#my optimistic ass strikes again

[imomnba-x07]

Alright alright marvel needs to sell new toys hence the new suit blah blah blah

Thus leading to people head canonizing the sambucky divorce cause he’s not wearing the suit he was gifted yadda yadda yadda

COUNTER ARGUMENT

It is actually the same suit, but the vibranium nanites can refrigerate into a new design. We know nano technology is capable of shaping itself into other forms so it’s not so far fetched.

Bam problem solved, no new theories to add to the sambucky divorce cause they aren’t divorcing 😎

I still stand firmly by my theory of Bucky spying on the thunderbolts FOR Sam thus them being in separate projects and I will NOT back down

[leilani-lily]

~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 1)

... So this idea for an Alastor x reader (kinda?) story popped in my brain, and has refused to leave me no matter how hard I try.

Have I written fanfiction recently? Hell no.

Do I even know how to write for an AroAce character? No but I'm gonna do my damndest to represent him properly (and also relying on outer sources so I'm not offending anyone).

Do I feel like a complete fool for being sucked back into the fanfiction world and re-entering with a freakin Hazbin Hotel fic? ABSOOOO-FREAKIN-LUTELY.

But here we are. The writing gods have spoken. And they have declared that I write this story out so my poor brain can focus on other things like work.

Figured I'd share so it's just not on my computer all lonely. Will be a slow burn so fair warning. Let's be real, the deer boi needs love. But not overly romantic love. Just, someone he ends up really caring about and becoming his favourite.

SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. The hotel is looking to hire a chef to prepare meals for the staff/guests. Somehow you're hired and you begin your new life. And somehow end up becoming close to a certain Radio Demon. Word Count: 1.8 K

Chapter 1 under the cut. Enjoy I guess? ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

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Ok, deep breaths y/n. Remember to smile.

You felt your lips curl up into a strained grin as if to fight off the nerves in your chest, your grip tightening on the flyer in your fist. This could go either two ways. One, you get the job and are able to live a life of somewhat normality. Or two, you get hung from the tippy top of the building by your own intestines. With your legs chopped off. And one of your arms sticking out of your ass.

Gotta love Hell and it’s creative subjects.

You shake your head out of those terrible thoughts, surely it wouldn’t be that bad?? When you saw the original broadcast on the 666 News, you couldn’t stop thinking how nice the Princess of Hell actually was. And building an entire hotel to help her subjects reform into something better was, perhaps a little optimistic in your opinion, but it made you admire her gumption and her love for her subjects.

So later when you found the flyer in search of a chef at the very same establishment the princess was hoping to fill… well, it somehow managed to get you all the way here. Standing at the doorsteps of the very lonely looking hotel on the hill. 

You had to admit it wasn’t the look you had imagined, but hey, this was Hell. You had seen worse. And everyone has to start somewhere. Including yourself, arm still poised ready to knock yet not yet making the motion.

You felt so stupid, you had been standing here for almost 10 minutes now just trying to get the courage to enter the damn building. You sigh to yourself and shake out the jitters. Alright, let’s just do this. Once again, you smile, puff out your chest and raise your arm high in the air, ready to strike with a newfound courage.

“Well folks, looks like the little lady is finally ready to take the leap! Will she follow through with her actions? Or will she choke and back out of the fight? Let’s tune in and find out~”

You felt your heart nearly leap out of your chest as you whip your head around to look behind you. A tall demon clad in red and ruby eyes stood behind you, a wickedly wide grin filling his face as he points what appears to be a microphone in your direction. You stare at it dumbly, then make eye contact with him again. He remains poised, half lidded eyes seeming to hold a sparkle of impish joy. His eyes flicker from you, to your raised arm, and back to you. After a embarrassingly long time of connecting the dots, you finally extend your arm closer to the door, never breaking focus on the demon behind you (you can't help but notice he raises his microphone even closer to you), and give the door a good solid knock.

“AND SHE’S DONE IT FOLKS, what a display!!” He pulls the microphone back to himself, as you continue to stare dumbfounded “The form, the elegance, it could almost make a grown Imp cry. Let's give her a hand people.” He begins to clap as a roar of applause plays from… somewhere.

You couldn’t tell if this guy was being sarcastic or genuine, but the whole absurdity of it all, plus the bundle of nerves you were feeling earlier, seemed to bubble up inside of you and you couldn't help a little snort escape. The red demon’s grin widened as he ceases his clapping, stepping closer to you as you continue to giggle.

“Ahhh now isn’t that better. A much nicer smile than the one you were faking earlier. Besides, there’s no need to be so shy my dear. This hotel is always happy to accept wayward demons looking for reformation!”

Upon hearing his words, you turn to face him and put your hands up “Oh nono, I’m not here to-”

“Ohoho~! and what’s this you have here?” Before you can finish your sentence, the tall demon ripped the flyer out of your hand and inspected it quickly, before turning back to you. His half-lidded gaze was now round with surprise, his grin becoming even wider (which you didn’t even think was possible).

“So THAT explains the nerves from before! And here I was just thinking you were a timid little thing. But a business woman! Now that I can admire.” He smiles at you almost impressed and leans in closer, your noses almost touching.

“Tell me my dear, can you make a good jambalaya? Or perhaps a hearty gumbo with cornbread on the side~?”

You were so flustered with the speed of everything happening (plus the close proximity of this demon you had just met certainly didn’t help). All you could manage was a jumbled “Uhh, well yes I-!”

“WONDERFULLLL~!" He straightens up again and you sigh with relief. “I’ll be sure to test you on such skills. But for now we should-”

The front doors of the hotel suddenly burst open and a short gray female stands before you, with long silvery hair and an eyepatch. She looks at you for a moment, before turning her gaze at the red demon and giving him a scowl.

“Alastor, what the HELL took you so long, you should’ve been back ages ago. And quit creeping out new potential clients.” Her gaze adverts back to you, expression softening ever so slightly, “Seriously, if he’s bothering you-” “Oh Vaggie my dear, no need to be so hostile. I was simply going over business with our newest chef!” he brings his long fingers up behind your shoulder and pulls you in close against his chest, making you yelp a moment before regaining composure. You could sense this so-called 'Vaggie' demon tense, eyes flickering between the two of you. You felt as if your brain was sputtering to catch up with the current conversation (he WORKS here??!)  before finally realizing what he had just called you. You sneak a look at him, and he gives you a quick wink before focusing back on the female before him. 

“Now be a doll and have Nifty tidy up one of the rooms, preferably one of a reasonable size and close to the kitchen. And call upon Charlie as well, she’ll DEFINITELY want to meet our newest addition!”

The female in front of you shot a glare at Alastor (you quickly noted these two did not seem to get along), but then flicked her gaze back at you. After a moment, she sighed and turned back into the building as she followed the male demon’s orders. You couldn’t help but notice how Alastor’s grip on you tightened ever so slightly as a chuckle escaped his lips, static humming ever so louder in amusement. He himself began to walk into the hotel, guiding you along with him.

"Now then. We’ll have to introduce you to everyone, as well as get you to fill in the proper paperwork, give you a proper tour of the place and-!”

“Wait wait,” you stop walking, causing him to halt. You notice a slight twitch in his eye and his hand squeezes you for a moment. He doesn’t like to be interrupted, duly noted. You take a breath.

“Sorry, uh for interrupting” That seemed to please him. “But does this mean… I got the job?? You don’t need a resume or a test or…?”

Alastor let out a guffaw of amusement “Why of course my dear! As long as you remain true to your word of being able to cook a good New Orleans dish, that’s all the proof I’ll need! There hasn’t been many a demon coming here interested in the job, so I say your timing couldn’t be more perfect!”

Well that was the easiest damn interview you’ve ever done. You felt yourself exhale a sigh of relief as you smile up to the tall demon. 

“Wow, that’s… that’s amazing, thank you so much.” He gave you a half lidded smirk, clearly enjoying being praised “So… does this make you my boss, Mr…?” 

You heard the sound of a record screech as his eyes widened in surprise. Hand finally leaving your shoulder and placing it on his own chest he began to laugh heartilly, a laugh track playing in the background. You stood there confused for a moment before he finally responded.

“Ohhh my goodness me, my mother would be rolling in her grave if she ever heard about this. How rude of me to be so forward without properly introducing myself!” One minute he was standing right beside you, and then the next he had sunken like a shadow into the floor, only to appear in front of you a few steps ahead. With grace and suave you didn’t realize he possessed, he gave a small hand flourish before bowing in front of you.

“I am Alastor, also known as the Radio Demon. I happen to be the Hotel’s Facility Manager, but you’ll find Miss Morningstar is the real ringleader around here,” You notice the corner of his lip twitch at that last remark, but you pay no mind to it. “If you ever have any questions or concerns, do not hesitate to reach out to me.” You smile and dip yourself in your own little curtsy as he straightens up.

“My name is y/n, and I’ll be sure to do my best to serve you and this hotel, sir.” Alastor seemed to hum with approval as he looks down at you. “I guess I just have one more question for you, if that’s alright.” 

“Why of course dear y/n, whatever would it be?”

“Well, I uh…” You feel yourself becoming flustered at the question, and the radio demon seemed to notice. Cocking a head to the side, he takes a step forward, opening his arms into a friendly gesture.

“Come now dearest, you can ask me anything! If we’re going to be working together, we have to be honest with each other~” You look up at him and sigh, knowing he was right. With a gulp you straighten your back and wear a serious expression.

“How long did you see me standing by the door?” 

Alastors face didn’t waver, it was hard to tell what was going on in his mind. Then his smile grew into what looked like an amused, smug expression before answering.

“The whole time.”

You groaned and felt your head slap against your hand, making Alastor burst into laughter yet again at your expense. He was there watching the entire time?? Satan’s Ass you felt like such an idiot. Was he waiting for you to move so he could get in the building?? The more you thought about it the more you wanted to sink into the floor and die, for a 2nd time. The radio demon wiped a stray tear from his eye.

“Ohhhh y/n, what a riot you are. I can already tell that this is going to be fun~”

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First chapter hoorayyy ♡〜٩( ˃▿˂ )۶〜♡ Not sure how often I'll be updating, hopefully soon as I'm currently inspired. Thanks for reading thus far!FIRST (You're here!) PREVIOUS (Doesn't exist ( • ᴗ - ) ✧) NEXT

[ap41cu5]

Overdue Exchanges of Affection (Joseph Oda x Fem! Reader: Smut One-Shot)

disclaimer: this is SMUT VERY NSFW PLS DO NOT READ THIS IF UR NOT COMFORTABLE WITH IT!! also this is my first time writing smut in a pretty long time any and all criticism will be very much appreciated!

a/n: tbh i made this bc i hit a writers block with the rookie detective so hopefully this helps me write the next chapter for it LOL

short synopsis: the reader and sebastian find their way to joseph, where they find him unconscious in the bathtub. the reader had become extremely close friends with the detective prior to entering the STEM system, and was extremely relived upon finding him again. they share a few moments of bonding and finally admit their true feelings to one another, regretting that neither of them hadn't done so sooner.

word count: 4670

You, along with Joseph, Sebastian, and Kidman had all recently (and unknowingly) entered the STEM system after an unexpected detour to Beacon Mental Hospital. You had been working alongside Joseph and Sebastian for about 3 years, and Kidman for only 1. Within that time frame, you inevitably developed strong feelings for the bespectacled detective. Even upon meeting him for the first time, his handsome appearance seemed to strike you immediately, but it was his personality that truly stuck out to you. He was kind, smart, considerate, and charmingly optimistic. You became good friends, best friends even. A kind of friendship that would be too good to lose if he didn’t reciprocate your feelings. But now, if you lost each other before you could tell him how you truly felt, you don’t know what you’d do with yourself.

You and Sebastian had both managed to find each other through the horrors of Ruvik’s petrifying world. You both had just run into an unexpected encounter with Ruvik. Shortly following the horrifying chase up the stairs together, all of the metal supports holding up the platform you both stood atop of seemed to collapse from underneath you. The rattling and shaking of the steel stilts made it impossible to maintain your balance as gravity rapidly pulled the both of you south. While the rushing air flowed through your hair and clothes, your stomach seemed to drop to the deepest pits of your body. The moment your body slammed into the floor beneath you, you felt your breath get knocked out of your lungs as you struggled to even open your eyes.

You heard Sebastian grunt beside you as he struggled to stand up. You laid there for just an extra second longer before you finally found the strength to rise up. The floor felt cold beneath your fingertips as you begrudgingly pushed your body upwards. Your shoes squeaked against the floor as you rested your hands on your knees for a few moments, catching your breath as you finally stood up straight.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian inquired, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Yeah.. yeah I’m alright,” you replied, brushing a strand of your hair out of your eyes.

“We should continue on. We really, really need to get out of here, and we need to look for Joseph! And Kidman,” you quickly added at the end.

While you had been busting your ass to make it out alive, Joseph still resided in the back of your mind and you were worried sick. ‘Where was he? How is he? Is he still alive? I miss him!’ Were all thoughts that seemed to swirl through your mind on repeat.

“You’re right. Let’s go, I think I see a door at the end of the hallway,” Sebastian commented, leading the way.

Quickly following behind him, you caught a glimpse of someone behind the bars in the small window of the door. Was that.. dark hair and glasses? 

“Joseph!” You exclaimed, practically shoving Sebastian out of the way to get to the door.

He was lying unconscious in a bathtub, filled with a foggy liquid. You quickly rushed to his side, cupping his face in your hands.

“Joseph, come on, wake up,” you murmured, lightly shaking him.

“Joseph!” Sebastian exclaimed, reaching for a lever beside the tub.

As he pulled the lever, the tub lurched forward, spilling out all of its contents, including Joseph. You immediately rushed to his side, attempting to catch him. Or at the very least soften his fall. He ended up landing on top of you and dragging the both of you onto the floor.

As you quickly rushed to sit up and help him up onto his feet, you noticed he finally regained consciousness. “Joseph! Joseph– I.. I…” Words seemed to escape from you as you felt tears well up in your eyes.

You felt your breath begin to quicken as you debated whether or not you should just give into your desires and tackle him into a hug. But it seemed Joseph beat you to it. He immediately wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer. You hadn’t expected him to be the type to enjoy physical affection, but you were very pleasantly surprised.

“(First Name)..!  Are you alright? It’s alright. I’m so glad you’re alright,” he rubbed your back as you sobbed into his shoulder.

His clothes were soaking wet, but you could still feel his warmth through them.

Your cries were soon interrupted by Joseph entering a coughing fit. He had to let go of you as he faced his head downwards, not wanting to cough on either of you.

“Thank god you’re okay,” Sebastian immediately commented, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I.. I don’t know what I am. But it’s definitely not okay,” Joseph added, “you brought me here?”

His shoulders trembled as he began to cough again, his face becoming even more pale than before. 

He turned back to you, looking into your eyes with a look of concern.

“(First Name), I’m sorry, I–” Joseph began, but was quickly interrupted by Sebastian pulling him up off the floor. 

“We need to get out of here,” Sebastian mentioned, pulling Joseph by his arm, “can you move?”

You carefully placed your hand on Joseph’s lower back, trying to steady him as gently as you could. By how he was acting, he was clearly in pain.

“Yeah, I..” Joseph replied, only to fall back to his knees again.

“Joseph!” 

You sighed, lowering back down to his level.

“Here, this might hurt a bit, but this should help,” you suggested, grabbing a medical syringe from your pocket.

He didn’t question your actions. He trusted you unconditionally as one of his closest companions, but let out a sharp grunt as he felt you insert the needle of the syringe into his forearm.

“Sorry about that. But that should help for the time being,” you added, your hand moving upwards towards his shoulder, then near the base of his neck.

“Are you feeling any better?” You asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He turned his gaze to you, his eyes momentarily flickering to your lips before immediately meeting your eyes again.

“Uh, yeah. Thank you, (First Name),” Joseph expressed his gratitude as he tried to stand again.

While he didn’t seem 100% better, he was certainly in better condition than before. He was able to stand on his own two feet without needing assistance.

“We need to get out of here, and fast,” Joseph said, lending you his hand to help you up.

Taking his hand, he quickly pulled you up. He was surprisingly strong, and pulled you up a bit too fast. You weren’t able to catch your balance in time, and you ended up falling on Joseph with a bit of a ‘thud!’ 

He, on the other hand, only stumbled backwards a bit, but was still able to catch you. 

“Sorry!” You immediately apologized, trying to stabilize yourself.

As you tried to regain your balance yourself, you realized that you.. couldn’t. Almost as if you were stuck in place. You were a bit confused, until you felt Joseph place his hand on the back of your head, and his face in your hair. At that moment you could feel his other arm, which was wrapped around your waist, tighten. But he was cautious not to squeeze you too hard so as to not hurt you.

“...Joseph?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

There was a few seconds of silence, before you heard a sniffle from beside you.

“I’m..” His voice seemed to get caught in the pits of his throat as you could hear him sniffle again.

He had to take a few moments to catch his breath before he finally spoke again.

“I’m so glad you’re alright..!” Joseph’s voice cracked as he pulled you in tighter.

You were a bit surprised, to say the least. You always thought you cared for Joseph miles more than he would ever care for you. You were almost sure you were in love with him, but you never thought even for a second that there was a chance the feelings would ever be reciprocated. It was this moment that you truly thought that there may be a chance that his care for you stretched beyond that of a friend, or a best friend even.

Your arms seemed to move on their own as you wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him back. As you buried your face in his shoulder again, his shirt was soaking wet, but still smelled of him. 

It was in this moment that you regretted not telling him how you felt sooner. What if you never made it out alive? What if neither of you never made it out alive? What if you never escape this hellhole to begin with? This may likely be your only chance to finally tell him how you felt. You couldn’t pass this moment up, you just couldn’t. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you lost your one and only chance to finally tell him. 

“Joseph.. Joseph, I.. I love you,” you confessed, your voice cracking and your heart beating out of your chest.

He pulled back for a moment, but his grip around you never faltered. He seemed shocked, as he took a moment to look you in the eyes.

You couldn’t maintain eye contact, and immediately looked away the moment his eyes met yours. This is the moment I’m going to get rejected? I should’ve just enjoyed the moment. I can’t believe that this– your thoughts were violently interrupted by the feeling of his lips slamming into yours.

Your eyes went wide as you stared at him in disbelief. It took you a long few seconds to process what just happened, before you finally cupped his cheek in your hand and kissed him back.

You could feel him exhale against your lips as one of his hands moved to cup your face while the other gently grabbed your hip to pull you closer. 

“Ahem!” Sebastian loudly cleared his throat as you both quickly pulled away from each other.

You froze. You both completely forgot that Sebastian was there.

“Sorry to interrupt you two, but we need to get out of here as fast as we can. I, uh, I’ll go search for an exit since you both need a few.. minutes,” Sebastian awkwardly shuffled out of the room, shutting the door behind him and quickly walking away from the door.

The second the door shut, not a moment of hesitation was exchanged between the both of you as you both immediately shrouded the other in another kiss. Without even realizing it, he moved his thigh in between your legs and gently pushed it against you. Eliciting a quiet moan, he seemed to grow more aggressive with the kiss, even going as far as you lick your bottom lip, asking for an entrance. You happily obliged, as you wrapped both of your arms around his shoulders. 

You felt his tongue gently intertwine with yours, all the built up love and (somewhat occasional) lust for him all seemed to unleash itself at once. Joseph leaned over your form, bending you backwards slightly as he gently pushed himself against you with slightly more force. You pressed your body as tightly as you could against his as you felt his hands travel south. One of his hands gently gripped your hip and the other remained on the small of your back as he gently guided you to a nearby table. 

One of his arms held the back of your thighs as he hoisted you up onto the table. He treated your body so delicately, never once being too rough with you. He gently rested one of his hands on your thighs, gently pulling it to the side as he stood in between your legs. 

He took a moment to admire your form, his eyes slowly, and carefully scanning your body as you leaned backwards on the table.

“You’ve always been.. so beautiful, (First Name). Both inside and out,” Joseph murmured, one of his hands resting on the side of your face.

“I love you, (First Name). More than I could have ever imagined. If only I had.. told you sooner. Then we would have been able to do.. so many things together. I.. I had been planning on asking you out on a date. But now look where we are,” Joseph whined, suddenly growing sad.

“Joseph, my love,” you gently guided his head upwards to look you in the eyes, “we’re going to get out of here. And when we do, we can do anything we want together– go on as many dates as we want to. I promise.” You smiled at him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right,” Joseph replied, his hand gently pushing your head back towards him for another kiss.

As he deepened the kiss, he unconsciously moved further towards you. You could feel him press his bulge against your clothed heat, making you squirm. You pushed yourself onto him further, wrapping your legs around his torso and resting your arms atop his shoulders.

You could feel him pant against your lips, stifling a moan as he pulled away for air. In that brief moment, he began to trail kisses across your body. Starting from just the corner of your mouth, to your cheek, down to your jawline, then the base of your neck. First removing your vest, button by button. His fingers just barely grazed over your breasts for a moment before he gently tugged on your tie, pulling you in for a kiss and loosening it at the same time. Once he pulled your tie off from around your neck, he undid the top few buttons of your white button-up shirt, pulling it loosely off one of your shoulders.

He continued his gentle kisses, occasionally nipping your skin with his teeth. His touch was immaculate, each kiss sending a shiver down your spine as he continued to treat your skin like it were porcelain, and he was the sculptor. 

You could feel each moan erupting from your chest uncontrollably as he pressed his bulge against you as he continued to unbutton your shirt even further. 

“Joseph..” you moaned as you threw your head back, feeling his hand travel to your inner thigh.

Carefully removing his lips from your shoulder, he looked up at you as his glasses slid down his nose. You adjusted his glasses for him, pushing them back up his nose. Not wanting to remove his other hand from your thigh, he settled for using his teeth to take off one of his gloves. As he bit down on the fingertip of his black leather glove, quickly discarding it, he rested his bare hand on your face again. This time, his thumb caressed your lower lip, gently pressing down on the soft flesh.

You parted your lips upon the contact as he slowly inserted his thumb into your mouth. Locking eyes with him, you swirled your tongue around his finger, grabbing his wrist and pulling it further into your mouth. He let out a soft moan at the sight, his lips parting and his eyebrows raised as he added his index finger into your mouth as well.

The feeling of your tongue around his fingers and that submissive look in your eyes was driving him mad. His pants felt even tighter than before as he used his other hand to adjust himself in his slacks. At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was adjusting himself or borderline masturbating to the woman in front of him as she sucked on his fingers. 

“Fuck, (First Name),” he panted, pressing his hand against his bulge.

You moaned in response, pulling him in closer with your legs to grind on his extremely obvious arousal. He immediately let out a soft groan as he took his fingers out from your mouth, licking your saliva off of his fingers before quickly licking his lips again. You felt his hand travel to your bottom, carefully squeezing your ass as he pulled you closer to him as he grinded on you. The sensation was absolutely sinful, like he was fucking you with your clothes on.

With a moan of delight, you pulled him in by his tie and encapsulated his lips in another kiss. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, one of his hands roamed your inner thigh and the other found its way back to your buttons. Pulling away to get a better look, Joseph rested his forehead against yours. He panted against you as he finally finished unbuttoning your shirt. Quickly discarding your clothes and setting them carefully beside you on the table, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He stared in awe at how beautiful you looked with only a bra on. 

