#reaping? flawless already

[lovepotionnumberfour]

the grimterns

ft. before the obligatory coworker makeover

[ilguna]

Before I get in on the fun, I'd like to say 1. the theme of your celebration is flawless an 2. You deserve 3k and so much more, congrats!!

Now if it's not too much to ask I'd love to request a Finnick one, with a platonic reader where they're each others favorite person since their young age. Instead Annie the Capitol decides to take reader and try to get infos out of her that could be used against the 'rebels'. When the rescue mission takes place, they're capable to free her as well but she's not stable at all (not mentally though). Every detail as well as the ending is up to you. Thank you!

(I hope I didn't go against your rules with this one)

If you decide not to write this, not a problem at all, love all your works either way.<3

☼ see you again (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, needle, torture, blood mention.

wc; 2k

—

When Finnick finds out that you let the Capitol torture you in order to keep some information from them about the rebels, you think that he’ll kill you himself. Especially since you promised him that you wouldn’t let it get to this point, in the chance that you weren’t able to get rescued.

It wasn’t supposed to be a possibility, though. 

The day of the reaping, Finnick stopped you before the two of you were meant to be on the stage in front of the Justice Building. He took your hands, squeezed them, and said, “Mags is going to volunteer, and you are not going to do anything about it.”

It was an order, and if it weren’t for his tone and the look on his face, you would’ve thought he was joking to some degree. He watched the way your mouth opened, and then shut. What could you say to that?

“She wants to protect you and Annie.” He clarified, thumbs rubbing over the back of your hands. “This is her sacrifice. Librae has agreed to be the female mentor, too. I want you to stay here, and be safe.”

“When have I ever purposely put myself into danger?” You’d asked him. 

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” He pressed his lips together. “Once we get taken out of the arena, we’ll come for you. And on the chance we can’t, you do whatever you have to do to stay alive.”

At the time, it seemed ridiculous that he felt the need to tell you this. Obviously, you would do whatever it takes to get back to him. You can’t live without Finnick, and he can’t go more than a few hours at a time without checking in on you. He’s your best friend, and he has been your entire life.

It took a lot of convincing from Mags to get him behind the idea of keeping you in District Four, where you were going to be safe. Rather than in an arena with a bunch of victors that would stop at nothing to go home to their own families. He didn’t like the thought of separating the two of you so he could go into the Quarter Quell.

Once she got it into his head that it was going to be a temporary problem that would be fixed as soon as the arena went down, he could support the idea… a little. That didn’t mean he liked it.

Still, he promised that it wouldn’t be long, and you promised that you’d save yourself at every cost. It’s funny how you both have become liars without ever intending to. 

It would be easier to tell the Capitol what they want to know now, considering that half of the plans have already been executed. If it weren’t for the fact that you know every detail there could possibly be to know. If you let one thing slip, the doctors will be all over you, and they won’t stop until they’re sure they’ve milked you dry.

It won’t be that different from what they’re doing at the moment. They’ve been extremely persistent, up until today. You’re not sure what made them stop, but the schedule they had was specific and well thought out. They’d come by every hour of the day to do something to you. Whether it be questioning, injections or plain torture, they would not leave the room.

You’ve been thinking that they’re resetting. Maybe they’re trying to give you a false sense of security by letting you assume that you’re safe and they’re not going to come back. And then later, when you’re sleeping, they’ll come by with worse instruments than they had before.

You won’t crack.

The details you know about the rebellion could make or break it. The tactics on how District Four were going to interrupt and fight back against the Peacekeepers are delicate. In order to spread it to the other districts to make them successful, they selected a few trained individuals to send beyond the fences as a messenger. 

The combined information between you and Finnick about the Capitol Officials could tear their image and plant doubt in the citizen’s minds. If they can’t trust the important people to protect them, then who's to say they’re any better than the rebels? They can’t. It could convince them to switch sides from the inside.

You know all the spies from inside of the Capitol, giving out their names could be catastrophic. You know all the places the rebels were planning on targeting and how that would help them later on. Hell, if you tell the doctors that you know their own battle strategies and have passed it onto District Thirteen, they might just slaughter you on the spot.

So, while you could tell Finnick that you’d save yourself first, you’d never actually do it, it’s an impossible task. If you did, it’ll cost thousands of people their lives and their freedom. As opposed to just you, acting as a sacrifice, knowing full well that you’re circling the drain and it’s only a matter of time.

You can’t go yet, you have to see Finnick one more time.

The lights suddenly flicker. Your face twists, dragging your eyes from the white tile to the ceiling. It’s bright, hard to look at for more than a couple seconds. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the Capitol’s power malfunction before.

You place your head back on the pillow, and watch in stunned silence as the lights flicker, struggling to stay on, before they fail altogether. The room falls into darkness, the hum of electricity gone. You stare into the black, hands reaching for the bed railing, hearing the metal of your handcuffs clink against it.

A few feet away, the door to your room unlocks.

Your breathing picks up, bracing yourself for anyone that might come in. This is it, the trick that they’ve been winding up to play on you. Why else would the lights go out? Now you can’t see them coming.

You’re not sure how long you sit there for, waiting for them to open the door and come out of the blue. It’s got to be more than an hour, and by then, you’ve calmed down a bit. It’s not going to be any different from the last hundred times. You can hold on.

The sound of boots on tile makes you sit up, beams of light shining through your door’s window, only to be taken away. There’s hushed voices, as if they’re afraid of being too loud to attract attention. You watch as the light returns, a shadow of a figure appearing in front of the window, before your door slowly begins to open.

You swallow thickly.

You’re blinded instantly by the beams of light. You go to raise your hand to block your eyes, the cuffs digging harshly into your raw wounds. You have to turn your head away, cheek pressed against your chest.

“We’ve got one!” A man shouts.

The brightness isn’t directly pointed at you anymore, so you’re able to open your eyes to see what’s happening. The room has become crowded, with several people dressed in military gear holding guns. You stare at them wordlessly, not knowing whether or not this is a trap.

Another one comes to the doorway, the barrel pointed toward the floor. “(Y/n) (L/n)?” 

Your eyebrows twitch. “Yes?”

He nods, “Let’s get her uncuffed and ready to be transported to the hovercraft. (Y/n), do you know where the other victors are being kept?”

You shake your head slightly. “No, they could be anywhere in this building.”

He doesn’t say anything, leaving the room. The ones that are left come to try and get you free, but every time they adjust the cuffs for better leverage, you begin to bleed again. The cuts and sores that litter your skin are easy bleeders. It’s because they haven’t been allowed to heal.

They realize this quickly, trying to be gentle. You have to tell them that what they’re doing doesn’t even compare to the amount of pain you’re put in each time you have to move. This makes them stop altogether.

“Are you able to walk?”

“Barely.” You murmur, “I can’t do it for long periods of time.”

“Gale, will you stay with her while we—?”

“Yes.”

They leave the room, but they don’t go very far. With neither of you talking, you can hear every word they say out there. You look like shit, you’re covered in wet and dried blood alike. And you should be dead by now.

“Is he safe?” Your voice is scratchy. You clear your throat. “Is FInnick safe?”

“Yes, he’s in District Thirteen.” Gale tells you.

You hum, sitting back. That’s all you’ve wanted to hear since the feed showing the Quarter Quell went down. They cut the districts off right around the time Katniss shot the arrow into the forcefield. You didn’t see anyone get rescued from there, so you thought that they were here with you, in the Capitol.

“I want to see him again.” You say. “That’s all I want.”

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything back, as the others come into the room. You watch as they pull out a collapsible stretcher. You grind your teeth, imagining all the pain you’re about to be in.

—

“Just hold on, (Y/n).” The nurse tells you, prodding at your elbow. “We’ve got to find a vein.”

You throw your head back against the pillow as she presses her thumb into the skin, tears appearing at the corners of your eyes. You thought that the journey getting here was unbearable, you didn’t think you’d have a team of doctors waiting to help you in District Thirteen.

They’re already talking to you about taking skin and blood samples to run tests. They think that surgery might be a good idea for you, and the physical therapy you’re going to need to be able to walk properly again. It’s like a merry-go-round that you can’t get off of.

First it was causing damage, and now it’s trying to fix it.

“Where’s Finnick?” You groan out between your teeth. “I want Finnick.”

“He’s on his way, I need you to sit still.” She tells you. 

“It hurts.” You cry, tears running down the sides of your cheeks. “I can’t—”

“Can we get morphling, please?” The nurse calls, “We’re going to do everything we can right now to make you feel comfortable, (Y/n). Until then, we need you to relax.”

The idea of relaxing is so ridiculous that you can’t help the pained laughter that bubbles out of you. It’s not funny for long, it dissolves into sobs that aches your chest and makes it difficult for you to breathe. For a second, you think that it’d be easier if you were dead.

“(Y/n)!” A voice shouts.

Your eyes pop open as you fly into an upward position to see who the voice belongs to. It’s coming from the other end of the room, but you’re not able to see with the nurse being in the way. The needle is pushed through your skin, she lets out a sigh of relief and moves to the side.

On the other side of the room, you see him. You see Finnick, his bronze hair tangled at the top of his head, dressed in the same grey jumpsuit that everyone but the medical staff is wearing. 

“Finnick!” You shout.

He begins to run to you, arms out in your direction. The nurse has to jerk in front of him at the last second. “Carefully. Her condition is delicate.”

She moves out of the way, Finnick takes your hand in his, squeezing tightly. The tears begin to blur your eyes again, bottom lip trembling. 

“What did they do to you?” He whispers.

“I couldn’t tell them the truth.” You say. “I couldn’t ruin it for the rebels.”

“So you would let them kill you?” 

“No, not if it meant I would never see you again.” You look away. “But I can’t be the reason why more children go inside of an arena.”

“You wouldn’t have been.”

You look him in the eyes again. “I couldn’t take that chance.”

—

this is part of my 3k celebration!! you can join until the cure is released on October 31st, at midnight!!

+ thank you anon!!

[agent-grey-fics]

Scarred Survivors | Part 1 | Finnick Odair x reader

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader Wordcount: 1k

Summary: The Capitol announces a twist in the Quarter Quell: victors will be reaped, again. Y/N Green, the "Huntress" and winner of the 69th Hunger Games, is forced back into the arena. Furious and betrayed, she faces Finnick Odair, who volunteers to participate in the games once again, reigniting old tensions.

AN: Hi guys, it's been a while. My life has been turned upside down after the death of my mom. I am trying to make the best of it and find distraction by starting to write again. It was hard to start again, I am trying my best to fall in love with writing again. Be kind. Love always, Lexi

It was two hours before the reaping when the capitol announced an emergency broadcast. You were sitting in front of the TV when they announced a change in the Quarter Quell: the two tributes were going to be selected from the existing victors group. ‘No!’ you threw your glass at the television as the realization set in. They screwed you over. Again. After you won your games you were promised a lifetime full of peace and prosperity. You didn't invest too much thought into it and simply allowed events to unfold. Trying to forget the trauma from the arena and the blood on your hands. During your games, Caesar Flickerman named you ‘The Huntress’. Instead of waiting the others out you actively hunted them down from day one, you were all going to die one way or another so you could at least try to survive. To your disbelief, you did. You became the winner of the 69 Hunger Games, being seventeen years old at the time.

