really, that he could absolutely do it too. 

“Not to worry. I think the library is more my speed.” He rests his head against yours with a small, contented sigh. “Mine too,” he admits. The smell of old books around you is a soothing balm to you both. 

You know small bits of his past. Morsels he has sprinkled, here and there in the conversations you have had. You know he did not have an easy childhood. You know that this life was not really his choice. Even less so than most, who move and work in the Underworld. 

“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” you ask. 

He lifts an eyebrow at you. “I’m liking New York, at the moment,” he tells you with an affectionate squeeze. 

“Oh come on.” 

“Fine. I like Paris a lot.” 

“Hmm,” you answer, but what you think, is: Done.  You will have the opportunity to arrange to study abroad soon, and you think a trip away from the Tarasov territory might do you both some good.

Surely Papachka wouldn’t deprive you of your most trusted bodyguard?

[wasitforrevenge]

new romantics

pairing: MODERN AU!college azriel x female reader

warnings: may be some triggering content including tampon is a douchbag at a party, mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of sexual activity but nothing major, smut books mentioned (hehehe) a fight occurs but can you blame him? he’s just defending your honor ugh, two idiots in love who want nothing but each other and can’t admit it, no use of y/n, imagine her as you, because it is YOU! half editted… ill get to it later i promise

word count: 4.5k

summary: your new study partner is better than you first realize… and now you can’t stop thinking about him, but he can’t stop thinking of you either.

authors note: hi first time writing for acotor! been a fan of these books for a while and my baby azriel does something to me!!! so here’s something i spent the night writing it was 10 different things before it was this lol! pls like, reblog and comment! thank you everyone for reading! photo credit to pinterest, and please i strive to do better so any thoughts pls free feel to let me know! thank you for the support! this is the first time i’ve had the energy to write in months so pls dont go too hard

you met azriel in a greek mythology lecture that you both ended up in during the second semester of your sophomore year. getting partnered with an incredibly built and handsome man for a history report your teacher assigned was the least of your problems when you realized how fucking kind and beautiful azriel is on the inside and out.

the real problem came when you realized how hard you were falling for this man when you started hanging out casually, hitting the coffee stand before class or getting food after a long day. you learned so much about him in a matter of months and couldn’t get him out of your head.

you never spoke existence to your feelings for him, mainly because you didn’t want to ruin a very good potential friendship but partly because you didn’t think you were good enough for someone like him. you’ve heard little whispers about his other… activities and you couldn’t help the way it made you feel.

at the start of your junior year, you and azriel were practically best friends and it just felt so natural. the way you two were together. the way your conversations flowed and the way the silence was never deafening when you were together. you spent time cuddling on the couch in your living room watching movies and rating tv shows and going to visit parks around town and getting high as fuck. once time you had even gone crazy and took some acid and spent hours at the aquarium watching all the fish. you studied for classes together, the one you shared and the ones you both took on your own.

you and azriel were always testing out new recipes in his large kitchen. its wonderful that he lives alone. alone as in by himself but you cannot glance over the fact that the rhysand and feyre along with cassian and nesta live on the same floor of this apartment building close to campus. you luckly only live 2 floors down, a thing you realized when you managed to see him in the elevator about a week or two after you first started studying together.

you were debating all summer about confessing your feelings to him but could not gather the courage to bring yourself to admit it to him and face rejection. you couldn’t mess up the relationship between you already. he was your best friend and you really didn’t have too many besides him. you’ve met his family and have spend a lot of time with them, they’re all practically adopted you at the point, they welcomed you with smiles and open arms (besides amren but they told you she’s always like that.)

but a couple weeks into the semester, you and nesta were standing in a kitchen of a person you don’t know debating on what shitty cheap alcohol you’ll be indulging in tonight. it was the first big back to school party and it was still hot as hell out so you were dressed in dark denim shorts and nice tank top along with your black converse.

you and nesta instantly clicked when you met. bonding over smutty books and all the tv shows you managed to watch. she’s felt like your first real girl-friend ever, you guys got some comfortable together and every time you guys hung out, it felt like no time had passed. it was refreshing to have someone to talk to. she also happens to be the only one who knows about the feelings you harbor for your other best friend.

as you’re about to pour the tequila into your red solo cup, you hear someone call nesta’s name and she tells you she’ll be right back before scurrying off to whichever of her friends was calling her. leaving you there alone not knowing anyone at the party, nesta told you the rest of the group was going to meet you there but you have yet to see any of them as you turn your head around the room.

as you fill your cup and turn to put the bottle back down on the counter, you feel a hand glide around your waist and are suddenly aware of a man extremely too close your liking. “hey baby” he said as he slurred his words, clearly intoxicated, by the way he looked and smelled. it sent more warnings through your head even after he grabbed you like that. you had to leave, this couldn’t happen. thoughts are rushing through your head. you move your hand to push his arm off you as you turn around to be face to face with a tall blonde with long hair.

“what was that for?” he drags out as he tried to put his hand back on you. you instantly tried to move towards the way nesta went and told him, “please get off!” but he was too fast and held your upper arm in a death grip before he tugged you closer to his chest, his other hand back on your waist like the first time he did it. your eyes close in fear as he leans down to whisper something in your ear, but he’s gone in an instant.

it all happened so fast. all you see is a large, muscular, tattooed arm flying in front of you, hitting the man who was on you just seconds ago. you watched shocked as you finally lock in to the situation before you.

azriel beating the shit out of the man who had just laid his hands on you.

azriel swung his fist again towards him, hitting him square in the jaw, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he screamed at him, having another punch already landing with his other fist.

the man doesn’t respond before he swings back at azriel and managed to get a decent swing in, the hit landed to his lip but azriel doesn’t move at all. he’s standing still in the spot, continuing to tower over him.

azriel shoved the man back into the counter and landed a powerful hook right to his nose simultaneously. he cried out as it made contact, “fuck dude c’mon,” he reached up to grab it, blood pouring from his broken nose and busted lip. he steps closer as he removes his hand looking at the red liquid that has held onto his skin, ready to defend himself against the beautiful man that your eyes cannot stray from.

but azriel is faster and before he could even blink, managed to grab a hold of his shirt and pull him up to where his toes barely touched the floor. his hands fall at his sides and his eyes widen in fear as azriel gets closer to his face, leaning down to whisper something in his ear that you can’t hear over the loud music, people partying and the screaming and crying in your heart as you watched this all unfold.

suddenly azriel is tossing the man back into the counter and he barely managed to grab it and hold on, azriel suddenly grows larger, as if he could get any bigger, and leans to spit out the blood that had collected in his mouth behind him. and suddenly your attention is focused on the warmth now englufing your wrist. your eyes immediately register the sight of him standing in front of you, this was warm and right, his hands on you. it just felt so right.

his other hand reached out and gently lifts your chin to meet his gaze. the way the sense of safety coursed through you with his simple touch just confirmed, yet again, that this was going to be so hard for you to tell him.

“hey baby…” he spoke softly, his eyes darted between both yours. his attention solely on you. he let his finger rub against your cheek as he finished, “are you okay?” you can’t help the feeling the shoots through you at the use of the pet name and the look of shock that painted your face. not knowing if it came from, whether it was from what unfolded in front of you at this party or the fact he still holding your face and talking to you like this, so sweetly.

you blinked a couple times and the realization hit you that you’ve just been standing there, staring into his beautiful eyes. not paying attention to the group of people that crowded around as the fight was happening or the looks you guys are getting from other party goers that still surrounded you. the only thing you can stand to focus on his gaze.

azriel.

“i don’t know,” you almost whisper towards him, feeling his warmth covering you both. before you can talk again, he moves his scarred hand from your wrist, you feel almost… empty at the loss of contact but that doesn’t last long as he slipped his hand into yours and intertwined his fingers with yours as he guided you towards the front door.

you passed by so many people, you tried not to pay attention to all the looks you were getting. girls stared as they realized it wasn’t themselves in azriel’s grasp, but you. it was your hand he was holding. your heart beat at just the thought of it, your nerves were already shot as the events unfolded not even 10 minutes ago and this did not help one bit.

your eyes manage to catch nesta’s in the crowd, her eyes widen as she takes in the sight before her, azriel holding your hand and leading you out of the party. oblivious to what actually happened to cause this, she gave you a huge smile and two thumbs up. you cant help but silently chuckle at your friend despite the other overwhelming feelings you have. you’ll explain the situation later when you text her but you were sure eventually she’d hear what happened.

he leads you out the front door and looks back at you with a small smile as you trail behind him. he walked you over, without a word and hands still intertwined and you finally notice your next to his old beat up mustang on the side of the street, the one that smells like him and the faint smell of weed that always lingers regardless of the last time he smoked in there.

he opened the car door for you and you released your hand from his and got into the passengers seat. once you were in, he reached over and buckled your seatbelt for you, giving it a tug to make sure it was connected before smiling down at you from outside the car. he shut the door satisfied and walked around the back of the car to open his own door and sat inside.

the silence is comfortable. it always has been, you pray that sometimes it’s awkward or uncomfortable but it never is. you sit in your seat, eyes staring down towards the hand he had been holding, almost in disbelief, that he defended you like that. you’ve never seen azriel angry like that either. he turns to face you, wanting you to meet his eyes.

azriel walked in the front door of the party, after having a pretty day. the customers at the restaurant he works truly sucked today. small tips and even shittier people. all he wanted to do was smoke off some steam and get drunk with cassian and rhys. he knew you were going to be here. cassian mentioned it in passing while talking about nesta so he was also on the look out for you. the girl who managed to catch his heart after having been partnered together. azriel couldn’t help the way he felt about you even though it almost felt wrong to him.

he didn’t want to take advantage of you, he knew you were shy and never really been in a relationship. he found that out when he walked into the kitchen of cassian and nesta’s apartment, and overheard nesta telling cass all about you after her and you hung out for the first time outside the group. so he just tried to ignore his feelings but regardless of that fact you were his bestfriend. he just couldn’t escape you.

and when he walked into that kitchen to see tamlin standing over you, your arm tight in his grip, the way your eyes were slammed shut trying to back away from him. he didn’t even think. he was there pulling him off you before he could even recognize what he was doing. throwing punches left and right towards the man who dared touched you. he barely even registered the hit he managed on no one but him can put his hands on you. he’s had that thought before but never brought life to it, but here? now?

all thoughts of guilt for feeling that way vanished. there was no way he was letting anyone touch you. but him. that’s all he wanted. he wanted you in a way he didn’t think was reciprocated. love was a funny thing to him, something he was never accustomed to until after he met rhysand and cassian.

his family never showed it, he lives with the constant knowledge of that every time he looks down at his hands. he thought about the way you never judged him of them, like it was nothing at all to you but that was everything to him.

the one sided crush he harbored on mor for a couple years was nothing in comparison to the way he felt about you. his few flings he had over the past couple years (after he realized it was pointless liking mor, also… because she slept with cassian) were mildly of convince and of urge but once he met you, he knew he was a goner.

he stopped the girls. the stopped the meaningless flirting and hooks up and took to just pleasuring himself to the thought as you, as shitty as it made him felt after. sometimes he just couldn’t look you in the eye the next time he saw you but you never said anything. you never commented on it and he silently thanked you in his head.

but right now, after he pulled you out of the party, scarred hand in yours, he needed you to look him in the eyes. but you still hadn’t and he couldn’t just keep staring at the face of the beautiful woman in front of him while it was coated with anxiety and exhaustion.

azriel lifted his distorted hand to your face meeting the soft warm skin that was your own. he gently brought your face to meet his gaze and as you locked eyes, the spark hit you yet again.

gods he was breathtaking. dark hair that covered to above his ears, the eyes that seemed to stare into yours every single time they met, the tattoos that covered him and his golden brown skin that you swore shined outright during different points in the day. your heart cannot handle this man.

“please,” he practically whispered you barely even registered that he said it before he continued, “are you okay, what can i do?” the sound in his voice felt desperate as his eyes bore into yours, the feel of his hand on her face, you couldn’t help but lean into his grasp and close your eyes, taking in the feel of him. you responded a moment later after letting out a sigh and looking at him again.

“can we just go home? i just want to sleep” you asked him with a pleading tone as you feel his thumb rub against your cheek for the second time that night. ugh the things this man does to you. all you wanted was for him to hold you, to feel the press of his body against yours. anything to get the feeling of someone else off you. “yeah baby, we can.” he said gently before he moved his hand down to yours and gave you a light squeeze before he turned the car on and shifted into gear, pulling off in the direction of home.

once you arrived back to the apartment building, he parked in the lot next to the front door and moved around the car to open your door, he gave you his hand as you stepped out. he went to put his hand at your lower back as he opened the door for you but decided against just in case that was a lot for you right now. he did not want to make it worse. he could see the fear in your eyes back there, no way would he subject you to that if you weren’t comfortable with it. so instead he just followed behind you, hitting the button to the elevator to take you up to your floor.

the elevator luckily isn’t taking forever today so when it opens, you and azriel step in and he goes to hit the floor for your apartment but your hand reaches out and stops him. “can we go to yours please?” your head moves up to meet his gaze but his eyes are focused on where your hand is on his wrist. a second later his eyes meet yours and he gives you a small nod and hits the button for the fifth floor. you remove your hand and lean against the wall right next to him, his hand reaches out and entangles his bumpy fingers with yours.

“is this okay?” he asks you. you can barely hold it in after that, the tears finally fall. he feels the sudden change in your body as he moves closer to you but removing his hand from yours in fear that you didn’t want to touch him. but in reality that’s all you want. you want him to touch you. you want him to love you. you want everything with him. its all just so overwhelming, everything that has happened.

he goes to speak but before he can get a word out, your body is on his engulfing him in a hug around his long torso, he instantly wraps his arms around your smaller frame. he can feel your body shake with tears and all he wants to do is make sure that no one ever makes you feel like this again. you deserve so much better, he only wishes he could be better for you too. you squeeze him tighter and he just holds you until the elevator door opens and you pull away from him. mascara and tears running down your face, you can see it on his shirt. he smiles at you before he pulls his hands to your face and wipes your cheeks off with his rough yet soft hands.

you cant help the laugh that escapes you as he wipes his hands on the t-shirt staining it even more with the leftover residue on your face. he gives you a chuckle before connected your hands yet again, walking with you out of the elevator to his one bedroom apartment. he fishes in his pocket with his other hand and pulls out his keys. he unlocked the door and held it open for you to walk in.

your senses are taken over by the smell of him. the smell of his candle lingered from the coffee table covered with textbooks in the large living room, he has a basket of blankets he keeps in the corner because he knows you get cold watching tv. he has a big L shaped couch which had a 60 inch tv across the room, with a boatload of dvds underneath. something you both agreed was a dying art. you and azriel swear physical media will make a comeback one day but you guys will never forget how they ruined it!

his space was a lot bigger since you have a two bedroom apartment. but it was perfect for him. azriel had loved the way he made his space his own, his bass guitars set up in the corner next to his collection of vinyl records and a record player that rhys and cassian got him when he turned 21… as well as a shit ton of booze. he had a bookshelf that held his favorites, as well as your own.

he bought a copy of almost every book you talked about so that he was in the loop with what you were reading. even the ones you didn’t talk about that he caught on your nightstand or in your reading nook. when he bought one of those and read it, his jaw dropped. he immediately thought of nesta and her smutty books but this sent something else though his body. he couldn’t help but keep reading… he wondered if you thought about him while reading these scenes of them ravishing each other, in every way imaginable. he sure did! his right hand hates him!

and you definitely did to… thought about him in ways that you shouldn’t. thinking about him doing all those things to you. the way you knew he would take care of you. the way you knew you could take care of him, despite how inexperienced you are. the thoughts drove you crazy. it was practically all day and every day at this point. thinking about the way his hands would feel running up your thighs or the way his lips would feel on yours.

now here you are, standing in his living room, just wanting all that and little did you know… he did too.

“hey az…” you uttered towards him. he was already next to you as you spoke, “can we lay down please?” your voice was barely a whisper.

he didn’t even need to speak, he just brought you to his room. he lead you to sit on the corner of the bed as he turned and riffled through his dresser, pulling out a large dark green shirt and handing it to you with a smile, “change into this, i’ll be right back.”

“can i take a shower?” you asked azriel shyly. “yes of course, one sec.” you watched as he walked out the room and shut the door behind him. you took your shoes off and placed them by the bedroom door next to azriel’s shoes. he came back in a second later with a fresh towel and a water bottle.

“here you go, you already know where the shower is,” he says with a small chuckle. you give him a grateful smile and a thank you as you took the items from his hands and gave him one last look before heading into his connecting bathroom.

you turned on the hot water and you stripped out of your clothes and threw them into the laundry hamper in the corner of the bathroom. you got in the shower and felt instantly better. the way the water followed hot you could feel the touch of the man from the party washing away, only to be replaced with thoughts of azriel touching you instead. you reviled in it.

you washed your hair and body with his shampoo, conditioner and body wash. silently thanking him for not using 3-in-1 (nesta found out that’s what cassian used and flipped shit) you finished your shower and dried off with the towel he gave you.

you put on his t-shirt that made its way down to your mid thigh when it was on completely. you loved when you were covered in him. you walked back out into the room and didn’t see azriel so you took your seat at the edge of the bed and waiting for him to come back. you sat there and picked at your nails, feeling so wore out you didn’t even want to cry anymore.

azriel came in two minutes later, dressed him long flannel pajama pants and you can see the band of his underwear peeking out as he gets closer to you. he changed after you went into the bathroom, and then went to the kitchen to make sure he was stocked up on the tea you liked and the snacks you guys enjoy together, just in case you got hungry.

he ran around his living room and cleaned random odds and ends. putting dishes in the sink, folding the blankets thrown on the couch and organizing his cd collection. anything to busy himself instead of thinking of you in his shower. anything to get his mind off the amazing woman just in the other room. he hears the shower turn off and waited a few more moments before heading back into the room.

he moved the covers down to make room for you as he said, “after you princess,” with a smile on his face. you returned it and stood up to make your way to the bed but not before turning to hug him again. his arms wrapped around you as you mumbled “thank you azriel,” into his chest. you hold on for a few moments before releasing him. he looks at you before motioning to the bed, “i would do anything for you, you know that.” you felt your cheeks grow red at the thought, at the knowledge that he would.

you climb into the bed and laid your head on the pillow, turning to look at azriel, you wondered why he was still standing. “az are you coming?” you said bashfully. he blinked and bent down to the bed to be eye level with you. “i’m gonna sleep on the couch tonight.” you could feel the way your face dropped in disappointment as you registered what he said. he saw it too and felt it deep in his chest.

he stood up and was about to say goodnight but you beat him to it, “azriel please i need you.”

you could feel how desperate you sounded but you didn’t care. you just needed him. next to you right now. he said nothing else as he moved the blankets again, but this time he was under them. he didn’t hesitate to pull you into his chest, your hand found it’s way over his fast beating heart and his tattooed arm wrapping around you. the warmth and scent of him took over everything in your body. you finally felt safe. your legs tangled together as you eventually fell asleep to the rise and fall of his chest.

“i need you too.” he said to a room with no one awake but him to hear.

part 2??? i would love to write one! let me know what you think! i’d love to keep writing for acotor so yay! pls enjoy :) i’m on the edge of my seat writing this hehe

[therealcocoshady]

POV : You’re Marshall Mathers’s girlfriend and he worships you

Author’s Note : Hi guys ✨. I feel like it’s been a while since I last published something on here. Enjoy this little blurb I wrote. It’s kind of random but I think it’s kind of cute still 💕.