He gulped, his lips slightly parting again as he quickly adjusted himself in his pants before going straight for your belt. He struggled for a moment, but you helped him pull it off of you and you tossed it on the floor, the buckle making a loud ‘clink!’ upon impact.

As he unbuttoned your slacks and pulled them down to your ankles, he couldn’t help but take a moment to admire you. You looked absolutely delicious, your pink lacy bra and your matching colored panties just did it for him. He could see how soaked you were through your underwear. He quickly pulled off his other glove as he placed one of his hands back on your shoulder as it slowly moved south. His fingers were slightly calloused, but still gentle and soft. The back of his hands had a few veins running down them and into his forearm, and his fingers were long and nimble. 

He seemed to hesitate for a moment.

“M-may I..?” He asked, his hand hovering over one of your breasts.

“I’m all yours, Joseph,” you replied, gently taking his wrist and guiding it down to your breast for him.

He quickly took a shallow breath upon the contact, and you could see his other hand find its way back to his clothed erection as it twitched in his pants. He pressed himself against his hand, never taking his eyes off of you.

“Fuck, Joseph,” you panted.

You quickly went to unbuckle his belt, you couldn’t stand it anymore. He looked delicious, and you could see how big he was already. His bulge pressed tightly against the confines of his slacks, creating a long thick bulge that was begging to be released.

He quickly moved his hands to assist you. His pants felt tighter than ever before as he quickly discarded his belt as you immediately went for his pants and unbuttoned his slacks, pulling down the zipper. 

The gray boxers he wore strained against his throbbing erection, a wet spot present at the tip with precum. He was much bigger than you thought originally as you stared at it. He was maybe.. 8 inches? A scary length, and you could already imagine the initial pain it would cause. But it didn’t matter, as long as it was him that you got to share such an experience with.

“Fuck,” he panted, loosening his tie and undoing the top button all with one hand.

You rushed to take his tie off for him, pulling it down from around his neck as he quickly unbuttoned his white button-up shirt. You helped with his vest, quickly undoing the few buttons and pulling it off from around his shoulders. You never took him as the type to work out, but you would always wonder. His broad shoulders seemed to slightly give it away, but with how bulky the KCPD uniform was, you were always unsure.

You couldn’t wait any longer, you were aching for him at this point, wanting to feel any kind of friction. 

You hastily pulled his boxers down for him as you looked back up at him through your eyelashes with a pleading expression painting your features. 

“Fuck, (First Name), don’t look at me like that..” Joseph muttered under his breath, as he pushed himself further between your legs.

“Why not, Joseph?” You teased, your index finger gently running across his collarbone.

He couldn’t find the words to respond, only began trying to fiddle with your bra clasp to get it off of you. You lightly chuckled in response to the slightly frustrated look on his face as he struggled. But you finally gave in, and helped him unclasp your bra.

As it hung on by the straps on your shoulders, you pulled it off painfully slow as he watched in anticipation. The moment you were fully exposed to the cool air, he immediately took one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipple as the other moved underneath your panties. His fingers were warm against your heat as he used his thumb to gently run over your clit. You winced at the contact, your thighs squeezing his hand as he teased your entrance. You unconsciously rolled your hips into his fingers, begging for more.

He attacked your neck with kisses as he slowly curled his fingers inside of you, his fingers creating slow waves. The pleasure hit you like a truck and all you wanted was more, his fingers were like magic.

You panted into his shoulder, your fingertips digging into his back.

“Fuck, Joseph! I.. I need you,” you begged, squeezing his torso in between your thighs as you pushed yourself against his bare cock.

He winced at the contact, a small moan escaping from his lips at your warm liquid lightly touching the tip of his erection. As he pulled his boxers down, one hand lightly rubbing the base of his cock, he gently lined the tip up with your entrance. He rubbed the tip lightly around your entrance, just lightly grazing your clit.

Your thighs clenched together at the blissful sensation. 

“P-please.. Joseph..” your nails dug into his back in anticipation, “I need you so fucking badly.”

“God, (First Name). I love you,” he called out your name as he gently began to insert himself inside of you.

Trying to be as gentle as he could, he slowly began to push himself further inside of you, until you noticed him pause for a moment. You looked up at him, scanning his face.

“I.. uh..” Joseph began, his voice slightly shivering.

“I.. I’ve never done anything like this before. So I apologize if it’s.. bad. Or if.. uh.. I finish a bit fast,” he embarrassedly apologized, his cheeks turning red.

His hesitance and inexperience was strangely cute.

“It’s– it’s alright. It’s my first time too so don’t worry,” you chuckled a bit.

“It is?” He looked up at you, seemingly a bit surprised.

“Yeah,” you admitted, “you’re my first.”

He chuckled under his breath.

“I guess we get to learn this together,” he lightheartedly remarked.

He looked you in the eyes again, both of his hands resting on either side of your face as he gently rested his forehead against yours. You could feel him slowly inserting himself, despite him being gentle, his large size made it extremely painful. You winced, grabbing hold of Joseph. Your nails dug into his back, trying to bite your lip so as to not make any noise. You could feel him stretching out your inner walls, until he was finally all the way in.

You panted as you could feel him slowly begin to slowly pull out, then back in again. The sensation as he pulled back out elicited a soft sigh from you, sweet relief washing over your body. He gave you a moment to catch your breath before he finally began to push himself back inside of you again. You could feel him tremble and his cock pulsate inside of you. He was holding himself back just for you, wanting to make sure he didn’t hurt you in any way, shape, or form. You could feel his breath against your bare chest as his erection was finally pushed all the way inside of you again.

The pain made you wince as he filled you up completely, the sensation of him pulling in and out felt so, extremely painful. You could feel tears threatening to spill as you scrunched your eyes in pain. 

He slowly began to pull out again, but this time the pain finally blurred into that of pleasure, and you craved for more.

“F-faster.. can.. you go faster?” You pleaded in between heavy breaths.

His eyes seemed to widen as you asked that, as he quickly nodded in hungry affirmation. 

“Anything for you, (First Name),” he happily obliged, quickening his pace as his grip around your thighs tightened. 

His hand snaked around the base of your neck, gently pushing down on your trachea, lightly choking you. You never took him as the type to be into choking, but you weren't complaining. The feeling shot below the pits of your stomach, as you felt yourself grow warmer at the sensation. You harshly grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand against your neck further, eliciting a soft moan as you tugged on the side of his hair to pull him into a harsh kiss. His tongue immediately intertwined with yours as he bit down onto your bottom lip, this time with significantly more force. The slight twinge of pain only made the moment grow hotter as you squeezed his torso in between your thighs. 

He moaned against your lips as his pace quickened with vigor. The wet, sloppy sounds eliciting from each thrust mixed with both of your barely-stifled moans echoed throughout the empty room. In the back of your mind, you desperately hoped Sebastian couldn’t hear any of the amorous noises louding emitting from the both of you. 

You could see Joseph’s stomach tighten, as his pace slightly slowed down.

“(F-First Name), I’m.. fuck, fuck I’m gonna cum..! I’m.. I’m..” he whined as his breathing grew heavier.

He groaned as he rolled his hips further into you, savoring every last inch of your dripping arousal as he pumped himself into you. Soft whimpers escaped from his lips with every slow, thorough thrust into you. His cock stretched your inner walls and you could feel the knot in your stomach slowly begin to come undone.

“F-fuck! I can’t, I’m.. I’m gonna..” he breathily moans as he quickly pulls out from inside of you.

Had he pulled out a second longer, he would’ve came inside of you. The last thing that any of you would want is an unexpected pregnancy, but luckily his timing sufficed in just the nick of time. 

He continued to stroke himself as he came, letting all of it drip onto your torso and your thighs. You felt yourself finally begin to relax the moment you finished as well, your back hitting the wall as you leaned back. You both shared a moment where you just looked at each other as you both tried to catch your breaths.

Joseph pulled you in for one last kiss before saying, “I love you so much. You have no idea how long I had been waiting to do that,” he admitted.

“I love you, Joseph, so, so much,” you replied, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

Joseph immediately grabbed your button-up shirt, which had previously been discarded to the floor, and helped you to get it back on.

“Come on, we’d better clean ourselves up and get dressed. I don’t know how long we've kept Sebastian waiting for,” he mentioned, picking up the rest of your clothes for you and helping you dress yourself.

You both hastily helped each other get dressed again, both of you desperately hoping that Sebastian hadn’t heard any of what just happened.

You really were lucky to have a man like Joseph in your life. Kind, sweet, gentle, and considerate.

[a-thirst-for-dunmer]

My favorite things about all my Skyrim followers:

KAIDAN

-wicked ass armor and weapon with fucking tigers on it

-realistic cursing in life or death situations

-literally the most realistic male dialogue ever with his corny ass innuendos. ‘This monument, does it remind you of me, love? Just kidding.’

-so goated in battle. Mans can kill a dragon so easy and i don’t need to do anything but look pretty

-ACCENT.

CARYALIND

-his hair is so fluffy. I bet it smells like roses and vanilla bean, what’s your secret bb

-such a sweetheart all the time. No wonder he can’t be Thalmor, he has too much heart for it

-fucking backstory. It’s very Zuko without villain redemption arc, and the fact that he still worries about the LDB thinking worse of him for being Thalmor royalty is just *chef’s kiss*

-ACE REP. I really fucking love how he can dress like a hoe, flirt like a hoe, and look so hot but have no interest in sex. Mmm that’s my jam that’s what I like.

-boob window

-Kaidan interactions! Proving that Altmer can be kind and sweet and not lighting-shooting British assholes

INIGO

-the backstories for everyone are so damn tearjerking but this guy?? Don’t even get me started on this mans scars I will cry

-literally autism. Says everything on his mind. Sir you are me

-blue. And a cat. What else??

-Lucien and him have a bromance that hits so good

-suplexes Nazeem with only his vibes

-sings original songs, where’s his soundcloud

KHASH

-okay first off i was writing a character just like her for the daughter of my LDB and Revyn. Never knew about her but this is Leeta come to life and i crave it

-pottymouth

-Kaidan Big Bro protection dialogue

-so happy when she kills things

-literally exactly what I expected a baby Argonian to sound like. So cute. So grumpy

-her outfit is just on point. If i hadn’t transitioned i would be cottagecore peasant dress woman with cats

LUCIEN

-like Cary, he is just sweet himbo no brain

-kid in a candy shop vibes. He is amazed by the wonders of this world

-the nerdiest mans you know, would probably never shut up about shit with Auryen but i haven’t gotten that far yet

-bottom energy

-AUTISM once again

-also sings!! Can sing ‘Toss a Coin to Your Witcher’ parody!!

AURI

-she is the Moment

-eats people and only meat. Wanna see someone react to ThatVeganTeacher with her as a vtuber model oml

-bullies Lucien (affectionately)

-cool pod

-looks like she could kill you and could actually kill you

-slams ALL haters and unworthy into the ground with her dialogue. Faendal ily but you don’t deserve her

RUMARIN

-a sweetheart himbo

-very Skilled with magic, specifically bound weapons. As someone who uses conjuration as their main line of magic, because dremora and bound bow go brr, I LOVE THAT

-not really good at speaking poorly of anyone tbh

-like lucien, he’s optimistic and fun to be around

-very…earthy. Jank. Grungy. Not what you’d expect from an Altmer, to be living as an adventurer mercenary, and i like that for him

-eats in bed, brain too empty to clean for long periods of time

-polyamorous pansexual King

-says Z like zed, which makes linguistics in Skyrim lore interesting

NEBARRA

-literally me

-sarcasm to the max

-name means ‘foreigner’ or ‘scorned’ or something transgender. anyway, king nihilist shit

-only wants the good wines

-also, the Accent, very good very sass

-Shakespearean insults for days

-also regular insults

-just…insults

-mystery and striking fear into the hearts of all

TALIESIN

-i thought no one could top Revyn in vibes of what Elder Scrolls character i would kin but then ✨he✨ came along

-no idea why Altmer are Brits but with him, i can vibe with it he sounds so good

-giggles evilly in fights

-s a s s

-pansexual!! We are putting queer in the game! (Even tho all vanilla spouses are, in the most Basic sense, bisexuals)

-the spice he can add with Cary as a protector/snarky best friend. I Need their backstory

-afraid of dogs, cat person

-just an absolute bitch to the Dragonborn but like in a way my gay friends are to me

-eyeliner on fleek

HONORABLE MENTIONS FOR SKEEVER AND CROC

-silly voice go brrr

[satorulovebot]

cursed seas chapter two | help wanted!

pairing — gojou satoru x fem!reader

genre —heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

summary — all your life you’ve been taught to hate pirates and the sins they have committed against god. you've always strived to be a good citizen upholding the law and avoiding the lawless, but when you meet the infamous captain gojou, known to be dangerous and cunning, you realize that survival in this world often requires sacrifices. sometimes, that sacrifice is your sanity.

word count — 10k

warnings — 18+, stalking/harassment, alcohol use, suggestive content, weapon usage, murder, + please read at your own discretion

author's notes — tried out this new theme. lowkey looks like ass but i don’t want to fix it. anyway enough of my bitching and moaning here’s another chapter of cursed seas. she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed btw and again there is murder in this chapter. please tread carefully my pirates :)

prev. the rouge captain | next. long story short

general masterlist -> series masterlist

The sun was already high in the sky when you stepped out of your home and onto the bustling streets of the city. The marketplace was filled with vendors and people going about their daily activities. You planned to take a trip down to the docks to see if you could find anyone willing to help you. You weren’t the most optimistic about the idea, but it would have to do for now.

The memory of the man from the ball still lingered in your mind. You had expected that the news of pirates of all people—crashing the legendary Merchant's ball would be the talk of the town, but to your surprise, there had been nothing. It was clear that the events that had taken place, just two days ago, had been kept quiet. Somehow. But you pushed those thoughts aside and focused on your main concern. Finding someone who would be willing to help you.

You were hoping and praying to any god that you would not have to see that man with the white hair anytime soon and the docks seemed like a place a man like him would be. The more you think about him, the more you feel like you have seen his face somewhere, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

As you made your way through the crowded marketplace you could hear the vendors shouting out to anyone that would listen, the smell of fresh produce, and the occasional clink of coins. It was a typical day in Elysport, yet you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that you have had ever since that night at the ball.

Every step you took toward the docks was weighed down by the memory of that man. The image of his striking white hair and the utter insanity in his eyes refused to leave your mind. It was frustrating, trying to recall where you might have seen him before, but every time you came close to remembering, the thought slipped away like sand through your fingers. You shook your head, trying to focus on your current objective: finding a crew.

As you neared the docks, the air grew saltier, and the distinct scent of the sea mixed with the briny odor of fish was present. The sound of seagulls could be heard crying overhead mixed with the creaking of wooden ships and the shouts of sailors. You scanned the area, your eyes searching for anyone who might fit the bill—a capable sailor or perhaps in the worst-case scenario a seasoned pirate—someone with the skills and knowledge to help you.

Looking around, you saw all kinds of sailors young and old. But there was something strange about one of them. He was staring right at you and he had the same look in his eye that the man two nights ago did. He had black hair that was half up half down, a navy blue bandana, and a small hoop earring in his left ear. You paid no mind to it because being stared at by weird men is a normal occurrence for you.

Your gaze fell on a group of rugged-looking men huddled together near one of the larger ships. Approaching them felt risky, but your options were limited. You took a deep breath and began walking towards them. One of the men, a tall figure with a missing hand and a patch over one eye, noticed you approaching their group. With a raised eyebrow, he asked, “What’s a lass like you doing around here?” he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

You hesitated for a moment before replying, “I’m looking for someone who can help me find a crew. I have… a job that needs doing.”

The man exchanged glances with his companions, who murmured among themselves. “A job, eh?” he repeated, “And what kind of job might that be?”

You bit your lip, debating how much to reveal. Finally, you decided to keep it vague. “It’s a task the requires experienced sailors who aren’t afraid to take risks. It could be dangerous.”

The man chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dangerous tasks are our specialty. But nothing comes for free, lass. What’s in it for us?”

“I have a map,” you replied, lowering your voice. “It leads to something valuable. Very valuable.”

The man’s interest was piqued, and the others leaned in closer, eager to hear more. “A map, you say? Well now, that does sound intriguing. But how do we know you’re not just spinning tales?”

You reached into your bag and carefully pulled out the map, keeping it partially concealed. “This is all the proof I can offer for now,” you said, “If you’re interested, we can discuss terms.”

The man eyed the map with keen interest before nodding. “Alright, you’ve got our attention. Meet us at the tavern tonight, and we’ll talk more. But be warned, lass—if you’re wasting our time, you won’t like the consequences.”

You nodded, feeling relieved. “I understand. I’ll be there.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. The docks were busy, but there was something about the way the hairs on the back of your neck stood up that made you uneasy. You cast a glance around, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to you. Still, the sensation lingered and you were eager to put some distance between yourself and the docks.

Making your way back through the marketplace, you tried to push aside the worry that had taken root in your mind. The meeting tonight could be the first step toward finding a crew and setting sail. But even as you tried to focus on the task at hand, the memory of the man with white hair reappeared, more vivid than before.

As night fell, the city’s atmosphere shifted. The marketplace grew quieter, the vibrant energy of the day giving way to a calm environment. You decided that you needed to prepare for the meeting at the tavern, so you packed a small bag with the essentials: the map, a few coins, and a dagger—just in case. The dagger was a gift from your father, one you hadn’t had to use yet, but tonight might be different.

You wrapped yourself in a cloak and stepped out into the cool night air. The streets were less crowded now, with only a few stragglers making their way home or heading to the taverns for a late-night drink. You kept to the shadows, avoiding eye contact with anyone who passed by. This meeting could change everything, for better or worse.

When you reached the tavern its wooden sign was creaking in the breeze, and you hesitated at the door. You could hear the sound of raucous laughter and the sound of cheers from outside. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The tavern was dimly lit, with a haze of smoke hanging in the air. The scent of stale ale and sweat made you scrunch your nose, but you forced yourself to move forward, scanning the room for the men you had spoken to earlier. You eventually spotted them seated at a table near the back.

You made your way over to them, weaving through the patrons of the tavern. The tall man with the eye patch noticed you first, nodding in your direction. “You’re here,” was all he said.

“I’m here,” you confirmed, taking a seat across from him. The other men at the table were watching you closely, their expressions unreadable.

“Let’s get down to business then,” the man said, leaning forward. “Tell us more about this map of yours. Where does it lead?”

You hesitated for a moment before unfolding the map on the table. The men leaned in, their eyes scanning the intricate details of the map.“It leads to an island,” you began, pointing to the mark on the map. “An island that’s said to hold unimaginable riches.” 

That wasn’t the only thing the island held, but they didn’t need to know that information.

The men exchanged glances, their interest piqued. “And how did you come by this map?” one of them asked.

“It was passed down to me,” you lied, keeping your voice steady. “My father was a sailor who spent his life searching for this island. He never found it, but he believed it was real, and he passed the map on to me before he died.”

The men seemed to accept your story, at least for now. The tall man with the eye patch leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. “And what do you want from us?”

“I need a crew,” you replied. “Sailors who know the seas, who aren’t afraid of the risks involved. I’ll share the treasure with you if we find it, but I need your help to get there.”

The men murmured among themselves, weighing their options. Finally, the tall man nodded. “Alright, we’re in. But remember this, lass—if you’re leading us into a trap, you won’t live to see the treasure.”

“I understand. But I assure you, this treasure is real. And I intend to find it.”

With the deal struck you knew there was no turning back now. You had a crew, or at least the beginnings of one, and a map. But as you left the tavern, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched again, that someone was following your every move.

The streets were nearly empty as you made your way back home, the only sound being the soft echo of your footsteps against the cobblestones. You quickened your pace, your hand instinctively moving to the dagger at your side. The feeling of being watched was growing stronger and you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Just as you turned a corner, you felt a presence behind you. Before you could react, a strong hand clamped down on your shoulder, spinning you around. You gasped, instinctively reaching for your dagger, but the sight of who stood before you made your blood run cold.

It was him—the man with the white hair.

He stood there, a dangerous smile playing on his lips, he had a wild almost predatory look in his eyes. You could see now that his face was more than just familiar—it was infamous.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you locked eyes with the man standing before you, the dim streetlight barely illuminating his face. A shiver ran down your spine as you instinctively took a step back, your hand gripping the dagger at your side.

"Going somewhere?" His voice was smooth. It was almost teasing, but there was an underlying threat that made your blood run cold.

You tried to maintain your composure, but the intensity of his gaze made it nearly impossible. "W-what do you want?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling slightly despite your efforts to keep it steady.

He tilted his head slightly, his smile widening. "Oh, I think you know what I want," he replied, taking a step closer. "You’ve been quite the busy little bee, haven’t you? That map of yours has caused quite a stir."

"I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never showed them the map," you lied and you tried to sound convincing, but the way his smile only grew wider told you he wasn’t buying it.

He took another step forward, his hand still resting casually on the hilt of the sword at his side. "Come now, there’s no need for lies between us," he said, his voice almost soothing in its softness. "I know you have the map. And I know you’ve been talking to some rather unsavory people about it."

Your mind raced, trying to figure out your next move. Running seemed futile—he would catch you in an instant, and you doubted you would fare any better in a fight. The only thing you could do was stall for time, though you weren’t sure what good it would do. "You never answered my question the other night! What do you want with the map?" you asked, trying to keep him talking.

He let out a soft chuckle, amused by your question. "What does anyone want with a treasure map? I want what’s at the end of it, of course. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it."

There was no mistaking the threat in his tone now, and you realized that there was no talking your way out of this. "You’re not going to find the treasure," you said, hoping to provoke him, to get him to make a mistake.

But he only smiled, his expression turning cold and calculating. "Oh, I think I will," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "But first, I need to tie up a few loose ends."

Before you could react, he moved with lightning speed, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you close. The dagger slipped from your grasp, clattering to the ground as you struggled to free yourself from his iron grip. "Let go of me!" you shouted, panic rising in your chest.

But he only tightened his hold, his smile fading as his eyes darkened. "You’re coming with me," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "There are some people I need to have a little chat with—and you’re going to watch."

With that, he began dragging you down the narrow streets, his grip unrelenting despite your attempts to break free. Your heart pounded in your ears as you were forced to follow him, the dagger you had so carefully packed now lying useless on the ground behind you.

You didn’t know where he was taking you, but you had a feeling that it had something to do with the men you had spoken to earlier.

The narrow alleyways twisted and turned, leading you both through the darkest corners of Elysport. Despite your fear, you took in your surroundings to try and remember a way out if the opportunity arose. But the way the white-haired man moved left you with little time to think, let alone plan an escape.

Before long, the two of you reached the outskirts of the docks, where the tavern from earlier came into view. It was quieter now, the late-night celebrations had died down, leaving only a few people loitering outside. The man with the white hair stopped suddenly, pulling you to a halt beside him.

His gaze shifted to the tavern, his expression darkening with a mix of disdain and anticipation. "Wait here," he commanded, releasing your wrist but positioning himself between you and the only exit.