Life after the games was never the same. There was a y/n before the games and a y/n after the games. The first weeks back home were a blur, between panic attacks and depressive episodes you drank your problems away. A little trick Haymitch taught you when you met him during your victor’s tour. When you settled in Victor’s village it was strange at first but you found your place among the others. Mags guided you as much as she could, just like she did in the games. It was nice being around people who understood what you had been through, and what you did to survive.

Tears were welling up in your eyes, Snow already took everyone you loved away from you. He no longer had any leverage to use you as one of his puppets, except to send you back into the arena. You ran your hands through your hair, you were not going to give him the pleasure of seeing you cry. You were going to look flawless and emotionless. He won't get you down, not this time.

Two hours later you were standing next to Mags. She held your hand tightly in hers while you were waiting for the reaping. They had placed all the previous winners of the games in front of the audience. One group consisted of the female winners and a second group where the male winners stood. ‘The time has come to select one courageous young man and woman for the honour of representing District Four in the 75th annual Hunger Games. As usual ladies first!’  Not me, not me, not me was all that you could think. There was a one in three chance that you would be chosen for this Quarter Quell, and you hoped to hear Annie's or Mags’ name, not caring for their well-being at the moment. It was selfish but you were sure that you wouldn’t survive a second time in the arena. The Capitol escort dug into the glazed jar until a single piece of paper remained between her fingers. She tiptoed to the microphone in her ridiculously high heels and cleared her throat uncomfortably. Everyone held their breath, waiting to hear which victor had to re-enter the arena. Not me, not me, not me.  ‘Y/N Green.’ 

All eyes turned to you and you could see your face on the big screen that was hanging above the makeshift stage. You were dumbfounded and stood rooted to the ground. Mags squeezed your hand in an attempt to reassure you a little. Not again. ‘Fuck.’ you breathed out as the peacekeepers walked towards you and reached for your frame. ‘I can walk on my own, don’t fucking touch me.’ You slammed their hands away and gave them a poisoned look. You were furious. Several sighs left the audience, some of relief the others of disbelief. Annie and Mags started crying, they were relieved that they wouldn’t have to re-enter the arena. On the other hand, their hearts broke for you because they knew what hell awaited.

‘And now for the boys.’ You zoned out, not caring about what was going on. Flashes of your first games raced by. You never trained as a career, well not fully but you were pretty skilled in hand-to-hand combat both on the ground and in the water. During your games you hunted the other tributes down, Taking advantage of your skills in hand-to-hand combat. ‘Thomas Henderson.’ You were startled out of your train of thoughts when you heard his name. Unconsciously, you held your breath and let out a relieved sigh when you saw him walking towards the stage. That was the other thing, during your years in the victor's village and the Capitol you- ‘I volunteer as tribute.’ The public gasped in union when the words echoed through the air. His voice was laced with confidence, a weird sound in this kind of situation. Your jaw almost dropped. Thomas stopped in his tracks as the other was guided towards the stage. ‘What are you doing?’ You hissed as the bronze-haired man took place next to you. He gave you one of his famous smirks as you turned your head towards him. ‘Keeping you alive Green.’ His voice was as raspy as you remembered. ‘Since when do we take care of each other? Last time I checked you made yourself perfectly clear when you said you wanted nothing to do with me. Now I just have to go the extra mile to kill you too.’ He shook his head as he heard the threat. He and Mags were your mentors during the games while he was only a year older than you. He had the reputation of being a lady's man, charming everyone with his boyish grin. ‘I forgot how fierce you were, huntress.’ His cocky grin hadn’t changed over the last couple of years. It was a grin you loved at one point but now only despised, you wish you could smack it from his face. ‘Well, wait another week and you will be able to find out for yourself.’ He tilted his head a bit to the side, ‘Is that a promise y/n?’. Before you could say anything, the voice of the Capitol escort echoed across the square: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes from District Four: Y/N Green and Finnick Odair.’

[aeoki]

Seven Bridges - Love and Peace?: Chapter 2

Location: Yumenosaki Student Council Room Characters: Ritsu, Mao & Hitsugi

TL Note:

Tanzaku are colourful strips of paper people use to write their wishes on. They’re then hung on a bamboo tree in celebration for Tanabata.

Mao: To be blunt, there was an issue found in the “Tanabata” proposal you submitted yesterday, Anzu.

And it’s a pretty fatal one at that. 

Hitsugi: Ricchan-san! Ricchan-san! What’ve you been doing for a while now!?

Ritsu: I’m making tea for Maa-kun and Anzu. Because I want them to see how considerate I am.

Hitsugi: I’ll help, I’ll help! I’m ranked the lowest here! Whaa~!

Ritsu: Hey, you’re actually going to get the way so can you not…?

Mao: *Ignores the two* …As you know, “Tanabata” is one of the highest-ranking events at Yumenosaki – in other words, it’s an “S1”.

“SS” was ranked the highest in the past but ever since it fell under ES’ control, “S1” is only rising higher and higher.

It’s something huge that Yumenosaki cannot remove by any means.

But thankfully, we have an outstanding “producer” with us.

I’m talking about you, Anzu.

From the start, “Tanabata” was a high-quality event that you created last year with the help of everyone.

It was a huge success last year and the public held the event in high regard as well.

Frankly, it was so flawless we could easily reuse the same proposal this year too.

The idol industry has changed ever since ES was established, but the audience itself or their numbers hasn't changed in Yumenosaki, for better or worse.

Our amazing upperclassmen have already graduated – even hearing the phrase “hasn’t changed” can be a compliment. It’s a good thing that we’re able to maintain the status quo.

I realised that, felt relieved and let my guard down.

That’s how I ended up approving the “Tanabata” proposal you submitted without carefully checking it, Anzu. I figured if it was you, we shouldn’t have any problems.

I believe in your skills and you have last year’s achievements to prove it. I simply overestimated the fact that things would also be fine this year.

That’s why it’s my responsibility. Sorry.

It looks like everyone’s been pretty busy after ES was established and it’s probably a bit weird for me to say this, but Yumenosaki Academy has started becoming more active after our revolution.

Everyone is motivated and is submitting more proposals than ever.

The number of students grew and the number of units has also increased with them – proposals for “S3” have also been flooding in.

I probably don’t need to explain this to you, but “S3” was what we called “B1” in the past. It was a dreamfest created and run independently by the students.

Up until the final stage of last year, it wasn’t officially recognised by the Student Council and needed to be supervised, though.

Now that it’s officially recognised as a dreamfest called “S3”, they can receive a budget from the Student Council.

We’ve been getting a lot of proposals from eager students who’ve started realising that they won’t need to pay out of their own pockets and can stand boldly on stage without anyone scolding them.

That act in itself should be, well, very welcome. No, that should be what we were aiming for this entire time.

We were aiming for an active Yumenosaki – one where everyone is eager and full of motivation.

Yumenosaki was a place where people were living like they were dead and we wanted to change that. We “Trickstar” rose up and started a revolution.

So I guess we reap what we sow. We don't have the right to criticise the way things currently are.

But dealing with this mountain of proposals is basically physically impossible. That’s why I thought I should cut corners where I could.

I didn’t mean to be lazy though. I figured your proposal shouldn’t have any issues in the first place and gave the stamp of approval right away.

I thought I had to keep my hands moving and move on to the next proposal otherwise I’d never get through them all.

But I started sorting out the budget and went to read over the “Tanabata” proposal that was already taking place. Then I realised something huge.

Anzu. Answer me honestly. Did you really come up with the “Tanabata” proposal this time?

If you really did, then I’m a little disappointed. No, disappointed isn’t the right word – I’m confused, I guess.

The “Tanabata” proposal last year was definitely in your style and it was the best.

Thinking back, that was your first proper producer work, huh.

The previous student council president, Tenshouin-senpai, made you do unreasonable things and you were able to meet his expectations because you really did your best.

It was a splendid proposal where anyone could stand on stage if they wanted to, where no idols were left behind.

You even came up with the feature where the audience could get their wish granted if they wrote it on the tanzaku paper[∗]. That was fitting for Tanabata and the fans loved it. It was perfect.

It was an event you put a lot of thought and work into, right?

But I had the impression that you weren’t motivated at all after reading your “Tanabata” proposal this year. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[digitalmarketingagencyseo]

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[cybrsan]

Pirate King — K.HJ

SUMMARY: You are playing a dangerous game with an even more dangerous man, and you don't know how much longer it can go on before everything falls apart around you.

PAIRING: Kim Hongjoong x F!Reader

RATING/GENRE: M ; smut ; pirate au, rivals w/ benefits

WORD COUNT: 7.6k

WARNINGS: Toxic relationship dynamics, poor bdsm etiquette, dubious consent, knife play, unsafe sex

A/N: Hi! This is the first part in the collection of stories I am writing based on each of ATEEZ’s title tracks & singles, as well as the very first piece of my writing I am posting on this blog. Please enjoy! 

LINKS: AO3 Link | Series Masterlist | All Works Masterlist 

You slip silently through the shadows, your eyes fixed on the mansion ahead. You have been planning this heist for weeks, and the payoff will be enough to finally get a ship and a small crew of your own. You have taken everything into consideration—the guards’ patrol routes, the location of the target, all the way down to the best escape route. You even planned around the weather, the rain being a perfect distraction from any noise you might make. Nothing will be left to chance. Nothing can go wrong.

You climb the garden trellis that leads to the third-floor window and pop open the latch with your pocket knife, slipping inside. You cast a cursory glance down each side of the hallway, but just as you expected, the guard is nowhere to be seen. At this time, he should be patrolling the opposite end of the floor, which gives you about six minutes to neutralize the two guards in the display room, get the necklace, and get out. The time frame is tight, but you’ve dealt with worse scenarios.

The necklace you are after is an ode to jewelry craftsmanship, and no expense had been spared in its creation. The design consists of a solid gold chain, polished to a gleaming shine. Dangling from the center of the necklace is a single, massive diamond, a flawless gem that sparkles with a brilliance that is almost blinding. Supposedly, when it catches the light just right, it creates a mesmerizing display of color. The Aurora, people call it.

But it isn’t the diamond alone that makes the necklace so valuable—it is the history behind it. Legend has it that the necklace once belonged to a powerful queen who was gifted it at her coronation. It had been passed down through generations of royalty before her, and people say that anyone who wore it was blessed with great wealth and success. That part of the story obviously isn’t true, as no one who has since come into possession of the necklace has reaped the benefits.

It’s not that you don’t believe in magical items—they certainly do exist. In fact, part of the reason you are trying to get a ship is to track one that has captured your interest. The Aurora just happens to be a normal item of jewelry. Of course the people who owned it were wealthy and successful; they were royalty. It was all no more than a mere coincidence. But alas, it is still a hot commodity and one you are willing to provide.

The governor you are robbing recently purchased the necklace at an auction for an inconceivable amount of money, much to the chagrin of your employer. You couldn’t care less about petty disagreements between the wealthy—you just want to do the job and get paid.