Marshall Mathers doesn’t really enjoy being treated like a king wherever he goes. He knows people give him special treatment out of respect, because he is a huge fucking superstar, but he doesn’t really care for it. He’s just a normal dude at heart, you know ? He likes it when things are kept simple. He’s not a huge fan of the deference, of people practically bowing and curtsying to him because he is Eminem. It’s weird.

But when it comes to you ? People better treat you like the absolute monarch that you are. This man will not accept anything less for the woman he loves. You are his sun. His days start and end with you. You are a deity he worships day and night and people better put some respect on his lady’s name.

He is not giving you the princess treatment. No. This would be good enough for any peasant. If he could, this man would build altars and monuments for you. You are his religion. Your birthday and the anniversary of your first date are holidays he refuse to work on. Doesn’t matter if he’s offered hundreds of thousands of dollars for a ten minutes performance, he simply refuses to be away from you on those days. And if you so much as utter an « I need you », this man will drop absolutely everything. He’s done it in the past and he absolutely has no regrets about flying for five hours on a day off from tour to be able to surprise you at work after you mentioned it was « so hard being away » from him. He is usually mindful about climate change but for you, this man will turn into Taylor « taking my jet for a ten minutes flight » Swift. He literally doesn’t care about the world burning as long as there is a smile on your face. Marshall is not a big spender but for you, he doesn’t care about numbers. His goddess deserves the very best and, thank God for that merch money, he is able to give it to you. He’s not a diva but he demands the very best for you. He couldn’t care less about the water brought to him in his dressing room before a performance. But he makes sure it’s your favorite brand. Same for snacks. If he has to fly someone to another country to get something for you, he absolutely will. In his mind, it’s the least he can do for the woman who blesses him with her presence. He is almost offended when someone fails to greet you properly and he absolutely is when someone straight up disrespects you. If he could, he would fight duels in your honor. Somehow, you managed to turn this stoic individual in the utmost gentleman. When he’s by your side, you will never be caught walking on the wrong side of the pavement, having to hold your own bags. He’d rather die than have that. But you’ll never be caught. Because he protects you like you’re the most precious treasure there is. He’s never caught in your presence, because he doesn’t want to have you plagued by the media and harassed by fans and, yet, he manages to show you off. In private, he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s head over heels with you. Your name is on his lips constantly, and the way he talks about you shows just how devoted he is. At first, people close to him got a little worried. Who were you ? What were your intentions ? It seemed like you were out of nowhere. Walked into Marshall’s life one day and, from then on, he was addicted. They had every reason to be suspicious. And then, they met you. And they understood. They got to witness the genuineness of your interactions, how your eyes mirrored Marshall’s devotion, the way he leaned into your touch so naturally and just how you seemed to heal the parts of him that had been left raw. For the first time in forever, they saw him at peace. Not merely content. Happy. They expected to hate you, because what kind of high maintenance brat has the most stoic man they ever knew act like a puppy ? Only, they couldn’t. It wasn’t quite clear how things worked out between you and Marshall and, in hindsight, it was none of their business. But they couldn’t hate you when it was clear as day that « Em » as most call him, had finally found a safe space. So you won them over as well, and they gave you the princess treatment.

[iiseult]

Hello, I was wondering what the life of the female reader would be like when King Baldwin was not a leper. I mean, what would their life be like together as a married couple?

𝐵𝒶𝓁𝒹𝓌𝒾𝓃 𝐼𝒱 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈: 𝒩𝑜𝓃-𝓁𝑒𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝐸𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

CWs → fluff, smut, probable historical inaccuracies, she/her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of religion, childbirth

Note: I know this took like over a month to get to, but in my defense I was working on completing the first arc of my multichapter Baldwin x reader fic. Also, if anyone’s interested, I started posting an alternate version of that on ao3 that’s in third person and from the perspective of a girl named Semele. As far as actual writing goes I think it’s much better quality simply because I don’t have to do all that corny second person bullshit or use the words “Y/N.” That’s a real pain in my ass. Anyway! 

Wordcount: 852

King Baldwin’s standards are high. He is a gorgeous young man with the world at his fingertips and he wants a woman, not a girl, to explore it with him. 

She must be good. She does not need to be rich or noble, but she needs to be selfless and kind and bold. And he needs someone who can match him in intellect so he doesn’t get bored. 

His hair frames his face in charming golden waves that fall to about his chin. His eyes are a deep cerulean, lined by long lashes, and his lips are pink and shapely, if a bit on the thin side. The nose is strong and straight, the jaw is square and sharp, the cheekbones are high and structured, and the skin covering it all is smooth and healthy. A light smattering of tiny freckles paint his nose and cheeks. His body is strong, with substantial broad shoulders, and what muscle he has is subtle but genuine. 

Sometimes his movements are awkward, a little different from other well-bred boys his age, and perhaps that’s what makes him so appealing. So mysterious. And, by the way, he certainly is appealing. 

Every woman that lays eyes on him, and even some that have never had that honor and know of him only from word of mouth, want him. Every woman thinks she can somehow be good enough for him. Of course, maybe one in one thousand of them actually is. 

When a lady finally catches his eye, it would be for her wit or her bravery. Perhaps she would beat him in a game of chess, or speak out against what she thinks is wrong. The more cruelty in her smile, the more attractive she becomes. 

When he proposes, it’s very romantic, very personal, and above all, very private. Though he surely makes the experience memorable for his future wife, he doesn’t do anything over-the-top. It does not involve other people, and perhaps it doesn’t even take place at a particular spot. The most important part of the proposal, after all, is the words he is speaking, the vow he is making. He puts his silver tongue to good use, so that saying no isn’t even an option anymore. How could she possibly turn him down? 

 He can’t wait to get his hands on her. The wedding night is something he has long been looking forward to, knowing that it would be worth it to wait for the right woman, and of course, it exceeds his expectations. How could he have guessed how soft, how supple her flesh would feel beneath him? How sweet and yielding? There was nothing that could have prepared him for the feeling of warmth that wholly enveloped him the first time they made love. It was something that could never be recreated by his own hand. It could only ever occur by the soft hand, or the cruel, relentless lips of his young wife. 

His body is young and robust, as is hers, and they are both brimming with passion and want. The first month of the marriage is spent mostly alone together, trapped in an endless cycle of tiring each other out, sleeping, waking, and doing the whole damned thing all over again. It would take no time at all for the seed to be planted in her fertile womb and a baby to begin to grow. 

Seeing his wife pregnant would only make him fall in love with her more, if such a thing were even possible. Now she is carrying a little miracle inside her, and to him, the world around her positively glows. He is, in a word, infatuated. So proud. He takes her into town and practically parades her around, the curve of her swollen belly growing more and more obvious under the fabric of her gown. Isn’t she beautiful, he would say to Raymond, and to Sybilla, and to anyone else who was unlucky enough to engage him in conversation. 

During the birth, he stayed by her side. He was the one to wipe the sweat from her forehead with damp towels, to hold her hand and cry softly from seeing her in such pain. He loves her so much, and he was going to love that baby, too. He was going to positively spoil it. That is, if it didn’t kill her! He cries more than she does during the birth, and though he does everything he can to ease her pain and help the midwife speed along the process, mostly he can do nothing but stand around and wring his hands and look helplessly at his love, his eyes swimming with wild fear and affection and awe. She’s so strong, how is she doing it? 

Once the baby is born, though the sheets of her bed are soiled with various fluids, he lays down next to his wife and holds her in his arms and she holds their baby in her arms, and they all sleep, a perfect family. The baby is going to look just like her, he thinks, and he will love it. 

[leonslutkennedeeznuts]

Lovin' Your Skin | Tattoo Artist!Leon x Fem!Reader

"With that, Leon flexed his arms so you could get a better look. He was covered in ink. You wanted to spend all day and night tracing your fingers over the works of art inked onto his skin, hearing his stories about what each tattoo represented." (AO3) | Tattoo Artist Leon credit:  tanya.gavva

You didn’t even want a tattoo but you figured it wouldn’t be that bad. Your pain tolerance was low, you weren’t 100% certain the design you’d picked would look good on your skin forever but Leon was sooo gorgeous. Just to be near him in the tattoo parlor for a few hours would make everything so worth it. Or so you’d thought.

Leon was covered in tattoos. He had sleeves on both arms and you could see the beginning of a neck piece as you stole a few glances at him here and there. He was so focused the few times you’d gone by the shop to watch him work. He was your friend’s tattoo artist. This was all her fault really. Months ago she’d asked you to come by with her for yet another tattoo and when you’d seen the blonde haired beauty of a man who did the work, you were head over heels.

“Name’s Leon,” he’d said as he shook your hand.

Leon. A name you wanted to be screaming every night.

“What makes you want a tattoo,” he’d asked you as your friend checked out her finished piece in the mirror behind him. “It can be addicting, I must warn you.”

You didn’t want a tattoo. You wanted him. Same difference.

“Always thought about it,” you lied, awkwardly laughing. You hoped he couldn’t read the lust on your face as you caught a glimpse of him licking his lips. “Yours look really cool, very intricate.”

With that, Leon flexed his arms so you could get a better look. He was covered in ink. You wanted to spend all day and night tracing your fingers over the works of art inked onto his skin, hearing his stories about what each tattoo represented.

“Wow,” you whispered, stepping closer to get a better look. “You did these all yourself?”

Leon shook his head. “Most but not all. Couldn’t reach my back but I designed that piece myself.” He winked at you before asking. “You want to see it?”

It was pathetic how fast you shook your head yes. Leon’s body was a work of art in itself. He made a little show of taking his shirt off for you, your friend laughing and shaking her head in the background still eying her own ink. How she was immune to Leon’s charm and sex appeal was beyond you.

Leon had a rose tattoo that started the sleeve on his right shoulder, in honor of his grandmother he’d said, that led into abstract shapes, you spied a spiderweb on his elbow and even a sea turtle on his inner arm, an Eagle on his neck- you stopped trying to decipher everything and started to take in the view of his abs. He’d been getting tattooed since his 21st birthday, something he’d done with his friends on a drunken dare after failing out of the police academy but quickly discovered his love of the profession.

After opening his first tattoo shop at 27, he started designing and doing his own tattoos as best as he could to promote his business. Now he was booked up months in advance. He always made time for your friend though.

His chest wasn’t covered yet, he’d mentioned thinking of leaving that bare for now. You imagined how your hands would rest perfectly on his pecs as you rode him into oblivion.

Leon caught you staring, you weren’t really hiding it. You wondered if he was tatted up from the waist down as well, how your untouched flesh would look against his in the heat of passion, how you wanted his name breathlessly leaving your lips-

“Do you want a tattoo, seriously?” Your friend’s voice cut through the sexual tension like a knife. “I think she’s lying, Leon.”

“No, I’m serious! I do want one. I have a Pinterest board of ideas,” you spat out hurriedly. “Here,” you said, lifting up your sleeve to show the spot on your wrist where you wanted to be inked.

Leon, still shirtless, took your wrist into his hands, eying it and you. “A wrist tat, hmm? I’d be honored to be your first,” he’d simply stated. Still shirtless. Still eyeing you in disbelief.

If he wanted to call your bluff, so be it as long as he was calling you.

“Yep and maybe a neck one too, ya know, one that people can’t see unless I wear my hair up.”

Your friend rolled her eyes and began to grab her purse and car keys. From what you’d seen her tattoo was beautiful, a bright Koi fish on her left shoulder to match the aquatic sleeve she was getting done eventually.

“I will believe it when I see it, Y/N. Don’t waste Leon’s time just because you think he’s hot,” she chided jokingly as she went to the door.

Leon put his tank top back on and handed you one of his business cards, letting his fingers linger on yours for a bit too long to be an accident.

“Well, Y/N, if you’re serious here’s my contact information. I don’t have any openings really in the next few months but text me and I will see what I can do for you.” He winked at you again. “Want to see this Pinterest board of yours.”

“Oh, right, totally! I’ll send you the link.” Great, now you had to create a Pinterest board of tattoos that you hoped Leon thought were cool. Your eyes lingered to the perfect pout of his lips then to his cerulean eyes. “I can’t wait to set up my appointment with you, Leon.”

You weren’t planning to actually get a tattoo. You just wanted a way to talk to him really and the guy owned a tattoo shop, clearly that was something he was passionate about. What better way to get his attention than to get him to tattoo you himself? Right?

—-------

It was Leon that actually called you first.

After that evening in his shop, you realized that if you did reach out to him that it would be obvious you weren’t really serious about all this. You were sure women flocked at him all the time with lies about tattoos to get him in their bed. You wouldn’t be the first.

Your friend was no help. She claimed that Leon either had a girlfriend already or was hooking up with a fellow artist at another shop.

“Her name starts with J, I think,” she’d said deep in thought. “Or maybe it’s the redhead biker chick from that bar.”

But you forgot all about that when you got a call from an unknown number a few days later.

“Leon?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he confirmed with a slight chuckle. “I never heard back from you about the tattoo, was wondering if you changed your mind about seeing me.”

You always wanted to see him. From the few times you’d met he had an effect on you but he was a huge flirt. Maybe he was just trying to get a new client aka more money, nothing personal.

“Oh, I- the tattoo,” you sighed and decided to come clean. “Look, Leon, I don’t know about that anymore.”

“Understandable, I honestly figured as much.” You heard some faint background noise of a horror movie playing in the background. Seems like he was home alone on a Friday night too.

“Well, in the spirit of being honest, Y/N, I was hoping to just see you again. Tattoo or not.”

You almost dropped your phone in shock. You didn’t know what you thought Leon’s type was but it definitely wasn’t you. He seemed like a total badass, a bad boy. You were a goody two shoes overachiever working a boring 9-5 while Leon was a daredevil risk taker.

Plus you were pretty sure Leon was a little over six years older than you. Which made his admission all the more arousing. You couldn’t help the throbbing you felt between your legs now.

“Cat got your tongue,” he teased, clearly enjoying this.

“No, I’m just kind of shocked,” you admitted. “I didn’t think I was your type really.”

You thought back to the women your friend had mentioned Leon dated. You’d seen them both in passing, looked nothing like you (or one another) but they were gorgeous. You felt so basic by comparison.

Leon was silent for a bit, you almost thought he’d hung up before you heard him clear his throat. “Hmm, how about I take you out tomorrow night and show you how much of my type you are?”

It was a date.

—-------

You don’t know exactly how this happened. One minute you were agreeing to let Leon walk you to your apartment door and the next he had you wet and begging for him to fuck you, his lips on your neck definitely leaving hickeys for everyone to see that you were his. The date had gone very well to your surprise and now it was about to get even better.

First thing you noticed about Leon was that he was an amazing kisser. His hands were feeling you up all over, just enough to get you hot and bothered and leaning into his embrace silently begging for more. He sucked your tongue and grinded into you, almost dry humping on the couch before you couldn’t take anymore and told him where your bedroom was.

Leon was an animal in bed and yet still a total gentleman, which you kind of expected but nothing prepared you for the real thing. He didn’t have tattoos from the waist down, and yes you looked quite thoroughly while you were down there with his dick sliding down your throat.

You’d never enjoyed giving head before tonight, before you’d met Leon and heard his whispers, groans and moans as you sucked him. At this angle, he was able to play with your pussy and rub your clit as you licked his pre-cum covered tip before attempting to deep throat him again.

“Fuck, Y/N, so good, you’re such a good girl,” he moaned. He slipped a finger, then another into your wet pussy. “Mmm, so tight, baby.”

You couldn’t talk if you wanted to with him so deep in your mouth but you moaned around his cock, causing him to cuss under his breath and pull out completely, not wanting to cum just yet. He rubbed his shaft on your swollen lips, your mouth almost desperately trying to suck him back in.

Leon took his fingers out of your pussy and sucked on them. “Gonna enjoy eating you out,” he whispered, kissing his way down to finally taste you. “I won’t stop until you cum.”

You could’ve finished right then and there just hearing him say that. When his tongue licked your center then up to your clit, you almost screamed. It felt so good, too good. You didn’t think you were going to last long at all. Seeing Leon’s gorgeous flush face clearly enjoying the taste of you was already too much and he’d only just started.

He held you by the back of your knees, pressing them into your chest as he licked, sucked and ate you like a man starving. You’d never cum from this before, never had someone so into it. You were squirming and bucking into his mouth earning more moans from him. When his tongue dipped into your pussy you did scream, his name leaving your lips over and over as you squealed and released onto his tongue.

“Leon, I’m cumming,” you whined in an almost broken voice, your toes curling and your eyes rolling back into your head. “Oh fuck, too much,” you begged, trying to wiggle out of his grasp to no avail as he kept licking you, refusing to waste a drop of your cum. “Leon, please.”

When Leon said he wouldn’t stop until you came, what he really meant was that he wouldn’t stop until you came twice. Despite the cramp in your legs you gripped his blond hair so hard you knew it was painful for him but he didn’t seem to mind, sucking and tonguing your pussy with more vigor than before.

He slid two fingers back into your pussy and you almost accidentally kicked him due to overstimulation. You were almost boohoo crying as Leon was just eating you out without a care in the world. You had no idea what you’d do when he finally fucked you, your nails clawing up his tattooed back leaving your own imprint on his skin even if it didn’t last forever.

Leon moaned and hummed against your cunt knowing how close you were again already. “Cum for me again, Y/N.” After a few more thrusts of his fingers against your g-spot you were seeing stars. “Now.”

This time you were sure the neighbors heard you. You’d be embarrassed at how pitiful you sounded later because right now you were in the throes of passion. Leon held you down with no effort as your body jerked and bucked against his eager mouth.

Nobody had ever made you cum this hard, reducing you into a blubbering mess, begging Leon to fuck you as your sweet cum covered his mouth and jaw.

“Holy shit,” you managed to breathe out when he finally freed you from his grasp. You didn’t know if you were floating or still laying on the bed at this point. If he told you it was Christmas day you’d believe him, your mind was so frazzled. “Fucking Christ, Leon.”

His Cheshire cat grin appeared above you, eying you with pure lust and pride. Leon had never been with someone so vocal before, it definitely stroked his ego.

“Believe me now?” Leon didn’t wait for you to respond before rubbing the tip of his cock against your almost sore clit.

“How about now,” he teasingly asked before slapping his shaft on your pussy.

He was so hard, almost painfully so. He’d wanted you since the first time you’d met but figured you weren’t into guys with tattoos. Go figure.

“Leon, please, just fuck me already,” you begged. You arched your back into his embrace, staring into his eyes as kept teasing you. “I’ll believe you when you fuck me.”

You knew Leon wasn’t going to be a missionary kind of guy, nothing wrong with that position but after having it so often with your lackluster ex, you wanted something a bit more. Being folded like a pretzel on the edge of your bed as Leon slid into you, his thick cock hitting that spot inside of you that had you whimpering- just what the doctor ordered.

With a pillow under your head you had the perfect view to watch Leon fuck you hard, deep and fast. Your slick was covering his cock, the sounds of your wetness and his balls slapping against your ass the soundtrack of your fuck session as the mattress creaked underneath you.

He was caressing your bouncing tits, squeezing and pinching your hard nipples just enough to keep you on edge but not enough to push you over just yet. You could barely decipher what you were even saying, just heavy breathing, squeaking and squealing Leon’s name over and over, praising and thanking him.

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart,” you heard him whisper above you. Leon was in awe at the sight of your tight, little pussy creaming on his cock. He made sure to get you nice and wet so you could take him all without pain. “Fuck, Y/N, I want to fill you up.”

You gripped his tattooed arms to stay grounded to reality as your orgasm crept up on you, trying to memorize every piece of ink on his flesh in case this was a one time thing- in case you were actually dreaming and he wasn’t really here with you.

“Yeah, cum in me, Leon,” you heard yourself saying. It was like an out of body experience. You honestly felt like you’d disintegrate when you finally came on his fat dick. “It’s your pussy, baby. Only yours.”