Without another word, he strode toward the tavern entrance. Your heart hammered as you watched him disappear inside, your body frozen in place. What was he planning to do? The men inside had no idea what was coming, and you felt a pang of guilt for leading them into this mess.

But there was no time to dwell on that now. You had to do something—anything—to prevent what was about to happen. Yet, even as you went to follow him inside, the door swung open, and the man emerged, dragging one of the sailors behind him.

It was the tall man with the eye patch, the one who had seemed so confident and in control earlier. Now, he looked terrified, struggling weakly against the iron grip that held him.

The white-haired man cast a glance back at you. "Watch closely," he said, his voice low, "This is what happens to those who try to cheat me."

With a swift motion, he flung the sailor to the ground, drawing his sword in one fluid movement. The sailor scrambled to his feet, fear etched onto his face as he backed away, his hands raised in a futile attempt to protect himself.

"Please," the sailor begged, his voice trembling. "I don’t know what you want, but I swear, I’ll give you whatever you’re after. Just don’t kill me."

But the white-haired man was unmoved. "You made a mistake, thinking you could bargain with something that doesn’t belong to you," he said coldly, advancing on the sailor. "You should have known better than to cross me."

Before the sailor could respond, the man lunged forward, his sword flashing in the dim light. You gasped, turning away as the blade struck, but the sickening sound of steel cutting through flesh reached your ears, making you feel nauseous.

When you dared to look again, the sailor was crumpled on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. The white-haired man stood over him, his expression unreadable as he wiped the blood from his sword with a piece of cloth. His movements were calm as if this were just another routine task for him.

He turned to face you, and you couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through you at the sight of him. His eyes, which had seemed almost playful before, now glowed with a dangerous intensity that made your blood run cold.

"Let that be a lesson to you," he said, "I don’t take kindly to betrayal. And if you think you can outsmart me, you’ll end up just like him."

He gestured to the lifeless body at his feet, and you swallowed hard, the reality of your situation crashing down on you. This man—whoever he was—was not to be messed with. He was unpredictable and utterly ruthless.

Your thoughts raced as you tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. The man at your feet had been your one hope of assembling a crew, and now he was dead. The others in the tavern might still be alive, but if this white-haired man had anything to say about it, they wouldn’t be for long.

You had to act fast, but you were trapped. Your mind screamed at you to run, to escape while you still could, but your legs refused to move. 

He sheathed his sword, taking a step closer to you. "Now," he said, his tone suddenly shifting to something almost lighthearted, "I think it’s time we had a proper introduction, don’t you?"

You stared at him, too shocked to respond. He smiled again, that same smile from the ball.

"The name’s Gojou Satoru," he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "Captain Gojou, to be precise. And you, my dear, are in way over your little head."

Your breath hitched as the realization hit you. This was the infamous Captain Gojou, the man whose name struck fear into the hearts of sailors and pirates alike. The man who had haunted your thoughts since the ball, the one who had promised to find you no matter where you went—and now he had.

Even as the fear threatened to overwhelm you, there was another emotion bubbling beneath the surface—anger. Anger at everything that had happened, at this man who had turned your life upside down, and at yourself for being so helpless.

"What do you want from me?" you asked, your voice firmer than you felt.

Gojou’s smile widened, "I want what you want," he said simply. "The treasure. The map. Everything. But more than that," he added, his tone darkening, "I want you to understand that I’m the one in control now."

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. "You think you can just take it all for yourself?"

Gojou tilted his head slightly as if considering your words. "Yes," he replied, his tone casual, as if the answer was obvious. "And you’re going to help me."

The audacity of this man!

"And why would I do that?" you shot back. "You think I’d just hand everything over to you after what you just did?"

"Because," he said, stepping closer until he was only inches away from you, "if you don’t, you’ll end up like him."

He gestured to the lifeless body of the sailor without even looking at it as if it were nothing more than a piece of trash. The sight of it—the blood, the stillness—made your stomach turn, but you refused to show any sign of weakness.

"You’re a monster," you spat.

Gojou’s smile faded slightly, “Perhaps," he said softly, "But I get what I want. And right now, what I want is for you to cooperate."

"And if I don’t?"

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Then I’ll find other ways to make you," he whispered.

You can’t just force me into this!” you shouted, "There are others who know about the map. If anything happens to me, they’ll—"

"They’ll what?" Gojou interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come after me? Try to stop me? They won’t get the chance."

He straightened up, looking down at you. "But you’re smart enough to know that, aren’t you? You know no one can help you now. No one but me."

The truth of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. He was right—there was no one else. The men you had spoken to earlier were either dead or too scared to cross him. You were alone, and he knew it.

But you weren’t ready to give up yet. You might not be able to fight him, but you could still try to outsmart him. "Fine," you said, your voice cold. "I’ll help you. But on one condition."

Gojou raised an eyebrow, "Oh? And what’s that?"

"You let me keep my share of the treasure," you said, the words coming out a little more confident. "I won’t be your lackey, and I won’t just hand everything over. If I’m going to help you, I want something in return."

For a moment, Gojou said nothing, simply staring at you with those unnerving blue eyes. Then, to your surprise, he chuckled. "You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that."

He seemed to consider your proposition for a moment, then nodded. "Alright," he said finally. "You can have your share—if you survive long enough to claim it."

"Deal," you said, extending your hand.

Gojou looked at your hand for a moment, then grasped it firmly. His grip was strong, almost crushing, but you didn’t flinch. "Welcome to the crew," he said with a smirk, releasing your hand.

As Gojou turned and walked away, you couldn’t help but glance down at the sailor’s lifeless body once more. You hadn’t wanted any of this, but now that you were in it, you had to survive. And if that meant working with Gojou, then so be it.

But you silently vowed that you would find a way out. You would find a way to get the treasure, escape Gojou’s grasp, and make sure that no one else had to die because of it. 

Gojou might think he had the upper hand, but you weren’t going to let him control you. Not forever.

The night was far from over, and as you walked through the darkened streets. With every step, you knew that you would never forget the sight of Gojou killing that man—the cold, calculated way he had taken his life without a second thought.

Whatever happened next, you were in it now. And there was no turning back.

The night air was thick with the smell of salt and fish from the harbor as Gojou led you back toward the docks. The streets had emptied, leaving only the occasional flicker of a lantern in a nearby window and the distant sound of waves crashing against the pier. 

As you approached the docks, Gojou slowed his pace, his gaze scanning the area. He seemed at ease as if the murder he had just committed was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. It was clear that this was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, no matter the cost.

Finally, he stopped in front of a small building near the water’s edge. The structure was plain, with no sign or markings to indicate what it was, but the dim light seeping through the cracks in the shutters told you it was still open for business.

Gojou turned to you, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Wait here,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I have some business to attend to.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of “business” he was referring to. But before you could ask, he was already walking toward the building, his long coat billowing behind him in the wind.

You watched as he pushed open the door and disappeared inside, leaving you alone in the silence of the night. The door creaked shut behind him, and you were left standing in the darkness, leaving you with the distant sound of the ocean.

Inside the building, Gojou was greeted by the warm glow of candlelight and the soft murmur of voices. The interior was modest but well-kept, with rich, dark wood furnishings and plush cushions strewn across the floor. The scent of incense hung in the air, mingling with the subtle perfume of the women who lingered nearby.

The brothel’s madam, a woman in her late forties with sharp eyes and a knowing smile approached him. She was dressed in a silk robe that clung to her figure with her breasts spilling out and her hair piled high atop her head in an elaborate style that spoke of years spent mastering her craft.

“Captain Gojou,” she purred, “What a pleasant surprise. It’s been too long.”

Gojou offered her a charming smile, “Madam Iris,” he greeted, his tone polite but distant. “I’ve had a busy night, and I’m in need of a… distraction.”

The madam’s smile widened, and she gestured toward the stairs leading to the upper floors. “Of course, Captain. We have just the thing to help you unwind.”

As Gojou walked up the stairs, he took in the familiar sights and sounds of the brothel. The laughter of women and their companions, the low murmur of conversation, the soft moans of women, the soft rustle of silk and lace—it was all a part of the carefully curated atmosphere that Madam Iris had cultivated over the years. It was a place where men could forget their troubles, if only for a little while.

At the top of the stairs, a young woman awaited him. She was delicate and beautiful, with long, dark hair and wide, doe-like eyes. She curtsied as he approached, her movements graceful and practiced. “Captain,” she greeted him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Madam Iris said you might like some company.”

Gojou studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Lila,” she replied, her gaze flickering up to meet his before quickly darting away.

“Lila,” he repeated, tasting the name on his tongue. He reached out, gently tilting her chin up so that she was forced to meet his eyes. “You’ll do.”

He released her and gestured for her to lead the way. Lila nodded and turned, guiding him down the hallway to a private room. The room was small but comfortable, with a large bed draped in silk sheets and a low table set with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Once inside, Gojou shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair. He moved the way a man who had done this countless times before would.

Lila poured them each a glass of wine, her hands steady despite the nervous energy that seemed to buzz around her. She handed him a glass, and he took it, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest of moments.

“You seem tense,” he observed, taking a sip of the wine.

Lila hesitated, then nodded. “It’s just… you’ve got a reputation, Captain.”

Gojou raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Do I, now?”

She nodded again, her gaze fixed on the floor. “People talk, you know. They say you’re dangerous.”

“Is that so?” Gojou set the glass down on the table and stepped closer to her. “And does that frighten you?”

Lila’s breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t back away. “Should it?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead taking a moment to study her, to take in the way she stood before him—nervous, yet curious. Finally, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Only if you give me a reason,” he murmured.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension between them thick. Then, with a soft sigh, Lila reached up and placed her hand on his chest, her touch tentative. “I won’t,” she whispered.

Gojou smiled, though there was something predatory in the way his eyes darkened. “Good girl.”

With that, he pulled her closer, his grip firm. Lila responded instinctively, her body melting against his as if she had done this a thousand times before. It was all part of the game—one she had been trained to play from a young age. But there was something different about Gojou, something that made her heart race in a way she hadn’t expected.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You can relax, Lila. I’m not here to hurt you.”

The words were meant to be comforting, but there was an underlying edge to them that sent a shiver down her spine. She knew better than to let her guard down completely, but for now, she would play along.

Lila tilted her head up, offering him a tentative smile. “Then what are you here for, Captain?”

Gojou’s smile widened, and he leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a hungry kiss. As his hands roamed over her body, she found herself responding to his touch, her initial fear melting away under the heat of his gaze.

For a moment, the world outside the brothel disappeared. In that small, candlelit room, there was only the two of them, locked in a dance as old as time itself.

But even as Gojou lost himself in the moment, he knew what he was doing, and knew how to take what he wanted while keeping others at arm’s length. Lila might be beautiful and skilled, but she was just a temporary distraction—one he could enjoy before the real work began.

When their lips finally parted, Gojou looked down at her, “I’m here for a good time.”

Lila smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. She knew better than to expect anything more from a man like him. “Then I hope I can give you that,” she whispered.

Gojou didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled her onto the bed with him as she began removing his shirt and breeches. As they lost themselves in the moment, the outside world seemed to disappear, leaving only the soft sounds of their breathing and the flicker of candlelight against the walls.

But no matter how much he tried to distract himself, the thoughts of the treasure, the map, and the girl waiting outside the brothel lingered in the back of his mind. He had plans—big plans—and nothing, not even a night of pleasure, could make him forget that.

When morning came, Gojou left the brothel without a second glance. Lila watched him go from the window of the small room, a longing look in her eyes. She knew she would likely never see him again, but that was the way of things in her world.

As Gojou stepped out into the early morning light, the smell of the ocean and the sound of the docks greeted him like an old friend. He breathed it in, letting the cool air clear his mind. There was work to be done, and now that he was satisfied, he was ready to face whatever the day had in store.

He couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of you waiting for him outside the brothel. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into, but that was what made the game so much fun.

Gojou adjusted his coat, the fabric settling around his shoulders like a second skin and began to walk toward the docks where you were waiting. And he couldn’t wait to see how it would all play out.

The morning sun rose higher in the sky, painting the harbor with a golden hue as you made your way back to the docks. That asshole had told you to, “stay there” and never came back out and so you decided to head home and come back the next day with a packed bag.

As you approached the gangplank, a figure stepped into your path. The man was tall and broad-shouldered with a stoic expression.

“State your business,” he demanded, his voice low.

“I’m here to join the crew, I believe Captain Gojou should have mentioned me.”

The man’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave a curt nod. “Name’s Nanami,” he said, stepping aside to allow you to pass. “Welcome aboard.”

As you took in your surroundings, another figure approached, his demeanor more relaxed. Then it hit you, he was the man staring at you the other day! You should have known he worked for Captain Gojou with that creep behavior.

He was tall, with long, dark hair that was half up half down. “You must be the new recruit,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m Getou. The captain mentioned we’d be having a new addition.”

You nodded, offering a small smile in return. “It’s nice to meet you, Getou.”

Getou gestured for you to follow him as he led you further onto the deck. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew.”

Getou led you to a group gathered near the ship’s wheel, their conversation halting as you approached. They turned to face you with guarded expressions.

“This is Shokou,” Getou said, nodding toward a woman with short, tousled hair and a cigarette dangling from her lips. Her sharp eyes raked over you, seemingly assessing your worth.

“Welcome,” she said simply, her voice roughened by years of smoking and perhaps too many nights spent at sea.

Next, Getou pointed to a man standing off to the side, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He was tall and muscular, with a scar running down the side of his mouth.

“That’s Toji,” Getou continued. “He’s the muscle around here.”

Toji’s gaze narrowed as he began to speak, “Hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“I do,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed it yourself.

“And these two,” Getou said, gesturing toward a pair of younger men, “are Yuuji and Yuuta. Don’t let their age fool you—they’re damn good at what they do.”

Yuuji grinned at you, his boyish charm instantly putting you at ease. “Hey there! Glad to have you aboard.”

Yuuta, on the other hand, was more reserved. He nodded politely but remained silent, his gaze flickering between you and the others as if trying to gauge how you fit into this dynamic.

“And finally,” Getou said, his tone shifting slightly, “this is Ino. He’s our lookout.”

You glanced up to see a man perched high above the deck, sitting casually on one of the ship’s crossbeams. He gave you a cheeky grin and a two-fingered salute. “Nice to meet you!” he called down.

Before you could respond, a young boy appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. His dark hair was tousled, and his blue eyes were sharp.

“Who’s this?” the boy asked, his tone direct.

Getou smiled down at him before speaking again, “This is our new crewmember, Megumi. She’ll be joining us on our next voyage.”

Megumi’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked you over. Finally, he nodded, as if coming to a decision. “Fine,” he said, “Just don’t slow us down.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s bluntness. “I’ll do my best.”

“Don’t mind Megumi,” Getou said with a chuckle. “He’s a good kid, just a bit rough around the edges.”

Before you could reply, a familiar voice rang out from behind you, making your heart skip a beat. “What’s all this fuss about?”

You turned to see Gojou striding across the deck. His white hair caught the sunlight, making him look almost ethereal in the morning light. 

“Ah, Captain,” Getou said with a nod, his tone respectful. “Just introducing our new crewmember.”

Gojou’s gaze flicked to you, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t my little map-keeper,” he drawled, clearly enjoying the way your cheeks flushed at the nickname.

The crew exchanged glances, intrigued by the dynamic between you and their captain. It was clear that Gojou held the authority among them, but there was also something more—a bond that went beyond the usual captain-crew relationship.

Gojou sauntered over to you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I trust you’re ready for what’s to come?”

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to let him see the doubt that gnawed at your insides. “I am.”

His smile widened, “Good. Then let’s not waste any more time.”

But as he turned to address the crew, you caught a glimpse of Getou watching you. Something was unsettling in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken. He didn’t threaten you outright, but his presence alone was enough to keep you on edge.

“We set sail at first light tomorrow,” Gojou announced. “Make sure everything is in order by then. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

The crew nodded in unison. When Gojou gave an order, it was clear that it would be followed without question.

As the crew began to disperse, Gojou lingered for a moment, his gaze once again settling on you. “Remember,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “you’re under my protection now. Don’t do anything to make me regret that.”

“Understood.”

Before you could say more, Getou stepped closer, “You know,” he began, “the captain isn’t the only one you should be careful around. We all have our own… quirks.”

You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond to his cryptic words. There was something about Getou that made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells—always one misstep away from falling into something dangerous. But you also sensed a strange camaraderie between him and Gojou, one that wasn’t easily understood by outsiders. It was as if they were two sides of the same coin.

Getou’s eyes bore into you though his smile never reached them. “You’ve got a lot to learn,” he said softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “But don’t worry. We’ll make sure you’re... properly educated.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone on the deck. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. 

As you tried to gather your thoughts, Shokou approached, her cigarette hanging loosely from her lips. She leaned against the railing beside you, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Don’t let them get to you,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “They like to play mind games, especially with new recruits. It’s how they test you.”

You glanced at her, surprised by her comment “Is it always like this?” your voice barely above a whisper.

Shokou took a drag from her cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke before answering. “Pretty much,” she replied with a shrug. “But you’ll get used to it. Or you won’t. Either way, you’ll figure out how to survive. Just keep your wits about you, and don’t show fear. They respect strength.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, forcing a small smile.

Shokou gave you a brief nod before pushing away from the railing. “Good. We’ll see how you fare when we’re out at sea.” With that, she turned and headed back to her duties, leaving you alone once again.

Despite his lighthearted nature, it was clear that Yuuji was highly skilled in his duties. He moved with the confidence of someone who had spent years at sea, and his knowledge of the ship was impressive. His easygoing demeanor helped to ease some of the tension that had been building within you, and you found yourself relaxing slightly in his presence.

“So, what made you decide to join up with us?” Yuuji asked as he showed you how to tie a particularly complex knot. “It’s not every day we get someone new on board, especially someone like you.”

You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “Let’s just say I’m looking for something,” you replied carefully. “And I believe this crew can help me find it.”

Yuuji raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your vague answer. “Well, whatever it is, you’ve got a good group to back you up,” he said with a grin. “Just be ready for anything. Life on this ship is never boring.”

You smiled, grateful for his friendliness. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the day progressed, you found yourself slowly beginning to acclimate to the ship’s rhythm. The crew was a motley assortment of individuals, each with their own quirks and personalities, but they all shared a common goal—to survive and thrive in a world that sought to destroy them.

Nanami, with his stoic demeanor, kept a watchful eye on the crew, ensuring that everything ran smoothly. Toji, though intimidating, seemed to have a grudging respect for those who prove

Eventually, you found yourself drawn to the stern of the ship, where the vast expanse of the sea stretched out before you. The waves lapped gently against the hull, their rhythmic motion almost soothing in its constancy. You leaned against the railing, letting the cool sea breeze wash over you as you tried to calm your racing thoughts.

But the peace was short-lived.

“Lost in thought?”

You jumped at the sound of Getou’s voice, whipping around to find him standing just a few feet away. He was leaning casually against the railing, his arms crossed over his chest, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, though the amusement in his eyes suggested otherwise.

You forced yourself to relax, though your heart was still pounding. “I was just… thinking,” you replied, hating how weak your voice sounded.

Getou’s smile widened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. “Thinking can be dangerous out here,” he said softly, his tone almost conspiratorial. “You never know what might come of it.”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

For a moment, there was a tense silence between you, the air thick with unspoken tension. Getou’s gaze was intense, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was searching for something—some crack in your armor, some sign of weakness.

Finally, he pushed away from the railing, his smile fading into something more serious. “We all have our reasons for being here,” he said quietly. “Some of us are running from something, others are searching for something. But whatever the case, we’re all bound by the same fate.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You could sense the darkness that lurked beneath his calm exterior, the madness that he kept carefully contained. And yet, there was also a strange sense of camaraderie, as if he was offering you a glimpse into the twisted reality that bound them all together.

Before you could respond, Getou straightened up, his usual carefree demeanor returning as he flashed you a grin. “Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” he said with a wink. “Just remember—out here, nothing is as it seems.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again. But this time, the weight of his words pressed down on you, making it harder to breathe. You had known from the start that joining this crew would be dangerous, but now, you were beginning to understand just how deep that danger ran.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the deck, you realized that this was only the beginning. The true test lay ahead, and you would need every ounce of strength and resolve to survive what was to come.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the journey ahead. You had come this far, and there was no turning back now. No matter what challenges awaited you, you were determined to see this through to the end.

And as the ship’s crew prepared for the night, you couldn’t help but wonder what new horrors the darkness would bring.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the deck in a warm, golden glow. The crew moved with a sense of purpose, their faces hardened by years at sea. You had spent the day learning the ship's ropes, trying to familiarize yourself with the various tasks that would soon become part of your daily routine. But despite the activity around you, you couldn’t shake the tension that hung in the air, the unspoken understanding that this crew was different, that you were now part of something far more dangerous than you had imagined.

Gojou was nowhere to be seen, and while a part of you was relieved, another part of you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. His presence, or lack thereof, cast a shadow over the crew. Everyone was on edge, waiting for his next unpredictable move. It was clear that his control over the crew was absolute, his authority unquestioned, but it was also clear that this control was maintained through fear and the sheer force of his personality.

You spent the next few hours familiarizing yourself with the ship, trying to learn the ropes—both figuratively and literally. Yuuji, with his infectious enthusiasm, took it upon himself to show you around, explaining the various parts of the ship and introducing you to some of the other crew members.

As night fell, the crew gathered around a makeshift table on the deck, sharing stories and rations. You joined them, trying to blend in, but you could feel the tension in their ir at your presence. Getou sat across from you, his gaze never leaving your face. It was unsettling, to say the least.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a dark amusement. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Just trying to get used to everything,” you grimaced.

“You’ll get used to it, or you’ll go mad trying. Either way, it’ll be interesting to see how you fare.”

The crew’s laughter and banter faded into the background as you focused on Getou’s words. And you would find out just what kind of person Gojou Satoru really was, even if it meant facing the darkness within yourself.

By the time dawn broke the sky was painting the sky with streaks of pink and gold, you had barely slept at all. But there was no time to dwell on your fears. As you climbed out of your bunk and stepped onto the deck, you were greeted by the sight of the crew already hard at work. The air was cool and crisp, the scent of salt and seaweed filling your lungs as you took a deep breath and tried to steady your nerves.

You were determined to prove yourself, to show the crew—and yourself—that you had what it took to survive in this world. But as you made your way across the deck, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. Again. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you glanced around, searching for the source of the unease.

It didn’t take long to find it.

Standing near the bow of the ship, his tall figure silhouetted against the rising sun, was Gojou Satoru. He was watching you with an expression that was impossible to read. For a moment, you were frozen in place, caught in his gaze like a moth trapped in a spider’s web.

Then, with a casual wave of his hand, Gojou beckoned you over.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to move, your legs carrying you toward him as if they had a mind of their own. The deck seemed to stretch out endlessly before you, every step heavy with the weight of your fear and uncertainty.

When you finally reached him, Gojou smiled—a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good morning,” he said, “Sleep well?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The truth was that you hadn’t slept well at all, but something told you that admitting that would only amuse him. So instead, you simply nodded, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“Good,” Gojou said, “Because we’ve got a lot to do today, and I need everyone at their best.”