You enter the display room, poisoned knife at the ready. One cut is all you need to get the toxin into a man’s bloodstream and paralyze him. You freeze momentarily when you see that the guards have already been dealt with, their unconscious bodies lying in a heap on the floor. The confusion only lasts for a moment before panic surges through you, spurring you into action. You switch into a defensive posture and spin around so your back is against a wall, prepared to face whoever has beaten you here.

Your eyes take in the room, but you don’t see anyone else. There are too many hiding spots to consider, and you start listing them off in your head. Behind one of the doors? No, too obvious. Inside the suit of armor? No, too impractical. Inside one of the cabinets? Perhaps, but which one? There must be at least 6 that you can see and walking around aimlessly will leave you vulnerable.

What you don’t account for is the man crouching behind a display case to your right. He jumps out and catches you by surprise, trapping you in his arms. Without hesitation, you throw your elbow back, connecting with his stomach and forcing him to release his hold on you. You follow up with a wide arc of your knife, but he counters your attack with ease, twisting your wrist and causing you to lose your grip on the weapon. You curse under your breath, knowing that you're outmatched in close combat.

Refusing to back down, you bring your leg up and land a solid kick to his midsection. He staggers back, only knocked off balance for a second, but it is enough time for you to cross the room and grab the necklace. With a burst of speed, you dash towards the exit, thinking you have the man beat. But just as you near the window, he grabs you by the hair and pulls you back toward him. Pain radiates through your scalp, and you almost bite your tongue in an attempt to hold back a scream. You go to elbow him again, but this time he’s prepared, pulling you tightly against his chest and rendering you immobile. You strain to catch a glimpse of his face, but it's hidden behind a dark cloak.

“Sorry,” he says, before covering your mouth with a sickly sweet-smelling cloth. You struggle against him, thrashing your arms and legs, but it's no use. The last thing you recall is the fact that you recognize his voice, a sense of frustration flooding through you as darkness overtakes you.

You let out a groan as you slowly regain consciousness, blinking your eyes in an attempt to adjust to the harsh sunlight. Your senses gradually come back to you, and it doesn’t take you long to recognize where you are. You can smell the sea in the air just as much as you can feel it beneath you. That and the fact that your hair is currently whipping around your face from the wind is enough to let you know that you are on a ship. Not just any ship, though. The worn wooden deck, the orange and black flag waving above your head, all down to the sound of laughter in the distance are things that are more than familiar to you. Even the uncomfortable feeling of being tied to the mast, unable to move, is nostalgic. You’re on the Destiny.

Your head is pounding, and your limbs feel heavy and numb, an awful reminder of how you ended up in this position. Your clothes are stiff against your skin and still slightly damp—it must have continued to rain while you were unconscious. Of course none of your captors had the decency to put you in the brig, protected from the elements. You’re sure you can thank the Destiny’s sadistic captain for that; he likes to think doing things like this gives him sort of power over you.

You test your bonds but, as always, they are as secure as can be. Fucking San. You can’t believe you let him capture you again. You’ll get him back for this—maybe you’ll steal his cat when you escape this time as a warning you aren’t to be messed with any longer. Plus, Byeol is such a sweetheart and she deserves better than to be surrounded by all of this chaotic, masculine energy.

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice remarks, the timbre of it instantly grating on your nerves. “Sleeping Beauty has finally decided to join us after her two-day nap.”

“Wooyoung,” you spit.

He looks no different from the last time you saw him, other than the fact that his long, dark locks are pulled back in a ponytail. He dons a black vest and tight-fitting trousers, his white linen shirt slightly open at the collar to reveal his tanned chest. A gun holster is fastened to his hip, containing his favorite ornate pistol. In all the years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him without it.

“You look like shit, Y/N,” he laughs. The way his eyes crinkle makes him look deceptively innocent, but you know better. “San really did a number on you this time, huh?”

“Nice to see you too, bastard.”

“I know, isn’t it always?” He ignores your harsh language and squats in front of you. “Captain sure is happy to have you back. I’m almost jealous.”

“Jealous?” You scoff. “I never wanted that sadist’s attention in the first place. Feel free to have him all to yourself.”

“I said almost. He gives me plenty of attention, don’t you worry.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That so?”

Wooyoung nods, smirking. “Yeah. In fact, just the other night, he—”

“Wooyoung, knock it off,” San interrupts, voice stern. He walks over holding a metal cup in one hand and a plate of food in the other. No longer hidden under a cloak, you’re able to see that his black hair is freshly cropped, accentuating the chiseled angles of his face. “Why don’t you go let Hongjoong know Y/N is awake since you’re apparently so fond of him, hm?”

“Don’t be jealous, Sannie,” Wooyoung says, standing up and caressing the back of San’s neck. “You know I love you too.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get out of here, brat.”

Surprisingly obedient, he walks off, but not without one last witty remark. “Have fun with her. Watch your fingers!”

San ignores him and kneels in front of you, setting down the food and water. Despite seeming flippant about Wooyoung’s warning, he still eyes you warily. “I’m gonna feed you now, alright? Please don’t bite me.”

You roll your eyes in response. “That was one time; let it go.”

“It hurt! I have a scar from it!” He holds up his right index finger; sure enough, there’s a pale white line right where you sunk your teeth in.

“You poor baby. Not as if you, I don’t know, kidnapped me or something.”

He pouts and picks up the water cup, raising it to your lips. You greedily gulp it down, eager to rinse away the lingering taste of whatever he drugged you with. Some of it escapes from the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin and soaking into the neckline of your shirt. San gently dabs at your mouth with his sleeve, and there is so much kindness in the action that you almost feel bad for all the shit you give him.

“Can’t you just join our crew since we want the same thing? I don’t particularly enjoy kidnapping you, you know.”

Almost.

“Okay, then stop doing it!”

“Y/N,” he whines, “You know that whatever Captain says, goes. Or I’ll be the next one tied to the mast.”

You pout as you accept the next bite of food he offers you. “If he is such a tyrant, why are you and Wooyoung and everyone else so loyal to him?”

San sighs and sits more comfortably, crossing his legs. “There’s a lot of reasons. I’ve never met another captain as fiercely protective of his crew, who is as loyal to them as they are to him. Nor have I seen anyone as passionate, or as dedicated to what we do and what we fight for. He makes people believe in something, you know?”

“So? That excuses the way he acts?”

San doesn’t answer right away, continuing to feed you bread and cheese as he ponders what to say. Being fed is somewhat humiliating, but this isn’t the first time you have found yourself in this situation, and it probably won’t be the last. Plus, you don’t feel like biting any fingers today, so you may as well put up with it.

“It’s not that simple,” he says eventually, eyes soft and hazy as if recalling a distant memory. “I may not be a fan of some of his crueler practices, but I understand that everything he does is necessary. He isn’t evil; it’s not all about fear, at least not when it comes to the crew. It’s about respect. He demands our respect because he needs to know that we have his back just as he has ours. He only punishes those who deserve it. And when it comes to our enemies? The fear he inspires in them makes our lives a thousand times easier. He’s earned my loyalty beyond a shadow of a doubt. I owe him everything.”

You will never admit it out loud, but hearing him talk about his captain with so much reverence inspires similar feelings within you. You can say you hate him, that you want nothing to do with him, and that you find his sadistic fascination with you nothing more than an inconvenience, yet you still always end up right back here on his ship. If you were smart, you would avoid port towns completely. But maybe, just maybe, part of you is drawn to the captain just as much as his crew seems to be.

Before you can probe San for more details, Wooyoung hollers for the both of you from the bow of the ship. Giving you one last, apologetic look, San stands and unties you from the mast before guiding you toward him. 

Wooyoung nods to the captain’s quarters. “Time for your date.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, gee, can’t wait.”

San walks you to the door, but, before he can knock, you move in front of him so that you’re blocking his way. Figuring you have nothing to lose, you give him your best puppy eyes.

Before you can even say anything, he’s already shaking his head. “No, no, don’t even try it. Sorry, Y/N, but I’m not getting involved in Captain’s business, which is exactly what you are.”

“San, come on, I can make it worth your while.” You bat your eyelashes at him, and he flushes, embarrassed by what you’re implying. You wouldn’t normally stoop this low, but it’s not like he’s unattractive… Plus, it’ll make it easier to steal Byeol if you’re already in his room.

He goes to say something and then freezes, eyes widening. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What? Are you not attracted to me? Actually, don’t tell me if that’s the case, you’ll hurt my feelings.”

He backs away, raising his hands in a sign of surrender. “I’m not getting involved,” he says, reiterating his statement from earlier. It’s only then you realize he’s no longer looking at you, but behind you.

You slowly turn around to face none other than Kim Hongjoong, Captain of the Destiny and the bane of your existence. He dons his usual tan coat that has his logo embroidered on a black armband, indicative of his authority. A small scar cuts through his left eyebrow, giving him a dangerous edge, and his hair is styled away from his face, showcasing his deceivingly delicate features. His intense gaze seems to burn right through you, his aura as imposing as ever.

"Y/N," he greets, his voice just as you remember. It has a sweet, almost musical quality to it, like a bell. But there's also a hint of darkness that makes your hair stand on end. "Come in, please."

Despite the polite request, you can't help but roll your eyes. He asks as if you have a choice, but you know better. If you don't comply willingly, he will force you to do so. You walk past him, purposely bumping your shoulder against his. He just smirks and shuts the door behind you, the lock clicking ominously.

You've been in his quarters many times before, so you know the layout well. The room is humble but cleverly designed to appear larger than it is and lit by several lanterns, casting a warm glow over everything. The air is thick with the scent of spices, sandalwood, and the faintest hint of tobacco smoke. The centerpiece is an ornate desk made of dark wood, with a leather-bound journal and quill at the ready.

The walls are lined with shelves containing books, trinkets, and other treasures from Hongjoong's travels. A large map of the sea hangs on the wall behind his desk, covered in pins and strings marking his various ports of call and potential targets. You try to memorize the details, hoping they'll be useful in your future journeys. He notices you looking and laughs as if he doubts you’ll be able to garner any information from it.

His laughter makes you bristle. “You left me tied up for two days this time, bastard.”

“It’s no fun if I go too easy on you, is it?” he hums, watching you walk around his room.

“I don’t think it’s any fun at all, actually.”

You come to a stop in front of his bed, large enough to fit two comfortably, with silk sheets and plush pillows. You remember the feeling of the silk on your skin and flush, quickly turning away from it and focusing your attention on Hongjoong who has taken a seat on the edge of his desk.

He tilts his head, eying you the same way a cat eyes a mouse. “I’m not so sure that’s true. You never do stay away long, do you, Y/N?”

“It’s not like coming here is my choice.”

“Oh, but isn’t it? You know the ports we frequent yet still choose not to avoid them. I can’t help but wonder why.”

“If you think it’s because of you, you need to get your ego sorted out.”

He smirks. “I never said that, did I? But I believe you just confirmed it.”

You take a deep breath, determined to keep your cool. You hate how he gets under your skin so easily but would hate it even more if you made it obvious. As if he doesn’t already know exactly the effect he has on you.

“If you would just let me go about my own business and stop sending your little henchman after me, we could simply avoid each other and make both of our lives easier.”