Leon thrust into you slowly as you both came hard, bodies shaking and aching as you messily kissed one another, hands roaming all over while Leon grunted and came inside of you. You made sure to rub and caress his back as he did so, enjoying how he gave into your embrace as he filled you up until his cum began dripping out.

You still weren’t sold on getting a tattoo any time soon but dating a tattoo artist who was a beast in bed wasn’t the worst thing ever, you figured as sleep took over you both.

[warping-realities]

Foot Funk - Steve (By the genius @dumb-and-jocked)

I haven't started work on completing Dalton Academy. But just like I did in the last break between my original publications, I'm going to use my time to pay homage to one of my greatest inspirations and who I now have the pleasure of being able to talk to and exchange ideas with. I started working with A.I. to make images for stories that I liked, I did this with storys of dumb-and-jocked who is a great author and source of inspiration. I know there is a lot of controversy in the community with these types of stories, but I particularly enjoy reading them knowing that they are relegated to fantasy. But I admit that I would really like to have chosen another story to make my first adventures with A.I. not only because it would have avoided getting involved in any controversy but also because feet are some of the things that cause the most glitches. But talking to the author and getting his permission to publish, I thought I should honor where I started. The images are not the ones I took the first time, they are new and much better. Maybe in the near future I'll work with his wonderful material again but even if it doesn't happen I'm very grateful for the opportunity.

...

“What were you saying about fags again?”

The conversation between Frankie and Steve had started out decently. Pleasant in fact. Frankie had come over to pick his bestie Mia up before they headed out for a night at the club. Dressed in a glittery harness over his shiny chest, too-tight jeans showing off his perky butt, and with his bleached locks tied back in a messy ponytail, Frankie was caught off guard when Mia’s father opened the door. He hadn’t expected for him to be on the other side, or for him to even be at Mia’s apartment in the first place.

“You must be Frankie,” Steve asserted with a gruff tone, letting the shorter, skinnier male enter. “I’m Steve, Mia’s father.” 

Frankie had never met Mia’s father, nor had Mia ever mentioned him. The pair had known each other for well over a year now, so Frankie had just assumed there had been a reason why Mia had never brought Steve up.

“Mia’s upstairs still getting ready, but you’re welcome to sit with me in the living room to wait.”

“Oh, that’s ok!” Frankie interjected. “I think I’ll just go up and help, being that’s my role and all.”

Frankie was referring to his duties as a GBF, but that didn’t seem to fly with Steve. The older man had already taken a seat on the leather couch and motioned for Frankie to join him. Frankie was hesitant at first, but eventually he surrendered, sitting on the opposite side. He prayed Mia wouldn’t take that long.

Steve started the conversation off like any straight male would: asking if Frankie had seen the game last night. When Frankie said no like any gay male would, Steve took it as his obligation to fill him in on all of the details from the previous evening. Steve droned on and on and quickly lost Frankie’s attention, but the use of one word instantly brought him back in.

“God, and that ref was such a fag–called it at the stupidest moment.”

“You really shouldn’t use that word,” Frankie corrected.

“What?” Steve questioned innocently, propping his legs up on the couch. “‘Fag’?”

“Yeah,” Frankie nodded, noticing how much space Steve was now taking up. He subconsciously moved a little further into the corner of the couch. “It’s offensive and doesn’t respect my community.”

“That’s cause faggots don’t deserve respect,” Steve responded, watching Frankie twitch. Steve readjusted on the couch to fully face Frankie, his feet inching a little closer. 

“Are you one of those straight dickheads that actually believes they are superior to gay people?” Frankie’s reply was heated. His nose began to flare, causing him to take in more air. He pushed his legs apart as well, taking up a little more room as he opened into a manspread.

“Well, there’s a reason why straight men have always been on top.” Steve’s words were smooth and confident. He tossed one leg over the other before continuing. “I mean fairies used to always recognize that before the media went woke.”

“Yeah well, I bet all the gay men that bought into that crap were seriously pathetic,” Frankie faltered, taking the defensive. He tugged at his button-up, opening another button to reveal a bit more of his hairy chest. Frankie was flustered and felt a headache coming on. He always got annoyed when arguing with homophobes, but this one felt different.

“So you agree then?” Steve smirked, wiggling his meaty toes. “Faggots are pathetic.”

Frankie heaved. “Alright, I guess some gay men are faggots.” Frankie’s voice cracked, and then he coughed. His Adam’s apple repositioned itself below his stubble accordingly. “Those fags must have some serious issues. I’m glad I’m not like them.”

“And you’re not a fag?” Steve pressed, repositioning his Size 14 feet directly beneath Frankie’s nose.

“I can jack off to whatever porn I want! It’s just a fetish!” Frankie was getting visibly mad now. The blood was pumping through his veins. His muscular arms were tense, his chest was puffed out, and his sturdy legs were bouncing back and forth, ready to pounce.

“So you agree with me, homosexuality isn’t real,” Steve affirmed. “It’s just a fetish.”

Frankie froze, realizing what he’d been trapped into. With a confident sneer, Steve simply lifted a foot up to Frankie’s face.

“Sniff.”

Frankie followed the order. The concentrated homophobic foot funk burst through his nasal passages and completely overrode his brain. The initial presence of the odor in the air was enough to evenly numb the organ, but the undiluted blast came as a complete shock.

After a few moments, Steve lowered his foot and watched as the new man conformed to his reality. It was then that Steve asked the question.

“God I hate ‘em” Frank huffed, running a hand through his trimmed brown hair. “It’s sad that faggots are wasting the space a real man could have. Their place is on the ground serving us. Inferior scum.”

Steve snickered, smiling as he watched Frank adjust his larger pouch before getting up to grab a beer. Frank proceeded to crack two open and, after spilling a bit and wiping it on his old sweats, rejoined Steve on the couch.

“So,” Frank started again as he passed Steve the other beer. “When’s that daughter of yours coming down anyway. She knows I’ll rail her with or without makeup, right?”

“Didn’t I tell you earlier? She’s out with friends,” Steve took a swig, moving his feet back in front of him while grabbing the remote. “You’re free to watch the game with me and wait ‘till she gets back.”

Frank nodded and let out a belch, leaning back into the couch and waiting until his pussy arrived.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ace Trappola - Playful Dress Vignette

"I can take my chances as they come"

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

Ace: UGHHHHHH～～～ THAT PISSED ME OFF!!

Ace: I thought Riddle-ryōchō had gotten a bit more lenient, but obviously not.

Ace: "A student's main duty is his schoolwork! To abandon that is completely inexcusable!"

Ace: …Can't believe he'd say something like that, he's more stubborn than anything!

Ace: Man, after I got all excited with planning the outing. Thanks to someone it all went sour.

Deuce: When you say someone… Are you talking about me?

Ace: Who else? What kind of complete bonehead goes and snitches to the Housewarden like that?

Deuce: But- but, we're supposed to tell either the Housewarden or a Professor if we have to be absent…

Deuce: And besides, now that you mention it, it's definitely not a good thing to skip class.

Ace: What do you mean, "now that you mention it"…? Did you think up 'til getting yelled at by the Housewarden that skipping class was okay!?

Ace: So that's, why you just ran to the Housewarden so brazenly… Ugh.

Ace: Why'd I even try to invite someone this stupid in the first place…?

Deuce: WHAT DO YOU MEAN, STUPID!?

Deuce: Ah!! …Not very honor student of me to shout like that. …I'm gonna go cool off outside.

[door clicks open… slams shut]

Ace: Wh… What's with that guy, why's he the one getting upset!? That really grinds my gears.

Ace: Ughh, I can't deal with this anymore. I gotta finish packing before he gets back.

Ace: I have my phone charger, tissues, breath mints…

Ace: And I guess… I don't need my wallet. They said it's all free, so.

Ace: Last but not least, I definitely can't forget my Playful Land ticket!

Ace: …This should be enough. If I bring too much stuff, it'll just get in the way when I'm trying to have fun.

Ace: All that's left to do is to wake up before the sun rises and get to where we're all meeting, but…

Ace: Now that the Housewarden knows that I'm planning on skipping class, he'll definitely be on the lookout.

Ace: I thought it'd be pretty easy to slip out if I had spent the night at Ramshackle…

Ace: But if I do anything stupid now, it'll be off with all our heads, even [Yuu] and Grim's.

Ace: I already told [Yuu] and Grim not to invite anyone… I can't be the one to screw this up.

Ace: I've finished packing for tomorrow, so… Guess I'll check out possible escape routes!

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Hallway]

Heartslabyul Student A: Hey man, did you hear? Sounds like the Housewarden's in a rage because of Ace.

Heartslabyul Student B: Again～? That first year never learns, huh. So, what's it about this time?

Heartslabyul Student C: I mean… I don't really know all the details. But let's make sure not to set him off any further…

[rabble, rabble]

Ace: Looks like my upperclassmen heard what happened. At least they don't know about Playful Land…

Ace: I bet there'd be a few guys that would turn me in on a dime just to save their own skin, too.

Ace: It'd be bad if they see I'm missing in the morning, so I think I'll treat my roommates to some juice to keep them quiet.

Ace: Man… It's not something I usually notice, but it looks like a bunch of the guys in the dorm use this corridor a lot.

Ace: There's a slim chance that someone might wake up early and see me, so… I guess I'll try to find another route.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Kitchen]

Ace: Hmmm. Looks like the kitchen doesn’t get much traffic…

Ace: Nice. Looks like this is the best way out!

Ace: If I go outside from that door there… I don't think anyone will notice right?

Ace: It's just dumb just following orders because the Housewarden said no, or just letting him chew me out just for skipping one day of class.

Ace: I ain't a blockhead like some people. I'm way better.

Ace: There's no point to anything if you miss out just 'cause you're trying to follow the rules. I'm gonna make sure I can take my chances as they come.

[Playful Land - Catch The Star]

―After the Playful Stage Show

Fellow: See now, it's on the horizon: the ride that Grim-kun has been so excited for!!

Grim: MYAH!? WHERE IS IT WHERE IS IT!? I WANNA RIDE IT ALREADY!!

Vil: Even after all that dancing in the show… This little potato is still rife with energy.

Ace: Huh, you tired already, Vil-senpai?

Vil: Who do you think you're talking to? Seems to me like this little potato has no manners.

Ace: It's not as bad as Expedition Whale, but looks like it's pretty popular regardless. There's a really long line.

Jack: Hm…? But that's…

Grim: Yo, Fellow. I said I wanted to ride on a trapeze swing.

1. This is a bit different… 2. Rather than a swing, it looks more like an umbrella

Fellow: Oh no, this is it, without a doubt. This is our very popular attraction, The "Parasol Swing."

Ace: The swing portion looks like an umbrella, but it's definitely flying through the sky. But why's it shaped like an umbrella?

Jack: Wasn't there that one scene in Wish Upon a Star where the wooden puppet's teacher hung onto a carriage with an umbrella?

Jack: In the book I read, that teacher was a cricket with enough guts to weather both the swaying of the carriage and the dust it kicked up.

Fellow: What vast knowledge you possess! Did you hear, Gidel, his quick and easy explanation!

Gidel: … [nods]

Vil: Ah yes, I do recall seeing some gentlemanly-looking cricket plushes in the shop.

Vil: That must have been the wooden puppet's teacher you mentioned.

Jack: Huh, so they had some plushes of the wooden puppet's teacher? My younger brother and sister both read the book too, so maybe that'd be a good souvenir for them.

Ace: Cool. They got plushes of the cricket from Wish Upon a Star here too, huh～

1. I'm curious what kind of cricket it is. 2. I want to see the plushes.

Ace: Same. Looks like we still got time before it's our turn, so let's go check it out.

Jack: What do you mean, check it out…? If we jump out of line, we'll lose our spot.

Ace: Well yeah, that's if we all go… But as long as one person stays in line, we should be fine, right?

Ace: Soooo… Please and thank you, Vil-senpai! Can you hold the line for us!?

Jack: What!?  You're seriously just asking an upperclassman to wait in line for you?

Ace: But like, Vil-senpai sounded like he was tired after that stage show.

Ace: We're still at the back of the line, and it's pretty shady here, so you won't have to worry about sunburn, and it looks like the flower beds have a lip that you can sit on, too…

Ace: Looks like it's the perfect place to take a break, don'tcha think? I'll make sure to grab you something to drink while we go check out the shops, too!

Fellow: Fahaha! What a thoughtful little student.

Vil: You really are a smooth-talker.

Vil: You're quick on your feet only in specific situations, or rather, you don't show your hand. It's good that you follow your convictions, but…

Vil: Although Trey followed after you in the end, the fact that you still went to slip out of your dorm even after Riddle was on high alert shows just how duplicitous you are.

Vil: I'm so thankful that Pomefiore didn't get anyone as rambunctious as you.

[Playful Land – Gentle Square]

Grim: That trapeze swing was so fuuun～!

Ace: Yeah, it was a little more thrilling than it looked. And we were able to figure out why it looked like umbrellas by checking out the shop beforehand, too, so that was good.

Ace: Jack and Vil-senpai went off to look at something else, so what should we do?

Grim: Hey, that's the Friendly Fox and the Gentle Cat over there!

Ace: Oh, you're right. They didn't show up to the stage show earlier, so I thought they didn't have live mascots here.

1. I want to see them up close! 2. I want to take a picture with them.

Ace: Ehhh～ Seriously? I got no interest in that whatsoever. You don't care about mascots either, right, Grim?

Grim: I read somewhere that when ya come to an amusement park, ya gotta take a picture with the mascots! I'll do it too!

Ace: Pass. I'm gonna go get in line for the roller coaster again. You guys can do it yourselves.

Guest A: I never thought I'd be able to take a picture with the Friendly Fox and Gentle Cat. This'll make a great memory.

Guest B: Hey, let's upload it to Magicam right away. It's proof that we came to Playful Land!

Ace: Hold on, wait a moment…

Ace: It might be better to upload a picture with those specific mascots to brag to everyone about how I got to come to this amusement park!

1. So that means… 2. Does that mean…?

Ace: Change of plans. It won't take too long to just take one photo, so let's get to it.

Ace: Woah, the Fox and Cat are coming our way. Eh!?

Friendly Fox: ～♪

Ace: Why's he spreading his arms out wide…? Feels like he's tryin' to be real welcoming.

Gentle Cat: !!

Ace: He's pointing at us, shaking his hips, and swinging his arms left and right… Ah.

Ace: Wait, did you see the stage show earlier? You tryin' to let us know how good we did?

Grim: The Fox and Cat are both nodding their heads. Guess they got an eye for awesomeness!

Ace: Looks like. Up close, this Fox's got real round eyes. He's got a super sincere face, like he could never tell a lie.

Ace: The Cat's real fluffy looking and is constantly smiling. He looks completely harmless and kind.

Ace: Basically, both look like real cool dudes!

Ace: …Hm? Now the Fox and Cat are dancing.

Grim: Oh hey, that's the dance we did earlier on the Playful Stage! Rave-up, up, dum-dee-dum… ♪

Ace: Those too look happy now that Grim started dancing, now… What, they want us to do it too!?

1. Rave-up! Up! ♪ 2. That's a little embarrassing…

Puppet: Dear Guests, You Look Spectacular! I'll Take A Picture Of You In A Rave-Up Pose!

Ace: Hrrrm, at this point, it'd be lame to act embarrassed, so… Guess I just gotta strike that pose, then.

Ace: Mmkay, can you take a pic with my phone?

Puppet: Understood, I Shall Take Your Phone. Alright, Everyone, Strike A Pose… Here We Go. Say Cheese!

[Playful Land – Bazaar]

Ace: WHEW, WE'RE FINALLY ALMOST AT SAGE'S ISLAND～!

Ace: Playful Land's exploding everywhere, and I've been hearing a lot of super sketch noises for a while now…

Ace: But at this rate, we should be able to make it to Crane Port somehow, right?

Ace: Even a boring island like this feels like a sight for sore eyes after a terrifying ordeal like that.

Trey: Seriously, yeah. We're all back home safe thanks to you guys, Ace.

Cater: Yup, yup. Although guess it's a bit uncool of Cay-kun to have to be saves by our juniors～

Ace: Heheh. But c'mon, the only reason we were even able to last that long is all thanks to you guys～

Ace: Oh, yeah. Get a load of this, guys. Something amazing happened a bit ago…

Ace: I even got some praise from Leona-senpai.

Trey: From Leona? Wow, that's unbelievable. Never thought I'd see the say where he'd praise someone so sincerely.

Ace: Right!? Well, I'm a little hesitant to say his praise was sincere, but…

Ace: When I told him how I magically tossed my foxtail souvenir so the puppets would go after it,

Ace: He said… "Sounds like those puppets were more like puppies, huh. How kind of you to toss 'em a bone."

Ace: That's basically his way of showing appreciation, right? …But now that I'm putting it in words, I'm starting to doubt it.

Cater: Yeah, yeah, I totes think he was praising you ☆ You got Floyd-kun saying good things about you, too.

Ace: Huh, Floyd-senpai!?

Trey: Yeah, he said something like… "I didn't have a lick of hope in 'em, but they actually took much longer to get turned into puppets than I thought."

Ace: That doesn't sound like praise to me at all? But I guess that's better than him saying he'd squeeze me…

Ace: Uh, so～ There's something I want to ask…

Ace: If we told him about how I totally had a hand in helping dismantle the evil Playful Land…

Ace: Do you think even Riddle-ryōchō would praise me and say I did a good job…?

Trey/Cater: Nope. / No way.

Ace: Tch, didn't think that'd work.

Trey: Maybe if we had been able to get back before dark, we would have been able to figure out some kid of excuse, but…

Trey: We've been gone pretty much all the night without any kind of notice. I can definitely already see Riddle's face red with rage.

Cater: Yup. I think we all gotta make sure to prepare for the worst…

Ace: Siiigh… I'm way too exhausted from putting in all that work, so it's gonna be a pain to deal with the Housewarden's anger, too...

???: How can you sound so miserable when we're finally able to make it back to campus?

Ace: Ah, Vil-senpai! Did you come here to praise me, too?

Vil: Absolutely not. It looked like the silver-tongued Ace might actually be in distress, so I came to impart some advice.

Ace: Wait, does that mean… You know some way to calm Riddle-ryōchō down!? Please, tell me!

Vil: It's nothing too difficult. The proper solution in these sorts of situations is to…

Vil: FACE HIM STRAIGHT ON AND APOLOGIZE EARNESTLY!

Vil: Your penchant for making excuses will only irritate Riddle further.

Vil: The best way to receive his forgiveness is to take his ire directly.

Ace: EEEHH!?

Trey: True, Ace has a quick wit and is pretty clever… But I'm pretty sure our best bet this time would be to be honestly apologetic.

Cater: I bet Riddle-kun was super worried about us too～ When we get back, we should all three of us apologize to him together.

Vil: See, third years are fully capable of understanding. Ace, you should also gracefully accept defeat.

Ace: NO WAAAY～!

Trey: When you deflate like that, it's like all that energy you were bouncing around with since last night was a mirage or something.

Ace: Urgh… But we went through so much. I ain't gonna let it end on a sour note.

Ace: If that's the case, then I'm gonna totally brag about how much fun I had on the attractions and on the stage!

Cater: Ace-chan is really...

Trey: Yeah, he really is stubborn.

Requested by Anonymous.

[seokgyuu]

The Sweetest Thing - Teaser

All your life you’ve been your sisters’ punching bag. Never good enough. Never fully accepted. When your mother makes one of them choose you as her maid of honor you reluctantly agree. Semi-vacationing in Tuscany with your ‘beloved’ family, you meet two handsome strangers one night and let them do whatever they want with you. Too bad you didn’t ask for their names first.