He gestured to the horizon, where a small, rocky island was just beginning to come into view. It was shrouded in mist, its jagged cliffs rising up like the teeth of some ancient beast. “That’s our destination for today,” he explained. “We’ll be making landfall in a few hours. And I expect you to be ready.”

By mid-morning, the ship was closing in on the island, its rocky shores growing larger with each passing minute. The mist clung to the cliffs, giving the place an eerie, otherworldly quality, and the crew fell silent as they worked, their usual banter replaced by a tense, almost reverent quiet.

You found yourself standing at the rail, staring out at the island as it loomed closer and closer. But before you could dwell too much on the uncertainty of what lay ahead, a voice broke through the silence, low and steady.

“First time heading to an island like this?” You turned to find Nanami standing beside you. 

“Yes,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never been anywhere like this before.”

Nanami nodded, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “Most haven’t,” he said. “These places... they’re different. Dangerous. But they’re also where the greatest treasures are found. That’s why we’re here.”

“Stick close to the crew,” Nanami advised, his tone more serious than you had ever heard it. “Trust your instincts, but also trust the people around you. We’ve been through this before, and we know what to expect. But that doesn’t mean it will be easy.”

The island was just ahead, its cliffs towering over the ship and the crew was already preparing to lower the anchor. As the ship drew closer, the mist began to lift, revealing more of the island’s rugged terrain. The cliffs were dotted with caves, their dark mouths gaping open like the jaws of some great beast. The water at the base of the cliffs was churning as if something below the surface was stirring, waiting for its next victim.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the crew moved with precision, each person knowing exactly what needed to be done. The anchor was dropped with a loud splash, and the ship came to a halt just off the shore, the waves crashing against the hull in a steady rhythm.

Gojou appeared at the bow, then, with a sharp nod, he turned to the crew. “We make landfall in ten minutes,” he announced, “Be ready for anything."

As the crew began to prepare the rowboats, you found yourself standing on the deck, staring out at the island. You knew that this was the moment of truth, the moment when you would find out if you truly had what it took to survive in this world.

But as you stood there, your thoughts racing, a hand suddenly clamped down on your shoulder, snapping you out of your reverie. You turned to find Getou standing beside you, his expression one of amusement.

“Shit! You scared me!” you gasped.

He chuckled lightly and asked, “Nervous?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “A little,” you admitted.

Getou chuckled, his hand squeezing your shoulder in what was probably meant to be a reassuring gesture. “Don’t worry,” he replied, “Stick with me, and you’ll be fine. Just remember—no one makes it through this life unscathed. But that’s what makes it interesting, don’t you think?”

You nodded, though his words did little to ease the knot of anxiety that had formed in your stomach. But before you could say anything else, Gojou’s voice rang out across the deck, signaling that it was time to go.

The crew began lowering the rowboats into the water and preparing to make the journey to land. You followed their lead, as you climbed into one of the boats, trying to steady yourself as the small vessel rocked beneath you.

Getou was right behind you, his presence was slightly comforting. As the crew began to row, the island seemed to get larger and larger, its cliffs rising like the walls of an impenetrable fortress. 

The rowboats eventually made landfall as the crew pushed them onto the shore and began walking inland.

As you ventured further inland, the mist began to dissipate, revealing more of the island's rugged terrain. The path ahead was narrow, bordered by cliffs on one side and dense, twisted foliage on the other.

Gojou led the way as if he had been here before, though you knew that couldn’t be true. The island was uncharted, its secrets known only to those who had dared to venture here in search of its hidden treasures—and those who had survived to tell the tale were few and far between.

Despite the intensity of the situation, you couldn't help but notice how the crew operated. They moved as one, each member knowing their role, their place in the hierarchy clear. You were an outsider here, but their union was a testament to the strength of their bond. It was a bond that had kept them alive through dangers that would have broken lesser men.

As the group moved deeper into the island, the path began to climb, the terrain growing more difficult with each step. The cliffs loomed high above you, casting long shadows that stretched across the ground like grasping fingers. The vegetation grew denser, the trees twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like skeletal arms.

The atmosphere became thinner and it made it harder to breathe. The island felt alive in an almost unnatural way as if it were aware of your presence. It was as if the island itself was a living entity, watching, waiting.

Gojou paused at the top of a particularly steep hill, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. The rest of the crew stopped as well, their attention shifting to whatever had caught Gojou’s eye. You followed their gaze, squinting against the harsh light of the rising sun.

At first, you saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just more rocks, more trees, more shadows. But then, as the mist began to clear further, you saw it—an ancient, crumbling structure, half-hidden by the overgrowth. It was a ruin, its walls covered in moss and ivy.

“This is it,” Gojou said, his voice filled with an almost childlike excitement. “This is what we came for.”

It didn’t look like much—a forgotten relic of an era that was long gone, abandoned, and left to decay in the middle of this god forsaken island. But the way Gojou spoke, and the way the crew reacted, made it clear that this place was important. 

“Everyone, stay sharp,” Gojou continued, “We don’t know what’s inside, and we don’t know who—or what—might be guarding it.”

The crew nodded in silent agreement, their hands instinctively moving to their weapons. The air was thick with tension, the kind that precedes a storm. You could feel it in your bones, a deep, primal fear that made your skin prickle and your stomach churn.

But there was no turning back now. The closer you got, the more you could see the details—intricate carvings in the stone, eroded by time.

The entrance to the ruin was a gaping maw, its stone archway cracked and crumbling. The darkness was the kind that seemed to swallow any light that dared to enter. You hesitated at the threshold, your instincts screaming at you to turn back, to flee from this place, and never look back.

But before you could act on those instincts, Gojou stepped forward, his presence commanding the attention of everyone around him. “Stay close,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We go in together, and we come out together.”

With that, he led the way into the darkness. The crew followed without hesitation, their trust in Gojou was evident in the way they moved as one, their footsteps echoing through the silent ruin.

You took a deep breath and stepped inside, the darkness swallowing you whole. The air was cool and damp, the scent of earth and decay filling your nostrils. The walls were close, the space narrow and claustrophobic, the only light coming from the torches carried by the crew.

The further you went, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The darkness seemed to press in on you, the weight of the earth above bearing down on your shoulders. You could hear the sound of your own breathing, the rapid thud of your heart in your chest. Every step felt like a descent into the unknown, into a place where the rules of the world no longer applied.

The crew moved with caution, their eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger. Gojou led the way, his torch held high, casting flickering light on the walls around you. The carvings continued, more detailed and complex the deeper you went, telling a story that you couldn’t quite decipher.

But then, the path began to widen, the walls falling away to reveal a large, open chamber. The ceiling was high, disappearing into the darkness above, the floor uneven and littered with ground roots amongst other things. In the center of the chamber was a large stone altar, its surface covered in ancient symbols that glowed faintly in the torchlight.

Gojou approached the altar, his expression one of awe and reverence. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the surface of the stone, and as he did, the symbols came to life, glowing with an intense, otherworldly light.

But before anyone could react, the ground beneath your feet began to shake. The walls trembled, dust and debris falling from the ceiling as the very earth seemed to come alive. The altar pulsed with energy, the light growing brighter, and more intense until it was blinding.

You threw up your hands, shielding your eyes from the searing light. The hum grew louder, the ground shaking violently, and you felt a surge of panic rise in your chest. And then, just as soon as it had started, it stopped.

The light faded, the ground stilled, and the chamber was plunged back into darkness. The only sound was the ragged breathing of the crew.

Gojou was the first to move, lowering his hands and turning to face the crew, there was a glint in his eyes, a hint of something that made your blood run cold.

“Well,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “It looks like we’ve found what we were looking for.”

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[cubansinmiami]

Adventures in the Land of Miami Cyber Patriotism: A Galactic Quest for the Trump-Adoring Cuban Clown

Once upon a time, I felt lower than a gopher's basement. Deep inside, I realized I hadn't lifted a finger to support my fellow Trump-loving Cuban patriots, who didn't have a penny-pinching web's napkin sketch to let the world know how much they venerate Trump's lighthouse and spiritual guide, Fidel Castro. I swear, I'd looked everywhere! I scoured the web high and low, but it was like searching for a grain of sand in a digital desert. Zilch. Nada. I couldn't find a Trump-loving Cuban in cyberspace if my life depended on it!

The Trump-adoring Cuban diaspora vegetates in an unfathomable, pitch-black cybernetic darkness!

One rainy day, I woke up to the sound of thunder and decided to right a wrong. I had to do something because, damn it, my fellow Cuban wannabe dictators deserve a chance to let the world know that they are fourth-class clowns! It is a matter of principles and patriotism!

Thus, I said to myself: Let's build a Trump-ass-kissing website that the Cuban patriots can use to bow down to Donald Trump, their new master of choice, as well as to be reminded that they couldn't get enough of their former master of choice, Fidel Castro.

Some venture it was!

I am usually busy, but pulling the Cuban Trump-loyalist pretenders out of the twilight zone was a religious commendation, and I felt compelled to fulfill it.

I took a deep breath and made up my mind. Let's fight to make our Miami Cuban Trumpist jingoists famous in the world of the internet!

First, of course, I had to actually make sure that the Trump-loving Miami Cubans were not even listed in the free Yellow Pages. Next, I rushed to my computer and started searching online, in English, of course. Wait, I know, I know! Don't jump to conclusions just yet. I know that the Miami Cuban Trump-patriots are diehard republicans and have issues with Mary being a boy and Tom being a girl, but English is, I believe, what Donald Trump jives with.

I tried Cubans for Trump to begin with because I was almost certain I would bring home the bacon, and BINGO, I landed on a page that sells premium domains!

WOW! THERE WAS A 305 NUMBER TO CALL AND A GMAIL ADDRESS TO MAKE AN OFFER! LOOK AT THIS! ANY OFFER! THEY ACCEPT ANYTHING!

Hold your horses! Did I say Gmail? Are you kidding me? They sell premium domains and can't spare a few bucks for a decent email address?! What a joke! I was off to a rough start.

I didn't desperate. though. Actually, I tried again. But, this time, I looked for Cubans 4 Trump with a 4, because the original patriots who blocked me for calling them, well, idiots, used the number 4.

Strike two! This one is even worse. It doesn't even open, and even Google gets scared. "Don't open it!" screams the alert.

Is it going to work in Spanish?

It looks like English doesn't always work in America. So, I decided to try my search in Spanish, which should have been my first option since Spanish is our mother tongue; but, you know, Trump-adoring idiots are weird, and you have to let them be.

I went to the search bar and tried everything that came to mind. Nothing. Zero. Nada. Cuban patriots are nowhere to be found! A sad reality just hit me in the face.

I had the answer to my doubts. Nobody hears my fellow Cuban patriots screaming louder and louder for Trump because they are cyber-invisible in the 21st century, mind you. And, that bothers me because, yes, it's true that the most ardent Cuban nitwits cheerleading Trump can hardly pay for a croqueta at the Versailles restaurant, but they could, at least, pretend a little harder and come together with a few bucks to pay for a moderately decent website, which doesn't cost that much. Is it patriotic stinginess, is it?

At this point, I wasn't feeling optimistic at all. The situation was rather depressing, and I felt it wasn't fair.

My time to shine had come!

I've dedicated part of my life to helping others, and the Trump-heart-hugging Cuban idiots are, well, that, but they are human beings and, on average, Cubans like me who need to express themselves.

I bought a cheap domain and designed a starter webpage to give them a space. It's the least I could've done in the name of freedom of expression and democracy.

[nothingunrealistic]

Throughout the course of Billions, characters have conspired to take down their enemies with comically elaborate schemes. It’s only natural, then, that the series finale, “Admirals Fund,” hinges on one last con. With self-made billionaire Mike Prince (Corey Stoll) shaping up to be the next POTUS, longtime adversaries Chuck Rhoades (Paul Giamatti) and Bobby Axelrod (Damian Lewis) work together to take away the one thing that legitimizes Prince’s candidacy: his wealth. As Prince goes to meet with the current (albeit unnamed) president at Camp David—a tacit acknowledgement that he’s the front-runner in the upcoming election—Chuck and Axe set about orchestrating his downfall. At the Southern District of New York’s offices, Chuck tells his staff that they’re now investigating six of the United States’ largest national gas companies for potential collusion with China, Russia, and Iran. Meanwhile, Philip Charyn (Toney Goins), who has the final say on all trades at Michael Prince Capital and has secretly soured on his boss, goes about putting all of the company’s funds into the natural gas sector. Once the SDNY’s investigation is leaked to the press as Chuck intended, the stocks crater and MPC’s risk-management algorithm sells all of the natural gas positions once they become worthless. (Since Prince doesn’t have access to his phone at Camp David, he’s oblivious to all of this going down.) By the time Chuck holds a press conference announcing that the investigation amounted to nothing but hearsay—thereby allowing the natural gas stocks to rebound—Prince’s entire portfolio has been wiped out. As for Axe, he ensures that his former Axe Capital employees are spared from the carnage by siphoning their money into a secret internal fund. In one fell swoop, Prince loses his throne. With that, Billions arrives at its own version of a happy ending: Chuck reclaims his dream job at SDNY, Axe revives his hedge fund, Wendy Rhoades (Maggie Siff) embraces a new challenge as the CEO of a telehealth company, and Taylor Mason (Asia Kate Dillon) leaves the world of finance for philanthropy. (While Prince’s company is destroyed and his presidential aspirations are extinguished, his consolation prize is the $100 million he tucked away at Black-owned banks to secure Killer Mike’s endorsement.) Still, even as Billions ends, it’s hard to imagine these characters ever winding down—in the spirit of the show’s innumerable pop culture references, the action is the juice. Of course, the world of Billions isn’t going anywhere: as Showtime announced earlier this year, as many as four spinoffs are in development. (The working titles for two of these projects: Millions and Trillions; I’m not kidding.) With the Writers Guild of America strike only just ending—and the Screen Actors Guild still negotiating with studios—there haven’t been any meaningful updates on these spinoffs. But for the time being, series cocreators Brian Koppelman and David Levien are more than happy to break down all things Billions. Below, we discuss the challenge of ending a show with such a deep ensemble, what goes into executing a long con, and the celebrity cameos that could have been.

Good to see you guys again. Brian, I haven’t seen you since you kicked my ass in tennis, but I’ve been trying to work on my game since. Brian Koppelman: Yeah, how’s that been going, man? Actually, it’s been going well. I won a tournament in Brooklyn last month, but it felt very fluky. It didn’t have any heavy hitters in the draw. Koppelman: All deep respect to you, but I’m not optimistic about your chances against me.

[Laughs] Fair enough. First of all, congrats on the finale. When you guys started Billions, did you already have an idea of how long the series would go on for, or were you taking it season by season and assessing after that? Brian Koppelman: I think the only way one can think about this is: Do you think at the beginning of something like this, it sets up to be the kind of story you could tell over a long period of time? Do the characters have enough of a charge in them, and does the world suggest the possibility for enough conflict and story and resonance to the society that you’re living in? For us, the answers to those questions were yes, and so it was like, well, let’s try. Each season, you empty the clip. Each season, you try to tell the absolute best story you can—you don’t save ideas. That’s what David Chase said, and that’s what Matt Weiner said, and that was our approach. But we did it weirdly, we had the first three seasons and we knew, if we can do it— David Levien: The broad strokes were mapped out. Koppelman: So then as you’re doing that, you start to think, OK, two more seasons out, and two more seasons out. In a way, yes, we certainly never felt like more than seven seasons was the right answer. At a certain point, Billions watchers were not casual fans. They were people who watched the show more than once and really invested in the canted world that these characters live in. Getting that kind of response, knowing that if we had a character have an odd enthusiasm or interesting reverence, that there were a lot of people out there to catch what we were throwing, that really does act as fuel.

With a show like this, what’s the biggest challenge in landing the plane? My mind goes straight to just how loaded and talented the ensemble is, and trying to give every character a worthy sendoff. Levien: Yeah, that was a big part of it. We wanted to have a good resolution for so many different characters. Over the course of the final season, we wanted to revisit tons of guest stars, and then for the core group, we had a good amount of people that needed a moment. Also, a lot of different pairings of people that needed to have resolution. It was a question of balancing that valedictory stuff with wrapping up the plot in an exciting way, so that you weren’t sitting there, having stopped moving, basically for the goodbyes. That’s what we spent the most time on: balancing in the final episode how to unfurl the big plot moves, and filtering in all of the more emotional stuff.

The public perception of billionaires has evolved quite a bit since the start of the series—there’s more scrutiny, and even animosity. Did that affect not just your approach to the series, but how you introduced a new foil like Mike Prince? Levien: Yeah, I mean that totally informed it. When we started, we were very focused on these hedge fund billionaires who really didn’t like to be in the spotlight, and they didn’t really advertise that they were building anything for the good of humanity. They all generally did some philanthropy, but even that wasn’t super public. But then after a couple of years as we were into it, we started to realize that there was this new kind of a billionaire who maybe came from venture capital, or was an inventor, or in private equity or something, and they were bringing these ideas to benefit mankind and help everybody. Koppleman: But putting air quotes around [benefiting mankind], we didn’t find that credible. Levien: Maybe they tried, but the idea that by virtue of all the success, they had all the answers in every field, and that politics was a natural extension of that. So yeah, Mike Prince got introduced as this wonderful guy who had all the answers and didn’t even show you that he was competitive. Because he was so warm and cuddly, like a cuddly monster as he calls himself. But then as you spend more time with him, you start to see the darker hues that everybody gets alarmed by. Koppelman: But also, Miles, your question is interesting because it comes from a very particular point of view—of geography, age, profession. In fact, it’s not true, right? It’s true in the microcosm, it’s completely not true in the macro. I mean, look at Shark Tank and Mark Cuban in the world, and yes, one may decry Elon [Musk], but just go online today and say something bad about him. It’s interesting that you asked the question. I would ask you to actually probe that because you stated it like it’s a fact, but it’s a fact for a group of people who feel a certain way. Perhaps we’re in that group of people with you, who have a jaundiced eye toward that kind of power. But one of the things we learned in making the show was that in our minds, Axe was never the hero of the show. From Episode 6 of the first season on, we slowly reveal that Axe is essentially the kind of utilitarian who would let a guy die for a little more money and security. And we were shocked that the audience loved him even more. Levien: They thought he was a badass for that. Koppelman: We were revealing that, yes, this guy’s charming and powerful and charismatic and has great verbal skills and is a winner. But you—us—should regard him with huge amounts of suspicion, and a huge amount of awareness for the destructive power that’s on the flip side of all the gifts. At the same time, that’s when the country elects Trump—at the end of the first season, that’s when that happened. We were watching the culture in a wrestling match about this question. Perhaps for you it’s settled, but I don’t think it’s settled for most of America.

I guess I would counter that with the guild strikes. Obviously, it’s more specific to our industry, but the last time the writers were on strike, there wasn’t as much public support for it. When you lay out the facts for people, fewer will side with the studios and these wealthy executives. We don’t have to get into all that, and maybe it’s not a true consensus, but I feel like— Koppelman: That’s the media. I mean, fans of the show couldn’t help getting some kind of wish fulfillment thing going with Axe. It’s like Tony Soprano or Walter White. People might not get the right message from it. They might just idolize these people. Koppelman: I’m really interested in what we’re going to discover about these kinds of people. I understand why we all would decry them. I’m really interested in why they’re effective so we can learn from it as a society. It’s fascinating to explore it, for me, with curiosity.

Diving into the finale—hopefully it goes without saying that this is a compliment—but seeing all the characters and the way they orchestrated Prince’s downfall, it almost felt like something out of an Ocean’s movie. These long cons—and seeing how all the pieces fall into place—have been one of the show’s biggest calling cards. As the creative architects behind these moments, what goes into making a long con and executing it well? Koppelman: Imperfect information. Levien: To the audience. Koppelman: Right. The thing that makes someone good at poker is understanding how to look at imperfect information, and if you’re telling a story, it’s how to distribute information with holes in it that might lead somebody a certain way. You know, it’s this old [Quentin] Tarantino thing, where he talked about the challenge of audiences being so sophisticated. They’ve ridden the roller coaster so many times that they start leaning left before the roller coaster banks left. Quentin’s point is that, as a creator, you have to find a way to get them leaning left and then whip right.

One thing that struck me this season was the emphasis on self-improvement from the characters. For instance, Chuck chose to help Ira with the cellphone sex tape scandal instead of throwing him under the bus. Characters didn’t necessarily change who they were as much as becoming better versions of themselves. What inspired that shift? Levien: There has to be some kind of evolution. For some characters, they can change more. Taylor can take a stride and finally deploy money in a way that’s going to be philanthropic. For someone like Chuck, he’s not going to change completely elementally, but he can still take steps—small steps. That reflected a reality to us and yet it stayed true to his character. It’s an interesting contrast to Prince. The other characters are willing to acknowledge their flaws and work on them, whereas Prince can only choose to believe that he’s a righteous person. Levien: That’s something that we were working with, which is that the main characters ultimately looked at who they were and knew who they were. He was the one guy who was in denial, and that was his fatal flaw.

The characters on Billions have been driven by constant schemes to acquire more power or money—or both—and it’s hard to imagine that stopping just because the show is ending. Have you put any thought into where you see characters like Axe, Chuck, Taylor, and Wendy in five or 10 years? Koppelman: It’s real intentional what Axe’s last lines are. We don’t really talk in terms of statements we’re trying to make. But he’s someone with all those options in life, all those tools, all that money, all that ability to buy freedom, to have freedom. Yet the only place that he feels really alive is talking to this group of mostly men and saying, “Let’s make some fucking money.” There is something about that that we wanted to leave you with, and have you think about. We hope you’ll consider why that made you feel the way it made you feel. We watched [the finale] in a theater recently and [the audience] was cheering [for Axe], and it’s like, well, why? What are you cheering for, exactly? We’re really interested in that question.

One of the joys of Billions is seeing all the celebrity cameos, and this season you got the likes of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Triple H, and Killer Mike. Are there any celebrities at the top of the wishlist who didn’t appear on the show? Koppelman: Tiger Woods was the only clean turndown. With Tiger, there was nothing we could do. [Woods’s longtime agent Mark Steinberg] just wrote back, “No.” We know from someone that Tiger watches the show and he likes the show. But the answer was no. There is one heartbreak, and we haven’t said this to anyone, but we were really close to getting the great Steve Harvey on our show. Really? Levien: He was extremely difficult to get to. Even considering all the people that we got, he was the toughest. Koppelman: We had a really special thing we’d written for Steve Harvey and we could never quite make it. Sadly, there was a scheduling snafu and he was on a Zoom that we didn’t know about, waiting for us. And you do not make a man like Steve Harvey wait. It’s crushing to us—we hope that whatever we do next, we can find a way to get Mr. Harvey to show up just one day. One day with Mr. Harvey and my entire life would be better.