“Ah, yes. San, my infiltrator, to whom you made a very interesting offer.” He stands up as he says this, stalking toward you. “Are you interested in him? You want him to think you’re pretty?” You say nothing, the intimidating aura rolling off of him rendering you speechless. You didn’t realize you were backing away until your knees hit against his mattress. “Have you thought about what it would be like to have his cock in your mouth or his head buried between your legs?”

As he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, a part of you longs to draw it into your mouth, but you turn your head away. “You’re sick.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” He pushes you just hard enough so that you’re forced to sit on the bed, head level with his abdomen. He stares down at you with a twisted smile, obviously enjoying the change in perspective. “So, tell me,” he continues as if he hadn’t just said some of the most vulgar things you have ever heard, “you have new information on the location of the Cromer?”

The Cromer—the magical object you are both after, an hourglass that grants the owner the ability to move through dimensions. You’ve been hunting it for years, with Hongjoong and his crew always right on your tail.

“Funny how you’re asking as if you expect me to just hand it over.”

“Won’t you, sweetheart?” He pouts, and that is almost enough to break your resolve.

“No way in hell. You’d have to torture the information out of me first.”

He smiles again as if the idea is appealing to him. But then he gives you a once over, and his eyes darken. “Let’s save the torturing for another day, shall we? It has been far too long since I’ve last had you.”

His words send a jolt through you, making you clench around nothing.“Fuck you, Hongjoong. I’m not your whore.”

“Whose whore are you then? San’s?” He places a knee on the mattress next to you, leaning over you. His breath fans against your face when he speaks next. “Do you think he’d be able to make you scream the way I do? That he’d be able to fuck you the way you like?”

“Maybe he would,” you say, though you don’t actually believe it.

“He’s too good for you, Y/N, and I think you know that. He’d be gentle, loving, and treat you like a doll. A real gentleman. But that’s not what you want. What you really need, what you truly desire, is someone who can break you over and over again until you can’t even remember your own name.”

“You’re such a—” Before you can even get the full phrase out, he crashes his lips onto yours. It’s pathetic how you can’t even bring yourself to resist; instead, you moan into his mouth, granting his tongue access.

He kisses you with bruising strength, and you kiss back just as fiercely as if you’re desperate to prove him right. That no one else could ever satisfy you the way he does. Your mind is at war with the fire in your veins, the need that permeates throughout every inch of your body. You shouldn’t want him, but you do. You have fallen into his trap yet again.

He backs away far too soon for your liking, undoing his belt in the blink of an eye and letting his pants fall to his knees. You’re pleased to see that he is already straining against his briefs—at least you aren’t the only one plagued by want.

“I think you should put that smart mouth of yours to good use.”

As he stands there, expectant, you reach out and gently trace the outline of him. He lets out a sharp exhale through gritted teeth. You pause for a moment, squeezing him once before slipping your fingers underneath the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down underneath his ass. His cock springs free, slapping against his abdomen. The tip is already leaking, and you smirk in satisfaction.

“And you say I’m the needy one.”

“Oh, you are. I know you love letting me use you, so I’m just giving you what you want.”

“I should bite your cock off.”

He laughs, not worried in the slightest. “Why would you when you like it so much?” He slaps it against your lips and you instinctively stick out your tongue, savoring his familiar taste. “See, look at you. What a pretty little cock slut,” he croons. “Open wide for me.”

You do so, eagerly taking him into your mouth. You sink almost all the way down to the base of his member, your nose practically brushing against his abdomen. His tip hits the back of your throat; he’s not quite big enough to gag you, but as he begins to thrust, saliva pools out of the corners of your lips. He moans, throwing his head back as he fucks your throat.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Use that dirty little mouth on me. No bite to back up your bark, hm?” You graze him with your teeth in response, and he pulls harshly on your hair, making you whimper. “Always so eager to be punished, aren’t you?”

He gives a few more hard thrusts before pulling you all the way off of him. Strings of saliva still connect you to his cock momentarily before they break and fall away as he pulls his pants up once again.

Picking up his previously discarded belt, he smacks it once against his palm, staring at you expectantly. “Hands against the headboard.”

“No way in hell am I letting you tie me up again.”

His eyes narrow. “I think you will. Or would you prefer I use this on your ass instead?”

Glowering at him, you do as he asks. He isn’t gentle when tightening the belt around your wrists, and the leather digs into your skin uncomfortably. You squirm in your bonds and he grabs your face, squeezing it between his fingers.

“Aw, does it hurt?” His grip on your face tightens. “I don’t care.” He gives your cheek a rough slap before walking over to his desk and retrieving a small, ornate knife. He returns to the bed, twirling it skillfully between his fingers as he does so. “You know, some pirates cut the hands off of the thieves they catch.”

Nervous sweat dampens your brow as you watch light glint menacingly off of the blade. You know that Hongjoong is not one to shy away from violence, but you can’t see him ever doing something to injure you so grievously. You can feel the cold metal of the knife against your skin as he runs it teasingly down the length of one of your bound arms. You're trapped and at his mercy, yet, you aren’t entirely powerless. Not when you know he craves you just as badly as you do him.

“You would never go that far and we both know that.”

Hongjoong sighs. “You’re right, of course. But—” He brings the blade down and cuts right through the front of your shirt, exposing your chest to him. “I’m still going to leave my mark on you.”

He presses the blade into the skin right under your collarbone with just enough pressure to bring a few droplets of blood to the surface. You exhale through gritted teeth—the pain isn’t excruciating, but the sting is unpleasant.

“I thought you weren’t going to torture me this time, hm?”

“Oh, darling, don’t be silly. You know what real torture looks like. I just want to claim what is mine. That way no one—not San, not Wooyoung, nor any other soul—will ever even dream about touching you.”

“I’m not yours, Hongjoong. I’m not anyone's.”

He laughs, dragging the knife down from the top of your neck to the middle of your sternum. “Whatever you say.”

His touch is light enough that your skin only sustains injuries in the few places his grip wavers, though you know that his hand is steady and his small blips are probably a lot more deliberate than he would have you think.

“How about here?” He says, tapping his knife against the area of skin between your breasts. “Should I carve my initials right here, so that anyone you ever bare yourself to will know that you belong to Kim Hongjoong, Captain of the Destiny? The notorious Pirate King and most wanted man in all of Elysium?”

Your heart flutters like a bird. Whether it is out of fear or exhilaration, you cannot say.

“You sound quite silly listing off all of your titles like that. A bit narcissistic, no?”

“Maybe I’ll cut out your tongue too.”

“I don’t think you would like kissing me much, then.”

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours once again. He kisses you sloppily, without any care, all gnashing teeth and conquering tongue. You kiss him back with equal fervor, your body thrumming with desire. The threat of a knife mere centimeters from your chest does nothing to quell your need for him.

He pulls back, lips glistening with saliva. “I think you’re right about that, my dear. I would be loath to rid myself of one of my greatest pleasures.” You feel flush, the slight praise doing more for you than it should. Hongjoong notices too, of course. “Look at you, all beautiful and rosy for me. Only me.”

With more force than before, he returns the knife to your skin. Gone are the teasing touches, the small cuts. Now, your chest begins to burn, throbbing with a deep and intense ache. You scream and thrash in your bindings, unable to deal with the pain like before. Hongjoong has no choice but to pull his knife away lest you mess up his work. He tsks as if you’re no more than a disobedient child and climbs on top of you, forcing your body to still underneath his own.

“Just another minute, darling. Be good for me.”

One minute feels like ten but eventually, he seems satisfied. He places the knife on the bedside table and leans back to admire his work, a blinding smile lighting up his face. “Now you’re perfect.”

You feel too exhausted to respond, only able to blink your eyes through the tears you have no memory of crying. Your chest throbs and, though you refuse to look down, you can feel the blood soaking through the remnants of your shirt. Hongjoong kisses you on the forehead and climbs off of you, being careful not to jostle the bed with his movements.

With purposeful strides, he makes his way over to the wash basin in the corner of the room, where a rag lies waiting. He picks it up and thoroughly wets it before returning to your side. With a deft hand, he peels away the remaining shreds of your ruined shirt, discarding them carelessly onto the floor. His movements are gentle and almost tender as he wipes away the blood and sweat, all the while holding you still with a firm grip. Despite your attempts to pull away, he murmurs soft reassurances as he tends to your wounds. It's a strange juxtaposition, this act of care and concern from a man who just minutes before carved his initials into your flesh with a dagger. You find yourself almost being lulled to sleep by his sweet words and soft touch.

“My most precious treasure,” he coos, coaxing you back into reality. “I think you deserve a reward.”

Discarding the rag, he once again climbs onto the bed, this time lowering himself down comfortably between your legs. Your stomach tightens with anticipation—this position isn’t one he often favors. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, and he looks so beautiful at this moment that you almost forget how to breathe. The way his tan skin glows in the warm light and sweat sparkles on his brow make him look borderline angelic. Suddenly, you’re struck by the thought that Lucifer, too, was God’s most beautiful angel before he fell.

“Hongjoong…” you murmur his name, breathless.

“Yes?”

“I need you.”

“I know you do. And so you’ll have me.”

Hongjoong loosens the ties at the front of your pants before slipping his fingers beneath them, gently tugging them off of your body along with your undergarments in one swift movement. His fingers trace invisible patterns over the insides of your thighs and his breath ghosts over your core, so close yet so far from where you so desperately need him. He continues teasing you until you’re writhing and begging for more, something, anything.

He laughs at your desperation before finally giving in and pressing his tongue flat against you. The moan you let out is completely wanton, almost animalistic. Your chest still throbs, a grim reminder of your new marking, but the pleasure mixes with the pain in a way that has you feeling lightheaded.

He works his tongue with great skill and when he adds a finger inside of you, you just about melt into the sheets. The sounds you’re making must please him because he hums around your clit, causing your body to jolt as the vibrations send another shockwave of pleasure through you. He adds a second finger and you cry out, thighs tightening around his head. You can’t help but grind against his face, completely dizzy with lust. To your surprise, he lets you, continuing his ministrations with vigor.

You don’t know what you’ve done to deserve this, or how one man can completely overwhelm you with pleasure. No one else you have ever laid with can shine a light on him or the way he makes you feel. You would swear that he was a god or a devil if only you weren’t so privy to the vulnerable, human sides of him. If he needs to cut you or make you bleed so that you can feel like this, so be it. He can do whatever he wishes to you.

Hongjoong curls his fingers against the spot inside of you that makes you see stars and you can feel the waves of your orgasm begin to crash over you. He doesn’t relent, instead sucking your clit into his mouth and helping you over the edge. White heat spreads throughout your body and you shake as you come completely undone beneath him.

You don’t have a chance to collect yourself before Hongjoong adds a third finger. You clamp your thighs down around his head and try to squirm away from his touch, overly sensitive. He doesn’t let you, securing your waist with his other arm. He’s much stronger than he looks and, in the state you’re in, it’s almost no challenge at all to keep you under his control.

“I think you can give me one more, can’t you? And then another after that when I finally plow you into this mattress.”