Pairing: Heeseung x F!Reader x Sunghoon 

Genre: Strangers to ???, Porn with Plot

Warnings: CHEATING!!! reader is hooking up with her sisters’ fiancés, sisters are horrible and suck, mentions of past verbal abuse, reader is somewhat a pervert (she defo is), heeseung & sunghoon definitely are perverts, heeseung & sunghoon are mean, they have nothing good to say about their fiancés, alcohol consumption, adult content MDNI! smut warnings will be in actual fic

Word Count: 5.7k (so far)

Release Date: August 8th

Taglist: @skzenhalove, @haelahoops, @deobitifull, @shiningnono, @jakeswifez, @slut4hee @gyuhanniescarat , @branchrkive @doublebunv , @capri-cuntz, @jaehyuniewifeu, @whateverhoon, @c-oupsie you can be added by replying to this post or sending me an ask <3 there must be an age indicator in your blog since this is a nsfw fic! 

Something about the Italian sky seems different. Maybe it’s because you’re not close to a big city, but the stars shine brighter than you’ve ever seen them. It feels like a movie; the stars and moon so visible with no cloud in sight, the small street of Arezzo you’re currently sitting in - a small restaurant with a small menu but a nice older man that speaks decent English. A glass of wine standing on the small table beside you and the first bit of peace you’ve felt in days. 

It’s when you take your next sip of wine you see them. 

Two men straight out of a magazine walking towards one of the free tables next to yours and sitting down. There is nothing you can do but stare. Both of them have dark hair, one of them a bit shorter than the other. They are dressed elegantly, designer shoes and pants, blazers hanging over their chairs. Even if you wanted to - you could not possibly say which one was more attractive. 

What a nice way to end a horrible day, you think. Smiling, you finish your glass and immediately order the next, not entirely used to drinking so much, but not caring since you are miles away from home and no one here knows you anyway. The waiter nods and then proceeds to go over to the newcomers. The one with the slightly lighter hair and the mole on his nose orders in perfect Italian, with just enough of an accent for you to know they aren’t from here. Your choice of table appears to be perfect for watching them, listening to them converse in a language you understand. 

And it all stays innocent like this - they talk about their flight and about friends - until suddenly the conversation sways.

“I honestly- fuck, I can’t believe we’re actually doing this, you know?” The one with shorter hair says and his friend sighs, taking his wine glass and finishing it in one go. Impressive. There was at least half left in yours. 

“I don’t know what to tell you. We committed and now we’re fucked.”

“Just that we aren’t getting actually fucked.”

They look at each other before they laugh, shaking their heads. Meanwhile, your ears perk up. 

“Fuck, I really don’t know the last time she let me hit it, Hoon. I think I’m going crazy.”

“Yeah, same here. Like, yeah, we fucked once the day before her flight. But literally only missionary and she didn’t suck me off.”

“Again? Dude, is she ever even putting her mouth on it?” 

“Nope. Ever since we got engaged she’s like this fucking prude. Is yours like that too?”

“Yeah. I got her flowers and her favorite chocolates and she still wouldn’t even jack me off, like fuck, if it’s gonna be like this forever I can just go cut my dick off.”

Jesus. These two seem to be in very happy relationships. Makes you almost feel better to not be in one. Even if your mother would beg to differ. She’s been desperate for you to find a match for ages. For whatever reason, really, considering her two golden girls were about to get married to rich and handsome heirs. 

“Just one good blowjob, man, that’s all I want, really. I miss getting some good fucking head.”

The way short hair looks at mole - with so much understanding and pity, you can’t help but chuckle. Chuckle loud enough for them to take notice. 

Their gazes burn on your face before you even see them. But when you do your smile dies and instead makes room for horror. They heard you laugh at them. Even worse, they know you’ve been listening. Shit. 

Thankfully, you are three glasses of delicious white wine in and the fourth one is almost empty. Which means you aren’t the sweet little wallflower you’d usually be. Scary, how alcohol can change people.

“Oh, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped.” You apologize, placing your hand over your heart. 

“Agreed.” Short hair says, his eyebrow raised. Now, with both of their eyes on you, it seems like they are even more attractive. Perfect faces with pretty eyes and soft looking hair. Handsome men in unhappy relationships that fail to give them what they need. It’s almost comical how the switch in your head turns over, how the persona you normally never let anyone see until you’re in a secluded space comes out and gives you the courage to speak your next words.

“I just couldn’t believe my ears,” you let your finger glide over the rim of your glass, eyes on the two men with your tongue slipping out to lick over your bottom lip, “how anyone would be opposed to having sex with you.” 

Oh.

Sunghoon and Heeseung’s ears perk up just like yours did earlier. Eyes widen slightly as they understand the innuendo in your words. 

They think about the same thing - the last time they took a girl together. Probably during senior year in college. Back then, they used to do that regularly. Having almost the identical type in women. Instead of having to let her choose, she’d get them both. 

But it’s been years since then. They are in committed relationships now, about to get married. And still - neither of them can deny that you fall right into their usual prey, or well, the prey they’d chosen back in college before their parents had picked out their wives for them. 

It’s the way you look at them, the way your eyes say so much more than your words. It is also the way both of them feel like they are 22 again with nothing but getting their dick wet on their minds. One thing about Heeseung and Sunghoon - they always worked perfectly in a pair. Back in college and now, too. They can almost read each other’s minds at this point, only a short exchange of looks needed to know neither of them gave a single fuck about anything right now.

“Want to sit down with us?” Sunghoon asks and points at the free chair opposite them. You smile. 

“It’d be my pleasure.”

header credit @wongyuseokie <3

[uglypastels]

Not Wholly Evil |III| Pirate!Eddie au

summary: as the daughter of the Governor, there is quite a heavy prize set on your safe return home, and the captain will not let anything come between him and his bounty.

Series Masterlist

word count: 9.7k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying.

There might be a mention of other ST characters, and for plot sake, everyone is an adult here, just coz I don't want fetus pirates running around, but they are not really relevant to the plot.

Chapter 3: An Affair of Honor

“They say cowardice is infectious; but then argument is, on the other hand, a great emboldener” ― R.L. Stevenson, Treasure Island

‘See me in my quarters tonight, darling.’ He looked at you in this way, you couldn’t quite explain it or decode what the intentions behind his gaze, or words, were, but you did not enjoy it. 

‘I hope you do not mind if I decline the offer.’ You could not let him get through to you; show complete indifference. At the end of the day, all he was doing was just intimidation tactics, and you were better than that.

‘I don’t think you understand, princess,’ his words came out sour but remained calm. As he spoke, he let the blade of the dagger he was toying with graze the edge of  the ship, leaving behind a thin line in the wood, ‘this is not an invitation,’ he kept going, and the blade came closer and closer, digging deeper, the scraping becoming louder. ‘or a request.’ Then, in the next second, he moved quickly, and the blade struck the wood, much like the sword. Except for this time, with actual intent, deep into it, only an inch away from your hand, you almost felt the cold metal against you.

‘It is an order.’

You did your best not to flinch, eyes locked in on his. Could he tell you were terrified, or was your act working?

‘What if I do not want to follow your orders?’ Each word you spoke could very well certify your death sentence, but you could not just stand by as he taunted you.

‘I don’t think you want to find out.’ He spoke again with that usual casual grimace, leaning in, and your head spun from his proximity to you. All his words bounced around in your head, hitting your nerves like ricocheting bullets. Then, at last, you got a grip back on your tongue: 

‘Get away from me.’

Immediately, he stepped away, hands up in the air as if targeted with a pistol instead of words; the smirk on his face everlasting. Then, he pulled the blade out of the railing. It had been pushed in even more profoundly than you expected, but the wood did not split from the damage. Instead, a neat, thin line cut right through it. You could easily imagine that same cut now being in you. In— you blinked quickly at the memories of that one dark day. Then, a succession of quick breaths pulled you back to the here and now.

Taking small steps back slowly, his grin grew wider, and his eyes burned with higher mischief as he bent lower and lower in farewell. Hit boots shook the ground around you as he walked away, not saying another word. But no more words were needed. 

The Captain had his ways.

He would see you tonight, whether you wanted to or not. 

And the night was creeping in faster and faster. The sky’s pink glow was darkening, losing that warmth by the minute. You contemplated on what to do next. The crew was roaming every inch of the vessel, doing their tasks. It was your first time out in the fresh air while they were there, so you did not know if this was the usual speed at which they performed. The only frame of reference you had were the men of your old ship, and it seemed similar enough. Orders were being shouted across the boards from one man to another to help with the ropes of the sails, tying them accordingly, moving the wheel… everyone was rushing around you, and it was hard to keep track of what exactly was going on. 

You thought standing by the edge of the ship would give everyone enough space, but men were still bumping you around, apologising with grunts which were more than you expected them to do. They kept their head down as they walked on. After the fourth time it happened, you decided to get out of the way completely, but it wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Wherever you tried to stand, it seemed like someone had some business to do there to keep the ship going. With glances down at your trapdoor, you saw no option to return to your “room” as some empty wooden cargo containers had blocked it off. 

Another grumble came as you nearly lost your head by a plank. Why would they even need to be carrying it around at this time? 

With no more options left, you climbed the stairs towards the quarter deck, where the wheel was being stirred by one of the captain’s more trusted crew members. You didn’t know any of their names, with no intention to learn them, but you had sometimes recognised him as by Munson’s side. The man glanced your way but did no more than that and focused back on the waters ahead. 

Behind him was a stained-glass door, its panels shimmering with the warm glow of the inside candlelight. Besides that, it was too thick to look through, but you didn’t need to know what was hidden from you. You had been lured towards the captain’s quarters like a helpless animal is drawn into a trap by its hunter. Mindlessly, you walked up to it. 

Could you turn around now? Run away? The need was not for self-preservation but primarily due to your embarrassment; you managed to get tricked into this mess. 

‘Go on then,’ the man at the wheel said. ‘Captain doesn’t like waiting.’ 

‘If he’s so desperate to see me, he’ll wait for as long as I’ll make him.’ You crossed your arms and leaned against the railing of the quarter deck. The man glanced over at you, either impressed or frustrated. Were you pushing your luck?

Ever since you set foot on the bridge between the Hellfire and the sinking Red Tail, this little attempt at rebellion could not have been anything new to them compared to your endless tries at starvation and threats of hanging and punching the captain. 

Right, that happened. Whatever was inside must have to do with that. 

You nervously looked over at the door. The soft, warm light flickered as the fire moved about. But you were quick to turn your head again. 

The sun had now submerged itself under the water, leaving the stars and moon to rule over the sky. You occupied the next few minutes trying to decipher your positioning under the constellations, craning your neck from side to side while identifying the silver lights. Finally, under an unobstructed sky, barely any clouds to obscure it or light to take away the brightness of what was above you, you were met with a million new stars. You could easily spend the rest of the night there, just like that. 

And it was about when you decided to make yourself a bit more comfortable, sitting on the ground, when the door in front of you burst open. The Captain stepped through the threshold but not over it, leaning against the door. He first looked at his man, who nodded down to you. 

‘Glad you could make it, princess.’ 

‘Make it where?’

‘To my humble abode, of course,’ he stretched his arm out, welcoming you in, ‘please. Do come in.’ His voice sounded unfamiliarly sweet like honey trickling down his throat with every syllable. 

You didn’t trust any of it. And, therefore, stood your ground, not moving a muscle. 

The Captain waited about 10 seconds, staring you down in complete silence, before walking back inside. It had all been planned and prepared,  for the moment he left, the man at the wheel came alive and made his way to you. It happened so quickly, and he had such strength that you could not fight back. Before you knew it, you were being dragged into the quarters. You had had enough time to elbow him in the stomach before he let you go and shut the door behind him. 

It was now just you and the captain. 

You spent the first moment inside taking everything in. It was spacious, once perhaps used as a navigation room, but changed into the captain’s chambers. You had deducted that what was initially designed to be the captain’s sleeping quarters aboard this ship had been made into a place for the rest of the crew to sleep. Much more spacious than the lower decks, which were now yours to call home… lucky you.

At the back of the room you stood in, large panelled windows spread out into a view of the sea that the ship had just passed. The water and sky merged into the nothingness of dark navy, only lit in the slightest sense by the stars. 

In front of the windows stood an impressive oak desk covered in aged and weathered scrolls. A large stain was running down one side of the furniture as if someone had spilt their ink container. Behind it stood a majestic chair— a throne, one would most likely call it. Worthy of a king, yet rotting on this cursed ship.

At the left side of the cabin was a bed. It was quite plain, with a thin mattress and, to your surprise, a blanket just a little bigger than the fleece you had been given. Yet, it still looked heavenly compared to your current sleeping arrangement. Opposite the bed, on the right side of the room, stood a large dresser and commode, like the chair, beautifully engraved and carved. Compared to the old bookcase next to it, it looked like it belonged to a king… maybe it once did. Who knew when it came to these people?

The walls were adorned with decorations, the centrepiece being two large swords crossed with each other. There were also golden and silver chains hanging off of sticking-out nails and drapery made of the finest materials yet used like the commonest of cloths. It was clear that whoever these items belonged to them now had no knowledge or care for their value in the world. They were just objects to him that he could use as he liked in his room. This idea terrified you.

You followed the captain with your eyes as he walked by, only taking a second to look at the large map nailed to the wall opposite you. The floorboards creaked beneath your feet as you walked. Not sure where to go, you just made your way to the smaller chair in front of the desk. Now closer, you got a small glimpse of everything on it. They were indeed mostly parchment scrolls and stacks of paper. Some letters, notes and drawings, but before you could get a better look, Munson shoved everything into a drawer on the desk’s side and kicked his feet up onto the furniture top. Without permission, you sat down too, trying to look casual, but you could not, for the love of god, make yourself feel at ease with his gaze piercing right through you. But you could at least try.

‘I would like to apologise.’ As you had hoped, your words burst through him like a bullet, leaving him wide-eyed and lost for words, but he quickly and smoothly recomposed himself as each time before. 

‘How so?’ He raised a brow inquisitively. He was studying you, analysing your words and movements, and you could feel it; just did your best to ignore it.

‘I want to apologise for my behaviour out on the deck. It had not been my intention to act out so irrationally or to hurt you or cause any tension among your crew, who I know deeply respect you so.’ What followed was silence as he let his words soak into himself. That lasted approximately a quarter of a minute before he nodded shortly. 

‘Your daddy has tought you well, hasn’t he, princess?’

‘Excuse me?’ You blinked slowly, not receiving the response you had expected.

‘Don’t try to fool me with the pleasantries, sweetheart. No one taught you to fight but, instead, told you you could get away with your pretty smile, I understand.’ 

‘I…’ you stuttered momentarily, trying to comprehend what the captain had said, most notably the new nickname he had slipped past his lips. It was strange to get hung up on a thing like that among everything else that had happened, yet… ‘Do you think I need a man to tell me how to survive?’ you let your mind realign correctly again. ‘That’s quite a rude assumption to make of you.’

‘Oh, please, princess, on the contrary.’ He had you completely speechless, which might have been best for him as he had plenty more to say. ‘Feel offended if I actually start believing that is all you can do. You are much too smart to just play this naive act. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. You are  too smart to think that a little slap would be enough for me to lose all of my crew’s respect– I should feel offended by that kind of assumption, as a matter of fact, or that I was supposed to get fooled by your submission now. If you think a few kind words would be enough to make me melt for you….’

‘I don't think even the flames from the deepest pits of hell could do that.’ 

‘And there you go again, sweetheart,’ he chuckled.

‘I didn’t mean–’

‘No, I know what you mean, princess.’ His mannerisms and voice constantly wavered between calm and raging, too quick in the changes to pinpoint precisely. Nevertheless, it kept you on your toes and your heartbeat skipping. ‘And I think you know that if I really wanted to punish you, I wouldn’t do it here, but out there,’ he cocked his head toward the door, ‘where everyone could see what exactly happens when you disobey the captain.’ He looked at you; it was enough to make your whole body freeze. Who would have thought this warm honey colour would have such a cold effect on you? 

‘So if you are not to punish me,’ you sat up straight, cleared your throat, ‘Why am I here?’ You let your back hit the chair's backrest, allowing one of your arms lazily hang over the armrests, but it didn’t feel right, so you quickly shifted sides. 

‘Must there be a reason?’ he asked, which you thought was ridiculous. But, of course, there had to be a reason for him to bring you into his cabin after days of being on his ship. Besides altercations and confrontations, the two of you had barely shared a word, and now you were sitting six feet away from him, talking, almost civil-like.

You forgot he had asked you a question or what your answer was supposed to be. 

‘You are right,’ he sighed, despite you not saying a word. ‘I don’t let just anyone in here.’

‘Is that meant to be flattering?’ You raised a brow, still unsure where this situation was leading to. He seemed to think your question through momentarily before smiling with his head down. 

‘No, I suppose not particularly.’ There was another long silence that followed. You looked around more at the chair you were sitting on, it seemed to be a plain and straightforward chair, and nothing else in the room gave you any sense that something was wrong… then why did you feel like there was? And why had he not stopped grinning? 

You turned toward the door, wondering if you could outrun him and leave the room. But… would there be a point to it? The ship was only so big; you could not hide on it forever.

‘I have my man Henderson waiting outside, so don’t worry, he’ll catch you.’ Munson said as if he could read your thoughts. ‘Is this really so bad? I’m quite enjoying the silence.’

‘Perhaps you enjoy it because you have the privilege of understanding the circumstances of it.’ 

‘See, you are too clever for all that pretty princess nonsense. Truly unflattering.’ Yet it is what he remained calling you constantly. Princess. Your jaw clenched as you made your body sit as still as possible.

‘Unlike your brutish decorum,’ you quipped, unsure if your intentions had been humorous or insulting. Either way, you got him to laugh. That small chuckle, but he tilted his head back slightly this time. It was just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his neck and the scar that ran right across it as if someone had tried their hardest to put him down a long time ago, their failure now permanently stitched into his skin. It seemed like the type of thing the Captain would take the joy out of. 

The candles flickered all around you, enveloping you in the amber light. Compared to the dark wood of the cabin, and the darkening sky outside the windows, the room felt like it was trapping you within its flames. And they seemed to be growing. Like in your dreams, except it was not the darkness, but this devilish light that was taking over. The glow burned more and more, like a halo around the Captain. Brighter as his grin grew wider, tugging at the corners of his mouth like a string. To see Munson smile like that chilled you to your core and distracted you from realising what it truly was that lit up the sky. 

At first, you considered it to be the glow of the sunset, but that could not be. It had set long ago. The sky had already turned into a black abyss that no sun could come close to. Millions of stars were looking over you, the moon was at its smallest form, but the sun was not giving off a warm glow. That burning globe was nowhere to be seen. 

Thus, upon closer inspection, you realised what the source of light was.

Fire.

Real, warm, man-made fire.

Your body moved on its own, with no thoughts behind your actions; you got off the chair, which fell back to the ground with a thud as you ran to the window.

It looked surreal, the small island in the short distance—It was hard to see, but from the far right side, you could make out the shape of a harbour town, at the foot of a mountain, with houses surrounded by deep shrubbery and trees, coloured by the warm yellow and orange light of the torches on the street. You could almost hear the people on the coast talking and singing in the tavern. As much joy as it was to see a landscape with more than the blue horizon, none of it felt familiar to you. It was as much of a hopeful as it was a sad reminder of your state. Because it was too good to be true for it to be your home, you recognised the differences immediately, but you would take anything over this ship. In addition, you saw the ships anchored at the small harbour: militia. Someone out there could save you.