Showtime already told me that you don’t have any updates on the Billions spinoffs. Instead, I’ve got a pitch for you guys: I’m thinking Maestro Scooter at the New York Philharmonic going full Lydia Tar. Levien: When Scooter gets the baton in his hand, he starts to become a driven maniac. Koppelman: I think you’ll understand, Miles, that under normal circumstances, of course we would welcome you into the writers room. But we can’t poach from Bill Simmons, and that’s the only reason. Otherwise, we would tell you to create that for us under our umbrella. But we have to close that umbrella because we’re under Bill’s umbrella. (Editor’s note: Koppelman and Levien hosted a Billions podcast with The Ringer during Season 5.) Of course, the separation of church and state. I understand. I just wanted to throw it out there, and obviously you’ll be hearing from my lawyers if Maestro Scooter does happen. Koppelman: I feel if you write this without acknowledging the tennis loss, you’re not including your bias in the piece. Levien: It’s going to be one of those profile-y things where it’s like, “Koppelman likes to bully about his tennis.” Wow, you had to bring up the loss again. Koppelman: I think of it as a win.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

I am obsessed with the idea of Kyojuro falling for someone completely different than him, kinda like in uninterested but in my mind they actually have arguments (nothing major obv) and at first he doesn't have any interest in pushing it to be friends. Then suddenly everything he believes in (that love is supposed to be easy, always sweet, never complicated, recognizable) is shattered as he understands that love can in fact be complicated, difficult, not perfect, and that's okay. Idk if you like the idea but I just wanted to share!

a/n: honestly opposites-attracting, but only after turmoil is such a good trope but so overlooked imo- since i dont consider it enemies-lovers (theyre clearly distinctly different asldkfjasdf). also why is it hard to write like a passive-slightly aggressive rengoku? (it shouldn't be considering when he first met tanjiro his mind was literally 'execute child' LMFAO)

also, slight warning bc sanemi and you get into a fist fight lol (very confrontational y/n)

additionally: im not very happy with the outcome of this, and on top of that it's pretty short but hNNG i couldn't just keep this in my draft so im releasing it into the wild and ruNNING away

-x-x-x-

kyojuru is a certified optimist with the skills to back up his optimism

so when you entered his life with a polar opposite attitude, he tried thinking nothing of it

but your constant need to tell him that his optimism is suffocating or stiffling or even 'unrealistic' really grinded on his gears and even he has a limit

kyojuro is a good man, but he isnt a saint

at first it started with small little jabs to try and appease you when you would start talking about whatever came out of your mouth

"you should focus on training and not speaking so much"

"your pessimism is truly deep-seated, isn't it?"

"y/n, please less talking more action"

then somehow, it escalated

you both would bicker constantly- like a rat testing it's luck against a predator owl

it got to the point the hashira ranks and even kagaya knew of your distaste for each other and even teased you both about it

you both would argue over such simple, stupid things

so imagine his inner shock when he saw you caught in a screaming match against shinazugawa one day

arguing with sanemi was already a deadend road, hes about as hardheaded as a bull and will butt heads until he's knocked on his ass or unconscious

kyojuro wondered for the briefest of moments if you both looked like you did now, up in sanemi's face yelling at him while he yelled back trying to fight for the high ground

however, arguments with sanemi never lasted long- but that didn't mean the situation was resolved. they never lasted long because he almost always start a fistfight

and he will fight you no matter who you are- feminist sanemi says 'equal rights, equal fights'. his fists are rated E-for literally everyone

the moment you swung first- taking the one thing away from him that he had (the ability to strike first) it all just snowballed

you both were scrapping around in the dirt and grass and for some reason kyojuro didn't like it

there was a small scene of familiar faces around, all sighing and shaking their heads at the fight like it was just an ordinary day

but kyojuro strangely felt compelled to act- so he did

he quickly intervened, breaking up the fight between you and sanemi. he yanked you behind him, gripping your wrist and keeping you at his back so you didn't run or try to go after the wind hashira again

while kyojuro was confident he could hold you back, he was less certain he could do that and keep sanemi at bay as well, so he quickly took off. draggin you behind him by the wrist

when you both got far enough away, kyojuro made you sit down in front of him as he inspected your face

typical fistfight injuries scattered your skin and you refused to look at him, a scowl on your face the whole time he was inspecting you

"why do you care?" you had asked him and for some reason, it irked him but also hurt him

was he not supposed to care?

sure you got on his nerves and he wouldn't say he was exactly friends with you, but-

"i do not wish to see you injured, is that so wrong?"

"you didn't care before"

"that is not true!"

he yelled at you, just like he always did when you antagonized him- but this time it was different

he wasn't arguing because you pushed him, he was arguing because you were wrong and he did care

he did and hes finally realizing it

he didn't want you to be hurt and he didn't want you to fight with others- deep down he didn't even want you fighting with him

he wanted to form a better relationship with you- a bond with you like he has with others

kyojuro wanted to try and fix this messed up way you two communicated and he knew it would suck and you'd probably fight him the entire process

then he laughed, loud and long to himself at the though of it

you fighting him on not wanting to fight anymore?

that's just like you-

and he cared about all of you, like it or not

[brightoakgame]

Halloween Short #1 - John Forster

To lead off, here’s a ghostly encounter with our esteemed Sheriff Forster, written in the style of O. Henry’s Western short stories. Extra special thanks to @remnantation​ and @herotome​ for being the quickest-draw editors around. Enjoy!

We’d been shambling along in the dusty purple twilight for several rounds of eternity when finally we crested the top of the hill, the moon peeking over the rise alongside us, fair and full. I was glad to see her, as it seemed likely our detour would be rather more tiresome than I’d hoped for in the optimistic light of day, and in turn she obligingly spread her blanket of silver light over the landscape before us, as if preparing a nocturnal picnic to which Estrella the horse and I were the only invitees in the wide world. 

Scanning the lay of things, my attention was arrested by a smattering of buildings nestled between the hills, and with these sure signs of civilization ahead, I began leading Estrella into a hollow like the cupped palm of a giant’s hand. 

“Easy, easy, chiquita. I know we’d just decided this whole rotten path was engineered by bad fairies, but look--it does lead somewhere, after all.”

A soft whicker beside me offered her doubtful take on the matter.

“Why, yes, I think it probably is long abandoned, as a matter of fact. But that just means we’ll have our pick of shelter, and we can continue down the hill by daylight instead.”

Before us lay the sort of small mining town that once cropped up all over the mountainous spine of the state, appearing almost overnight among the chaparral and oaks like the early summer poppies, only to burn out and collapse again. The sun-bleached facades of the main street stood out in the clear night air like tombstones, and though I am not myself given to flights of fancy, I shuddered slightly as the wind seemed to turn cold and mournful. 

I wonder how long it’s been since--

Abruptly, Estrella dug in, whinnying sharply. The sudden halt nearly jerked my arm from its socket, and set the lantern I carried swinging wildly.

“Dammit, what--”

A pair of stout oak trees flanked the path before us like sentinels, and with a prickling animal awareness, I knew we were no longer alone. 

“Funny sort of time to be out strollin’ the hills, Stranger.”

I whirled, following the semi-rhythmic jingle of spurs to their source: a pair of cracked boots, dusty and seamed leathers, an easygoing stance, a tall white Stetson hat. What moonlight succeeded in filtering through the canopy of the trees caught and snagged on the flash of a friendly grin, a canteen outlined in one hand, the glint of a gunbarrel in the other. I tensed up at the sight of that last, putting up my hands, lantern, reins, and all, but felt my shoulders drop a quarter inch as he raised his head, and a six-pointed star shone out from his breast like a beacon.

“Sheriff…?” I began. As beginnings go, it wasn’t much to be proud of, my voice shaky and hoarse.

The brim of the hat tipped cordially, a grubby forefinger touching it without releasing hold of the canteen. “That’s what they call me hereabouts. Sheriff John Forster, at your service. That is, so long as you ain’t here for the purpose of stirrin’ up some kinda trouble. If you are…”

“I’m not,” I answered, more in the vein of speed than dignity. “Just looking for a place to lay up for the night, so Estrella and I can make our way on to the other side of the mountain by daylight instead of starlight.”

The barrel of the gun buried itself back into its holster, and the sheriff took a tipple from the canteen before holstering that as well. “That strikes me as a fair plan. Always leave m’own horse snug in his stable while I make my night rounds; walkin’ in the dark is a good road to puttin’ a foot in a rabbit hole, but night ridin’ is a sure way to end up ass over teakettle in the dirt somewhere unpleasant. If you’ll pardon my language.”

He waved a hand down twice, slowly, as if gentling an overanxious beast, and I took it as my cue to lower my arms again. Estrella, however, seemed to take great offense to sharing the hillside--or indeed any other part of the world our eyes could touch--with the sheriff, friendly as he was, and continued tossing her head and balking. I figured the wafting scent of him on the wind (whiskey, something like campfire and sulfur) was the source of her restless objections, but being well mannered, I did not give the suspicion voice, merely smiling at him in an apologetic sort of way as she snorted and did her best to tear my arm off. 

The sheriff’s bright, humorous eyes took in the situation at a glance, twinkling as he tipped his head in the direction of the derelict town.

“Nice enough creatures, but not much but hay and oats between the ears, have they? Though I suspect they think much the same of us. Lucifer ‘n’ I are less bosom companions, and more live in a state of uneasy truce. Shall we get that nag of yours to shelter?”

Appreciating his agreeable nature, I nodded, dragging the recalcitrant Estrella behind me. “I have to admit, I’m surprised to find any inhabitants this side of the mountain. Is there a stable in town?”

The sheriff’s easy gait fell in pace with mine, and he nodded.

“Sure. I suppose it ain’t much of a town these days, but that’s all a matter of perspective, ain’t it?”

Looking ahead towards the unprepossessing assemblage of buildings, I was hard pressed not to utter an exclamation of surprise, as I found I’d assigned the designation of tombstones prematurely. The warm light of home fires shone in the windows of the houses before us, plumes of smoke writhing and curling up into the sky like cats broken free from the shackles of gravity. Somewhere nearby, a guitar was being tortured into surrendering a bad likeness of Oh Suzanna, and what I took to be a saloon let a measure of laughter spill out into the street, liberally dosed with lamplight. 

“I guess things look different at a distance,” I muttered, and the sheriff nodded his Stetson wisely by way of reply. 

“Don’t they just. From where I stand, there are those that might not see much life in this place, bein’ situated as we are in the back of beyond--but me, I seen a city or two, and they don’t seem to be for nothin’ but show. Like the back of my own hand, this is, and I don’t want no truck with the back of anyone else’s. That said--and by no means do I intend to sound unfriendly--what brings you to my home, Stranger?”

All this time I had been dragging along my stubborn mare by main force, and my reply came back panting and rather heated. “Pass was blocked--rockslide. Couldn’t make it through. Thought--faster to go over the mountain--than around it. Saw the path--”

The sheriff shook his head sympathetically. “Aye, there are deer paths better maintained than that ol’ ossified and overgrown road. All the same, in the mornin’, you follow her on past the old fort, and you’ll hit Hillsfoot, sure ‘nough. And then it’ll be back to easier trails for you.”

I was flush with gratitude when we came upon the promised stable, and I was able to see the overanxious Estrella to bed in a snug stall, watered and fed and glad to part ways with our new acquaintance. The sheriff waved off my suggestion of payment, giving me an easy shrug.

“No need. Though, if you feel yourself indebted and ain’t averse to easy labor, I’d be glad of your company as I patrol tonight. It’s lonesome work, once the world goes to bed.”

“With pleasure,” I answered, reinvigorated as I was now that feeling was beginning to return to my arm. The exchange of Estrella’s companionship for that of the chatty sheriff struck me as a deal in my favor, given her earlier mood, and I was loath to sleep on such a bright night. “What are we patrolling for?”

The sheriff took another draw from his canteen, which I had since identified as the source of the whiskey-smell. “You familiar with El Muerto?”

Whatever I was expecting, it was not that, and I said as much, adding uneasily that I was unfamiliar with any individual subscribing to such an alarming nomenclature.

The sheriff nodded, his gaze fixing forward again. “Fella was a bad sort, so they say, and when the law caught up to him, they lopped off his head and tied his corpse to the saddle of his poor horse, as a warning to any considering a similar path of sin and poor judgment. Supposedly happened in Texas. Always struck me as a very Texas kinda story, that.”

“Lucky we’re in California, then. Unless you meant to suggest some sequel brought this El Muerto all the way out here?”

His eyes glinted at me from beneath the Stetson, a mild frown caught between his ruddy brows. “You don’t consider that a possibility, yourself?”

I gave an impatient shrug. “Why would a corpse from Texas end up in the California mountains? And what kind of harm can a dead person do, that you’re out on patrol?” 

He chuckled, rich and deep in his chest. “Well, it can frighten children and horses, as it would seem. El Muerto is known to turn up all manner of places he oughtn’t any right to be, as it happens; seems he took it in his head--if you’ll pardon the poor choice of words--he oughta wander all the way over here to California, an’ New Mexico, an’ Arizona, too, as well’s traversing his own home turf. Thought you might like a friendly warning odd things are out ‘n about at night. But you don’t believe in apparitions, I take it?”

I shake my head, bemused. “Not at all. Don’t tell me--are we out hunting for ghosts in the night?”

His smile reached out and met mine in a handshake. “Well, one of us might be. I’m an open-minded sort, take things as they come. Phantasms, spacemen… strangers on a detour.”

“I am not a ghost.”

“Never claimed you was.”

Uneasy, I picked up the pace, easily matched by the clinking spurs beside me.

“So, what? The town is small enough they keep the sheriff up ghost-hunting through the night?”

“That there sounds like judgment on your part,” he observed casually.

“Not necessarily bad judgment, is it?”

The Stetson swiveled, the sheriff’s gaze beneath it steady and amused. “Ain’t the job of the sheriff to do more’n bring in those as would do harm. I’m neither judge nor jury; I’ll leave that to those better qualified. Word is this is haunted land, and that a ghost is on his eternal patrol hereabouts, for good or ill. Me, I’ll stand my ground to be sure that whatever might wander ain’t there to cause trouble.”

 My apprehension eased, and I nodded cordially. “The town is lucky to have you for a guardian, Sheriff Forster.”

The remainder of the night, I couldn’t say with precision what it was we spoke of, but a fair accord was struck between us. By the time exhaustion finally caught up with me, we were closer than common blood could ever have fashioned a pair; he’d tell me ghost stories, and I’d respond with a measure or two of the common sense he seemed to be lacking, and if you asked me, to this day I could call to mind the timbre of his laughter as clear as if I’d heard it mere moments before, echoing in the lonesome night among the oaks and sleepy brushland.

I awakened just before sunrise, laid out on a wooden bench before the stables, the sheriff’s face looming over me. He wore a smile gentle as the dawn to come, apologetic and kind, and smelling stronger than ever of whiskey and brimstone.

“Here, friend. It’s time for me to head on home, and for you to move on down the road apace. Get that nag saddled up before sunbreak, and you’ll reach Hillsfoot by noon without hurrying.” 

I rose stiffly from my makeshift couch, watching as he threw himself astride a sizable stallion, black as the depths of a night with no moon. 

“Farewell, Sheriff Forster. Thank you for providing us shelter and companionship.”

He looked back at me over his shoulder, winking as the sky behind him began to lighten. “I could just as easily thank you for offering companionship, yourself. S’all perspective.”

With a laugh, I nodded, and turned to fetch Estrella.

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

“Stranger, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

The proprietor of the Hillsfoot Inn gave me a look of grave misgiving, and I did my level best to assemble a smile of reassurance for him. The result of my endeavor clearly did not do the trick, and he fell back a pace.

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” I replied, more weakly than I might’ve liked.

Observing me closely, he poured me a dram of something strong and clear as ditchwater, passing it across the bar. “Many I’ve heard say the same--though those that come from the hills above seldom believe themselves in saying it.”

I drained the ditchwater in my glass with a sputtering cough, and pushed it back his direction for a refill. “That town up there.”

“Ghost town,” he answered, pouring out another splash of whatever his bottle held, and returning it to me by express. “If it ever had a name, I never knowed it--but it’s been empty some decades now, at the least.”

I nodded, allowing the previous run at a beverage time to fully assault my innards before moving on to the next round. “The sheriff.”

The good innkeep went still, and then cut the middle man and exchanged the glass for the half-full bottle instead. “Met the sheriff, did you?”

I nodded, and the innkeep picked up my glass, downing it himself. “Friendly sort, Sheriff Forster,” I managed.

“I’ve heard. Friendly enough, so long as you don’t mean his town any harm.”

I uncorked the bottle, calling to mind the sheriff’s amiable visage briefly, before it was overtaken by another memory altogether.

“We patrolled through the night. But--just before dawn--”

The innkeep rested his elbows on the bar, and, realizing I had the ear of the entire tavern now, I squared my shoulders.

“Just before dawn, he saddled up and headed off to a hill at the edge of the town, and waited there, as if intending to see me off.  The sun had just peeked up over the horizon. I rode through the empty streets, passing a load of tumbled-down buildings, clearly rendered uninhabitable by time and neglect, though hours earlier they’d felt full of life. And just before I passed out of view--”

I cleared my throat, knowing my voice to be hoarse and uneven, but the room hung on my every word all the same.

“Just before I passed out of view, I looked back, meaning to wave goodbye. The sheriff raised his hat--and I turned and I rode down that mountainside fast as a horse can go.”

I hesitated to give voice to what I thought I’d seen. After all, it could well have been a matter of perspective. Things often appear other than they are, at a distance. Maybe I should’ve taken the time to wave.

“Yep. I reckon Sheriff Forster is kind and fair,” an old-timer down the bar nodded sagely, his rasping voice cutting through the heavy silence. “Good man, and good enough company for a night--but come morning, you realize he’s got no head at all.”

[imomnba-x07]

Really hope the only thing getting reshot and cut out is Sabra or whatever tf her name is. And maybe some of the hulk stuff idk.

I just know that every marvel movie (MoM, the Marvels) that has had to go through reshoots like this have flopped and I am terrified of that happening here. I want my baby’s movie to be good cause he deserves that and if these reshoots are successful for once than so be it, whatever it takes to give Sam the score he deserves.

Have the reshoots been going well for marvel? No. Do I believe that this movie can beat those odds anyways? Yes

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing 79 Review

i said i would and i will. i did like this issue! not as striking and attention grabbing as 78, but i think this issue was meant to be a foundation one, laying out the groundwork for the future. overall, pretty good. also there wasn't enough bitewing. as promised, overly extensive metaphors and me reading too much into things under the cut

i know i've talked about this cover before, but this particular thing is oddly important to me, so i'll talk about it again

this is me, once again screaming about how artists put nightwing in traditionally feminine poses and how every time i see it i just get whiplash. i mean, true, the main reason why is because nightwing is a so often sexualized character, and putting him in these poses just increases the objectification, which is a goal that dc producers have. but there are very few popular male characters that do this. the only one i can think of off the top of my head is deadpool, but that was so obviously a critique and a way to make fun of the media industry. when they draw dick like this, they’re being serious. they’re putting him in appealing poses meant to show him off, and that’s something that’s traditionally only been done to women.

it's a very direct and very loud breaking of traditional gender roles in media, especially for a character as high-profile and historic as dick grayson. colour also plays a factor in this. the entire background is pink. i was absolutely shocked when i first saw it, when the teaser came out, because i cannot think of any comic book covers of male comic heroes this high-profile where pink is even just prevalent in the cover, let alone the majority of the cover. the pink does look beautiful: it offsets and highlights the black and blue of dick's suit gorgeously, but does it with more finesse than orange or red. but the fact that the stylistic choice was made to accent and draw this cover with aesthetic and beauty in mind, completely ignoring traditional hard-set gender rules in art, was a conscious choice and one i wholeheartedly support.

just another example of the sexualization i was talking about. i remember seeing harley quinn in this exact pose in suicide squad.

so far, taylor's been pretty dead-set on bringing alfred to the forefront of importance in this series. he wants people to know how much he loves alfred's character, and how much the butler meant to dick growing up. he was dick's father too. but what i adore is how taylor managed to stress alfred's importance in a way that didn't insult or belittle bruce.

this is one of the best bruce and dick interactions i've seen, and it's done in one simple interaction. in this, bruce is tough and harsh. he knocked dick down hard, but then he reached a hand down and helped pull dick back up. let me analyze their dialogue for a minute

on your feet: this is bruce telling dick to get up. he's trained dick, he knows what the younger boy is capable of, he knows his limits, and he knows what dick can do. this is bruce telling dick i know you're strong enough to get up, so get up and prove me right

are you just going to knock me down again?: surface-level, it looks like dick's complaining. he doesn't like bruce's rough training, and he's tired of bruce knocking him down. but look at his face in this. he's smiling up at bruce, knowledgeable and a little hopeful. he knows that bruce is doing this to help dick better himself, he's completely on board with the rough training, because they both know the rewards are incredible. also, he's teasing. he's bantering with bruce. there's an ease in that joking statement, one that belies affection and intimacy. they've only known each other for a little bit, but they're already slipping into a close familial relationship.

it depends on how fast you learn: this is bruce bantering back. this is bruce not being a stoic, unfeeling asshole. instead, he's shown with the dry humor that a good batman writer knows is a staple of the character. he's teasing dick, telling him he'll basically whoop his ass if dick doesn't learn fast enough. it's incentive for dick to train harder, while also being lighthearted enough to tell dick that believes in dick and doesn't want him to push himself too hard.

gosh i love the titans. also it looks like wally's staring at dick's ass.

this was cute. a prod at dick's silly and playful sense of humor, while not dumbing him down for the sake of a laugh. instead, he's joking about food, which is stuff everyone jokes about. this is the kind of stuff that'll actually make me laugh, instead of just making me vaguely uncomfortable.

bludhaven's almost always portrayed as a cesspool of a city. and to be honest, it really is. but this panel gives the city a meaningful history, while also giving us a reason for why dick moved there.

it talks of a time when people still thought they could beat the monsters. that if they fought hard enough, they could win the fight. it was a tentative hope that you could always overcome hardship.

dick's little "i like that it's still standing" shows how he still believes that, despite what the rest of the world thinks. despite everything that he's been through, dick is still tentatively an optimist, and believes he can fight the monsters of the world and win. it's a beautiful testament to his character, and i'm like that they added his signature element of hope back in. it used to be what he symbolized as robin, and despite his growth and character arc from robin to nightwing, this is one aspect of robin that i'm glad nightwing still has.

remember when i said "things that make me vaguely uncomfortable??" yeahhhh,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Shooketh Dick: A Sequel

(the expressions in this series are just,,,,on point)

this was an incredibly sweet and kindhearted thing for dick to do, but i found it kind of,,,,,,,,desperate? maybe that's just me, but let me explain.

dick's suddenly a billionaire, and he has entirely too much money that he knows what to do with. it's also alfred's money, what the man left to him, so dick forever links it with alfred. in addition to that, he's back and bludhaven and looking at it with "fresh" eyes. (at least, from a different point of view since he got shot in the head. then mind controlled.) he's desperate to do something with the money and he's desperate to help the people around him that so obviously needs up, so he comes up with an on-the-fly solution that's a little impractical and a little crazy, but it still helps and still does some good.

to me, dick seems a little lost. he hasn't completely found his balance yet, and he's trying to do things that will. he tries charity, because that's what bruce did and it's what he knows, even though he admitted that he always thought bruce could have done more as bruce wayne than batman.

they have a family group chat guys yall were right.

also, do i think that dick would ever actually get his wallet stolen?? no way in hell, he’d notice someone getting ready to pickpocket him a mile away. but i suppose it’s important to the Plot. 

okay this is getting interesting. first blockbuster, now maroni (+ the weird heart stealer guy). i can officially say that i am intruiged

this particular artistic quirk is shown a lot in this issue, and from this art team in general, but i feel like this panel is one of the best examples of it. it was stunning enough to take up a full page, and it’s well deserved.

the way they show dick moving is absolutely brilliant. as a reader, i like seeing these smaller versions of dick getting clearer and in more detail as they come closer to the screen. not only do they show depth in the picture beyond what a simple 3 dimensional piece of art does, it also shows the passage of time.

in addition, it showcases dick’s skill. dick spots these mobsters running after a group of petty thieves. he then, and follow me here, leaps off the roof of one building feet first, springboards backwards off the side of the adjacent building with his feet, gracefully continues his backflip, rights himself, shoots a line with perfect timing: just in time to soften his landing but not slow him down, execute said landing on top of a moving bus, keep running on the moving bus without missing a beat, shoot his grapple, use the grapple to swing, use the swing to build up momentum, then use the momentum to deliver a powerful blow to the mobsters. and he did all that fast enough to catch up with the mobsters, even though he was a ROOFTOP OVER. 

d a m n  s o n

this panel, the very first in the issue, is also another example of that art style, but a little more distinctive. i love the way they showed dick’s different costumes through the ages, along with him simply growing up. it’s a little heartbreaking, but a lot uplifting to see how far he’s come. thank god he got rid of the red. now all we need is the fingerstripes, and we’ll be golden

discowing my beloved. also i can’t clearly see discowing’s hair but it definitely looks like it’s pulled back. it looks like he put it in a ponytail. guys. guys. dick had a ponytail omg. 

he’s having a Hero Moment

are you talking about the city, dick, or are you talking about you? the kgbeast, the court, the joker. dick fell to each one of them, no matter how hard he fought. he won in the end, eventually and with his family’s help. but i think he’s feeling a little low, a little defeated right now. it’s almost like he needs a win, he needs to feel victorious, he needs to feel like he helped someone (hence the food and the hotel room), just because he needs to remember what it feels like.

these lines were supposed to resonate with you, and goddamn they did.

i looked at it from two ways. first, it’s the girl asking, begging nightwing not to hurt them. bludhaven doesn’t know dick the way gotham does, they’re still a little frightened of him. this child was brave enough to step in front of all of the other hurt and homeless kids and ask, to a strange man in a mask, if he was going to hurt them like the other men had. it’s heartbreaking, but commendable, and an echo of the city itself that dick’s decided to protect. they’re bloody and broken and terrified, but still gritty and brave enough to stare what they fear in the eye and ask it not to hurt them.

second, it’s dick seeing the question reflected in himself. recently, he got shot in the head and lost all his memories. while i think that the way ric reacted was a perfectly valid and human response to the situation, i think dick still regrets how callously and rudely he treated his family. then, he was manipulated by the court of owls, then he was brainwashed with a magic crystal by the joker. dick does have a guilt complex. it’s not a big as bruce’s, but it’s there. and right now, with this girl begging her not to hurt them, dick is probably thinking about all the times he hurt people, in control of his own actions or not, bc he “didn’t have a heart.” 

little ambitious don’t you think, dick?

also just look at the sunset colours loOK at the they could not make this any more obvious oh my godddddddddddddddddddddddd

in conclusion, i need more of her

[pm-my-hubbies]

Who Are You Talking To | C.E

Summary: Reader is fed up with Chris not spending time with her on her week-long break.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Black!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning(s): None!