You wish you could reach down and tear his hand away from you; the feeling of his fingers inside of you after you have so recently orgasmed setting your nerves on fire. “C-can’t— wait, too much—”

“Hush now, slut. I own you and I own this cunt.” His sudden switch from praise to degradation is overwhelming, the possessiveness in his tone making you shudder. “You’re gonna come again, I can already feel it. Do this and I’ll fuck you dumb, just the way you like.”

He’s right—you can already feel yourself clenching around him, your second orgasm approaching so quickly the pain hasn’t even had the chance to fade into pleasure. You tremble under his touch, fresh tears falling down your cheeks. Whatever protests you had die on your lips as all you can manage now are moans and broken mantras that sound like “Joong” and “please”.

You whine as you come again, fresh tears falling down your cheeks. Hongjoong finally relents, pulling his fingers out of you and letting you come back down to earth. You struggle to gain control over your body again, your chest stinging with each heaving breath. Luckily, Hongjoong takes his time freeing himself of his clothes and by the time he’s done, you’re sane enough to speak.

“Bastard.”

He laughs, throwing his head back. “You never stay pliant for long, do you, darling?”

He crawls back onto the bed and cages you in his arms, hovering above you. The way he looks at you now is the same as when he tracks down a lead or finds something he has been searching for, his dark eyes full of pride and hunger for more. He kisses you right above the mark he carved into your chest.

“Well,” he murmurs, breath fanning against your skin, “It wouldn’t be as much fun if you were.”

He reaches down and gives his cock a few lazy strokes before positioning himself at your entrance. You don’t have to look to know that it is an angry red from lack of attention—the way his eyebrows scrunch and he grits his teeth are enough to tell you he’s sensitive to the touch. He doesn’t ask for permission, immediately bottoming out inside of you. You strain against your bonds; if you could, you would be raking your nails down his back.

He sets a relentless pace, lifting up one of your thighs so he can reach even deeper. His bed shakes, banging against the wall of his cabin, and you’re positive that the rest of the crew will find out what you are doing shortly if they haven’t already.

“Oh my god—you’re so fucking—so good, god—”

“Is that what you’re calling me now? Are—fuck—are you going to worship me like one?” He punctuates his statement with an especially hard thrust.

You answer with a loud moan of his name, back arching off of the mattress. “Fuck, yes, whatever you want—please, just—”

He stops abruptly, pulling out of you. You whine at the loss of him and clench around nothing. Despite how desperate he must be to cum, somehow he still manages to look put together with barely a strand of hair out of place. If it wasn’t for the sweat dampening his skin and his labored breathing, you would never guess he was fucking you into oblivion.

He repositions himself so that he’s only supporting his body weight with one hand and wraps the other around your neck, using the lightest amount of pressure. Your breath hitches and your thighs clench instinctively. He maneuvers one of his own thighs between your legs and you grind against it pathetically, searching for any kind of release. He looks oddly triumphant for a reason that you can’t place, but he doesn’t leave you wondering too long.

Leaning down, he nips at your earlobe and whispers, “The information. Give it to me.”

You gasp for air, trying to form a coherent thought. “What?”

“I know you found the location,” he growls, tightening his grip on your neck. “Where is the Cromer?”

You struggle to think straight, your body still reeling from the intense pleasure he just ripped away from you. “I didn’t,” you manage to choke out.

He quirks his scarred eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe.” He moves his thigh against you, brushing against your clit as he does so. You moan and grind down harder against him, but it isn’t enough to satisfy you. “Is this how you want to finish, then? Humping my leg like a bitch?”

“No!” you insist, your voice getting louder. “If I found the location, don’t you think it would be in my possession right now? All I learned is that there’s a guy called ‘Left Eye’ that is supposed to know about it, but I don’t know where he is.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but he loosens his grip on your neck. “Fine. For now.” He pulls back, shifting his weight and positioning himself between your legs once again. “But I’ll be keeping a closer eye on you from now on. And if you’re lying…”

He lets the threat hang in the air, but you know what he means. You nod, understanding that you’re in a precarious position.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, resuming his thrusts. You bite your lip to keep from moaning too loudly, but it’s no use.

As he continues to pound into you, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge once again. It's like he knows your body better than you do, hitting every spot that sends you spiraling out of control. He buries his face in your neck, biting down harshly on your shoulder. Your whole body jumps, clenching around him, and finally, you hear him moan against your skin. No longer can he act collected, not when your body is so responsive beneath him, not when he’s prolonged his own orgasm for so long it surely hurts.

As you reach your peak, he growls your name, his own orgasm overtaking him simultaneously. He spills inside of you, the feeling of his warm seed filling you up sending you over the edge. You lay there, sweaty and panting, as Hongjoong collapses on top of you. You know that this is not the last time he will hurt you or use you, but you can’t bring yourself to care. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you are his, and he is yours. No matter how fucked up things are, that’s all that matters.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, but eventually Hongjoong pulls out of you and unties your wrists. You immediately stretch, trying to forgo some of the stiffness that comes from being in that position. You can feel the marks he has left on your body and the soreness between your legs, but it doesn't matter. You’ve dealt with worse from him.

You expect him to get up and escort you to the brig now that he’s gotten what he wants from you, but instead he pulls you into his arms. You tense from shock but it doesn’t take long for you to relax, lulled by the feeling of his fingers carding through your hair. As you lay there, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and the creaking of the ship, you can't help but wonder how much longer you can play this dangerous game with the Pirate King before it all comes crashing down.

No more words are shared between the two of you that night and, eventually, Hongjoong falls asleep first. You’ve never been in this position before—never has he let down his guard around you to this extent. You could take revenge on him for all the torture he’s put you through, could stab him through his heart with his own knife. But you won’t. And he knows you well enough to know that.

You wait there, quietly, listening to his steady breathing and observing his face as he sleeps. The harshness that can usually be found in his features is nowhere to be seen, replaced by an uncharacteristic innocence that tugs on your heartstrings. It strikes you how young he looks, not much older than yourself. For the first time, you find yourself wondering why he is the way that he is. Where did his cruelty come from? Has it always been there, or did it seep into him like a poison, spurred on by some traumatic event? There is that side of him that’s gentle, the side of him that inspires the loyalty and respect of his crew. You see it, rarely, when his touches are featherlight and his words sweet as syrup. How different would he be if that part of him was not overshadowed by darkness?

Once you’re sure he’s in a deep enough sleep, you gently remove yourself from his grasp and climb out of bed. You move as quietly as possible, hoping that he’s spent enough from laying with you that he won’t wake as you try to make your escape. The ship most likely hasn’t left the dock yet as Hongjoong was waiting to see if the Cromer was nearby.

Shuffling back into your pants, you pick up the discarded rag Hongjoong used to clean your wound and utilize it as a makeshift bandage to cover the carved initials on your chest; it is the best that you can do for now. You won’t risk stopping by the infirmary out of fear that the crew might catch you. With your shirt torn to shreds, you steal the one that Hongjoong was wearing. He shouldn’t miss it too much.

The air outside is salty and damp, a stark contrast to the warm and intimate atmosphere of Hongjoong's cabin. You pause for a moment to take in your surroundings and confirm that the ship is still in fact docked. Luck is certainly on your side—perhaps you will make an offering to the gods in thanks if you come across a shrine on your journey.

You carefully make your way towards the gangway, keeping as low to the ground as possible. It looks like those that are on the night crew are busy with their own tasks and while you’re sure that someone is positioned in the crow’s nest, they should be focused on the horizon for signs of enemy ships and not on you. Just as you are about to make a run for it, you spot a few figures walking onto the ship and quickly duck behind some supply barrels before they can see you. It seems like San and some other crew members are just returning from a night out, a drunken flush to some of their cheeks.

You quiet your breathing and hope that they pass by without issue. San stops for a moment, looking directly toward your hiding spot, and you almost bolt in panic—you swear that he has inhuman instincts. After a moment, he must figure that he is only imagining things and disappears into the crew’s cabins. Finally in the clear, you take off down the gangway and sprint away into the night, leaving Hongjoong and the Destiny far behind you.

The next morning Hongjoong wakes and reaches for the empty spot in bed next to him, now cold to the touch, realizing that his most precious treasure has slipped from his grasp once again.

[wamatechblog]

A Complete Guide to Develop a Fintech Mobile App for iOS and Android

The goal of financial technology (Fintech) is to simplify and enhance the provision of online financial services. Using technical applications and algorithms that may be used on smartphones or computers, it helps corporations, enterprises, bankers, and other associations manage their financial operations.

 It first appeared in the 21st century and was limited to the back-end systems used by specific financial organisations. Now, the focus is on solutions that put the client first. Today, it covers a wide range of industries, including those in education, retail banking and asset management, the stock market, and more. The worldwide financial technology market is expected to develop and reach a market size of roughly $324 billion by 2027, making it the perfect time for businesses to invest in this sector.

 FinTech is a smarter, more effective, more practical, and quicker approach to handle financial transactions compared to traditional banks. Due to the fact that it allows for time governance by offering speed, the majority of businesses choose the development of fintech mobile apps. FinTech is an automated method, therefore there are no human efforts required. As a result, there is potential for intense specialisation.

 A FinTech business can be classy and timely at the same time. Efficiency and time management improvement are some of the primary advantages, while it also offers many additional benefits. Customers and businesses find it more affordable than typical banking solutions because there are no additional fees. When a business chooses financial technology, it already reaps the rewards because excellent services are provided through fintech mobile app development. For this reason, your business needs to invest in fintech mobile apps.

 Fintech app categories include: mobile banking apps, which make it simple for users to set up and complete transactions using smartphones. Due to the fact that more consumers prefer to make purchases online using their smartphones than in-person, traditional banks are forced to offer mobile banking solutions to their customers. Furthermore, by creating a mobile app for fintech, banks can advertise their services and generate more income.

 Pay with a mobile app - Pay with a mobile app

You can use this app to make payments using mobile devices without using a bank. The mobile apps for fintech provide safe money transfers and payment processing for users. Payment apps like Paypal, GooglePay, and PhonePey are fantastic examples.

 Wealth and Investment Software - This app enables users to make investments from the comfort of their homes, such as purchasing stocks. Additionally, the users of these apps will receive recommendations regarding investment-based opportunities. The best examples are stock trading apps like Grow and Robinhood.

 App for personal finances or budgeting - App for personal finances or budgeting

The user will benefit from personal financial apps by getting a thorough understanding of their spending. Managing expenses is becoming increasingly difficult to handle these days. Well, the best solution to this issue is a personal finance app.

 Insurance App - With the help of an insurance app, a customer can make an insurance claim via a mobile app without going to an agent. By enhancing interactions between customers and insurance providers, this software creates an insurance strategy. In insurance apps, AI and machine learning are often used technologies.

 Lending App - Lending apps streamline the lending process and eliminate a significant amount of effort. By providing the necessary information via the lending application, users can receive their loans. Borrowers may easily keep tabs on their online borrowing by logging onto a loan lending app. These apps make it simple for the user to monitor how much debt is outstanding, how much is borrowed, and the approaching payment dates thanks to flawless user experience.

 Development of a cryptocurrency app

Similar to other mobile finance apps, this cryptocurrency software enables users to pay, subsidise, manage a wallet, and more. However, the only difference is that bitcoin apps only work with cryptocurrencies.