You let your hand touch the cold glass. The candles in the room formed a soft glow on everything, reflecting in the windows. Therefore, you could see him get up from his throne and walk over to you, hovering over you only inches away. He had not said a word since your small comment, had barely reacted besides that grin, and you were awaiting his next move. 

‘What are you doing?’ you asked in fear. He, however, did not answer. You had to make out from the reflection what was happening. The reflection, as well as your own body. His breath on your neck, his lips ghosting that part of you. One of his hands reached for yours, which you quickly pulled away.

‘I just remembered,’ he said, his voice like you had never heard it before. It was indescribable as, like most of his actions, you could not pin them on an intent. 

Your breath shook as you repeated one word. ‘What?’ 

‘Why I wanted you here, darling.’ His voice was merely a whisper, and you could have felt it on you from anywhere in the world. Like nothing you had felt before and preferably never would again. It followed you around and covered your entire body. Maybe because of that, you had not realised he had left you at that window. So focused on ignoring all the signs he left on you and too enamoured by the island that crept closer and closer to you, you did not know that Munson had moved away from you. That he, in fact, had walked all the way across the room.

Until it was too late.

You could not manage a syllable before he explained himself, already standing at the door. 

‘I make for a lovely distraction, don’t I?’ With that, he opened the door and stepped out, shutting it loudly behind him. So loud you nearly missed the lock being turned on the other side, but that kind of sound does not escape one. 

You were about to protest, already taking your first steps towards the door, cursing the captain and his moronic jests when, almost simultaneously, the ship bucked. Like something heavy had fallen off it and was keeping it from moving. The anchor. The ship was settling. They were planning to go on land to the town ahead of you.

And you have now locked away, once again, in the captain’s cabin. 

After a scream that made your throat burn, the room fell into silence. It was so quiet in the room you could hear what was happening outside. The crew was noisy, bustling around, and excited. Slowly, the puzzle pieces were coming together. 

The active crew. The harbour town. The mischievous smile on Munson’s face. 

You had not expected anything less than filthy trickery from the captain, and here it was. He locked you up in his cabin to prevent you from escaping onto the land. Having gained freedom from your cage, it would have been too easy to lock you in again. Instead, he played you. He lured you forcefully into his quarters to chain you up so you could not run away. 

Well, not exactly chain you up, but as you stood in the middle of his large room, you felt as if you had been shackled to the ground. Though you could move your entire body freely, each move felt heavy, like the solemn act of locking that door not only restrained you but was actually sucking the energy out of your limbs. 

That is what he did to you. This impossible man exhausted you every waking minute of the day that you were near him. 

You reached for the door once you regained some movement in your legs, despite knowing how it would end up. Pulling it made it only budge slightly in its hinges, but it would go no further. It was locked. No matter how hard you pulled and pull, you did. It was as if you would be strong enough to break whatever lock held the hinges closed. Before you knew it, your fists slammed on the wood panels, and tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes. You would have screamed if you had any hope left.

Why was this your breaking point? Was it that you always ended up in the same place, no matter how much time passed? Locked up in a dark corner. Powerless and afraid–the thing you were fighting so hard from becoming. That might have perhaps been even more infuriating. Not what he had done to you, but what he made you become. The poor girl pleading to no one to let her out of the room she walked into alone. 

You hit the door until your hands hurt, but no one came. Of course, not. No one was aboard to hear it. They were all threading the land… You didn’t even want to think about what would happen to those poor people. Those unsuspecting civilians just living their lives in a small harbour town. You could see the building through the large window now clearly. They looked to have been built with no wealth. It is where fishermen lived with their families. They would have nothing to offer those storming into pillage, burn, and murder. Because that is what those monsters of the Hellfire did. And soon, they would return from the island with their “treasures”, just like they had from your ship. 

But… would they come back with more women? Had you been just one of their trophies? What would have happened if you were not the daughter of a rich man who could pay them for your return? More tears streamed out. At this point, it was unstoppable. No matter how often you told yourself to stand up and pull yourself together, it would all crumble down as fast. 

Deep breaths. Just for a few seconds.

All you could do now was remind yourself that you could do better. That you were better than Munson and all his men. That when he came back, he could not see you like this. You had to stand up and show who he was trying to break down. He showed off his battle scars proudly? Well, so could you. You would ensure he would see those reminders before your tears, which you now wiped off your cheeks.

The candlelight flickered, but they had been on for a long time, the wax melting with each passing second. How long until you were in complete darkness? Would they come back by then? It must have been a quarter of an hour since Munson locked you in his room. How much longer would they need to destroy a town like that? A few more minutes at best. It would be pointless to keep banging at the door, so what could you do but sit it out until you were released. 

You considered sitting in his chair— no, it was definitely a throne. Even from across the room in the dimming light, you could make out the pictures placed upon it with a knife’s blade. Craftsmanship you could have imagined placed in your father’s study. As well as most of the furniture around you, actually. But to sit in it felt wrong, and in fact, the bed posed along one of the walls looked much more inviting. 

However, it was nothing of the luxury you had expected from looking at it. It creaked as you sat down, and the unevenness was imminent when your back touched it. Whatever way you lay or rolled, it felt like ten thousand tiny pin pricks to your spine. Could it be worse than the floor you had been prompted to in the cargo den? And this was the captain’s lodge… It did not make sense. 

The pillow, however, felt heavenly. With a softness which only the finest goose could provide, suddenly all the other pain went away, and with the warm fleece thrown over you, you could fall asleep in moments. If it only wasn’t for everything else in the room, and your confined state, that pulled you away from your slumber. 

You remained on the bed, unsure how long, which troubled your mind. Surely, by now, they should have returned with their harvested bounty. Instead, Hellfire remained uncharacteristically peacefully quiet, and the town mirrored that ambience from what you could make out through the window. The only fire that burned lit the night and felt welcoming to all.

And for a long time, nothing changed. 

So, locked in a room alone, with no option of serene slumber, you began to roam around practically. What else could you do? The captain had doomed you to hours of boredom. Therefore, you could not expect him to think you would do anything else. Or did he believe you would curl up in a corner and cry until his return? It was not hard to imagine that a sight like that would be appreciated by a man like him, and well, you were not ready to give him that. Besides, the idea of being able to look through the things in Munson’s seemingly, private quarters felt like an opportunity only a fool would not take. 

Once the idea had bubbled up in your mind, your eyes immediately hit a target. The large wardrobe right opposite the bed practically called to you. With its uneven doors that stood ajar by simply being put together wrong, it felt like an invitation. The hinges creaked like any other on the ship and opened to a rack of coats, shirts, pants, and boots. They were all distinct but similar enough to know one person had put them there. Who once may have owned them would remain a mystery until the end of time. 

You let your fingers trace over the material hanging in front of you. It was silken but old and moth-eaten, fragile from its use. Most of the shirts were, but it would do. So you grabbed the cleanest looking one and a pair of trousers, and that was that. 

With no idea when anyone decided to come back, you had to move swiftly, putting an item on as soon as one had taken another off. It was easier said than done. While you had removed most layers of your dress to make it more comfortable, it was still a hassle to remove in its entirety, and then the amount of material flooded over you as you tried to keep it together while simultaneously pulling this new shirt over your head.

It was quite large; the sleeves had to be rolled several times to reach your wrists. The collar was practically slipping down your shoulder, but it was decent. Only now did you realise how much weight you must have lost on board, not having had a decent meal in so long—even longer. Because the conditions on the Red Tail might have been idyllic compared to now, they still were not the best. Food was not scarce but was no feast either. Not wanting to remind your body of it, you pushed the thought of a meal away and went back to your clothes. 

The dark brown, or nearly black, trousers were a loose fit, sagging down your hips as you let go of them. Luckily, there were a few belts in a drawer of the wardrobe, and you picked one that felt the least flamboyant–the one that would cause the least damage as “stolen property of the captain”. It was your strategy on all pieces of clothing. Besides comfort and cleanliness, you did not want to stand out. Having seen how the rest of the crew dresses, your thought of dark trousers and a white shirt seemed safe enough. To ruin this with a large silver belt buckle was counter-effective. Though your eye did momentarily linger on one belt, embellished with a golden clip formed to look like a snake with a ruby eye.

There was no mirror in the room, or any suitably reflective surfaces, besides the window, which gave you an impression by opposing the dark night sky and waters with the lights inside the cabin. Seeing yourself after so long was not the most pleasant sight, but you could also witness one strength. Your smile. It was still there. Weak, but holding on and pushing yourself to go on.

You would get through this.

And the new clothes certainly helped. Ignoring how wrong it felt to wear something that belonged to Munson and that he has worn countless times, no doubt. Could you remember him wearing this specific shirt? You couldn’t be sure when all the items look so similar. But the chances were high for that to have happened, and you weren’t enjoying it. It was like a cruel joke that Munson took out on you once again. You felt his influence and the ghost of his presence without being near you. Even the things you wanted and did on your own accord, planned to rebel against his oppressive position over you, he still managed to get his hands on it and poison everything.

Could he poison you? Corrupt, whatever piece of you was left unbroken? If this was considered theft, which he most likely did, would it mean you had stooped down to the level of the sea criminals? The idea made you feel like the boat had suddenly rocked heavily, tossing your head and stomach around until you saw double. But only momentarily, because then another somewhat comforting thought came to you. If you were already in the darkness, you could settle, and there was little you could do to make your matters worse. 

You grabbed the ruby-eyed snake belt off the shelf and wrapped it around your waste. Munson be damned.

Once dressed and fitted, you folded your old dress and put it onto the bed. Of course, with so much material, it could be repurposed in a handful of things, but most likely, you saw it take up the function of a new pillow for yourself. 

After that, you looked at what else there was to see and to find out about your dearest captain Eddie Munson. Next to the wardrobe which you had just ambushed, in the corner of the room, stood a large bookshelf. It was uneven, seeming to be bucking under its weight and all the heavy volumes stacked inside it. How the books were placed looked like an intricate puzzle, highly sensitive. As if it would all topple down if you simply touched it. 

You were hesitant to walk over to it, to open its glass doors and peek at the titles carved along the leather-bound spines. Unsure why you had expected to books to have formed a coat of grey on them. Dust from years of neglect like most things and men aboard. You were proven wrong, however, when no dust cleared as you opened the shelves. Whatever information they held inside has been read on several occasions. At least a more significant part of them.

Some books, the ones on the lower shelf, were less disturbed, with that thin layer of grey topping them, a topic that must be less appealing to the reader but interesting enough to have rubbed off the gold of the spine. Not being able to read what was said on it, you picked the book up. 

Though you recognised the words, you could not believe what you were reading. Not in this room, on this ship. The two did not connect in your brain. 

Milton’s words seemed foreign in this context, but you knew them well. It was the first that caught your eye of the pages marked with a red ribbon in the middle:

Of fellowship I speak Such as I seek, fit to participate All rational delight, wherein the brute It cannot be human consort.

After a moment, it made sense–perfect sense, in fact–for Munson to have obtained such a story. The temptations of the fallen angel to corrupt the world, calling war upon the heavens. It had never spoken to you before, but suddenly, rereading the verses, you felt a cold chill run down your spine.

A page was enough for you to put the book back in its place. Next to it were the other volumes of Paradise Lost and works by other poets; Swift, Blake, Wordsworth and Pope were some of the few you could make out in the worn-out binds. On the shelves above were books on astronomy and bundles of maps, although these felt unnecessary when glancing at the large map that covered most of the wall. As you had looked at it for the first time, seeing the amount of ink poured over it in annotations and markings, it had felt entirely unusable, but now you saw a logic to the madness. The arrows and dotted lines. The crosses over certain islands, marking past victories presumably, or future ones. Where could you be finding yourself on this mural? You tried to look for a while but, in reality, had no possibility of knowing where the Hellfire was in the world. But you did find another place instead. Seeing it on his map, the original, by now slightly faded, ink showing the city name tauntingly, pained you. Knowing you were so close to finally being free again made you want to scream all your feelings out at once. Your home remained in its place, calling to you, and there was nothing you could do but stare at it blankly, trace your finger over the letters, and ignore the fresh ink circling it like a dooming curse. 

But besides this enlarged edition and the atlases in the bookcase, there were even more maps to be found on the desk among navigational instruments. A compass lay discarded, broken and turning in its place like a tornado. The loose pieces of paper were ready to be blown away to the world's four corners: reports, diary logs, and letters. Unfortunately, the writing was not discernible enough to read, and something within you told you there was not enough time to decypher the code-like signature. What you did still try to look at was the drawers of the desk. There had been three in total, and the first two opened up to reveal more paper and a gun. Barrell blackened from frequent use. It certainly was good to know of this item’s existence and location. 

The third drawer, you were ready to pull out, but it seemed jammed in—nay, locked. You tried to pull it a few more times to be safe, but whatever contents were inside it were not intended for your, or anyone else’s, eyes. You glanced at the table to see if anything could help you pick the lock but soon gave up on the idea.

And probably for the better, too, as you heard it precisely as you opened the first browned pages. Voices and footsteps. The men had returned. You couldn't be sure how much time exactly had gone by that you were alone, but enough to become startled at the burst of sound. And it all happened so quickly that you had no time to figure out what their chorused voices meant. There were no signs to explain what happened on shore. The only thing that felt right to conclude was that they were… happy. Satisfied with whatever venture went on in your absence. 

The door flung open. 

You were not sure what made you do it, but the second the door moved, you were up on your feet with the old gun in your hand, pointing it directly at the head that appeared. The brown eyes in front of you gawked open in shock and confusion, and it made you smile your first earnest smirk in a long time.

‘You’ll have to excuse me, I tried to make myself a bit more comfortable while you were away,’ you tried to sound as confident as possible, as these few hours by yourself had given you the encouragement to do so, hoping that the tremor in your hand was not visible from the distance between you.

‘I can see that, princess.’ Slowly, the shock in your visitor’s eye subdued. ‘Please, be my guest.’ Munson extended his arm toward the thrown behind you, offering you the seat. You looked at it, unsure. All you could think in that second was that he would expect you to be too scared to take up the proposal, so you sat down. Legs wide to take up as much space as you could. When you looked back up at the captain, he seemed composed at first glance, and his words spoke in a relaxed tone, but you felt something was not quite right. His secure posture was overshadowed by the flicks of his eyes, from you to the desk, the bed, the books, and the gun in your hand. Your chest still rose heavily with each breath as you tried to calm down when he stepped closer.

‘You can put the gun down now, darling.’ He smiled and came forward to the chair you had sat in previously. The roles were now reversed, yet wholly not, for you knew he still had the upper hand. He had the ship and the crew in the palm of his hand. All you had in yours was a gun… with no bullets. 

The trigger clicked, and nothing happened. 

 Munson made himself comfortable, and in the meantime, a crewmate walked into the room behind him. You had seen him around the ship but had not heard his name. He was one of the better-looking ones around the vessel, but it did not say much in your circumstances. They were as ugly as the others on the inside. 

But you were not occupied with the man, or his appearance, as much as with what he was carrying. A large tankard, which sloshed around a dark liquid as he walked, and an even bigger plate. Its aromas hit your nostrils, and you immediately felt yourself drooling at the thought of a decent, warm meal. 

The captain had let his crew member pass, placing the food on the desk, and when his eyes caught you, he froze. You must have drastically changed your appearance by dressing in the captain’s clothes, and the gun was still lazily hung between your fingers. Nevertheless, his eyes stayed on you until he left the room. It was once more only you and Munson now. In between you, the plate of food. 

‘You must have enjoyed yourself quite a bit in here, didn’t you?’

‘Well, there is only so much a person can do when locked up alone.’ 

‘Next time, I’ll be sure to leave you some company then, shall I?’ He watched you intently, but he had not touched the food or drink. Were they possibly for you? The idea alone sounded silly. It must be another torture plan of his? Let you close to a proper meal, give you hope, just to take it away and make you watch as he indulged in the feast himself. Your body screamed with hunger, the days of eating so poorly finally catching up on you, but you pulled back. Your eyes found his directly as you stared silently, expecting his next move. 

What happened next was not that.

‘We figured you must be starving.’ The captain’s words sounded sincere, and it was your turn to gaze up at him in shock and confusion. What was this supposed to mean? You looked down at the plate once more but did not move.

‘Is this poisoned?’ Better to ask and possibly catch him off-guard.

‘No, it is not poisoned.’ His features softened. ‘Why would we do that?’ He pushed the tankard and plate closer to you.

‘I’m not sure. You seem to constantly want to punish me with no rhyme or reason.’

‘Even if it was poisoned, it would not be effective of me to tell you the truth, now, would it?’

‘As if whatever you do or say only has one intention?’ You retorted, knowing fully well that the man was full of deceiving trickery. His words were layered, his actions calculated. He would manage to play you like a fiddle either way. You knew it, and he knew it too. 

‘Here then,’ exasperated, Munson grabbed the turkey leg on the plate, took a rough bite out of it, and followed it with a big chug from the tankard. ‘Sufficient proof for you, princess?’ he asked, still chewing. But, of course, your mind immediately swerved to the fact that if the meal was indeed poisoned, the toxins would need time before taking effect. And in that time, which he would know how much that was, he could probably find a needed antidote. But he did not seem the man to take such a risk. He wouldn’t perform such an act if it was not safe. Not for your sake. He may seem caring now, but he did not give a damn. Why should he? There was nothing for him to gain out of it.

But he ate the meat with enough ease to make you immediately regret letting him eat your food. 

‘Please,’ he said once he put the food down, ‘it would be a shame for it to get cold.’ 

You gave him an unsure look before hunger took over your mind. The second you reached for the food, there was nothing else anyone could do to stop you from eating everything on that plate. 

It could have been your starving status, but you could have sworn that it was the most delicious meal you had ever consumed, so rich in flavour it was bringing your energy back to you simply by its taste. You couldn’t help the ecstatic moan that escaped you. 

Munson chuckled, ‘yeah, it’s good, isn’t it, princess?’ You did not respond, too occupied by drinking the ale. Never before had you enjoyed the drink's flavour, but it was like ambrosia, coming directly from the gods to you. 

Nothing was said until you finished your plate, coming close to licking it clean. All this time, the captain watched you. Eyes like that of a hawk pinned in on you, catching all your movements, surely analysing them to take advantage of in the future. All you could hope for was that something by your new appearance could throw all that off by just a twinge.

‘Will you keep staring at me like that?’ You felt bold and so let your words out as they came. See how far you could take it. 

‘Can’t blame me with such a sight before me.’ He leaned back in the chair. ‘But no matter how you dress, you’ll always be my princess.’ 

You gagged at his comment. ‘I had to get out of that disgusting dress.’ 

The captain glanced over at the discarded material on his bed. ‘Yes, I can only assume that must have gotten uncomfortable, but you could have just said so. I’m sure we could have found you something else to wear.’ Yes, say this now, why don’t you. Of course, that makes it all sound so reasonable. You were growing increasingly impatient with this man, if that was even possible. 

‘Yes, well, if you didn’t want me taking your clothes, you didn’t have to keep me in here–’

 ‘I have no problems with you wearing that.’ Munson glanced over your body again, and that cold chill that became almost synonymous with the captain to you ran down your spine.

‘Was there a specific reason that I had to be here?’

‘I couldn’t have you running off, could I?’ He checked the tankard, just to find it, much to his disappointment, to be empty, but he still smiled as he put it back on the desk.

‘You could have locked me in my own cell.’ 

‘Thought you would have preferred a bit of comfort for once.’ He said, still looking at the cup. 

‘I do not need comfort,’ you have slept on the ground for weeks, or so it felt, at least, and you could barely remember what it was like to sleep in a soft bed. ‘Besides, your bed feels worse than the floor.’ 