A/N: I accidentally shared this through my personal account! I apologize for any confusion if I tagged you the first time!

Chris was ecstatic when I informed him of the dates for my Fall Break.

He planned out everything we would do together. From planting a blanket in the middle of a park for a lovely picnic to strolling through farms for a pumpkin to carve and sit on our porch. He did all of that.

Yet he’s one strike away from me slapping the shit out of him. He’s been blowing me off every second and I’m due to return for work in two days. We hadn’t done any of what he promised we would accomplish together weeks ago. Instead, he handled work business downstairs for the first part of the day and followed that up with indulging in his own hobbies. I wasn’t a part of any of it.

To add on to it, his Zoom sessions weren’t successful and that prompted him to radiate negativity. Dinner time consisted of him giving me short answers or grunts and through it all, I remained optimistic. I figured being positive and not calling him out on his behavior right then would flip a switch in him to acknowledge how he was acting towards me but nothing happened.

My feet connected with the cold wooden flooring, goosebumps rising on the parts of my body that were exposed because of the tank top and pajama shorts I wore. The clock read 11:54 p.m. I’m praying Chris let Dodger out for the last time this evening.

The volume of the television in the living room increased the closer I dragged my feet to where I presumed he would be resting. Turning the corner, Dodger was the first one I spotted as he slept soundly on his stuffed animal right by the entrance to the room. Chris, on the other hand, watched CNN on blast as if he was an old man struggling to hear; his arms were folded across his chest while he laid on his side and blankly stared at the bright screen.

I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of my week spent at home. “Chris.” I called in a firm voice that was loud enough for Dodger to only blink his eyes open and instantly travel back to Dreamland.

My boyfriend only shifted his gaze to look at me. “Hm?”

“Did you let Dodge out one last time?”

“Mm-mm.”

Breathe Y/N, breathe. I let out a soft sigh as I bent down to gently shake the canine awake. “Dodger, honey. Let’s go outside.” I knew from Chris’ response he wouldn’t be letting our dog out anytime soon. The man would probably drag himself down the hall to bed as the sun rose for a new day.

Dodger simply obeyed my soft command by standing and putting on a show of dramatically stretching. As we made our way towards the back door right behind my miserable boyfriend, I made sure to cut my brown eyes at his lounging figure and hoped he could feel my glare.

Once again, my skin tingled as the cool night air caressed my legs and arms. To keep myself warm, I folded my limbs across my chest, rocking on the balls of my feet. My eyes managed to follow Dodger’s sniffing silhouette in the darkness but as soon as he began the squat for a number two, I looked away.

By now, Chris had shut off the loud tv. Finally.

“I thought you said we would be hanging out for my Fall Break?” I questioned with my back facing him as I kept my eyes on the dog.

“What?”

“I thought you wanted to hang out with me for my break. Week-long, might I add.”

“We are.”

“No we’re not, Chris. And you know it.” I sighed as I moved to slide the door closed but ceased my movement to leave an opening for Dodger in case he finished early. With my hands on my hips, I rotated around to stare down Chris. “You’ve spent every single day downstairs taking care of business with A Starting Point and work, which I have no problem with. It’s what you do afterwards that bothers me. Barely talking to me or not at all and then you sit down here to do whatever. I was trying to be positive and give you your space but now—”

“But now your little feelings are hurt, right?” he snapped. “You’re hurt because I can’t devote 100% of my attention to you on your little break? News flash: everything isn’t about you, Y/N. So, stop your whining and actually think about what I’m going through.”

This would’ve shattered a younger version of myself. But after years of reflection, I realized I was always given the opportunity to fight back instead of wallowing in my tears.

First, I glanced to my left. Then to my right. No sign of life. I grimaced at my boyfriend. “You must not be talking to me.” I indicated with a point towards my chest. “You must be talking to this goddamn wall.” I sassed, jabbing my thumb to the wall behind me.

Suddenly, for the first time in the year Chris and I have been together, his eyes were size of saucers as it dawned on him what he’d done. And how I responded.

Tonight, was his first time taking his anger out on me. Yes, we’ve had our arguments, but those moments were different. This happened to be the time where the world was against Chris and rather than rely on me to comfort him (as I usually would), he was victimizing himself. He probably expected my body to rack with sobs at the harshness of his words, but I was through with that shit tonight.

“Since you wanna pull a Karen on me, your ass can sleep on the couch tonight.” I punished him. In that moment, I felt the softness brushing against my legs. Dodger was finally in. I pulled the door closed all the way this time and locked it. “Come on Dodger, your dad is being an asshat. You can sleep with me.”

Chris was frozen in his spot as the both of us moved past him. I made sure to give him a little bump on the way with my shoulder.

While waiting for Dodger to grasp his animal in his mouth, I observed him throw Chris a quick glance as if telling him that he fucked up. Funnily enough, our dog was the first to exit the scene and hold his head high as he trekked to the bedroom.

“I’m locking that fucking door tonight. Don’t even try it. You made your bed, now lay in it.” I dictated.

~*~

Surprisingly, I slept like a baby. Maybe it’s because I finally said something to Chris about his behavior lately. The previous nights, he would slumber away while I laid awake wondering if we would even spend time together before I headed back to work. Calling him out felt right.

I took care of my morning routine before unlocking the bedroom door and calling for Dodger to wake up. What I didn’t expect on the other side was the tray we roll out for sick days to be standing in front of the door.

Dodger was planning on being difficult as he hadn’t moved from his spot. This gave me ample time to study the tray with a covered meal placed on top and a horizontally folded card with my name scribbled on it.

“You were right last night. I have been distant throughout your break and I’m sorry for ruining the plans I promised. It’s a short amount of time left with you but we’re going to get started early. Eat the breakfast I made for you and then freshen up by putting on your favorite dress. Meet me at the car by 11.”

I chuckled at the message but decided to follow his set of instructions, nonetheless.

~*~

As promised, Chris drove us to the pumpkin patch further away from where we lived for more privacy and intimate time together. We spent the whole ride discussing last night’s events and catching up on the conversations we were meant to have throughout my week in our house. When he parked the car, he suggested we snap as many couple selfies but made sure to emphasize the idea of him taking pictures of me.

“They’re for my phone.” He lied through his teeth as I raised a brow at his idea.

The truth: Chris yearned to share pictures of me on his Instagram. At least half of his feed consisted of me, Dodger, or nature and rarely ever himself. I worried he would lose followers for never updating them on how he was doing but he dismissed my worries with a kiss to my forehead and a, “It’ll be fine, who cares?”

For a while, we explored the farm with our hands linked and eyes moving about at the pumpkins of all shapes and sizes. It wasn’t until we’d reach the halfway point did I realize we didn’t have an exact clue as to which type of pumpkin we were searching for.

“I was thinking one of those big, tall pumpkins.” Chris answered after I asked him what our goal was.

“The ones that look like an orange squash?”

“Yeah.”

“Why…?”

“I don’t know, I’ve always wanted one.” He shrugged. His face held a gentle look of content.

“Well, if a squash-lookin’ pumpkin is what my big baby wants, then a squash-lookin’ pumpkin is what he shall get.”

Chris released my hand to wrap it around my waist and pull me closer to him. I felt my cheeks heat up as he placed a kiss to the crown of my head. After all this time together, he still managed to have me acting like a schoolgirl that somehow caught the attention of her longtime crush.

“Thank you baby.” He answered. “I know I already said this twice; through the note and in the car. But, I’m truly sorry for how I acted last night and the days before that. I was stupid in bottling everything up and not confiding in you like I normally do. Doesn’t justify any of what I said last night but I figured you had a lot on your plate and didn’t want to bother you with my own.”

I paused my walking to glance up at him with what I hoped was love in my eyes. “Chris, you could never bother me. As a couple, we talk to each other. Even if we’ve got problems of our own at the same time? I want you to come to me and I come to you so we can figure things out.” I stood on my toes to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw due to his towering figure. “I love you and accept your apology.

“I love you too.”

“You better. Because my ass wouldn’t be helping you find that ugly pumpkin to make you happy.”

“Hey!” he pouted before I shut him up with a kiss.

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy​ @daddyslittlecaptain​ @tantricevans​ @liquorlaughslove​ @nina-skyee​ @pinkgirlinablueworld​ @norababora @bakarilennox​ @rubyy98​

[hearteyesdameron]

Follow - General Hux x OFC Reader

Words: 5.6k Ao3

Commission for the lovely @mrs-ghuleh​! Hope you like it!

Female OFC/reader. Working on the starship Finalizer, Ensign Eliora Nott finds herself the object of Hux’s affection. Soon, his cat and mouse game threatens to expose their affections, and steps are taken to diffuse the tension. 

NSFW Below Cut. Dom Hux, Sub reader. 

The galaxy of stars before you is breathtaking. Those around you had spent their entire lives, some life spans tripling your own, staring out at them under the rule of the Order, and the spell of the endless blackness before them had worn off; dulled even. You’re still optimistic. Enchanted by them and all they have to offer, as well as enthusiastic about your position within the Order. You have your whole life to raise through the ranks, and this isn’t a bad place to do it. Your entire family before you had served in the Galactic Empire back before the days of the Skywalkers, and you would follow in their footsteps as everyone with your name had.

The relaxing sound of patrol fighters just outside and mouse droids transporting data to storage have become your daily ambience, if Kylo Ren isn’t present to add haphazard lightsaber strikes to it. Thoughtfully, you turn back to your post at the comms on the bridge.

“Was it like this back on Devaron?”

The horned, red-skinned co-worker sitting to your right turns away from the control panel to look at you. “What? The people, or the workplace politics?”

“Both,” you smile. The Devaronian takes a glance around behind him, before turning back to his position of duty.

“The officers here are nothing like my people. The environment here on the Finalizer is particularly dramatic, compared to the starships I skipped from prior to joining the First Order.”

“Ren?”

“Ren.” You continue to smirk as the horned officer goes on. “I’ve been told that just the other day, he was dissatisfied to say the least with the performance of the head cook on this ship. Half of the kitchen was destroyed, and I imagine that was catching him on a good day. Palp wafers for breakfast lunch and dinner it is, I guess.”

“That’s nothing compared to what I heard,” you whisper back. “Just the other day, Ren called the General to tell him just what he thought about how he runs things. Do you know what he said?” Your colleague’s eyes widen as he senses something, and turns back to his work as your own eyes slide shut.

“What he said is none of your business,” a sharp voice snaps. “Rather disappointing that you would while away your time on this bridge discussing matters not privy to you—ensign.”

“The comms were quiet, General,” you attempt to explain, gaze downcast. Hux’s resulting sneer is nothing short of terrifying.

“Is that so?” he spits. “Then why is it Lieutenant Mitaka has reported an incoming transmission from our liaison on Dromund Kaas about an escaped rebel prisoner within their camp?”

You glance over to Mitaka. He’s always been up Hux’s ass, desperate to snitch on anyone for the approval of the higher ups. You sigh. You can’t really blame him, with the kind of punishments they dole out around here. “It appears I missed that. I’m sor—”

“Would you fail to send out a distress signal were it necessary in favour of discussing the state of my uniform with your fellow officer, perhaps? Neglect your duties to gossip about the way I give orders, or perhaps the way I speak?”

“Certainly not,” you reply quietly. He scoffs.

“You’re lucky my forgiveness isn’t lacking when it comes to you.” You exhale in relief, but feel yourself tense again when the redheaded General beckons. “To my office.”

Your heartbeat picks up as you squirm in your seat. “Why?”

He glares down at you. “More backtalk?” By now, the entire bridge has gone silent, trying and failing to pretend not to listen to the standoff. Your cheeks burn under the scrutiny, especially under the intensity of Hux’s gaze.

“No, General.”

“Good. Follow, before I have the stormtroopers escort you.” You follow Hux with your head bowed, down the hallways. He walks with the purpose of a spiteful leader, his boots clapping loudly against the pristine floor, and the only sound he makes is a hiss when he kicks a small black droid out of his path. He’s intimidating, always has been, but it doesn’t stop that small twinge inside of you.

By the time you sit down at his desk opposite him, the flush in your cheeks is not from your public embarrassment on the job anymore... instead, it’s from being in Hux’s quarters alone with him.

“Ensign Nott.” Hux takes his time sliding his gloves off, lifting his chin and staring down his nose at you. Unfortunately you’re unable to make the appropriate eye contact when listening to your superior—you’re preoccupied by the exposed skin of his hands, distracted wondering why he removed the gloves in the first place. “Eliora.” You startle, looking up at him finally. He narrows those icy blue eyes. “When one is dismissed from the First Order, they are not given the luxury of a formal chat such as this one.”

“Please, General—”

“—They either find themselves simply and suddenly out of work, on a pod to the nearest sith-controlled planet, or dead.”

You shift nervously. “Are you letting me go?”

“Are you unhappy with your work?”

“No. No, of course not.”

“Good. Because the First Order is not in the business of caring.” He sits back in his chair, his face softening only by a fraction. “If I am not mistaken, you graduated top of your class in the academy.”

“Yes, sir.”

His eyes narrow even further at the title, and he goes on. “Despite this, there are many behind you fresh out of the academy who would readily snatch up your position given the chance. Is this what you want?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I’ve made it clear how devoted I am to our cause.” Hux nods, settling forward once more in his seat.

“Very good. I am inclined to give you another chance.” He watches you sit before him, nervous and squirming. A small, mean smile begins to grow on his lips. He’s instilled the fear of the maker into you, and he appears to get off on it. “If you continue to shirk your duties and speak so rudely of me, the Supreme Leader will mistake me for a fool if I don’t terminate you. To ensure this doesn’t happen, you will shadow me tomorrow.” He flicks his wrist. “I will teach you what it means to be an Imperial officer, and how important duty is.” He sneers. “We’ll just pretend, you and I, that I have the time to do such a thing.”

You swallow, your throat dry. “I’ll be following you around tomorrow?”

“Is there a problem, Miss Nott?” He sees the way your cheeks flush pink, his smirk growing even wider. “Did you have some other form of redemption in mind?”

“That’ll be fine,” you nod. “Just fine.”

“Good. The start of tomorrow begins in this office. If you are late, you will be on the next pod to Coruscant. I understand they are in perpetual need of cantina workers there.” A flash of anger shoots through you at the implication.

“I’m not getting on any pod, or working for any rebel scum in a bar. I’ll see you tomorrow, General.” Hux flicks his wrist once more.

“Dismissed, then.” He watches you go, taking off his hat and pattering his fingers against it. Toying with you has been fruitful since he began, but you’re starting to strike back. Is it worth pursuing? He removes your file chip from beneath his desk, inserting it into the small black droid in his office and watching your details project.

Yes, he decides, Eliora is worth the pursuit.

--

When you get to Hux’s office early the next morning, he’s already inside, dressed and ready for duty.

“When you are on time, you’re late. When you’re early, you’re on time. Thankfully, all our pods are under maintenance today. Follow.” You walk quickly after him as he leads you down the hall. “We begin with patrol. Ensure that everyone is performing their best even at the start of their day, before handing that task off to those who have been hired to make my life easier.” He sniffs. “Not that they do.” He sharply directs his gaze to his left. “Lieutenant Kuna!”

“Yes, General?” The woman turns immediately from her station. Although she is much taller than Hux, you notice that he still manages to talk down to her.

“You are needed in the hangar.”

“Yes, General.” She keeps her voice monotone and her eyes straight forward as she abandons her post immediately and walks the other way.

“Notice her?” He clucks his tongue. “She doesn’t ask questions.” His eyes spend too long lingering on you. Are you mistaking his usual intensity for a different sort of interest? You can’t stop the words as they come out, taking the chance to find out.

“Was my questioning so offensive yesterday when I asked why you were interrogating me?”

“Silly girl. If you want diplomacy, join the rebellion.” He takes a step closer. “Here, we put an end to those who threaten disorder.”

“With all due respect, I know what we do.”

“Then why do you stick out like a sore thumb under my command?” For the first time today, Hux looks genuinely frustrated.

“Maybe it’s because you notice me more than you do others.”

His jaw clenches, and you know you’ve hit a sore spot. He simply leans in until you can feel his breath on your face. It’s strangely cool. “Be that as it may... you are an ensign. Here, you obey.” You fully intend to respond with another standard yes sir, but you’re distracted by the General’s proximity. You’ve never been this close to him before, outside of your fantasies.

“All I ever want to do is obey you, sir.” Hux can tell your tone is pointed, and he’s surprised—not unpleasantly.

“You can start today,” he murmurs, “Right here.”

“Here?” You tease him slightly. “Right here, on this floor?”

This time, it’s Hux’s turn to be rendered speechless. He only drops his gaze down to your lips, and your chin inclines ever so slightly in preparation.

“Have you found the droid?”

Kylo Ren’s unmistakably warped voice comes through his helmet, and draws Hux back to the present. He quickly stands up straight to face the grandson of Darth Vader. “I give you the news when I receive it myself, Ren.”

“You give me the news when I ask for it,” Ren replies, his voice sharp as he approaches Hux. You can’t tell if he’s looked your way or even noticed you from beneath that brooding black mask, but you can see Hux’s expression of utter hatred and distaste. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

“How could one, when you have such a distinctly foul presence?” Hux shoots back. You get the impression he’s toeing the line to bolster himself in front of you, and you’re right. Ren does as you’d feared he would—he brings three fingers up in a force chokehold, and Hux’s arms immediately fly up to his neck, fingers clutching at an invisible tether.

“Don’t test me.” He chokes Hux harder, and leans in. “Double the efforts on the droid. If lives are lost, replace them. I want it found.”

“Done,” Hux wheezes out, and Ren drops him, breezing past without a single glance to you. Hux catches his breath, climbing up from his knees and righting himself.

“Interesting,” you dare to break the tense silence. “I forgot you had a boss too, General.”

“Don’t you dare insult me,” he snarls. “My boss is the Supreme Leader.” He pulls down his uniform, brushing it off. “Not that overgrown, force-sensitive brat.”

“It doesn’t look like it.” Before you can gasp, you feel yourself slammed back against the wall of the hallway. It’s deserted—no one to witness but the two of you, and obviously, Hux enjoys it that way.

“Don’t forget your place,” he growls. His hands crawl up from where they’re bracing him around you on the wall, to grip your shoulders and hold you firm. “What you have just witnessed may have been demeaning, but I will not accept your insolence or disrespect. I am the cat. You are the mouse. Am I understood?” You exhale.

“Yes, sir.” He lets you go, straightens his hat out, and sticks his chin up.

“Very well. Follow.”

You catch a smirk growing on his face as he turns to walk ahead of you, and your brain begins firing off presumptions a mile a minute. He likes to exercise his power, that much is certain and understandable. But with you, it’s as if he sees it as a game.

A game of cat and mouse.

You almost laugh at the hilarity of it, then remember that you’d gone and caught feelings for your boss and he’s toying with you over it. Now, you could groan from what seems like the worst punishment in the galaxy. When General Hux dismisses you from shadowing him today, you know he won’t be finished with you.

--

The next few days, things had warmed up between the two of you. Threatening eyes had softened, and harsh tones had become as playful as they could in a professional setting. However it had happened, the ice encasing Hux’s heart had begun to melt, but that didn’t mean he had gone soft. Far from it.

Back at your post the next week assigned to work on the case of the missing BB unit, you mistake approaching footsteps for a patrolling bridge officer, failing to turn around and acknowledge whoever they are.

“Eliora.”

You look up to see Hux standing above you, lips downturned in his perpetual scowl. Secretly, you hope you haven’t offended him in some way, but that’s ridiculous. You hadn’t even seen, let alone spoken to the man standing before you.

“General Hux.” You raise an eyebrow, and Hux blinks down at you. He studies your face for a moment, pleased by the submission in your eyes and the growing flush in your cheeks from his presence. He folds a cocky arm behind his back, chest broadening.

“Anything to report on the droid?”