Also read : Mobile App Development Company

[miochimochi]

I'm interested in the Anglisc linguistic project and I thought I'd use my shortest piece to practice! If you have suggestions for how something should be translated instead, lemme know, since the Anglisc project is not extensive as it stands.

Þe Self as a Hwole: Erdlorisc Eðelforðing

Hwen I first started þinking abute þe þank, I looked for hwat I þugte would be þe eað understood word: eðelforðing. Geemerlie, I fund þe termen alreadie taken wiðin þe weeldcraftlie room to meen þat an inborn folk are to be put first. But termen are oft used in manie wags to meen manie þings, and eðelwurttuning is a þing, so hwie nag call an erdlorisc stand hielding eðelwurttuning eðelforðing? So, þat is hwat I am going wið. Hwen speeking erdlore, eðelforðing is a room þat one sculd foster þe inborn plants uf an erd raðer þan inbringing or streening ellandisc breed. So hwenefer I nem eðelforðing in þis stic, understand þat þis is hwat I am talking abute. If þere is anoðer word for þis þat I onefoldlie culd nag find, abreast me.

Þere are two grunds hwie I stand in tow wið eðelforðing. Þe first has to do wið work. I will andet, I am raðer sloðful. Hwen it cums to inborn plants, þat is till. Hie are alreadie fitted to þe erding hie are being planted in. I am in þe Friðsum Norðwest. If I plant a hindberrie busc here and þen mostlie oferlook sine, sine will do well. Hie þrife in sealie limmeðs and þe heenmold uf meeðful ragnwoods. Þe note uf putting in þe leest work is glaring: I haf more time on mie hands þan if I went for a plant needing more heed and care eferidag uf eferigere just to watc it swelt in þe winter. Þe work needed will be to rear it and þen to reap it onse it is set to go. Behind mie huse is a muclie patc of salal hwic I can pick eec gere to make tooðsum sweetmasc, liðe, and tee. Þis is þe work note uf eðelforðing.

Þe secund grund is erdinglie. Hwen a new stock is inbrugt to an erd, þere are misslie rine it can haf. Þe harmless rine is þat it can nag oferlif wiðute aid and þus dies ut in þe wild. Forebisen uf þis wuld be growing a cactus frum Mexico in Tartarie. Þe lesser rine is þat it fags into þe erdhome, atiðing for þe erd to wend in ancweað but nag in great gales. Egworts are great forebisen uf þis, finding gales to addel wiðut being baneful to þe erd. Þe greater rine is þat it wends þe erdlorisc landscape in swinging wags. Bisen uf þis is a winetree called kudzu hwic did well in its inborn erding wiþut stirring, but hwen it was brugt to þe suðern Bandrikes, þe scapes were flawless to one dag name it "suðeeterwort". An inborn wort alredie has an erdhome fitted to its being hwile uðer erdhomes are nag. To bring it in to a new erdhome can be a bane. Þis is þe erdlie note of eðelforðing.

Atween þees two grunds, þe notes uf eðelforðing are suttel. Þu work less hwen þe worts are inborn. Þu get worts more grown to sine erdhome and Þus do better. Þu furðer þe keeping uf þe inborn erdhome. Hie are low risk wið hige meed and þus wurðful to leedie oferlif and ceafer. As a ceap unweelder, þat part makes it þat muc more wurðful to me. Dus þis meen I am fullie agagnst worts not inborn? Nag, but hie sculd be a lot more wielded, suc as using a well ditted planter box for bamboo. But þere is noðing better, uf more eað, an more erdly, þan growing inborn.

The Self as a Whole: Ecological Nativism

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Just a short piece on position on gardening that I've been growing more and more in favor of. Enjoy the read if you wanna.

When I first started thinking about the idea, I looked up what I thought would be the most easily understood word: nativism. Unfortunately, I found the term already taken within the political space to mean that a native people are to be put first. But terms have been used in many contexts before to mean many different things, and native gardening is a thing, so why not call an ecological position in favor of native gardening nativism? So, that's what I'm going with. When speaking ecology, nativism is a position that one should cultivate the native plants of a region rather than introducing or propagating non-native species. So whenever I mention nativism in this piece, just understand that this is what I'm talking about. If there's another word for this that I simply couldn't find, let me know.

There are two reasons why I put my support behind nativism. The first has to do with effort. I'll admit, I'm rather lazy. When it comes to native plants, that's okay. They're already acclimated to the environment they're being planted in. I'm in the Pacific Northwest. If I plant a raspberry bush here and then mostly ignore it, it will do well. They thrive in oceanic climates and the low nutrient soil of temperate rainforests. The benefit of putting in minimal effort is obvious: I have more time on my hands than if I went for a plant needing a lot of attention and care every day of every year just to watch it die in the winter. The work needed will be to establish it and then to harvest it once it's set to go. Behind my house is a large patch of salal which I can pick each year to make delicious jam, wine, and tea or simply just eat as is. This is the effort benefit of nativism.

The second reason is environmental. When a new species is introduced to a region, there are various effects it can have. The benign effect is that it cannot survive without intervention and thus dies out in the wild. An example of this would be growing a cactus from Mexico in Siberia. The minor effect is that it integrates into the ecosystem, allowing for the environment to change in response but not in major ways. Dandelions are a great example of this, finding ways to grow everywhere without being destructive to the environment. The major effect is that it changes the ecological landscape in drastic ways. An example of this is a vine called kudzu which did well in its native environment without disruption, but when it was introduced to the southern US, the conditions were perfect to eventually name it "the plant that ate the south". A native plant already has an ecosystem adapted to its presence while other environments are not. To introduce it to a new environment can spell disaster. This is the environmental benefit of nativism.

Between these two reasons, the benefits of nativism are clear. You work less when the plants are native. You get plants more acclimated to their environment and thus do better. You promote the protection of the native environment. They're low risk with high reward and thus valuable to personal survival and trade. As a market anarchist, that part makes it that much more valuable to me. Does this mean I'm entirely against growing non-native plants? Not at all, but they should be a lot more controlled, such as using a well sealed planter box for bamboo. But there's nothing better, easier, and more environmental, than growing native.

[starshipsofstarlord]

The Eyes Are Lined

Summary: whilst on the last days of set of filming the show where he plays Tommy Lee, Sebastian is greeted with a surprise guest in his trailer, and he is certainly not going to be one to complain whence he’s gets a treat as sweet as you

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of phone sex, oral sex (male + female receiving), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, p in v, degradation, spanking, daddy kink, teasing, fingering, pet names

Word Count: 4133

Masterlist Link

It fell from his lips as a relieved sigh, it had felt like forever since he had last seen you, and as he took in your form coiled in a baggy sweatshirt of his and hopefully nothing more, he was fast to close and lock the door behind himself. His tongue darted out to swipe the upon the underbite of his lip as he stepped slowly forwards in his adjourned flip flops, the wide shorts hanging off his legs. For this role he had very much diversified his appearance; lost weight, changed his hair, worn temporary tattoos - yet from the prowess that resonated through your eyes, nothing in the way of your attraction had changed.

“Sebba.” You greeted him with a wide smile, dismissing your phone that had been in your hand to the side of the couch, and crawling off the seat that you had taken up residence in. Instantly, your arms wrapped around his sleek torso, taking in the aroma of his deodorant that obliterated the senses through your nostrils. He pulled your face up with the grip of his heavy palm against your courteous cheek, as his breath fanned against the platter of your forehead.

“You’re here early, shooting doesn’t finish for another three days.” He stated, the grin that was tugging at his features clearly showing that he was anything but disappointed by your unspoken arrival. Tucking your arms to land around his waist like a belt that was enclosing him against you, you happily sighed, stroking your nose against the expanse of his bare chest that was beholden before you through the open curtains of his plain black hoodie. For a moment your eyes flickered down to the fake piercings that were strung like light fixtures from his nipples, watching as the silver metal beamed in contrast to the bulb that was fixed into the ceiling.

“I wanted to surprise you, it feels like forever since we were that close.” Was your confessing admission, as you pressed a warm kiss upon his revealed flesh, causing him to hum in acknowledgement of the amorous act. “Though I’m happy that god awful shadow is gone from your chin, if you want hair there then I suggest that you grow your beard back out.” You stroked your thumb over the crescent of his chin, running the pad through the indent as he inwardly cocked his brow, stiffening his jaw at your straight opinion.

“What’d you think of everything else? Be honest now darling.” He clicked his tongue, staring down at you with his smokily framed eyes, as you coiled back into your shoulders so that you could get a better overall viewpoint of him, as your hands descended to cupping the inward joints of his elbows. You balanced your weight on both of your feet, juggling between them to remain sturdy as you felt the mood in the trailer punctually shift, as though you were crossing through the mysterious channel that inhabited the Bermuda Triangle.

“Hmmm, well I’m rocking for the eyeliner, it really makes your eyes stand out more than they already do. And you know I’ve always been an absolute sucker for the longer hair, but I’m a sucker for you in general.” At that suggestive statement, you casted a sultry wink at him, hoping that he caught onto the act rather than thinking you had something entrapped in the perimeter of your eye. It was not dust that had clogged upon your pupil, instead it were lust, gripping onto the very image of him. It had been months, long ones at that since the pair of you had seen each other.

All the intimacy that your relationship confined in its long distance was dealt with over the phone, never once did the space that his work divulged the two of you apart make you feel lonely, he tried his utmost to ensure that you were comfortable even with miles for what seemed like an eternity separating you. The cellular contact that immersed your spare time furloughed for both late night calls that brought an innocent lovesick smile to resort upon the spectating image of your face that was reflected through the front camera of your phone, and sexual conducts that travelled across the countries that you were both in to bring you closer and alternatively higher together, in a blissful reunion that swamped your head with hyperactive hormones that followed after your mutual orgasms.

“Naughty.” He condoned you for your filthy innuendo, his hand cascading down the artwork of your body, and moving behind you, so that his fingertips were dancing upon the crown of your exempt ass cheek. “Guess all that time away has gotten you desperate for me, huh? Do you want to some sucking up to me? I’ve had a pretty hard day, and it would help me relieve a bunch of the stress that depends on these last few days. Not to mention I am so pent up from not seeing you all this time, it was practically torture honey bee, I’m not even sure how I survived.”

Dragging his head down to meet with your own, you pressed luscious and. Extended pecks onto his thin lips,having missed them covering every inch o your skin with the love that swelled in his chest and other places for you. “I don’t even know if you’ll last that long Bas, its been a certain while of you solely using your hand.” A giggle reaped from your throat as your hearing absorbed the gasp that slithered out of his mouth; he playfully pushed down upon the line of your shoulders, only enhancing your amusement by doing so. “So pushy.”

“That is right, and I will only get rougher with you the longer that it takes you to get down on your knees for me, so I would think logically. After all, after I completely wrap on this show, I’m going to have all the spare one in the world to put you in your little place and stop you from being a disobedient little brat.” It was a promise, he was threatening you in the most sexual way possible, and you’d be lying if you were to say that some aroused nectar hadn’t gathered in the passage that divided your highs down the middle. You gulped, intimacy written in every speck of your irises as you lowered yourself to be poised on your thighs, your face near the tent forming at his crotch.