‘You know how to insult a man, don’t you.’ Clearly, by his bemused face, you did not. Whatever you did, the captain was unphased. ‘And after I gave you a nice warm meal, let you wear my clothes.’ He clicked his tongue in disappointment, which was a few steps too far for you. 

‘No– but… I can tell what you are doing. So you can stop this whole charade, because I can see right through it.’

‘Oh, can you now?’ He leaned closer, with his whole body over the flat top of the desk, ‘enlighten me, then.’ 

You quickly searched his eyes for an escape as your mind reached for something to say, but no words were coming out. Munson gave you a few seconds before he smiled and leaned his forearms on the desk.

‘Do you think so little of me? That I am incapable of kindness or decency? There isn’t always a snake hiding in the grass, my dearest.’ It was hard to tell when he wouldn’t stop smiling his wicked and mischievous grin. How could you not think he had schemes up his sleeve when he looked like that. 

‘I think we are both aware of how much you are capable of. And I do not want to have anything to do with it any longer.’ It had been a long day, one after many of such kind, and you did not want to have more to deal with when it came to the captain’s antics. Whatever he was brewing, it could not be good.

‘Are you saying you did not enjoy tonight?’ his eyes toned disappointment, which felt like a mocking stab directed at you. ‘I really would have imagined you to be more thankful, darling, and yet, here you are accusing me of poisoning your delicious food, then questioning my intentions, assuming I am taking advantage of you... While I’ve done is keep you and my crew safe. I couldn’t have you roam around free on the ship, possibly damaging it, or, even worse, yourself.’ Liar, you thought, you were scared I would try and escape.

You glanced at the bone that remained from your dinner. It wasn’t sharp enough to stab with, but maybe if you swung hard enough, it could do some damage. 

‘Do not act like you suddenly care about me or anyone else. Do not mess with my mind because, in all fairness, you cannot.’ Not anymore.

‘I was doing nothing of such kind. But even if—’ Munson got up back, placing his hands behind his back. ‘I will be honest with you, darling, so do not take this as an insult, how could you, if I agree with you– I do not care what happens to you. Not personally. As much as you do not care for me, I assume, at least.

‘But to keep you here for the amount of time it will take me to get you home and get my reward, I sure as hell hope it will be worth it.’ The way he emphasised “hell” made you flinch. ‘And I don’t think your dear daddy would like it if his princess returned home harmed. That could cost me– you understand this, don’t you?’

‘And keeping me locked in a cage, underfed, dirty and miserable– that is how you think I should be treated?’ 

‘You get to live in more luxury than my men, dearest. Or would you like to scrub the deck too?´ He was quick in his responses. But your mind was stuck on what he had really meant in his earlier confession.

‘So, what, I’m an investment now?’ you were worth plenty to him, just not in the same way a human should appraise another human’s life.

He smiled, clicking his tongue again. ‘Isn’t that what a tradesman would call it?’ 

‘A tradesman?’ you scoffed at the idea. ‘Is that what you think this is? A trade?’ Your father was a tradesman. Never could you imagine him acting in such heinous ways to keep his business running. 

‘Is it not?’ He looked around as if the surroundings were a clear answer. And perhaps they were but for different reasons. 

‘Yes, of course. You rampage and kill and torture and destroy. Arrive anywhere and steal whatever you can handle without mercy.’ You remembered how you were dragged out from underneath the table on the Red Tail, right across the ship and the bridge onto the Hellfire. ‘How is that not pure and earnest trade?’ You mocked with a roll of your eyes.

‘I know it must be hard for you to understand, but business at sea is no easy feat. It is a game of survival above anything else. The decision of sailing out to sea may as well be a death wish.’ He kept his tone calm, steady, and yet filled with condescension. He was speaking to you as if to a child and, even worse, trying to feed you a false narrative of heroism and bravery– the exact opposite of what he was.

‘You’re disgusting,’ you wanted to spit the words at him, but your throat was too dry. ‘If you think you can trick me into thinking that you are some kind of hero or that you saved me–’ was this really the narrative he believed to be leading? And was he trying to convince you of such tales? It felt ridiculous and, in all fairness, disrespectful.

‘That is what you don’t seem to grasp, princess,’ his voice suddenly turned softer, intimate. As if he was about to let you in on the deep secrets of the universe. But simultaneously, something was brewing underneath it. ‘There is no such thing as good or bad. No heroes or villains. Some fight for their beliefs while others fight because they are told to.’ His voice grew stronger, sterner. ‘And when you come across the second type, you may try and reason with either side, but you will find that to be impossible. They are simply pawns fighting a bigger man’s game. If you’re lucky, you might get through to some, but in most cases, it is easier to fight it out, much more reasonable, actually— violence is the only universal language. If you sit and think about it, we are all the same on either side of a war. There is nothing to be scared of in one man. It is everything around him, what he stands for, and the aftermath of the battle that scares most.’ His final words were emphasised with a violent tone, but he still held back on how he truly felt. 

‘I–’ you had no words to respond to his little speech. Not when his golden brown eyes were still soaking in your colour. ‘This is no war,’ you finally said, ‘You demolished my vessel and abducted me like a feral monster!’ 

No insult would penetrate his tough skin, however. His eyes were just as deep and cold as any other moment of the day. ‘You can call us devils, or whatever you’d like, darling, but the truth is…the real monsters– the ones you should really be scared of– do not show their true colours. You will never know you’re in danger until it is too late.’ 

You had no words to respond to what he had just proclaimed. The room was filled with the dying flickering of candles and heavy breathing from both of you as you tried to regain your stable heartbeat. The captain glanced over at the map on the wall and spoke his next question still looking at it. 

‘Do you hate me?’ Was his expression sombre or fatigued? And yet you felt like he was hoping for the answer you gave. 

‘Yes,’ you responded without hesitation or stumbling. ‘“Despise” would be a better word for it, in fact.’ 

Despite most likely already having several replies ready, he wondered,  giving you a moment to collect yourself. With one of his hands, he rubbed his stubbled chin in thought. That stubble had been a new addition to his look. As you had noticed, he was usually a man to regularly shave, but something must have kept him away from the blade.

He turned around, his back facing you. He had broad shoulders, which you could see rise with each breath he took, even with the layers of clothing over them. He seemed to be encapsulated in the ocean’s silence, too deep in his thoughts. You were almost comforted by it until he quickly turned back to face you.

‘Splendid.’ For a sober man, he had the stature of a village drunk, a short attention span, and an erratic nature to his words and actions,  ‘And tell me, if you wouldn’t mind—’

‘Why do I get the feeling that I will.’

‘Now, now, let me finish.’ he held his hand up for anticipation and halted for a second before announcing his question: ‘Why do you despise me so?’ 

‘Why?’ you scoffed, feeling as if you had made your reasons loud and clear any moment you had spent with the man, ‘It is not like you have given me a reason to feel anything else but severe distaste for you. Let it just be the fact that I have been held prisoner on your ship for days.’

‘Yes, dragged you from underneath the desk, you poor thing,’ he said with distance. ‘But it was not me, however, who performed said dragging. So, again, please, princess, why do you hate me?’ 

 ‘It is not like you have given me a reason to feel anything else but severe distaste for you. You are a vile and mannerless man, with no morals or— are you even listening?’ As you talked, he kept looking at the map, walking across the room, seeming to have no interest in you as you sat on his thrown answering the question he himself had asked.

‘Yes, yes, do not let my vile mannered and moralless existence disturb you.’ One of his brows furrowed, but you doubted it had anything to do with you or what you said. ‘I still find no reason in this for your personal hatred towards me.’ He could not be serious. You refused to believe so. And his large interest in the mural was beginning to bring you on edge. 

‘Is there something wrong? Because I can tell you that I had not touched your precious little map of yours—’

‘Oh no, that’s not it. Don’t you worry you're pretty little head, there will be no cruel punishment for you… just yet.’ He smiled, stepping closer towards the map, letting his head hang from side to side. ‘Yes… I see.’

The curiosity was eating you alive, but would he tell you if you asked? There was only one way to find out. 

‘What is it?’ 

Captain Munson did not answer, and you assumed he, once again, was simply ignoring you when he suddenly clapped his hands with an exclamation and turned to you. ‘I had my suspicions when the island we just visited felt unfamiliar, but well, it’s making sense now.’ 

‘That what?’ 

‘It seems we have sailed terribly off-course for the past two days.’ 

In other words, you were lost. 

Chapter 4...

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[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈’𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: HERE || part two: through red emotions

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ Joel and Ellie were your little family. Until life made them believe you abandoned them. Now, back in Jackson, seems like they’ll never forgive you. But by Halloween, you’re clean from them. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬_ Halloween themed, post-season 1 (Jackson era), asshole!Joel, mean!Ellie, sweetie pie!reader, lovers to enemies, angst, our baby reader is basically bullied by Ellie (luv her sorry), since I’m anemic, reader is anemic too (like in my series lol), mentions of poor health in general. 𝐀/𝐍_ in honor of 1989 TV coming, part 1 is clean, if this doesn’t flop, out of the woods is part two.

My Pedrito playlist || index (+ fics here) || bookstagram acc

The doors of Jackson rarely opened, besides when patrol happened. And when they did for another reason, two things usually happened: gossiping and big news.

Well, not always. But for most of the time, that’s how it worked. For Joel, it didn’t matter a lot. Ever since he came back to Jackson with Ellie, he had changed. Well, again, not a lot. He remained serious, reserved, and a man of few words. Except with Ellie, he hadn’t accepted it out loud, but he was some paternal figure to the kid.

And the maternal figure was long gone; You.

A young sweet woman who appeared in Kansas looking for medicines. Who made Ellie happier and safer until she gained Joel’s trust.

And who made him almost fall in love.

Almost, because you decided to abandon Ellie and ignore what Joel pleaded you to do; take Ellie to the Fireflies along Tommy the first time you three came to Jackson.

That night, Ellie cried and yelled at him, but she was beyond angry with you. She called you a liar, weak, selfish, and other hurtful things. Then Joel also let his rage out on you. He said a lot of things, but saying you weren’t brave, and that he should’ve never trusted you…that kept reminiscing in his head occasionally. Maybe he could’ve handled everything better, but that didn’t change anything.

The next morning, when you came to the stable to say goodbye, you left a mess of sobs and tears.

Two words finally shattered you; shameless coward.

And the two ignored something for months till the present; They never gave you the chance to explain what was happening.

When they came back, you were gone. Joel didn’t ask, and neither did Ellie. They both questioned it, especially the girl.Joel rarely thought about you. But when he did, he spent hours at it.

Questioning would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.

He missed you, but he wasn’t brave enough to admit it. Instant karma, he was a coward who couldn’t admit what he did in that Fireflies hospital, and he couldn’t accept how wrong he acted with you.

He didn’t feel that karma yet.

Until the doors of Jackson opened. And among some group of people, you came in.

Tommy knew everything. He even tried speaking with his older brother that snowy morning. But Joel didn’t want to hear your excuses from the mouth of Tommy.

With a simple glance from him, Joel was left alone as he saw his younger brother walk towards the group of people who had arrived. Some of the crowd came to greet the new visitors, Joel saw Maria helping you get down off the horse. And he finally was able to see you.

Time hadn’t passed across your face. You remained with a sweet and gentle smile. The very short hair you had now was a shock. Joel had been used to your long braid from every hard day you spent together. He remembered a night where you were cold and he offered to join him in his sleeping bag. You apologized for your braid getting in his way, but he said it was okay.

When did everything go wrong? 10 months and seeing you again made him feel strange.

There wasn’t time to think about Joel or Ellie when you arrived. To you, their present parade was unknown. So unknown, that you were in the same town as them once again.

“You didn’t answer our radio signals for months. We were so worried!” It’s the first thing Maria says. You can only smile and shrug.

“I’m really sorry. Jeremy and Lia lost connection in a little fight with infected, and they couldn’t risk anything” A lot had happened. And you felt so empowered from having the guts to leave for so long.

“Oh. God knows everything that happened out there, right?”

“We have a lot to talk about. Where’s Tommy?” You ask smiling. Then you make some minutes to appreciate how much the town had changed over seasons. The trees had turned orange, red and brown. The smell in the main entrance was like cinnamon and caramel apples. And there were a lot of fall decorations. When you turn back, Tommy Miller is there to greet you.

“Right here!” The man appears and you have to greet him with a hug.

“You look great, kid. So, did it work?” There’s a big wave of happiness that invades as soon as he asks.

“Yes, I’m free from it” the marriage sighs relieved.

“Guess it was worth it,” Maria says patting your shoulder.

“Take a rest now. We’ll talk about everything in dinner” you agree with Tommy.

You want to ask if he has heard something from Joel. If he succeeded with Ellie to go with the Fireflies. But you don’t. You’re not ready to hear if he found something. Whether it was a home, happiness, or a lover.

Cause although neither of you ever talked about it. You never confessed your feelings for him. He never showed a sign that he might have loved you back. So no, you were no fool to ask that question to Tommy. Same thing for Ellie. You never revealed you loved her like a sister or even a daughter. You never admitted that for many months. You had acted along with Joel and the girl like a little family.

No, it wasn’t acting. They had genuinely been your family.

But that era was over.

You made your choice. And you still believed you were right. There was only one mistake you made.

Revealing the news to them first and then never being able to share the cause of it. Breaking that little girl’s heart and letting down Joel. It still haunts you.

But the time to go over that was approaching.

…

It wasn’t snowing time yet. But the temperatures were about to drop significantly. Enough for a jacket and sweaters. There was a pair of heel boots you left in that little house Maria and Tommy offered you before leaving the town. So, it was time to show off that pair of boots and get going.

The way to the dinner hall was short. Some people greet you and ask how you’re doing now. It feels like rebirthing. Being able to have a second chance in life. But the memory of your little family gone and broken because of you makes you stop that little celebration of life early. Sometimes you wished you had chosen the right words.

Someone must be doing gravy. Because it smells like Thanksgiving, in the middle of October. Some people are in a little line to get warm punch with cinnamon and fruits. Your mouth waters and a smile appears on your face. You want to eat and laugh. You are eager to talk to Tommy and Maria.

The first couple with mercy who took the time to listen to you and help you.

An old woman who had been in the kitchen since you arrived for the first time smiles at you and asks you to grab a tray of food. When you turn to the right to have some food, you are literary punched in the face. At least that’s how it felt. Because that same night you had to encounter face to face with the two ghosts of your past; Joel and Ellie.

With you being static, they notice you finally.

Ellie shows clear shock, but soon she makes the sign of shock disappear from her face. Deep down, she wanted to hug you, she wanted to tell you everything that happened. But she refuses. Joel wasn’t ready to see you so close that soon. But he remains stoic as usual.

“Ellie…” you attempt to vocally recognize her.

She firmly holds her tray, empty, and somehow, she still looks angered at you. Which makes you nervous. And you don’t dare to look at Joel in the eyes, so you avoid it.

“You’re back…” she spits out. And you have some hope that she will be willing to listen to you.

“Yes. I had to go because-” she rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t say I cared, or I wanted to listen” That hurt a little. Ellie could be very tough, and you really had hoped she would try to talk.

“Oh…I-” but she stops you again.

“What? You thought we would be friends again? Let me remind you… YOU abandoned me and Joel!” The lump in your throat gets tighter, but you swallow it firmly.

“Please, I’ve never explained it” you suggest, but Ellie seems too proud and stubborn as usual.

“Oh, save it. We’ve been through enough shit to listen to you too” If Joel wanted, he would’ve scold her, but he didn’t. Which hurt you even more. The girl leaves her used tray in the dirty dishes and leaves.

You want to drop the tray when you finally eye Joel. He looks better. Same grey hairs in the same spots. You were so glad to see him healthy, but this wasn’t what you imagined it would be the first re-encounter.

“Joel-” you try to reason with him. He wants to savor the way you gently call him. It makes him remember all the good memories he made with you. All the nights you made him smile, when you annoyed him with Ellie, and the nights were he was able to hold you a little.

But that’s over. You are not a priority anymore. Just Ellie.

“She’s right, though” and just like that, he also left. Without even glancing at you, barely brushing your shoulder with his. It was cold… and it hurt like hell. The old lady at the counter smiles apologetically at you, and you smile back. She sees some tears rolling down your cheeks but doesn’t say anything.

…

A week passes between awkward exchanges. You are babysitting Tommy and Maria’s baby when Joel arrives to visit his brother. So, you had to leave early. You started working in the gardens, helping to harvest enough for the cold season. So, when kids would join once a week to help, Ellie would ignore you.

And when it was movie night, you were having fun until Ellie arrived with her new friends. Or when you were having a drink in the saloon and Joel had to be there. You catch him staring once in a while and it freaks you out.

You debate whether to write an apology letter or do something for them. Because you feel like you can’t be happy at all when things haven’t gone through makeup with them.

But it all comes down one afternoon.

The council of the town suggested having a Halloween celebration. With a costume party and pumpkin contest. So you needed extra help with the harvest. Maria had set up some people, including Joel and Ellie. It was a low key moment to have some opportunity to get you three together.

You were digging your hands in the dirt to take out carrots and green onions. There’s a little hat covering your head, and you have to use some tools to work.

Completely ignoring but highly aware of Joel and Tommy talking afar, continuously turning to look at you and then going back to talk. To be honest, that was the first day when you started getting tired of their mean attitudes toward you. Their mean glances, cold comments and sarcastic hints.

Some people left their baskets beside you so you could later wash the vegetables and take them to the kitchen.

And it was Ellie’s turn.

“Here’s the basket” she coldly says.

“Thanks, leave it here. And be careful, please” She noticed your cold tone attack back, and it surprised her. But also bothers her and makes her grow more stubborn.

“Whatever you say” Maybe Ellie didn’t mean to drop the basket so harshly. But she does, dropping all the vegetables and others from different baskets too.

“ELLIE! I told you to be careful!” A lot of people turn to look at you and the girl.

“I said I was sorry, stop fucking yelling.”

Joel appears beside her. Ready to fuck everything up even more.

“Hey! Don’t yell at her” When Joel raises his voice at you, you freeze.

“She’s a kid. You’re an adult” You know it’s enough when he continued.

“ENOUGH!” Finally, everyone’s attention is on you three again.

“Calm down, y/n” Tommy tries to calm you, but you won’t rest in peace till you yell back at them.

“NO. I’M SICK OF THESE TWO!” Ellie immediately regretted being so stubborn, she remembered you could also be as mean as her.

“How many times do I have to say it? I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t want to abandon you two.”

“And no. I’m not a selfish coward. Because I was diagnosed with anemia, and I was fucking dying. So, choosing to stay to fight for my life wasn’t being coward.” Neither of them expected it.

“I’m done with this psychological punishment or whatever this is!” You finally take the gardening gloves out, looking so enraged.

“…y/n” Joel calls you, knowing that he can’t startle you more.

“You don’t want me to yell at your bratty kid? Do it your fucking self, Joel” he’s taken aback by the way you push the gloves against his chest, passing past him and sprinting out.

The man sighs, holding the gloves and looking at Tommy, who only shrugs. Knowing that it would end up happening either way.

…

Joel learns a lot of things that night.

You started feeling sick a little before arriving in Jackson. You never tell him or Ellie because you three already had other problems. And by the time you met Maria and spent an afternoon with her, you had fainted in the shower. The doctor said you were likely suffering from anemia. With the lack of food, strong menstruation, and low blood pressure, you had been carrying with it for months, but as usual, there was a breakpoint.