“Transmissions from Jakku have been sparse and very limited when they do come through, but there have been sightings of one that matches the description.” Hux’s eyebrows raise.

“Excellent. Good work.” Your coworker glances over, and Hux notices the attention on the both of you. He scowls again, and takes a step between you. “What of his location?”

“He’s been spotted in the Eastern dessert. With a girl.”

“A girl?” Hux mutters. “Hm. I’ll get Mitaka on it. He can pinpoint where this wretched outcast is, and where she’s harbouring the last piece of the map.” He nods. “Ren will be pleased.”

“Are you pleased?”

A hand rubs down your back. “Very much so.” Warmth flowers throughout your body, and the hand begins to travel down and rub circles. He goes on, tone morphing not back to his usual strictness as you’d imagine, but into amusement. “Did I tell you could refer to me by my name?”

“I put General before it,” you retort. He sniffs, nods.

He seems reluctant to let you go and resume his duties as General on the Finalizer, but when officers begin to take notice of his lingering presence, he does so, leaving you with a sensual trail of his fingertip up your spine to the back of your neck. Maybe the cat has become the mouse, you think, chewing on your bottom lip as the bundle of nerves in your stomach begins to spark flame elsewhere.

--

It had been a long day of enduring abuse from Ren, summoning you and your coworkers in to have a fit about the droid not being found yet. It had only been a few days since the assignment had been given, and Mitaka had already been forced choked over it after one minor loss. You don't particularly like Mitaka, but his life must have flashed before his eyes during that encounter with that moody sociopath. You wonder in abject terror if the Sith had come up with mind-reading devices yet. Certainly those force-sensitives could do it whenever they liked...

Hush, back on track. Nobody wants to read your mind.

The knight wanted the crew of the Finalizer to do the impossible. You suppose the Order is in the business of getting the impossible done, but it still takes hard work and at least a little time.

Hands behind your back and posture impeccable, you walk down the sleek black passage toward the bridge. As you're heading back to your station, you notice none other than General Hux walking by you.

"General," you say, and he turns swiftly.

"Eliora. I heard what Ren did." He shifts uncomfortably for a moment. "He... shouldn't have done that."

"That's the kindest thing you've said to me in a while," you smile.

"Mm. I won’t hesitate to speak to him if he goes too far," Hux reminds you. “I have the authority, no matter how he loves to choke me for it.”

"I appreciate it."

"What he did in there was the equivalent of a child taking a tantrum. Not that it's any different than dealing with him in any other capacity." The two of you start to walk together.

"I'm used to getting yelled at," you shrug. "I'm still fresh out of the Academy."

"Ah, yes. The Academy," Hux nods. The barest glimpse of a smile crosses his lips. "It was long ago for me, but I remember the torture."

"Is that what whipped you into shape so strictly?" you asked.

"No. That was of my own doing." You both come to a stop in front of Hux's office. Tentatively, you reach forward to put a hand on the General's hip. Reflexively, he jerks at the touch, glancing everywhere and ready to reprimand you.

"What are you doing?"

"Just a little something to keep us through the day." He's still tense, as you're still his subordinate. You back away in defeat and embarrassment, but he inhales sharply at the loss of your touch. “I’m—” Giving in when he sees there's no one around, Hux takes you by the arm and holds you against his door.

"You think you can tease your superior like this?" he whispers in your ear, fingers coming up to stroke a strand of your hair that had come loose from your standard uniform bun away from your neck. He tsks. "Eliora. You know how I value respect above all things."

"Then I respectfully offer myself to you," you whisper, almost begging, and he can't resist any longer. He closes his hands over your breasts and seals your lips in a kiss. You reach your hand forward to cup Hux between his legs, and he draws in a sharp breath as he humps forward at the touch. He begins to kiss you like a starving man, as if it had been all he could do to stop himself from touching you earlier. You're just as lost in the sensations, forgetting where you are and why you can't tease him into fucking you right there in the hall against his door.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, the two of you break away from each other, and you wipe your lips as patrollers come around the corner. A small droid toots around behind them, and it backs up for a moment. Hux sneers down at it, and it beelines past the two of you. He’s only taking his anger out on it; the two of you always seem to get interrupted before anything can be done about this infernal tension.

You nod to Hux with a shrug, and he watches you go as he lets himself into his office. The sheer power he has over you is intoxicating, but for the first time, he doesn't feel the inkling to abuse it. He touches his lips as he sits down, sliding his tongue to taste you again. You do the same as you take your seat at comms and stare off through the front of the star destroyer into space. 

--

You’re awakened by a loud banging on your door. Groggily, you open one eye to take a look at the blinking time on your watch by the bed. It’s nearly midnight.

The bang sounds again. It’s systemic, as if a droid is doing it. You know it’s not droid, however. Rising from bed, you open the door to find what you had expected—two Stormtroopers.

“Ensign Nott. General Hux requests your presence.” You rub your head.

“He has duties for me at midnight? There are alternate comms workers for that, when I’m off.”

“Come with us.”

“I have to get my uniform on—”

“He said it was urgent. No need to change.” Your eyebrows raise. Sighing to yourself and tugging on a shawl, you follow them until you reach Hux’s office. They leave you at the door, and it slides open by Hux’s control from inside.

“Enter.”

You expect him to be pacing—facing the window with his hands clasped behind his back. You expect him, despite the late hour, to be impeccably dressed as usual and at his sharpest, determined never to be seen in any state of vulnerability. Instead, you find him behind his desk, one hand braced. His ginger hair is hanging in his face as if he’s attempted to sweep it back to no avail. His lips are parted and his pale skin is slightly flushed just beneath his eyes.

“Sir, are you alright?” you ask, stepping forward. He looks up at the stormtroopers patrolling the door.

“Leave us.”

They do as he says, and you turn back to him, confusion and concern evident in your expression. The first thoughts that flood your mind are thoughts of an attack, some kind of issue or sickness even he might have come down with. Then you start to wonder why he would call you to discuss any of that. No, he isn’t sick. He looks particularly affected. Physically compromised, even, as if he had been caught in a compromising position. Standing up straighter, you present yourself properly in front of his desk.

“Thinking of me?”

“Watch yourself,” Hux snaps, panting as he sits himself up higher to appear presentable. “You know better than anyone who you’re speaking to.”

“That’s how I know what you were doing. General.”

He narrows his eyes at you, standing from the desk. He’s in a black bathrobe, one he was obviously sleeping in or got into to relax before calling you here. “And what if I told you what I was doing? How urgently I touched my cock with your name on my lips?” He turns away from you with a harsh sigh. “Our little game is becoming too heated, Eliora. Something must be done about that.” Your stomach drops. Of course you should have expected this little tryst to come to an end sometime; it’s inappropriate and dangerous anyway, and you suppose it’s for the best that it end.

“I understand.”

“Mm. Good.” He walks circles around you, but when you try to turn to face him behind you, you feel his grip on the back of your neck. You don’t feel the usual icy fingers—instead, his hand is hot tonight, clammy. “Then bend over the desk.”

“What?”

“Need I remind you again that I won’t tolerate the questioning of my authority?” he asks slowly, annunciating his command. “Over the desk.”

You obey him, bending over. The shiver that runs through you is prolonged by his hand cupping your ass through your nightie. You’re suddenly hyperaware of your state of dress, or undress as it may seem. You’re only in your small night gown and panties. “I apologize. I didn’t have time to get into my uniform when you called for me, General.”

“On this occasion, Miss Nott,” Hux smirks, smoothing your nightie up your back to expose your underwear, “You are forgiven.” His breathing becomes ragged as his other hand comes up, rolling the meat of your ass around and squeezing. “Do you know how it tortures me so to see you every day, and restrain myself?”

“I know,” you breathe, arching your back and pressing your breasts further into his desk. “I can tell by your touches.”

“Curious that an ensign could steal my affections so quickly,” he mutters, giving your ass a sharp slap. “Like a spell. I, normally, am unbreakable.”

“Except when it comes to Kylo Ren.”

“What?” he snaps. He smoothes his hand up your back again and you moan, until he grips the back of your neck once more and pulls you up to snarl in your ear: “You do not mention him here. Him, or Snoke. Here, I am your Supreme Leader.”

You nod, grinding back against him. “You seem tense. Take it out on me?”  

“An inspired idea,” he nods, “But you don’t deserve it just yet.” He helps her stand up, and directs her into the other room, onto his black satin sheets. He stands over you. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble. I can’t get you out of my mind, and my performance has suffered for it.”

“Your performance on the job, or in bed?” Hux scowls.

“You know as well as I, I haven’t fucked anyone. How can I when you haunt my mind?”

“I only thought you wanted to play.”

“We’ve played.”

“You won.”

“Not yet.”

“And your work has suffered.” You pout. “How can I make it up to you?” you coo. His lips curl up again.

“On your knees.” You stalk forward on your hands and knees and meet him at the end of the bed, where he stands. You get to work untying his black robe, but do it slowly to entice him. Hux looks down at you, lips parting slightly and tongue darting out at the prospect of what you’re about to do. Flippantly, he huffs. “Take care of it.” You hum.

“Yes sir.” First, you give a small lick up his stomach, where his ginger happy trail leads up to his belly button. You keep moving up, kissing and sucking gently, sensually around his chest, until you reach his stark pink nipple and graze your teeth along it. Hux’s cock twitches into visibility through the part in the robe, and as your mouth waters, you decide to finally do as you’re told.

When you first take him into your mouth, his hand can’t help but bury into your hair. It’s not tucked into a bun like it usually is beneath your uniform cap, and he appreciates how he can finally run his fingers through it as he’d dreamed of doing each night. Every small tug of passion he gives only makes you take him deeper.

“Tell me how much you like it,” he sighs, watching your every move. You pop off with a moan, eyebrows knit. “Tell me how you’ve had no other like me.”

“It’s so good. You taste so good, General. I’ve never tasted a cock so nice... so big.” Hux’s breath hitches, and he watches you on your knees for him as he sucks in his cheekbones.

“I never imagined what talents you possessed in the bedroom,” he notes. “Especially with that silver tongue. I’ve learned however, you have a talent for obedience. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then tell me. Hold nothing back. I want to hear of your fantasies of me. What did you think of when you would watch me, your superior, walk by your station? When I would reprimand you?” For the first time in several minutes, the blush returns to your cheeks. Realizing he expects an answer, you search for words. “I expect you to speak when you are spoken to,” he growls, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. The fear in your eyes makes him smirk, chin jutting out in that smug manner he always seems to possess.  

“What if my mouth’s full?” you grin, kitten licking his head. Something flashes through his eyes, but you start to jerk him off before he has a chance to reprimand you again. With his head rolling back, you go on. “I thought of deliberately mixing the signals just so you would come over and take me to your office to spank me.”

“You would jeopardize the First Order’s mission just to ride my cock like a little slut, wouldn’t you?” he mutters. You look up at him, tongue out as you nod. The General buries his fingers once more into the back of your hair, guiding you back onto his cock. “Then let us correct this insatiable desire, before you get into any more trouble.” He guides you on and off a few times, and when he groans, he pulls you off and lays you down. Flipping you over onto your stomach, he humps against your ass a few times. You bite into the sheets as you feel his prominent erection prod against you, and wiggle back. “How badly do you want me?”

“I would have fucked you that day you kissed me against the wall,” you murmur into the sheets, “I would’ve let you take me right there, I wanted you so bad. I’ve held off on touching myself while thinking of you, because I wanted the real thing. I can’t wait any longer.” Hux hisses as he takes himself out of his pants, and tugs your panties down with his free hand. He slaps the head of his cock against you, getting himself slick, before he finally breaches you, bracing himself on his forearms around you and burying himself inside. You gasp, arching back, and he takes one of your hands, slamming it down in his fist and pinning it to the mattress as his other one slides between the bed and your stomach, reaching down to rub at your clit. The first stroke of his fingers makes you jolt, gasping even louder, and he nips at your ear.

“Get nice and loud. I want to know just what I’m doing to you. I want all of them to know who you belong to. The General’s little whore.” Your cries grow, the rhythm of Hux’s thrusting with each circle of his finger around you drawing out pleasure from the pit of your stomach.

“Please,” you whimper, “Sir, harder!”

“You want me to pound you until you scream, do you?” he growls. “I’ll give you exactly what you need. Move yourself back on me.” With fervour, you grind back with every pound of his cock, and he starts to grunt. His teeth sink into the back of your neck, and he presses soft kisses to the top of your back as he slows his movements inside of you to deep, gentle pumps, keeping himself at bay. Each throb you feel inside of you makes your pussy clench, and you grind back again. Hux turns you over and makes eye contact with you, lifting one of your leg up to wrap around his back. This leads to you sitting up and in his lap as the two of you push and pull and kiss hard toward your orgasm. Your lips meet his first, and he bites your bottom lip as your teeth clash and lips overlap one another’s.

“Hux,” you sigh into his mouth. He swallows your gasp, holding you up by your back. He buries his face in the nape of your neck, and your moans grow in pitch until they reach a crescendo. “Fuck—I’m coming!”

“Eli—” He shudders, sinking his face down your chest into your breasts. You feel him finish inside of you as he pounds twice, growling out his release. When you fall backward away from him, his lips are parted, forehead damp. His pale chest is heaving, covered in dark love marks you don’t remember leaving there.

The large floor to ceiling window opposite the bed gives the two of you an unobstructed view into the vast corners of space.

"I used to feel insignificant within all that before I joined the Order."

Hux hums. "I did as well. Very much so." He takes a pause to think. "At first, it was freeing to join. I had found my place in the universe-- I had found my calling. What is life without order? Then, as I raised in the ranks and took on more responsibility, I began to feel as though I was only a mouthpiece. I still feel that way, subordinate to Ren when I truly only take orders from Supreme Leader Snoke."

"I think you're a competent leader. A great one at that. You get things done like no other, and you're feared."

"Yes. I find though, I've lost some of me in who I’ve become." He runs a hand through his hair, and shakes his head. "But I have found my purpose here. At first with you, I was afraid of the disorder I would experience when another's feelings were involved. I enjoyed toying with you, of course, but then I began to worry I was getting too attached."

"What changed your mind?"

"I haven't an idea. I just made a decision. Perhaps with you in my life, I can find balance."

"The balance that we're working to restore to the universe."

"The balance of a just galaxy," he nods. "And order." Hugging you closer to him on the bed, he buries his lips into your hair.

"What's your name?" He pauses.

"What?"

You stop your hand where it's running up and down his chest. "What's your first name?" He exhales.

"Armitage."

"Armitage Hux." He smiles down at you.

"That's General to you."

"Is it?" you challenge. He sniffs.

"Perhaps not in here."

"I'd say especially in here," you whisper back, and he places a kiss to your forehead.

"Perhaps you call me by my first name, as I do you Eliora. My life, I think, could use a little disorder." 

[cruciology]

A Good Punishment

summary: a handmaid is given to the King’s dog

“Up or down, milady?” Sansa asked, using her very best impression of what you could only assume was supposed to be yourself as she ran the brush through your hair. She was in a good mood today, which had been rare from her. She really was a sweet girl, much nicer once she trusted you. Now she felt more like a little sister to you, even if you were just her handmaid. She braided your hair back with an expert hand. “When Arya was still little enough to put up with me, she would always let me do her hair,” Sansa explained. “Sometimes, she would still ask me if she was going out to play, if only to get it out of her face.”

Looking at her face in the mirror, you could see the sadness in her eyes. You reached up to pat her hand. “You can do my hair whenever you’d like, my love,” You said with a small smile.

The nice moment was shattered when the door to Sansa’s chambers slammed open. You jumped up from the seat. Whether or not Sansa had given you permission, it probably wasn’t proper to have your Lady tending to you rather than you to her.

“Your Grace,” You curtsied to King Joffrey as he stood in the doorway with a wicked grin. You tried to avoid the gaze of his gargantuan bodyguard, the aptly named Hound. He towered so far over you, you doubted the top of your head would even reach his armpit.

“Still in your chambers this late in the day?” King Joffrey tisked. It wasn’t a crime for Sansa to stay in her room, but that didn’t matter to the King. He just wanted a reason to torture the poor girl.

“My apologies, your Grace,” Sansa said, looking down at the floor. King Joffrey approached her and you tensed, the way you always did when he got too close to Sansa. Nothing good ever came from it. You had comforted her many times after the emotional abuse, tended to her wounds after the physical.

“Don’t let it happen again,” He said. He put his finger under her chin, lifting her face to meet his eyes. She still looked away.

Your eyes darted towards the Hound. You were never quite sure how to feel about him. He had done nothing but follow his King’s commands, but you were more open to him after you had seen him cover a beaten Sansa with his cloak, after she had told you of how he had rescued her. But he was still loyal to the King. You couldn’t blame him for being so, you knew what would likely happen to him if he wasn’t, but that didn’t stop you from being frightened. You didn’t think he would help Sansa if it meant going against the King. And yet, you could swear you saw something behind his normally stoic eyes as he watched the scene before him.

“I’m sorry, your Grace, please forgive me.”

King Joffrey stared at her for a long moment, his hand still on her face. Finally, he patted her cheek, his grin becoming wider. “It’s quite alright. You know, I have just the thing to cheer you up.”

“Your Grace?” Sansa wasn’t stupid. She knew nothing that pleased the King would ever be good for her.

“How about we go for a walk?” King Joffrey said as he bounced on the balls of his feet, a child gearing up to play an awful trick. “Let’s go visit your father.”

Sansa choked back a sob. You clenched your fists tightly. “Please, your Grace,” Sansa begged.

“Oh come now, you don’t want to see your dear old dead traitor father? You don’t think that’d be fun?” King Joffrey asked with sheer glee as he watched the tears stream down Sansa’s face.

“That’s cruel,” You said before you could stop yourself. Suddenly, all eyes were on you. Too late now to take it back you said, “Please don’t make her go out there again, your Grace.”

“You dare order me? And insult me?” King Joffrey said, looking you up and down. “This bastard handmaid thinks she can tell me what to do, can you believe that, Hound?”

The Hound said nothing, just keeping his stance at the door and his eyes on you. You know he had felt bad for Sansa the last time she had had to look upon her father’s decapitated head; Sansa still had his handkerchief.

“I will take my future wife wherever I please,” King Joffrey said. He reached his hand out, grabbing Sansa’s hair tightly in his fist, making her cry out.

Without thinking, you lashed out, striking the King. He struck you back so hard, everything went black.

      Stupid. You were stupid. You made everything so much worse, for you and for Sansa. How could you do that to her? In the moment, hitting that evil, nasty little boy felt good, but as you sat in the cell, the other prisoners leering at you, you know it had been foolish. You had no idea how long you had been in here, having awoken just an hour before, but it couldn’t have been long.

You looked up as the cell door opened, the Hound holding the keys and letting King Joffrey enter before him. You could still see a bit of a redness to his cheek where you stung him with your palm. That did make you feel a little better.

“I’ve thought a lot about your punishment,” The King said, his hands behind his back as he stood rigid, staring down at you sitting on the floor. “Assaulting your King. I should have you put to death.” You said nothing. You had nothing to say. “Stand up, bitch.” You did as you were told, your head spinning from the sudden movement. “Take off your dress.”

The Hound’s eyes flashed quickly from the King, to you, and back to where he had been staring off at the wall. You noticed his hand gripped tighter on the cell door.

“You heard me, bitch,” King Joffrey spat.

You untied the cloth around your neck, letting your dress fall to the ground around you, hearing the howls and whistles from the other cells. The King smirked at your naked body. He slowly walked around you, taking you all in. “She’s pretty, isn’t she, Dog?” Joffrey asked.

“Yes,” The Hound said, but he hadn’t actually looked at you, his eyes locked on the wall. The King didn’t seem to notice, still examining you.

“Very good,” The King said, punctuating his statement with a sharp smack to your ass. It shocked you into letting out a little yip. The King stood in front of you again. “Body is very nice, you must have gotten a good feel, bringing her down here.” You were feeling very like a cow waiting for a price. You would rather him just hit you again. “We could give you to Littlefinger. Let you earn your penance.”

You swallowed hard. There weren’t many options for bastard children, especially not bastard children of whores. You didn’t even know who your father was. He could be a nobleman or he could have just been a farmer who happened to have extra coin, your mother hadn’t been able to tell you before she died. You had just narrowly escaped becoming a whore yourself by being sold to the castle as a young girl. It would be almost cosmic to end up at the brothel anyways. Cosmic, but still not an option you wanted.

“What do you think, Hound? She would earn a good sum. You could even have a go at her, if you pay the right price,” King Joffrey said, turning back to his bodyguard. As if he had just been blessed, the King’s grin nearly split his face. “Oh no, I have the perfect idea, the perfect punishment for this bitch. A bitch for the Hound.”

“Your Grace?” The Hound asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the wall to look at King Joffrey.

“You’ll be my dog’s wife,” the King said with venom, his face inches from yours. “I’m going to let the beast tear you up.”

      You hadn’t much pictured your wedding, not as a little girl and certainly not in your time as a handmaid. Marriage wasn’t much on your mind. But you certainly never thought it would be like this. The most you had said to your husband had been your wedding vows. The whole thing seemed less like a wedding and more like an elaborate play by a court jester. The King sat watching in delight the whole night as you sat next to your new husband in near silence.

Lady Sansa had finally broken away long enough to sneak to you and give you a hug. “I’m so sorry,” She said, tears choking her voice. You shushed her, patting her cheek.

“No, no, my love,” You said. “I’m alright. Believe me, it could be so much worse.”

The Hound chuckled darkly. You hadn’t heard a word from him since the ceremony, where he had given you a surprisingly soft and chaste kiss in front of the audience after reciting his vows, after promising to protect you. “Could it, though?” He asked behind his wine goblet. “Am I a better option than death?”

Sansa looked only more frightened, but you nodded at her again, showing her you were okay. She scurried back before the King could notice she was gone. “You’re very cryptic.”

“Sorry, love,” The Hound said, draining his goblet. He had quite a bit to drink, but he was a large man. You doubted he was actually drunk. He was just a bit abrasive, from what you had heard. Well, actually, you heard that he was more than abrasive, but you tried to be optimistic.

The crowd around you suddenly broke into chaos. The Hound cursed under his breath and it took you a moment to realize what was happening as you were pulled from your chair and hefted up onto the shoulders of the chanting men. The Bedding Ceremony. You felt your stomach churn. You had nearly forgotten this part.

They carried you through the castle, all the way to the Hound’s chambers, a place just as foreign to you as the man you married. They dropped you onto the bed, still cheering as the left, taking turns clapping the groom on the back as they passed him. He shut the door behind the last drunken party goer, but you could still hear the feast going on behind it. He glanced at you as he locked the door and without thinking, you scooted back on the bed, your back hitting the wall. He barked out a laugh.

“You think you could fight me off?” The Hound asked as he turned around, his eyes not moving from your face. “Love to hear your plan, seeing as I outweigh you by threefold.” You would have backed up further if you weren’t already pressed flush against the wall as he stepped forward. You released a breath when he sat down at the small table. He reached behind him, grabbing a bottle of wine from the shelf on the wall and pulled a gulp straight from the bottle.  