The material of his shorts gathered with creases as his cock grew beneath the baggy subject that defined his legs that much more. A hand ravelled through your locks as you found yourself darting your tongue out to caress his legs, moving your muscle upwards as your hands teased the waistband of the barrier that prevented you from seeing all of him. “How much have you missed me baby, let daddy know.” Lightly, he begs to roll his hips forwards, pressing his erection teasingly against your face, and you were loving every second of it. His balls were pressing against your chin on every mimic forwards, and as you tried to speak, your voice was a tiny bit muffled by them.

“So much Sebby, I hated being apart from you.” You thought that would be a good enough answer, but as his fingers threaded further through your hair, a quiet yelp ejected from your throat as he strayed you head to be leant upwards so that you were gazing into his domineering eyes. That was when you realised that you must have made a mistake, but no matter what it was, it was much too late to take it back. Sexual fear paved through your gaze as you poured, wanting nothing to get back to your journey of duty which was to suck his cock, however, you could not continue if Sebastian had other things, such as whatever you had done so wrongly plaguing his mind.

“Bitch no cause why did you pronounce my name wrong? It begins with your favourite letter; a D, remember? And now I’m not even sure that you deserve my D. Right now I am not your Sebastian, what am I little girl?” He growled down at you, his toes rigidly curling in the open toed shoes that he were sporting, his hand remaining tangled in your hair.

“Daddy.” You tried not to sob out of dismissal, and instead expedited for apologising to refrain from angering him any further. “I’m so sorry daddy, I’ll do anything. Anything to make it up to you, please, I’ll never make that mistake again.” Unless it was not in this scenario of course, the pebbles of your tears brought a vivid richness and innocence upon your face, as though you were pooling diamonds out of the windows of your explicit soul. And I’m return, you were met with the gift of Seb shoving his shorts to be draped over his feet, his cock playing the curve of a sail as it stiffened more so at the air that hit it.

“Are you wearing anything underneath that sweatshirt baby?” He enquired as his right hand held his length in hand, enclosing his fist around the warm flesh that was beading with visible emotion at the tip. It was as though a pearl was balancing on the sector of his slit, teasing you as you dryly licked your lips, wanting nothing more than to ingest that into your body. To answer his question, your hands toyed with the bottom of his clothing article, pulling it up so that he could see your bare abdomen, of which was dressed in nothing more than your flawless skin.

“No daddy, I’m not. Am I in more trouble for that?” You worried that you were, all that you had wanted to do was surprise him, and you felt yourself grow a little giddy as he slowly shook his head, and pull back the coat of his foreskin to flash off as much of his cock as possible. He was teasing you to the slyest of his abilities, he wanted to subject you into doing something against your better judgement, and you remained strong, no matter how much you wanted to coil your lips around the head of his member and take him as far as the hollow of your throat would naturally allow.

“No baby, imma let you off the hook for that because I haven’t seen you in so long and I know that pretty little cunt has missed me probably more than the rest of you, but don’t test me again angel, or on the plane home you’re gonna have to sit on a bag of ice.” A part of you wanted to smirk, to coyly piss him off to see if that perseverance were to be true, however if you knew Sebastian, and you knew him more than well, you wouldn’t put anything past him nor his motives. “Go on, I can see you practically drooling to take me in your mouth. Don’t tease or I’ll fuck your face; be a good girl would ya.”

You weren’t going to waste anymore time, for all that you aware, any one of the set assistants could take him away from you, and that possibility only fuelled your instincts further as you hovered your head away from his hand, that was now patting and gently playing with your locks instead of using them as a leash, and flickered your tongue out to swipe that sample of precum and swallow it without hesitation. Before your mind could comprehend it, your body had already taken the next steps forwards and started to swallow down his member, your lashes fluttering closed as you hummed, sending a rhythm through Sebastian’s body of which made him cuss.

He was looking through half lidded eyes, almost shutting them, though stopping from doing so when he noticed your hand creep down the smooth skin of your thigh, and pry at your own folds. He was going to reprimand you for being so confident that you weren’t going to get caught doing something that was so ludicrous, but he decided that he were to allow you to continue for a moment. If he made a scene after revelling in his own pleasure, then you would be more compliant with whichever punishment that he nailed you down with. The tips of your digits quivered around your lips, before sinking within your walls and the rest of your palm cupped your pussy.

It made more sense now you were moaning against him, for not only the taste of him that hung heavily on your tongue, but from the slip of power that you thought you had over him, even if it be cloaked in secrecy. As he thought more of that, he found himself starting to fume with an underlining of rage, his fists stiffened at his sides as he exhaled through a combination of the sensations rippling beneath his skin. It was a combination of brewing disappointment and foreseen arousal; his veins burned with both, turning his blood warm and drumming his brain with one thing - it were his birthright to make you submit before him.

And though you were positioned in front of him, cast to your knees as you worked on his hard cock with your heavenly mouth, your mind had slithered away from the laws that you were supposed to obey as you fingered yourself against and without his jurisdiction. To retain from speaking out just yet Seb put the pressure of his front teeth down upon his bottom lip, as he tuned his ears on the sounds of your mouth i taking his cock and slathering it with the natural lubricant of your saliva, and if he paid enough attention, the sound of your nimble fingers darting in and out of your entrance was echoed through the slick that was provided from your hormonal body, that coated your fingers and glistened underneath the lighting.

As he felt a spark approaching through the intermissions of his pleasured body, he found it to be best to direct you away, and exhibit distance despite having forgone with that flow for the time space that you hadn’t seen each other in. And thus he gently stepped back, allowing his cock to fall past your lips and a string of spit to be the only thing connecting you to it. It was an instinct for you to whine as you watched him take his cock back into his hand, giving himself a couple of easing tugs to cool himself down from his ruined orgasm.

And that was when all prevailed in realisation for you, that he continued to ogle at you from above as your index and middle fingers on your right hand remained inside of your cunt, and as your mind sparked some sense back into it, you instantly removed them despite the emptiness that attained within that area. Your eyes remained wide as you watched with caution as Seb took it upon himself to take a seat on the sofa that was below the blind strung window of his trailer, his hand temptingly patting his thick thighs as a means to convince you to move closer.

“Get up here you deviant minx.” It was not a sweet gesture that he were offering you, no, instead you were getting punished despite evading such a fate earlier on. Pushing yourself up from your knees, you went to lay yourself against him homely lap, however as you went to do so, he tugged at the sweatshirt that compiled a flush of heat against your addictive body, pulling it up a few inches to send you the message. Once you had completely removed the appeared and were dressed to the eye in nothing more than your naked flesh, that was when Sebastian allowed you to continue laying your stomach across his legs, as your own legs and breasts were draped either side of them.

His rough fingertips caressed the muscles of your back, making them twitch from rugged anticipation. They descended lower as he dug his knee into your ribs, enjoying the way that your breath hitched. “You know the rules angel, you don’t touch without permission, and yet you did. Do you have anything to say for yourself before I bruise this beautiful ass red and blue?” The worst thing was you could imagine how your cheeks would look all bruised up from the harsh strokes from his commanding hands; it had happened before and each and every time you’d tell yourself that it’d never happen again, that you’d avoid such intimate brutality because you’d behave.

But you both knew better than to trust those empty promises that wailed from your desperate throat as you were subjected to a pain that made your mind hazy and your throat parched. “No daddy, just that I’m sorry.” A yelp quickly followed after as he collided his hand down upon the fat of your behind, your entire body jolting as you shakily inhaled, knowing that in a few minutes that you’d get used to the pain and find it less surprising. The first strike was always the worst, and as another clapped down, followed by more and more, tears reigned the paving of your face as they spilt down your cheeks.

Your apology was simply a waver in the air, it did nothing other than tell him something that he’d heard a million times by this point. And when nothing added to the soreness of your bosom, you swore that you were in heaven, it continued to sting though as relief washed over your aura, and your lashes flickered through the fallen tears, slowly drying from the sobbing that they had commenced. “You took that well, okay.” Seb breathed, beginning to softly stroke your ass which made you whimper from the feather light pressure that digressed against the impact he had prohibited you to dwindle in. “I’m gonna reward you, think you can turn over baby?”

He slipped out from beneath you, allowing you to remain on your stomach for the moment until you had finally came up with your decision. You wriggled a little, stretching your toes as you hummed in reply and switched, despite the searing conundrum that resorted favour over your backside, onto the polar of your position, only to find your lover of whom was in control crawling towards you, the rings around his eyes looking sinful as he stared at your naked body as though you were his prey. His hands began to reel up your legs, coercing you into squirming against the cushioning that was managing to keep you at the same physical level as him, though the same couldn’t be said for the mental premise that rendered in interference of your relationship.

Hot air brushed upon your mound as he pressed a kiss to the hill that lead to the lake that was fawning at his close proximity, waves crashing and glistening to appeal to his ocean eyes. “Daddy, can you please do something?” A grunt differed from his throat as he inhaled the sea salt that subordinated his nose to the all natural scent, all before he nipped at the inside of your thigh before delving his face between the tightened proximity, sealing his mouth around your sensitive bud as he mumbled moans against your reactive flesh, earning himself a deeper invasion as you rutted your hips up to his face.

Sebastian Stan was a man of many talents; he could clearly mimic anyone that a script needed him to, but the one thing that he was truly magical at was using his mouth. It was a skill set that made you mercilessly comply to him, it was his superpower, which was indeed ironic considering that he played a hero in one of the world’s biggest franchises known to cinema. He raised his hands to grasp at your own as he trailed them into his strongly pigmented hair, giving you permission to ravel your hands through his straight hair, and feel the smooth sheen against the judge of your skin. You liked it, as you knew that you would.

Using his tongue, he pried at your entrance, sinking it within you as he began to shake his unruly head, extracting small screams from your throat as you became victim to his plentiful evidence of love. Your chest raised out in the air as your eyes rolled back, and a tweak pulled at your clit once more, and looking down, it revealed that it were your beloved tugging at the button with his teeth, as he gouged your reaction. When you reached your orgasm, he dived head first back into your emptying cavern, cleansing all that he had subdued from your body via his amazingly versed and performed sentiment.

“Taste so fucking good baby.” To prove his point, he clambered above you, slipping his lips against your own as he swabbed your tongue with his own, sharing your own juices so that you could feel them balance on your taste buds. His hand ran down your body as he pinched your hardened nipples, earning himself a withered and high pitched sigh from your mouth as he pulled away from the kiss. “Think you for another one in you angel? Daddy wants to fuck this sweet pussy, you okay with that?” A dazed nod gave him permission, though he grasped your jaw with his strong hand as he ensured that you stared back at him. “I need to hear you.”

“Yes, want your cock in me daddy. Always do.” A content smile used your mouth as it’s efficient puppet as he held onto his cock, and teased it around your folds, wetting his foreskin and other areas to make it more pleasurable for the both of you when he went to push in. And when he did, you felt like you had died and gone to heaven, it made you wonder how you ever survived going months without his touch, in any which way. Your hands held onto his hips as you steadied his weight, silently giving him the okay to start moving, and he did, he sunk within your cavernous walls, only to pull back and repeat the action. “Seb.” You breathed the shortened version of his name, the hot air leaving your mouth hitting his shoulder as he panted beside your face, his nose dragging up your cheek as you ran your hand down, cupping his balls and stroking them with the tender contact of your thumb.