The doctor suggested you go to another town where you could get iron injections, so you agreed. But that meant having to separate from Ellie and Joel. Tommy showed him some pictures the doctor took of you to show as references for the other doctors. You had giant bruises on the back of your legs, with yellow, green, and purple shades. It cracked Joel. Hearing Tommy say how you cried to him and Maria how you never meant to hurt Ellie or Joel. That you loved them two as your family, finally made Joel’s eyes get crystallized. You left around early spring, some weeks before he came back with Ellie. And for a long period, as you left with other people of Jackson, nobody had news. Until you appeared looking better.

“I fell in love with her, brother” Joel admitted. Even when forever, he said you were younger, that things would never work out.

“Why didn’t you let her explain?” Joel sighed, drinking a deeper shot of alcohol.

“I was so mad, that she was leaving Ellie behind. I just- Why she didn’t also ever say a thing about being sick? I would have given everything for her.” Tommy smiled sadly.

“That’s why. She didn’t want to worry you. I-… I think she also loved you too, Joel” The man closed his eyes and imagined what could’ve been. Maybe you two would be okay if things had happened differently.

“Tell Ellie. Then go with y/n and let everything out. This is your chance, brother. Be happy, love and rest now” Joel nodded slowly.

He had one chance…

…

Jackson looked beautiful decorated with pumpinks and dry leaves everywhere.

The streets are literally empty because everyone must have already been at the party. There’s a gorgeous sunset painting the town, and you can’t wait to walk across the street with sunset.

You know you’re late. As much as you can, you hurry to get out of the house. Maria made you and your other friends to get dressed for the occasion. With very little of options, you found a pair of orange and black lined thighs, an old witch hat and a black lipstick . Along with a black dress everything ended up fitting perfectly. You looked pretty, with your everyday chain in your neck and half-braid hairstyle. There’s a weird feeling in your chest, making you feel nervous as you move around your house. But you claimed it was because you were almost sure you were forgetting something.

You confirm it wasn’t that. Your nervousness was because of what was waiting for you at the other side of the door. Joel and Ellie are there.

“Oh no.” you sigh. Acting calmed, opposite of your outburst in prior weeks. You weren’t expecting them to be honest, but you were confident that another outburst would not come along. You lock the door, your hands trembling slightly, avoiding to look at them.

“Please leave me alone now. I’m so close to be over this…” you spit slipping your keys in your bag.

“Look, we didn’t know-“ Ellie starts, but now you interrupt her.

“No, neither of you knew anything. I can tell you both struggled after I stayed here. But I don’t wanna know either, I realized I’m grateful now, even if that meant losing you two” The way you said it, and how you locked your eyes with Joel’s, he knew what you meant. He looked calm, but he was freaking out. He had a lot to say, but felt like he had no chances to do so.

“Both of you can rest now knowing I’m at peace with my decision. I know what I did, and I’m proud of myself. Both of you were wrong, I’m not weak, I never was. I just have a big heart and you couldn’t understand me” They can choose any words quickly before you leave. But they remained quiet.

This is not the last shot Joel will give to have you back. He promises it as he watches you walking peacefully across the street.

You don’t look back. You feel some relief, this is a new era. After months drowning in guilt, wondering if you really were that much of an evil woman to abandon them. But now, you know you’re clean from them.

_____________________________

Idk part two or what?

[inklore]

forbidden cravings

premise: stay in your room; that's all you had to do. a simple demand that you planned on following until something goes bump in the night and you're trapped between two monsters.

pairing: vampire!din djarin x reader x vampire!bo-katan kryze

word count: 5k

contents: blood and biting obviously, oral, threats, murder mention, reader is a little clueless, power imbalance, bo is kinda evil but we love her for it, brief mention of piv.

note: this took me way too long to write and by the end of it i was very tired so hopefully someone out there enjoys this lmao. i could possibly see myself writing more within this little world, maybe.

haunted hoedown day five.

You had never noticed how creaky the house was until tonight. Until you were stuck in a dark, dampened room. Your only light coming from the candle at your bedside, the moon, and the flashes of lightening through the windows. The deep red drapes that match the ones that hang around the four poster bed in the middle of the room, that look ancient and eerie, set your already on edge nerves into a frenzy of fight of flight.

You had dusted this room many times. Have been past the threshold and seen it painted in the daylight. 

But never at night. 

You were prohibited from being here past nightfall. 

The master of the house—your boss—had made it clear upon your first interview a year ago that you’d only be needed in the daytime. That staying after nightfall was not something he needed you around for, and it would be of best interest to the house if you departed once the sun set. 

It’s a rule you questioned little. A rule you were fine and happy to obey. 

It wasn’t your job to question it. It wasn’t your place. 

You were the housekeeper, nothing else. Nothing less. Nothing more. 

And you’d never think of going against the lord of the manor, Din Djarin. 

The infamous inventor. 

The mysterious scholar.

The man with whom you’ve slowly bloomed a friendship with while you’ve worked here. The two of you have spent hours in his library with your fingertips, running along old books, relics he’s come across in his travels, and blue prints for inventions he one day wishes to create. 

The pair of you bonding over the love of old words and worlds you wish you could have been a part of. 

Working for him and being in his home—the dark gray spiraling staircases, the arched doorways, the black and red wallpaper that look hundreds of years old and yet look like they’d just been done yesterday—was a joy. 

A better job than working at the mill or getting by on your looks alone to put food on the table. 

You lucked out. Was honored to get the position and even more honored to befriend the destinguishinly handsome Lord Djarin. 

His staff soon became like a second family to you. A home away from home—a much more beautiful and sprawling home than your own, but a home in all senses of the word. 

Not even the curfew could dampen your love or the job. 

The only thorn in your side, the only downfall—negativity—to working for the Lord was his companion, his wife, Lady Kryze. 

While most days, the two of you would rarely cross paths. Her off on travel, or in the west wing of the house that you seldom find yourself in. 

But when appearance’s were known, brief or not, she always had a look of haughtiness about her. Her red hair laying perfectly on her shoulders, and her dresses always form fitting and beautifully cascading to the floor. The neck line plunged lower than what’s usually considered proper—that always made your cheeks heat when you found yourself rudely staring, a smirk on her lips that quickly got washed away with a scornful arch of her brows. 

She had never been rude to you. Had never demanded of you or treated you unkindly the way one would think when you looked at her intimidatingly beautiful face. The power you know she held with just a look, a twitch of a smile, or the flick of her fingers. 

She was the opposite of Lord Djarin. 

The two seeming an odd match for two people destined to be together. 

Your schoolgirl crush on the Lord of the Manor definitely having little to do with your opinion on the fact. 

It had been Lady Kryze who had suggested you stay. Almost demanding it, with the weather outside being too dangerous to travel. The winds whistling through the old bones of the house. The rain coming down like heavy hail. The thunder that you could feel deep in your bones each time it rumbled. 

Lord Djarin had protested on the matter. Said you could wait out the storm but insisted you leave after. 

“Don’t be rude, honey.” Lady Kryze had said. The sentiment, honey, came off more as an insult than as something sweet and tender. The look on the Lord’s face one of strain and frustration. A warning flashed in his eyes before he gave you a tight lipped smile and nodded in agreement. 

And now here you are. Dressed in a nightgown that Lady Kryze had supplied you with. The white fabric feeling almost like satin against your chilled skin, the lack of heat coming from the radiator on the other side of the room making you frown as your breasts made it more than clear how your body was reacting to the draft in the room—to the cold storm outside. 

The loud thump that startles you from outside of your door tears your gaze from the window and elevates your unease when you put your ear to the dark wood and hear nothing but the old house talking in the way one does in storms or settling.

Lord Djarin had ordered you to stay in your room. To lock the door from the inside and try to get some rest. Assuring you that all was alright, the drafts liked to open the doors at night. 

Listening to the plea in his voice that he tried to hide with his endearing smile was enough to convince you not to try it. To listen to his words. To do what had been asked of you without question once again. 

But the thump comes again. This time, sounding closer. Perhaps a glass broke somewhere in the hall. 

Your teeth chew at your bottom lip in worry. 

What if the Lord or Lady needed help? What if they had fallen? The lack of electricity in the house was more than a factor, a reason, for something that could cause a fall. Candlelight only shows so much in these dark halls. 

And while there had been no cry for help. No croak, groan, or indication that someone needs help; you can’t help the way your heart escalates or why you ignore the nerves, making your hand shake as you unlock the door, twist the cold handle, and open it a sliver. 

Your eyes search the vast darkness of the hall within the tiny space you’ve given yourself. The lit candles in the holders on the wall do little to aid in you seeing anything other than small glows of orange light past the railing that lines the hall. 

The words of the Lord push into the back of your mind as you open the door more and poke your head out into the dark space. The strings of lightening outside paint the empty hall in blue light. Streaking against the dark wallpaper hauntingly. 

“Lord Djarin?” Your voice is faint compared to the booming thunder outside. A gulp of air fills your lungs when you get enough bravery to step fully out of your room and speak a little louder, “Lady Kryze?” 

The silence only pushes you forward. 

Has your bare feet cold and weary against the long rug on the hardwood floor. The floorboards creak with each step that you take.

The portraits of unknown people by unknown painters look more intimidating and scary the longer you venture through the hall. The candles shadow their faces in scowls that aren’t normally there in the daylight. 

Your fingers dig into the side of your nightgown, bunching up the fabric as your heart hammers against your ribs. 

Maybe you should go back to your room. Maybe it was nothing. The rooms with open doors were dark and abandoned. The staircases are bare, and the entryway below, when you look over the rail, is completely encased in darkness.

Maybe it had come from the west wing of the house. Maybe it was a branch outside. Your mind isn’t sure. Isn’t thinking about anything other than getting back to your room, engulfing yourself in the bedspread, and trying to ignore every creepy sound that the storm outside aids in the houses off putting nature.

Being here at night was, in fact, something your nerves could not handle, it seemed. 

You sigh. Come to a stop at the last door along the hallway. Your bottom lip sore from your worrying. Whatever the thump was, it’s not something as drastic as your mind had probably come up with, and unless you feel like venturing down the stairs and through the rest of the house, it wasn’t your concern—and the prospect made you shiver knowing some parts of the house didn’t have candles lining the walls. 

But when you turn to head back to your room, your body crashes into another, and the scream you let out rings along with a crack of thunder, filtering the hallway into a horrific sound of chaos and fear. 

“You were told to stay in your room.” 

“Oh my—" your hand flies to your chest. The beat of your heart feels as if it might beat it’s way out of the cavern of your ribs. Your lungs finally fill with the air that had been whooshed out of you when you had collided with the other person once you realized who it was. “Lady Kryze.” 

“I was told you listen to directions well,” her smile is pressed and sure. Humorous in the way her eyes move along your appearance. The relief you felt from it being her soon dying when you remember how see through your nightgown is. Your arms cross over your bare chest. “How misguided.” 

“I-I was just,” you swallow. Try to get your breathing back to normal. Try to stop the pounding in your ears matching up with the rain outside—with the booms of thunder. “I heard a noise.” You manage to get out. The amused raise of her brow makes your body heat up in something akin to embarrassment or a child running to their mother at night because they are scared. 

Lady Kryze hums, “many things go bump in the night around here. It’s an old house.”

“Of course,” you nod. “Yes.” You laugh nervously, breathy, and unsure. Trying to ease the tension that’s growing between the two of you. Worried you might be jobless come morning. “I apologize. I was just worried that you or Lord Djarin may have been hurt.”

“You’re a doctor? Here I thought you were a maid.” Her smile is mocking, unkind. But that’s when you finally take her fully in. With the flashes of lightening through the window at the end of the hall, giving light to the shadows that dance along her face in the candlelight.

She looks…different. 

There's a deep red tint to her lips that’s not usually there. You can’t recall the last time you saw her wear lipstick, let alone that shade. Her hair is darker and more unruly at the bottom than usual. Than the sleek look of perfection it’s always at. Her clothes—her dress—stained a deep red and ripped at the top, standing her paler than normal skin out. 

Your eyes look down to her nails; they’re longer. Stained the same shade as her lips and her dress. 

Somethings not right.

And when your gaze meets hers again, you can see how much darker her eyes look than what you’re used to seeing below that scowl. Bigger. Almost as if her pupils had doubled in size.

Your lack of subtlety seems to give you away when you quickly try to sidestep her and head for your room. 

“Now that I know you’re both fine, I’ll just go back to my room now.” You say softly, give her a forced smile as you try to keep your composure and act as normal as you would if you weren’t scared out of your skin. 

Lady Kryze laughs under her breath. Let’s you step past her and walk one, two, or five steps before there’s a grip at the back of your elbow and your back is being slammed into the wall. The gasp of your lungs deflates from the pressure puffing out against her face with how close she is. 

“Lady Kr-”

“Bo.” She corrects, her eyes wandering down your face, pausing at your lips and the junction where your jaw meets your neck. Swallowing hard before her gaze cascades to your chest, “I always hated the pleasantries Din demanded we go by to fit in with you…humans.” 

“You humans?” You give her a quizicall look, too much going on in your nervous system to comprehend her words. To make sense of them when the fear of the emotion in her eyes reads hunger. 

And when she laughs again, her smile more genuine than any you’ve seen spread across her perfectly proportioned lips before; you see it. See them.

The pointed teeth that have replaced her normal ones. 

The way they gleam off of the orange glow of the candles. The way they make you swallow. Make your chest hurt from the bruising your heart is doing to your ribs from beating so fast. 

What is she?

“I thought you were smart? With the way Din talks about you, I imagined you would have figured it out by now. Especially with how close the two of you have been getting.” The accusation makes your heart stop. A cold fear pricking at your insides that makes your skin feel clammy. 

The raising of her brow makes the feeling worse as you shake your head. Open your mouth to protest on the matter, to not encourage the accusation that there might be something going on with Lord Djarin and you, her husband. 

“Don’t worry,” she smirks. Leans in closer so her lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear as she murmurs, “I like to share.” Your body trembles when her hand leaves your shoulder and her fingers run along the side of your breast. Her pointer skating along your erect nipple, making you gasp softly. “We both do.” 

“Lady Kryze–I,” there’s words meant to come out. Words meant to put an end to whatever this standoff, or showdown, is. You’re lost, you’re captivated, and you’re frightened. But her cheeks and lips brush against yours as she moves herself back so she can look at you; her dark eyes make every syllable on your tongue lay thick and weighted down like sludge. 

There’s a silence that has enough tension to make your body buzz and your brain catch up to put the puzzle pieces together with the information that has always been laid out for you. Things you took as old family traditions you didn’t care to understand. 

The presistant curfew, the eerie darkness that hung over the manor once the sun started to set. The mysterious cases of maids and butlers going missing without a trace. The town just beyond your own’s population dwindling down. Neighbors and friends gone. 

Lady Kryze’s dark eyes, her teeth. 

“You’re the cause of all the disappearances.” It’s not a question because you already know the answer. The slow spread of her lips only solidified the gathered information in your head to fit neatly in a box of truths. “And,” you swallow, hate how your heart aches at the very thought. “Lord Djarin..he–”

“Is much more discrete than I.” She seems to find a silent annoyance in the statement. In the way your body lets out a shaky breath as if you’re relieved. It makes her eye twitch before she’s leaning in again, her lips closer to yours now. Her breath smells of metal. “He doesn’t like to indulge in the bounty we’ve been given. Says it’s not right to eat thy neighbor.” Her tongue runs across her bottom lip, one of her sharp teeth catching on the skin. “I say, why waste such delicious gifts? And delicious they are, especially the ones who beg. The ones who let me play with my food before I eat it.” 

Her laugh makes your body shiver. A reaction she seems to like too much, as her lips skim across yours. The metallic scent of her tongue inhaled by your shaky breaths and swallowed down, leaving your throat dry and your tongue itching to reach out for the source. 

The source of it’s weight, the source of the ache in your jaw with the need to drink. A thirst for what you’re sure is water and not the nourishment that’s so clearly painted Lady Kryze’s lips red and her tongue. Your body willing to use any source of fluid to aid you. 

Not because the metallic linger of her breath sits on your tastebuds like an open invitation. Not because her fingers are still at the side of your breast, your peaked nipple aching to be brushed over by her again. 

“Will you let me play with you?” Her nose brushes yours as her head turns, and her lips just catch the corner of your mouth, a gasp leaving your lips as they move across your cheek and her teeth clip on your jawline. “I know how hard it is for my husband to be near you every day and not sink his teeth into this beautiful neck. You look as good as you’ll taste.” 

A moan racks your ribcage when her hand grips the side of your neck, bending it so the other side is on full display and her lips press to the sensitive flesh. Her tongue coming out to run the tip lightly against you, like she doesn’t dare indulge too much. Like it’s an appetizer to what she really wants. 

A trail of bruising kisses and hungry noises coming from the woman making your chest heave, your fingers daring to come up to her elbow to grip the fabric of her dress as an anchor—or to pull her closer—you're not too sure what your body wants, your senses not matching up with the fear still plaguing your brain. 

“Will you run for me, little rabbit?” You can feel the amusement at her own words with the smirk that’s pressed just below your ear. Your body canting at the derogatory pet name.

Until her next words come out of her mouth in a booming shriek that makes your ears ring and your body recoil from her in defense to protect itself from wrath. 

“Run!”

And you do. 

Not turning back to look to see if she’s chasing you. All the heat once again drained from your body, any pleasure you had been feeling doused out, and brought tears burning at the corners of your eyes. 

The candles on the wall continue to be your guiding light. Even when you step on something that makes you hiss. That tears the skin on the bottom of your foot enough to stutter your sprint. A limp catches in your leg as you try to make haste.

You were foolish for staying here. Foolish for leaving your room. Foolish for not seeing what this house really was or what it’s occupants really were.

Foolish. 

If there had been a spell, you had fallen for it. Like a silly little girl.

The closer you get to your chamber door, the harder your heart beats against your ribs. The harder you try to ignore the sting in your heel. The harder it is for you to breathe. 

The distance only seems to get further and further away from safety the longer you try for it. The longer your eyes strain in the candlelight to not step on something else that could make you completely imobile. Completely at Lady Kryze’s mercy. 

Who you don’t hear behind you. 

Who—upon your better judgment, one would say—you look for as you turn your head towards the path behind you. Your blood running cold when you see that all the candles have completely gone out and you can’t see a thing. 

The flashes of lightening from the windows down below cascading the barest amount of light onto the floor. 

It’s the least of your worries when your body collides with a wall. 

Or what feels like a wall—a strained ache coming to your chest upon the collusion, your body thrown backwards as you groan from the impact your tailbone makes against the hard floor. 

And when your eyes open, you realize it’s not a wall you’ve collided with; it’s Lord Djarin. 

“I told you to stay in your room.” His voice is full of authority and aggravation as he pulls you from the floor. It’s a tone he’s never used on you, a grip on your arm that’s much more cruel than the light touches of fleeting moments spent together. 

“She–Lady Kryze–She.”

“Is insatiable, yes.” There’s a growl that’s completely for his wife’s sake and not your own. But the sound still makes your stomach clench. Your body dragged along the hallway by the hands of the man you’re now realizing is more dangerous than any normal man. 

A monster.

Like his wife.

And yet, you feel safe in his tight grasp. Feel safe with the memories you share with him. Of him. The man you knew before the monster. 

The fear of him never coming. 

The fear only comes back once you’ve reached your room, and he’s pushing you through the door only for your back to collide with something icy that grips your wrist and snakes it’s fingers along the column of your neck to hold you against it.

“Bo.” Lord Djarin’s voice is stern. Angry. 

“Darling.” You can feel the smile that’s wrapped around the word even without seeing Lady Kryze’s face. 

The cold of her body seeping through your night dress and against your skin—a cold that’s not from the fear of what she is rather than what she’s doing. What has stained her lips and tongue and what you wanted so badly to taste just minutes ago. The same deep red clearly stained in the front fabric of your gown that you hadn’t noticed until now.