You watched him for a long while. He did nothing but drink his wine quietly. You shivered in the brisk chill of the room. You almost asked why the fire place was unlit but you quickly pieced together why he probably didn’t want a fire in his room. He was halfway done with his bottle when you finally spoke, the uncertainty eating at your insides.

“Are you going to-,”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He cut you off, clearly already knowing what you were going to ask. You were thrown off by his question and you didn’t answer. He shook his head. “Thought not. I’m not in the business of fucking girls who don’t want to be fucked.”

“I’m not a little girl,” You defended, annoyed. Sure, he had to be at least fifteen years your senior, but you weren’t a child.

“I don’t fuck women who don’t want to be fucked either, wife or not,” He said. “Just go to bed, why don’t you?”

Knowing you were safe from him, you stood up from the bed. He glanced up at you, barely taller than him even seated, but didn’t say anything. You sat down in the other chair across from him and you had a feeling no one else had sat there before. The chambers had a very solitary feeling. They smelled very strongly of him, of wood and leather. You realized you had never been in any danger. You should have known that from the moment he refused to look at your naked body in the cell.

“May I?” You asked, pointing towards the bottle. He handed it to you, careful to not even  graze your skin. You took a long sip, the strong wine burning your throat as it went down.

“Careful, love,” He said. “It’s strong.”

“You can touch me, you know,” You said. You felt your cheeks burn pink when you realized how that may have sounded. “I just mean, you don’t have to be afraid to touch me,” You pointed to his hand. “We have to share a bed now, after all. It’s okay.”

“Not afraid,” He said, grabbing the bottle back to take another swig.

“Okay,” You said. He offered the bottle back to you and you took another drink. You hadn’t eaten much at the ceremony and you could already feel a warmth spread to your fingers. It was welcome in the cold of the room. You handed it back, but this time, you made sure your hand brushed his. He pulled back as if you had burnt him, not even taking the bottle. You smirked. “Afraid,” You said.

“I’m not afraid of you,” He said.

“Then why pull away?” You asked. He didn’t answer. You scooted your chair closer to his and placed your hand over his. You had noticed earlier, when the septon wrapped the ribbon around your clasped hands, how much bigger his was. You could put both hands over his one and still not cover all of it. He didn’t pull away this time. “See, not so bad,” You said with a smile. You felt like you were approaching a feral dog, using a calming voice and kind face to get it to trust you. He really was appropriately named.

“Not so bad,” He repeated, looking at your hand on his. He finished the whole bottle, setting it empty on the table. After a long moment he said, “Never had a woman touch me that wasn’t being paid.”

“Really?” You asked. He laughed with no humor behind it.

“The King made you marry me because I’m such a horrible beast that he knows being my wife would be a worse punishment than being beheaded or sold to a brothel and you ask ‘really’? You think a woman would come anywhere near my cock if she wasn’t a whore getting ample compensation?”

You looked him over. He was frightening, sure, but that was mostly due to sheer size of him, and the reputation. The half of his face that wasn’t burnt was good looking. “I don’t think it’s that unbelievable. You’re a handsome man.”

He laughed, this time with a bit of mirth. “Oh, at least my wife’s funny.”

“I’m not joking,” You said.

“You could get a much more handsome man than me, love, looking like you do.” Your cheeks burned pink. You liked that he thought you were pretty. You liked that you were still touching his hand. You liked that he let you.

“So you paid for it?” You asked.

“Like I said, a woman needs ample compensation,” He said. He nodded to you. “Or the threat of death.”

“Your first time was with a whore?”

“All my times were with whores.”

“What was that like?”

The Hound laughed. “I was eighteen, she had to have been nearly fifty. She was the only one brave enough to come near me.”

You stood up, finally taking your hand away from his. The wine may have given you a little push but you knew exactly what you were doing as you sat yourself on his lap. He tensed up, but he held his arm around your back, his hand touching your outer thigh. You liked it there. “Am I brave?” You asked.

“You’re stupid,” He said. “Anyone brave is just as stupid. You shouldn’t have hit the King.”

“You’re his bodyguard, you didn’t stop me,” You said.

“I wanted to hit him too,” He admitted.

“My first time was with some boy from Flea Bottom. It was...very quick,” You said. He had told you his story, you thought you should give yours. “Sorry, your wife’s virtue has already been taken.”

“Sorry your husband is a monster.”

You reached your hand up, reaching for the scarred half of his face. He grabbed your wrist, but gently. You touched your fingertips to the burned flesh. It felt rough, like his hands, but some spots were smooth, stretched tight. You slid your hand down to his beard, turning his face towards yours. Your lips were just a breath away from his. “Ask me again.”

“What?”

“Ask me again.”

After a long moment he said, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I do.” You pressed your lips to his. This kiss felt very different from the one at the ceremony. You felt his grip on you tighten. He held one arm around your waist while the other pressed along your spine, his hand holding the back of your head. You twisted your fingers in his hair. You pulled back slightly, taking a sharp breath. “Come on, Hound.”

He growled, standing up and lifting you like you weighed nothing at all. He laid you on the bed, careful not to put any of his weight onto you as he held himself above you, but you still felt like he surrounded you. You liked it. You felt safe. You wanted more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your wedding gown falling around your thighs. You tried to pull him closer.

“Not trying to crush you, love,” He said as he kissed your neck.

“Please, I want to feel you,” You begged. He groaned, finally pressing into you, but still holding himself up on his elbows. You could feel his hardness pressed against you through the cloth between you. You rolled your hips into him, trying to feel more of his length. He hissed out a breath, one of his hands going to your hips to hold them down.

“Take this fucking thing off,” He said, taking a fist full of your dress.

You slid out from under him, standing before him as he sat up on the edge of the bed, taking off his boots as he watched you. You undid some of the buttons but others were out of your reach. You turned your back to him and let him help you with the rest. He stood behind you, looming over you as he pushed the dress off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet. This was much more pleasant than being exposed in the dungeon. You could feel the heat between your thighs burn almost painfully and your nipples tightened from both cold and arousal.

You turned back around, grabbing the edge of his shirt. He took the hint and pulled it off. His chest was so broad and covered in thick, dark hair. You pressed your hand against him, pushing him back to the bed. Unlike before, his eyes were trained on your body, as if he were a blind man who could see nothing but you.

“Fuck,” He said quietly, his hands on your hips. He kissed your stomach first, then your breasts, taking a nipple between his teeth, making you arch your back towards him.

“Hound,” You moaned, your hands finding his hair again. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, forcing you to sit on his lap again. You could feel the rigid edge of his cock under his pants and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding against it, making him hiss out your name.

He gathered you in one arm, flipping you around to lay you on the bed again. He kissed your neck roughly, his teeth scraping your skin. He wedged himself between your legs, spreading you wide beneath him. His large hand found its way to your center, placing his palm against you. He groaned into your neck as he felt how wet you were for him. “You’re fucking dripping, love.” He dipped a finger inside of you slowly. “I want to hear you say my name. My real name.”

He pulled his finger out, only to push it back in with a second, making you gasp. “Sandor,” You said as he thrust his hand against you. “Sandor, please, don’t stop.”

“Are you going to come for me, love?” He whispered into your ear as his thumb found your clit. You nodded, unable to say anything else. His rough fingers felt so good rubbing you from the inside out.

Without warning, he pulled his hand away, you felt suddenly empty. You watched as he brought the hand to his mouth, sucking you off of his fingers. You felt another surge of arousal course through you when he groaned as he tasted you.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet.” He grabbed you by the waist, flipping you over again so that he was underneath you, laying on the bed, and you hovered over his chest on your knees. “I need to taste more of your sweet cunt, love.”

You gasped as he planted his hands on your ass, his fingers digging in as he guided you over his mouth. His beard scratched at your thighs deliciously as he devoured you. His tongue lapped at your pussy, letting you ride his face. Your thighs clenched as you got closer to your end. He squeezed your ass tighter until finally, “Fuck, Sandor,” You cried out as you came, thighs quaking.

You sat back on his chest, catching your breath. He laid his hands against your thighs, watching you from below.

“No one’s ever done that to me before,” You said.

“They missed out,” He said. “Never tasted anything so good.”

You moved to lay on top of him, letting him wrap his arms around you. You kissed him again, tasting yourself on his lips. “You going to get your pants off or do I have to do that myself?” You asked.

“You still want me to fuck you?” He asked, seeming surprised. You laughed slightly.

“Is your cock still hard?”

He groaned, shifting under you. “Don’t talk like that, it makes me want to throw you down and take you rough.” He slapped your bare ass, making you yelp in surprise. You wanted him to do it again.

“Maybe I want to be taken rough,” You said. You dragged your teeth against his ear lobe, making him squeeze tighter to you. “I want to feel your hard cock fill me up.”

You let out a surprised giggle as he flipped you suddenly onto your back. He kissed you roughly as he fumbled with his pants. He didn’t even take them all the way off, instead pushing them halfway down his thighs. You caught a glimpse of his whole length and you tried not to gasp but failed. You’d heard girls talk about men with above average equipment but you had trouble believing any could be as big as his.

“We don’t have to,” He said, mistaking your gasp as something else. You kissed him again, spreading your legs beneath him and letting him press against you. You could feel his tip at your entrance. You rolled your hips, pushing it in a little farther and making him groan. He held your hip down, his forehead pressed to yours. “Fuck, love, it’s not going to be gentle,” He warned.

“Don’t be gentle.”

With one long thrust he was fully inside you and you let out an involuntary scream of pleasure. He clapped his hand over your mouth, snapping his hips again. Your eyes screwed shut as you felt every inch of him. It bordered on pain, how much he stretched you, but it felt so good your eyes watered. He grunted as he pounded into you, finally replacing his hand with his mouth over yours, kissing you sloppily. Your hands clawed at his back, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“You feel so fucking good,” He groaned out as he thrust into you. “I’m not going to last.”

He moved his hand between your bodies. You cried out again as his thumb found your clit again. “Sandor, please.”

“Are you going to come, love?” The Hound said, his thrusts slowing slightly as he kept his rhythm on your clit. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Please,” You begged. “I’m going to come.”

He picked up his pace, your thighs shaking as you felt yourself go over the edge, his name coming out like a chant. He moved his hand away, steadying himself on the bed as his thrusts got wilder, until finally a quick shudder went through him as he emptied himself deep inside you. You only felt his weight for a moment before he pulled himself out as he rolled off of you onto his back, breathing hard. You turned on your side, curling close to his warm, hairy body. He wrapped his arm around you, bringing you closer. He pulled the blanket over you both, his eyes already closed.

“Pretty good,” You said, resting your head on his chest as he rubbed your arm absently. “As far as punishments go, I suppose.”

He gave you another sharp spank, making you laugh. “Go to sleep, or I’ll punish you again.”

[hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong]

Eliminating Hime

(Contains a few spoilers for the Vegas Event)

Ed is seen wandering about in the bamboo forest, seemingly alone. Then a certain pirate lady appeared.

Mary: oh? Is that master's son I see? What're you doing here, all alone?

Ed: I uh, got lost....

Mary: aw! Your parents must be worried sick! But don't worry, I'll-

Anne, appearing out of nowhere: We'll take good care of you!

Mary: Anne! What're you doing here?!

Anne: well when I heard master's CUTE lil son was here I wanted to see if I can catch him without the others!

Mary: I'm not so sure that's a good idea.... but I guess it can't be helped!

Anne: yeah! Now lil Eddy, are you ready for us to-

They then see Ed wearing a gas mask.

Mary: uh.... what's with that?

Ed: sorry about this ladies...

Then the surrounding area starts filling with a toxic gas, causing the two to start coughing!

Anne: what! *cough* you tricked us! *cough cough*

Mary: that's so *cough* underhanded and dirty! *cough cough*

Ed: look who's talking!

Anne: we expect better from you! *cough cough*

Then out of the bamboo, Hokusai, Ishtar and Jeanne ambush the two while also in gas masks.

Jeanne: serves you two right for wanting to get so close to master's kid!

Ishtar: yeah! It was odd enough with master himself, but his son too!?

Mary: hey! It's time travel! And he has master's cuteness!

Hokusai: oh shut up you two! Y'all about to have ur asses thoroughly kicked!

While the 5 fight, Mari walks up to her brother.

Mari: hey there hermano. How'd it go?

Ed: I was uncomfortable but, thankfully you worked quick.

Mari: of course I'd work quick, I'm a master with toxins!

Ed: what kind of toxins did you use?

Mari: a non-lethal one.... I think

Ed: you think!?

Mari: well it'll be non-lethal to servants at the very least!

Ed: *sigh* thank goodness for this mask....

Mari: you're resilient enough, you'd survive!

Ishtar: alright you two! We've got them handled!

The twins then go to see the results of the battle, the pirate girls laying unconscious.

Ed: nice work you three!

Jeanne: of course! These two didn't stand a chance!

Hokusai: serves them right for cheating!

Ishtar: yeah and- wait! Does anyone else hear that?

Mari: hmmm? Is that a.... rocket?

Mari looks up, being able to see through the thick fog, to see Mecha Eli Chan MK II flying above.

M. Eli: it would seem the two of them have been eliminated, unfortunately. I cannot see through this thick fog, so I'd best report to Osaka-

*blast!*

M. Eli: huh?!

Mari: shoot her down!

Ishtar: don't need to tell me twice!

Jeanne: yeah! We'll turn her into burnt scrap!

M. Eli: activating evasive maneuvers!

*blast!*

One of Jeanne's fireballs manages to blast one of Mecha Eli's wings

M. Eli: my wing!

Ishtar: quick, Jeanne! Give me a boost!

Jeanne: on it!

Jeanne puts her hands together to help launch Ishtar into the air, she then kicks Mecha Eli right in the face!

Ishtar: ha!

M. Eli: no!

Mecha Eli then falls into the foggy forest below, now surrounded by the twins and their servants.

Mari: oh! It looks like the big bad mecha made a mistake coming here!

Ed: pretty lucky for us to take out another member on their own!

M. Eli: I can still fight! *getting up* I'll still he able to destroy you all!

Jeanne: oh shut it!

All three servants attack the mecha, until she's rendered defeated.

Hokusai: wooh! Only two left! This is going great!

Mari: and these three were probably the bigger threats too!

Jeanne: yeah, hard to take Teach and Okki seriously in all honesty.

The group then moved on to the next area. Meanwhile, Teach and Osakabehime were starting to worry.

Okki: Teach! Why's she taking so long to get back!

Teach: it's probably nothing! I'm sure she'll be here soon enough!

Okki: I-I n-need her here! Without her I won't have nearly as much distance in the fight! They can already shoot at us with Jeanne and Ishtar, I needed that flight advantage!

Teach: be more optimistic, Hime! She'll be back before you kno-

*fireball shoots by, barely missing Teach's face*

Mari: unlikely

Okki: oh no!

Teach: ah crap...

Hokusai: we've taken care of all three of your other buds!

Ishtar: real nice of you, bending the rules around like that!

Okki: hey! I needed as many advantages as I could get!

Ed: y'know that just means you don't deserve your position right?!

Okki: so what?! I already got it, I won't lose it so easily!

Jeanne: by the way, hime! I've been meaning to ask... how's that draft of yours?

Okki: *urgh!* why'd you have to bring that up!?

Teach: oh yeah.... you haven't even touched it have you?!

While the group talks, it seeks Okki doesn't notice the storm that started

Okki: *Urgh!* Teach! You're not helping!

Jeanne: wow! You haven't even started?! I've already finished mine!

The storm starts to get more intense

Okki: huh?! How did you- what even?!

Jeanne: I don't slack on my work! Unlike some people!

Lightning strikes are heard, along with Thunder

Okki: stop calling me out like this! I already know I should've started by now!

*lightning*

Teach: uh.... Hime?

Okki: but I've been having fun with this Vacation!

*Thunder*

Teach: hime?

Okki: and I'll keep having fun!

*lightning again*

Teach: H-hime!

Okki: once I kick all of your asses!

*Thunder, again*

Teach: Osakabehime!

Okki: what!?

Lightning is then seen hitting the two of them!

Okki, in pain: h-huh?! What was that?!

Teach: where'd this storm come from?!

Ed: that'd be me!

Mari: good job, hermano!

Hokusai: you said it, Mari!

Ishtar: we'll take it from here!

Teach: n-no fair! Hitting someone when their down!

Jeanne: we don't need to hear that from the most infamous and feared pirate!

The three then proceed to defeat the remaining two enemies, claiming victory of this match!

Everyone is then seen walking into the main floor of the casino.

Quetz: muy bien mis hijos!!! You all did such a good job!

Rex: and it went much smoother then when I had to do it.

Mari: gracias

Ed: I'm still surprised how long she got distracted by the draft thingy...

Jeanne: well, me laying it on thick about my superiority really pushed her buttons! So I can't blame her!

Rex: well now it's onto the next swimsuit swordmaster.

Quetz: they only get more difficult as this goes on, so don't be afraid to ask for our help!

Mari: right, we'll see how things go....

Ed: hopefully we can manage....

Then the Bunny Lion King's voice is heard on a loudspeaker

Buntoria: attention all visitors. I must unfortunately warn you, that along with the bat creatures that were seen last night a Very large Bat-like monster has been reported by some visitors. Along with that, some have even reported sharks in the pool surrounding Dazzling Vegas. My Knights are on the job to take care of them, but until then please limit your time outside as much as possible.

Mari: oh no.....

Ed: it can't be....

Quetz: no no no! That shouldn't be even remotely possible!

Hokusai: uh.... what's got you all scared?

Rex: we can explain at the hotel.... hopefully we won't run into.... them

A/N: Osakabehime has been defeated! Mari and Ed had an easier time handling them then Rex did back in the day! Hopefully the next few swordmasters will be easier too!

Tags

@havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong @hasbbdoneanythingwrong @haskamadoneanythingwrong @hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong @hasishtardoneanythingwrong @hasjalterdoneanythingwrong @hasmerlindoneanythingwrong

[bringingglory]

thank you so much for the tags @hanamuri @fullmetalscullyy @megthemighty @nightofnyx8 @tsaritsa !

How many works do you have on AO3? 11! some are botw, one is tdiapt, some are fma, and some are haikyuu! i mostly just write for whatever im interested in at the moment/whichever fandom inspiration strikes for

What's your total AO3 word count? 101,939

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Keep Your Friends Closer But Your Enemies Closer - T: ahhhh my miraculous ladybug fic! ive literally been working on her for FOREVER and i swear to god im going to finish it, i literally know how i want to end it and i know all the events leading up to it. hell, i even have a vague idea of what i want to happen in the middle, i just need to know what order the middle stuff happens in and also i just have to write it. It's an AU where Ladybug and Chat Noir are actually enemies but then Chat Noir accidentally befriends Marinette and then drama etc etc etc.

rain - G: first zelink fic babey! set Pre-Calamity and basically link and zelda get stuck in a cave because of the rain and there's just a lot of quiet pining, etc etc.

Your Friendly Neighborhood Oikawa - T: HAHAHA this was a crack fic inspired by my roommate but then i forgot it was supposed to be a crack fic while writing it and there are accidentally real emotions alkjdfalksdf but anyway it was very fun to write lmao. it was based off this meme and basically it's an AU where Oikawa is Spider-Man and Iwaizumi doesn't know but they still like hang out and stuff. It's a lot of fun, or at least I think it is, haha.

stolen moments - T: first royai fic!!! just a series of "stolen moments" (mic drop) where roy and riza like cant be together but yknow, they try. lots of pining. etc

a secret weapon of sorts - T: 5+1 edwin fic inspired by the Simple People OVA where instead of ed giving winry earrings to get out of trouble, he gives her kisses.

Do you reply to comments, why or why not? Yes! I try really hard to!!! Sometimes I get overwhelmed and I don't respond to comments for a while, but I absolutely do my best to when I remember because I feel like it's my way of saying "thank you" for them reading my fics in the first place, haha.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Uhhhhh, sleepless I guess? But it's more open-ended/not explicitly positive more than anything, though even then I feel like I've got a hint of hope in there. alkjdfhalsdk idk man I just, I can't write *pure* angst, there's gotta be some light, and thus I could never end anything angstily

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? LMAO most of my fics??? I guess??? bc despite being an anxious piece of shit, I am an optimist by heart

Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've ever written? When I was younger! Idk, I guess the Rise of the Brave Frozen Tangled Dragons fandom??? if anyone remembers what that is lmao

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Not exactly? Maybe some weird comments on KYFCBYEC but even then, it wasn't that often.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? No no no no no no no no. I am telling you, I physically cannot write smut. I don't think I actually have the capacity. Absolute fucking kudos to every single smut writer out there bc it truly is an art form capturing that intimacy and emotion and etc, but I literally get flustered from writing mildly detailed kiss scenes. If I ever wrote smut, I would burst into flames on the spot.

Actually lies, I technically wrote smut once, but it was at the request of my roommates and they wanted me to write a crack smut fic of Y/N x our uni's mascot and I wrote that thing in like 3 hours with so many silly memes to keep myself sane (not like other girls, tongues battled for dominance, etc), did not edit it, and because it was so, like, not serious, I was actually able to get through it. But even then, when I wrote "thrusting" I literally had to put my laptop down for 20 minutes.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Nope!

Have you ever had a fic translated? Not yet! Someone commented on Your Friendly Neighborhood Oikawa and asked if they could translate it and I said yes! They haven't gotten around to it yet, but I would love to see it if they do!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not yet!

What’s your all-time favourite ship? Bro it changes day to day. You can't ask me this lmao. The current ship I'm most fixated on is Iwaoi, but I wouldn't say they're my all-time favorite.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I'm not answering this energy. On god, I'm going to finish things. I want to.

What are your writing strengths? uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh very good question lmao. I don't really like thinking about "strengths" in my writing bc who am I to say? akjdslakfjdf idk, instead, I'm just gonna say some things I like/try to do in my writing, which are: conversational prose/having a lot of voice in the narration, I try to add humor wherever I can, and recently I've gotten better and metaphors and describing things bc I picked up writing poetry a year ago!

What are your writing weaknesses? hmmm, a thing I dislike about my writing/the writing process is that I'm slow to publish things and slow to finish things because I'm such a messy first drafter and I also take forever to edit. I would like to uhhhhh get things out faster. Also I tend to repeat myself a lot bc I forget the details of things I write sometimes lmao.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Hmmm, I dunno, I guess I don't have any strong thoughts? The only other language I know is Mandarin but even then, I suck ass at that, so I'll prolly never write dialogue in another language simply bc I like to try to portray things semi-realistically and I don't think I have a good enough grasp on any other language the same way I do in English to produce authentic enough dialogue.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Fablehaven I guess? But Idk I was in fourth grade an didn't even know what fandom was yet. Rise of the Guardians, maybe?

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

AHHHH idk??? maybe hold your hand out in the dark because i really experimented with my writing on that one and im sort of proud of the result, just like the fact that i wanted to try something new and it turned out alright. that or Sunset Wheeling which is an iwaoi fic where they just skate, and like it's prolly one of the most self-indulgent things i've ever written because it's silly and they just. skate. but aljdfalsjd idk i loved it and i churned it out in 6 days and it was a lot of fun lol

ahhh a bunch of people have been tagged already, so sorry if im tagging you again, but for now im just gonna tag @niconiconina @notkorras @thatisadamnfinecupofcoffee @firewoodfigs and anyone else who wants do it!