Until you’re standing in front of Lord Djarin, your night dress more see through and clinging to your body, where it’s damp from blood and straining against your breasts. 

Lady Kryze’s grip tightens on your throat, and it makes a breathless noise fall from your lips. A noise that has Lord Djarin’s eyes honing in on your mouth, moving along to his wife's hand on your throat, before plunging down to your chest. A hard swallow and a deep scowl shot at the woman holding you in her vise. 

“Let her go.”

“We were just having a little fun. Weren’t we?” Her teeth knick your earlobe, and it makes your body contort against her hold. “See,” she smirks. 

“Bo. No.” His tone has finality. Has something that wordlessly lets you know he’s tired of this topic; he’s clearly told her no on before. 

Something inside your stomach lightens up and burns at the thought of Lord Djarin denying his wife the pleasure of making you a meal time and time again. Was it out of respect? Care? Want?

Did she want to sink her teeth into you so badly because of jealousy at the closeness you and her husband had found the longer you worked here? No, she said they like to share. Said she likes to share. 

Was it want then?

The want to do more than end your life by draining you.

“Come on, Din.” The hand at your wrist does a show of crawling with her sharp nails over your midsection and to your hip to start pulling up your night dress. Your thighs quickly come into view as she bunches the fabric further and further up. A shyness takes over you as you wiggle in her grasp as you watch Lord Djarin’s eyes follow the movement with a hungry look. “We all know you want her.” 

Her lips press against your jaw as she murmurs to you, “he never allows himself to indulge in the things he wants. He’s so disciplined. Such a good man. He’d never let it slip that after you leave his library, he bends me over his desk and fucks me the way he wishes he could fuck you.”

An involentary noise that get’s choked out of your throat makes her laugh softly, “tell him he can have you. Tell him you like it.” Your eyes lock with his; his eyes just as dark and monstrous as his wife's now that you’re really looking at them. His lips that deep red—the same red you smelled and craved to taste on her lips. 

Your thighs inwardly press together, causing the pressure between them to ease the slightest, but grow worse when your backside pushes back against Lady Kryze and she lets out a noise that sounds just as lovely as she looks. 

“Look, Din.” A heat comes to your cheeks as the rest of the fabric of your gown is pulled above your hips, showcasing your nakedness to both of them. “There’s no denying she wants you,” her fingers move down to grip your inner thigh. The clear and evident proof of your arousal—that you’re not sure was caused earlier or right now—coats your skin and her fingers. 

“No, she is not-”

“What? Food?” Lady Kryze laughs, “we both know you’d never let me drain her. Nor could you bear to have anything but her essence touch your tongue. But she can be a toy. You can fuck her. We both can.” 

You can see the internal battle he’s fighting with himself—against his wife, against what’s right, against his want. 

And there’s a part of you that understands. That knows this is wrong. That has barely come to terms with what they are—monsters, myths, and scary stories you tell little children at night to get them to go to bed. 

But then the proof of your arousal, of your own want is being toyed with between your thighs as Lady Kryze runs a finger through your wetness. Your hips canting against her hand as she pulls it away just as quick as it was there and holds her finger out to her husband. 

“Taste her.”

His head is about to shake; you can sense it. See it before it happens by the way his fists bunch at his sides. Maybe that's why you finally find your voice, “please.”

And it’s as if those are the words he’s been waiting for you to say since the day you’ve met. Since you’ve started working for him. The speed at which he’s against your front and his lips are wrapped around the finger that has gathered the wetness from your pussy makes you feel woozy. 

Makes you sway on your feet and loosen in Lady Kryze’s hold. Her nails dig into your flesh as she holds you tighter, keeping you upright for her husband. 

Whose finger is under your chin, mouth daringly close to yours as he murmurs, “are you certain?”

Do you want this?

Do you want all it entails if you let this continue?

His dark eyes speak; let you know that he’ll stop this. That while you might be weak in comparison to who they truly are, you have a say, and he’ll do whatever you wish. 

A wise woman would heed the warning that’s in the brow he raises. Thats in the descent of his finger down your chin and to your jugular. Your heartbeat thudding against the pad of his finger. His tongue comes out to wet his bottom lip as his eyes cast to your neck and then up to his wife. 

Who's giving him a smile you can’t see but can feel in the way her body shifts, pulling your thighs apart easily. Lord Djarin needs no more confirmation for either of you as he falls to his knees, a rough hand cupping the back of your thigh to lift and bring it up and over his shoulder. 

Your back arching, and a gasp rakes through your body when you feel the bite of teeth against your inner thigh. Feel the sting of punctured skin, the pull of something inside that’s making your eyes flutter, and the pressure in your lower belly thumping at the same speed as your heart. 

When your eyes shift down, when he’s stopped, when you feel like you could either pass out or come from just this, you see blood—your blood—staining his lips and tongue. See his eyes go even darker, black, and void of any human attributes. Making him look entirely like a monster that’s hungry, starved. 

And you’ve completely offered yourself up for the taking. 

There’s a deep moan coming from Lord Djarin as his fingers and tongue clean his mouth. It’s obscene as much as it is beautiful to watch. Your arousal only grows worse at the sight. 

“How does she taste?” 

“Exqusite.” He murmurs against your skin, his tongue running over the marks he’s just left in your thigh, working it’s way up to the apex of your thigh. Your legs shake the closer he gets to your pussy. 

A cry burns your lungs when you feel him dive into you without any warning. His tongue licking through your wetness, his nose pressing against your clit. The tip of it creates a slow grind that only intensifies when you cant your hips up. When you thrust against the air, his tongue slips inside of you, pushing it further inside. Your fingers dig into the sides of your dress as you try not to completely collapse against either of them. 

The pleasure coursing through your body makes that easier said than done. 

Lady Kryze is humming against your cheek, her hand coming down to slow the movement of your hips. “Take your time, little rabbit.” She trails kisses and soft bites over and under your jaw to your earlobe, where she lets the tip of her tongue run against it. “Because once you’ve come, you’re mine to play with.” 

[wixxid]

IVORY  · PART V

Fandom: Dune

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Female OC

Words: 2,238

Warnings: dark themes, violence, death and mention of cannibalism

Summary: Your pride and loneliness gets the better, as you choose to pry in what you should avoid.

Desecrated.

It's tender to the touch. Bruised. The simple trace of your finger is enough to draw a frown. The mottled skin of your throat is obvious. A terrible site to bare witness, but there's more; a scattered mess mares your body.

The powders have no affect in hiding their existence, and so you resorted to covering them with fabric. It's better the people don't see. It's better your father and kin don't realise the damage of only one night. If they did, they might not leave you here, and the point of all this would be for nothing.

A waste.

You've come this far and you've survived. It's not for anyone else but for you to decide when it ends. It could be weeks, years or even decades, but you know this marriage is worth more than your life. It means a future for thousands of others, if not millions.

Turning from the mirror, you nod for the servants to continue dressing you. The early morning marks the hour of your fathers return to Caladan. He and the others are set to leave this planet, and you want them to leave with hope and pride.

Honour.

You aren't going to dress like your new people, nor will you ever behave like them. The void of their culture won't ever touch your soul. Instead, the servants prepare you in one of the gowns bought from home. A statement both daring and bold.

"Is it time?" you question, to which the servant nods. She's the very same to whom had once adorned the bruises you do now. For reasons unknown, you had taken a liking to the woman. "Good."

Taking a deep breath as you left your chamber, you couldn't help but yearn for what freedom you might find outside these walls; if for only a short time. If only to see your father depart this abysmal world. Gathering yourself, it was only your lone servant who guided you through the palace and up to the hithe.

The dark star that cloaks this planet bore light, and you wince as it floods your gentle eyes; having been weeks since you'd taken in anything other than the artificial. Even the air is harder to breath despite being outside; far too poisoned with fumes.

In the distance you see the great ship to which you'd arrived in, still gleaming unlike anything you'd ever seen. A beacon. There's very few in the galaxy who have or ever will travel the vastness of space. In fact, the first time you'd ever done so was to bring yourself here.

"I didn't think you would come," spoke your father. Standing in uniform, he greets you well kept but with a face of despair. The loom that surrounds him is heartbreaking. "I didn't think you would want to see me."

"Then you think too much," you replied with a faint smile. "You're my father - my duke. You're an honorable man who deserves to be farewelled."

"An honorable man wouldn't trade his daughter to the enemy."

His words hit you like a bullet. Painful. The surrounding noise grows overwhelming to the senses. Hypersensitive. You can hear the ships, the soldiers and even the planet itself resonating from all-round. Even the wind across your face feels strange.

But as you look at your fathers rugged face, see his familiar eyes and features, you feel the noise fade away. You can see the burden he's carrying. You know this was as difficult for him as it is for you. It isn't fair or right for him to keep carrying it.

"There is no call we do not answer," you repeat in mantra. "We do what we must for the good of the people." Resting a hand on his shoulder, you give a light squeeze. "We do what we must to survive."

"You're strong, just like your mother," he nods with a chuff. "You always have been."

Stepping forward, he places a soft kiss on your forehead and your eyes close amidst the threat of tears. You want to remember him as he is and as the kind-heartedness that he represents. Steadily breathing, you absorb his gentle touch and scent; to which you won't soon forget.

"We'll see each other again," he promises with a touch of your cheek. "I'll make sure of it."

Nodding your head with a mustered smile, the duke straightens himself before taking a step back. There are no other exchanges as he moves to make way for the ship. It's a quick farewell, anything more would be too difficult; too emotional.

"My lady," utters Gurney. Stepping forward, he takes your hand to lay a quick peck. "As a man of your fathers council, loyal friend and protector, it pains me that my only power now is to wish you well."

"Fate is a complexity, is it not?" you jest upon looking at your retreating fathers form. In all seriousness you added, "You'll protect him, won't you - and Paul?"

He pauses, "With my life."

"Then there's nothing to fear," you mutter beneath your breath. A rush of relief washes your bones, perhaps a premonition. "Thank you, Gurney."

Giving a curt nod, he bid himself goodbye before following suit to board the ship; along with the rest. Watching alongside what few soldiers and groundmen there are, you waited by until the doors ceiled. The tender strings in your heart tug at the site.

Loneliness is cruel.

Yet, a shadow looms on the metal floor of the platform. Piter. The mentat appeared from seemingly nowhere, and to your irritably, is the only one of any importance to see your father and people off on their long voyage.

"Where are they?" you question bluntly, not bothering so much as to look at him. Your eyes are still sharply focused on the starship. "Why didn't they come?"

In truth, it doesn't matter that your new family by law had not shown for the occasion. They hadn't done you the courtesy of it upon arrival, and so what little there is to have changed in their humiliation. You only ask in leu of the open wound it now salts.

"Pressing matters," spoke Piter. "The Baron's time is precious. It's best not to waste what isn't so clearly desired."

"And what of Feyd-Rautha?" you queried whilst turning to face the mentat; heated eyes meeting cold ones. "Is his time as coveted?"

"The answer isn't pleasant."

"I didn't ask if it were pleasant."

"Take the day," retorts Piter as he looks out towards the horizon. "This is your home now - you should see it."

The anger within your veins begins to boil. It vexes you that this twisted man won't simply answer what should be the simplest question. It causes your mind to tick, wondering what it could possibly be to make him so reluctant; secretive.

"Do I have to pry it out of you?"

The threat did nothing to change his monotone demeanor, but you can tell he'd heard you well and clear. A break of silence fills the void between you, until finally there is no more effort for him to conceal the truth. He confesses with a neutral tone.

"Prying only leads you to places you shouldn't be," he states before glancing at your servant. "But this one can show you the way."

Glancing over your shoulder, you eye the woman; head bowed low. Piter stays while you take your leave of the hithe. You'd expected him to be stronger, but his words of warning begin ring. Perhaps he's right to stave you from the trail you now follow.

"This way," utters your servant.

Following her lead, she moves at a slow pace; an evident lack of urgency. The reason is an evident one. Venturing into the palace walls and traversing the halls, the farther you travel, the more you studied the lithe and pale woman.

The muscles in her neck twitch and strain ever so subtly. A sign of distress. The way she grips her hands together, so tightly, as if she were trying to cling on, only makes you all the more intrigued yet disturbed.

"Where are we going?"

Keeping her head bowed she responds, "We're almost there."

The answer is hardly clear enough to process. Empty. The abundance of riddling and vague responses you've received only adds to your tart aggravation. It's baneful, with how the Harkonnen's have polluted this place with such fear and secrets.

A terrible infestation.

Eventually, the servant stops outside that of a chamber door; similar to your own but far removed. This place is located deeper within the palace, if at all possible. You can see her milky skin prickle and shiver beneath her thin dress.

You order, "Stay close."

Swiping a hand over the console, the door opens wide; revealing a bright illumination as it beams down from the ceiling. As you step forward, your shoes click against the glossy ground whilst the door close from behind; entrapping the two of you.

The channel of light strikes down upon the epicenter of the room, clearly irradiating the psychotic man you'd been seeking; although he's far from alone. As criminal and dangerous as he may be, his blood still belongs to great wealth.

Feyd stands within the down cast of light, muscular arms outreached while servants attend to his requisite. In a warped sense, his marbled pose and aura makes you think of an something akin to ancient; like a god from the old world.

A god of death.

The other servants are quick to stop and turn heads at your unexpected arrival, but Feyd remains unbothered. Evidently, there's not a soul on this planet for him to fear. However, his attendants have paused far too long for his liking.

Feyd turns slowly, clearly agitated at whomever had decided to enter his domain. His sharpened features don't soften upon realising your presence. Instead, he looks you up and down rather analytically.

He rumbles, "What do you want?"

"Respect," you answer simple and low. "Honour."

Feyd's lip twitches in a slight grimace and snarl. It's enough to show blackened teeth, to which you still find utterly unsettling. Feyd waves off a servant, before turning his undivided attention towards you; malicious.

"Honour," he repeats as he stalks towards you; one step at a time. "For who? For you?"

"For us both," you respond as he circles behind you. "The empire watches - waiting to see what will happen next. Now all they see is you - absent from the honour my house was due this morning."

"You Atreides," he drawls with a grumble. A flutter of feminine giggles echo from the far corner of the room. "You're all the same."

Feyd moves from behind you, instead leading himself to a table. It gave you a chance to take in the room. The servants stand predictably petrified, while three others sat lounged on a booth; the strange women are intermingled with one another.

"Would you like some fresh meat my darlings?" he boasted, whilst lifting a knife from the counter. It took you all of a moment to realise he's no longer speaking to you, but to the women on the lounge. "What would you like? A lung? A liver?"

Their own blackened mouths show in a mixture of smiles and grins. Deranged. Their giggles and moans visibly shift the tension. The other servants seem to faulter on the spot; their heads tucking lower and bodies tremoring.

"You," he leers at your own servant. "Come."

"No," you quip without hesitation. The last thing that'll happen in this room will be his hands touching the woman who stands so vulnerably behind your body of protection. "She isn't yours to torment."

"Everything's mine," he replies while approaching his nearest attendant.

You watch the girls lips quiver and eyes widen as his blade thrusts into her abdomen; once, then twice and again. She groans and splutters whilst falling to the ground in a matter of seconds. Butcher.

A pool of blood seeps as he turns to add, "Even you, Atreides."

The violent execution shocks you deep within, and control is hard to fight for as your emotions take hold like a vice. You're trying not to scream. You're trying not to react as to give him satisfaction. Instead, you watch as the girl continues to die, his victim twitching and suffering on the floor; dying then dead.

"There," he gestures matter-of-factly. "My honour."

His reasoning makes no sense. It's all madness to you. Murder. Lifting the dagger, he observes the blood which coats the blade. Transfixed. The gleam in his wicked eyes is unmistakable, but the gravity of it even more so, when his tongue licks a line of blood.

"Because of me," he elaborates. "My darlings are satisfied. Because of me, they're to live another day. There is honour in being master."

Your gaze flickers from him to the three women who sit intertwined on the lounge. It sounds as exactly as he'd announced, but you simply don't want to fathom the truth. These are fowl notions, even for the likes of his kind.

It sickens you more than the memory of his touch.

Listening to the women revel amongst themselves, they seem clearly pleased with their masters slaughter and offering. Feyd gestures and the others are swift to drag the fresh corpse from site; leaving a trail of smeared blood.

Concubines and cannibals.

[ladyzirkonia]

Until your song is written.

I must shamelessly take this opportunity to thank you all. Yesterday I reached 100 followers and I can't believe that there are so many people who enjoy reading my stuff. I would like to take this opportunity to open my question and request box. Don't be shy to send me questions or ideas you want to discuss, whether it is Dinbo stuff or something about Mandalorian culture.

This is the way.

The scene starts with a completely shattered Bo-Katan. You can tell that she has to pull herself together not to burst into tears. Her confession about the night of a thousand tears and the memory of it seem to torment her. She hears Din approaching and tries to compose herself by briefly closing her eyes.

I think Din apologizing to Bo is one of the most beautiful things in this scene. He admits once again in this season that he was wrong. Din Djarin knows no false pride and has no problem admitting mistakes. And he admits what's been said about her being selfish and uncaring isn't true. It seems to have touched him that Bo-Katan gave up the darksaber for her people, gave up the claim to the regency.

Din steps up to her after she repeatedly blames herself for everything. He tries to build her up, not downplay what she did or what happened, just making sure that he wants to help her. He says: ''WE will rebuild it.'' A foreshadowing that you both should bring the future for Mandalore?

She doubts herself, still. She has made so many mistakes, mistakes that are unforgivable, that she cannot undo. How is she supposed to be the one to hold her people together in all the animosity?

Din repeatedly makes it clear that this weapon means nothing to him and his people. I think it's really ironic that so many have a problem with Din giving up the darksaber. He just doesn't care. It's just a story, a legend that doesn't matter until people believe it. And he also makes it clear what really matters to him, he basically tells us what it means to him to be a good Mandalorian.

When Din mentions the term honor, she seems to sigh slightly and raises her head. She's heard those words from him too many times. For a short break it seems that his words are bothering Bo-Katan. Honor... This is the way. It seems to be a constantly repeating mantra.

Din appreciates Bo-Katan's loyalty and character. These things that have been most important to him since we saw him first time in season 1. And Bo seems to appreciate his words as you can see a very faint smile on her lips. It's good to hear such words after years of being reminded of her failure by others.

That's why I serve you Lady Kryce. After this words I really think Din Djarin's love language is act's of service as he showed many times to different people who he cared for. He is not a man of many or fancy words, but of deeds. So what's a better way to show his affection than to offer his services to her. She doesn't have to go through this alone, he wants to stand by her side.

Bo-Katan turns her head to him after his words. It's obvious that she wanted to hide her feelings before and remained with her back to him. Now she shows him her face for the first time in this conversation. Din Djarin has managed to amaze her time and time again, and her expression softens because of his words to her.

Din gives her hope. Your story is not over yet. Her song is not yet written. The Mandalorian's main musical theme sounds in the backround. He begins to weave his fate irreversibly into hers.

I know some people have wrote, more or less jokingly, that this could be Din Djarins wedding vow. But it's not that exaggerated and ridiculous. We must not forget that the Mandalorians are based on a clan system of warriors. If Mandalorians are one thing, it's very pragmatic. Marriage is consummated between the two partners alone and in any place. Just before or after a fight, the couple doesn't even have to be in the same place. The marriage can even be consummated via voice or text messages. (if you are interested in this kind of topic, please tell me!!)

Honor and loyalty means everything to Din. He would not lightly pledge his life to someone. It means exactly what you suspected, he stands by her side until death.

Screenshots are mine. Gifs made by the wondeful @itberice. Please go and leave a follow and some love there!