For once under these circumstances, he did not shun you for saying his true name, instead he was too busy with the maddening rush that flew through his body as he fornicated with you. His pace increased, provoking the sound of flesh slapping upon flesh in the air as your thighs and hips clashed, amongst other parts. “Fuck sugar, ya close?” He asked you hurriedly, his forehead scrunching up as he felt immense pleasure as your cunt clenched around him, using his leverage to play with your clit once more. You ravenously nodded your head, dragging your nails over his body as you tried to jut your body up against his, chasing the approaching high which ultimately had you slumping against the cushions as he continued to pummel your body with his delivering thrusts.

“Shit.” He almost shouted, a soothing buzz ongoing in his body as he released his seed within you, you being able to feel every drop even after he pulled out and rolled to lay beside you, tugging you to be laying on his chest, neither of you caring for the cum that was escaping from your entrance that also happened to be the exit. “Why you laughing at me angel face?” Sebastian queried as he heard your cheeky sounds of amusement, a grin ruining the formation of his rocker disguise.

“You’re eyeliner’s all smudged.” You laughed, running the pad of your thumb beneath his eye and in the crows feet that dipped below, blending it further into his skin and giving it a grey hue to its ebony gradient. “You still look hot though.” You shrugged, nestling your head deeper into his chest, finally relieved that you and Sebastian were in the same place at the same time again.

[lovelyartisan]

Okay Imma shut up about Sharon possibly being the villain after this!

(But lets think about this for a second if she were the capital b, "Bad Guy," of the series (Zemo's like what the secondary bad guy or maybe their working together? Ya'll see that shit coming 👀? new ship alert lol jk but not really)

How great of a dark foil would she be for Sam's conflict regarding the mantel of Captain America.

She'd be like the shoulder devil to Bucky's shoulder angel act regarding the shield and the idea of super heroes in general to Sam.

This is a woman who grew up listening to stories from the aunt she worshipped like the legend she was, talk about Steve like he was the second coming of Christ, like she has been a stan of this man her whole life.

-In CA:TWS, She risks everything for him (I'm talking as in his ideals not to get in his pants) when confronted with fact the hydra had infiltrated the organization her Aunt spent her whole life to build, she trusted Steve was making the right call and helped him dismantle it.

She burnt down her aunt's legacy, S.H.I.E.L.D, expecting nothing in return, but there's no way a piece of her didn't die with it.

Then in Civil War, as we were just recently reminded of in the latest 2 episodes, she lost everything, she verbatim tells Zemo this:

But LOOK at the way this is framed, this show has never held back on the close ups, if they wanted us to pinpoint her rage against Zemo why not close up on him? but instead its all three of them. this would be beautiful foreshadowing if I'm right. because her grudge is against all of them.

Because she stole government property for SAM and Steve for BUCKY's sake, yet all three were able to both move on after a couple years as if nothing ever happened, while again! I must remind you! Sharon lost EVERYTHING.

Can you imagine how betrayed she must have felt when Steve retired, completely forgetting her and the smoking wreck of a life she was left with, Can you imagine how much of a false god Steve must have seemed to her, the righteous soldier who never left a man behind that her aunt told her about all her life.

He was a lie; heroes were a lie -- and just like that she snaps.

Her being the powerbroker would also explain a couple things:

1. Why the powerbroker has beef with Zemo even though they've never met.

2. Her very cold and snarky roast of Bucky's belief in the Captain America brand, the way someone would talk about a product- you know like a broker!

3. Why she insists that Sam and Bucky stay out of it for their safety, the way Vancamp delivers the line almost made it sound like a lamenting ultimatum.

AND HERE'S WHERE THAT DARK FOIL FOR SAM BUSINESS I WAS TALKING ABOUT EARLIER COMES BACK AROUND!

Sharon and Sam were both new to Steve's life, both clearly idealized him, both gave up everything for him, but only one of them got to reap the reward of being in Steve's inner circle.

AND now that Steve is gone, Sam is starting to see the cracks in having a dogmatic belief in the Captain America brand like Bucky, he's starting to see that a lot of the "goodwill" people showed him was for Steve's sake and not for him.

both Sharon and Zemo even recognize his shaken confidence in the idea of superheroes:

Sharon: Look you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right?I mean the way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know its all hypocrisy.

Sam: *says nothing*

Zemo: He knows and not so deep down.

At the end of Episode 3, we see Sam upset about how lives like Sharon's and Isaiah's were destroyed for the Captain America legacy and how everyone would rather brush them aside and only look at the good that's come from it as if the collateral damage meant nothing.

We even see Bucky (Sam's other foil) in this last episode give him the ultimatum that if he won't preserve Steve's legacy, then he will take the shield and do it himself.

Sam is caught between these two very extreme ideologies that both represent a part of how he feels about this legacy.

I think if Sharon is the power broker it will show how complete disillusionment with heroes can be just as toxic as worshipping them.

Since right now the narrative of the power broker is that they are currently after the serums (and if its for the motivations that the power broker in the comics would have) then its all for money not revenge.

because hate is not the opposite of love, indifference is and Sharon clearly shows this indifference while casually asking about the new captain america and then dissolving any interest in it when Bucky gets passionate about the subject. She couldn't care less about who's holding the mantle.

I may jokingly call her a hater but the truth is there's no spark or any kind of feeling from her, she just seems numb to the whole thing --- and that's where she becomes dangerous, she doesn't care about anything.

Priceless art, murdering people (shown in her brutal take down of the bounty hunters), and perhaps even the super-soldier serum.

She's already seen a world torn apart by the blip and lived and potentially conquered a place like Mandrapoor, suffering and injustice mean nothing to her and because she believes there are no true heroes; she believes the world's already doomed.

She's become the lamest kind of nihilist basically.

I think the show is going illustrate to us how Sam will be the healthiest medium, not pretending that Steve is a flawless Aryan Jesus but also not throwing away the good he brought into the world just because he wasn't perfect.

I think this is the thesis the show seems to be going for: don't feel cheated if your heroes aren't perfect, let their flaws instead help you to realize that despite their flaws they did good in the world; which means you and your flaws can do good in the world as well.

Also making Sharon the power broker is very unlikely but at the same time its just so great to imagine and like her not being the power broker doesn't make her any less of a dark foil for sam so i'm going to pretend this rant was justified bye

[baptst]

okay here's what i hone in on most in the absolution novel

firstly all the w’s the cult keeps getting from the absolute START is just so funny to me lmaooo. just when you think a member of the resistance is about to one up the cult, you are slammed right back into the ground and told no. it really hammers in on the concept that nothing you do changes anything. 

john apparently has a lil house/space on joseph’s island for atonements and a whole ass room with human skin stapled to the walls. so he just,,, does this shit wherever lmao. his ranch, the bunker, the compound. i'd had a feeling he would have kept the sins Somewhere and i’m glad my hunch was correct. It makes sense for it to be on the island too. it’s the cult epicenter, so to speak. it’s where joseph’s main church is (though there were others before hand dotted throughout hope county) newbies would probably be indoctrinated there too. 

secondly, miss holly. she was helpful to the cult throughout, but she still openly blabbed to will about 1) sleeping with john and 2) that john was saying shit to her WAY above her pay grade that he absolutely should not be telling her. she’s huge a liability, no matter how much she believes in their cause or tried to help after will deserted them. she’s also never mentioned again outside of that once in game instance so it’s safe to say she’s dead for security reasons.

john is such a master puppeteer like,,, if he didn’t love joseph so much my mans could easy take over and run shit himself (i mean,, he kind of is already. eden’s gate wouldn’t be anything without his expertise and financial aid) john manipulates the situation with mary may and drew, using his murder to blackmail her into silence, should she ever try to rise against them again. pre-reaping john is an absolute force to be reckoned with, even more so than in game. he’s super talky in game but i would have loved to hear more from him, especially in a setting of atonement. as seen in the snippets i shared a few days ago he is just flawless in the way he speaks and pulls you in. he uses everything he can about you against you in a way that can either feel sadistic or compassionate. it’s *chefs kiss* 

as i said in my last post, i love that john’s out doin’ shit in the woods. we know he’s a busy bee anyway since he’s basically the cult’s spokesperson and going door to door trying to buy up every property in HC. it’s just nice to actually hear about him doing this shit.

also will’s still out there in the wilds. it would have been kind of fun to run into him in some capacity, like finding one of his camps. i know you can visit his old house tho (which they’ve called traitors bluff) which is something at least. considering he was slowly succumbing to some illness in the novel, he might not have survived long enough to see the collapse. if he did he would have been far enough into the mountains to get vaporized instantly.

[hamliet]

I’d like to give an explanation for Hawks.

As a child no one aided Hawks. We could argue the commission did , but in the end he not there different from a child solider, the viceversa of Shigaraki: groomed to be an hero. While Hawks could accept this because of his desire to save others, he had little choice in merit.

One of the main narrative I’ve found is that he defined his parents as broken, and he basically put some distance - left them behind - to not be “broken” like them, as to mark an inherent conception of passing down being rotten. My theory is Dabi went there just to film hawks reaction it i hearing his name or the truth. This mean that in his original retoric he also found (or better hori made him say) exactly what Hawks fears: being broken. This also collided with Dabi rethoric : you reap what you sow and you can’t escape from this.

In this chapter Hawks evilly glare at Enji asking about Shoto’s scar. This means while Hawks still has a weak spot for Endeavor , he has started to lose his “idol”. This also bring up another theme similar to Touya: Endeavor “has to be perfect and flawless”. Now hawks is confronting with the reality Enji is extremely far from perfect. However his needs to prove of not being broken, of being useful and in general a good person is starting to falter.

Imo hawks was so (rightly) terrified of being broken and craved for being like Endeavor (flawless and perfect) because he was not for his parents. But Enji was admired , he saved him so... being like him it’s a good thing right? Thought this I think Hawks built a rigid standard of criteria to divide good and bad and to keep on using this values as a moral compass , so that he would always be a good person. If you had the commission way, you’d obtain such a rigidity so hawks is down to do everything to be a “good person”. This is evident when he bow to the commission: he being a good person is even more valuable than his own life and health (a day passed, he’s severely wounded and he had already started to work again).

To me this rigidity is pervasive to anything and matches with the “greater good”: it’s like a chess game and hawks is nothing more than a pawn in his own head, for the greater good, but it is? It’s not changing society , but rather I think it’s to be a good person at core

Part 1

This also matches Dabi: both of them will answer that they do this for something great (stain and heroes vs society sake and greater good) but really, I think that at the base there are their personal issues: being recognised by his father and being a good and useful kid for his mother.

And in fact since his first introduction Hawks always had this type of dichotomy: he’s willing to be stained if it’s for the greater good. And this is contradictory: what is it the great good ? And how can be good if you re stained? And in fact he never accepted such a thing. Yeah we could argue it was the commission , but the reality is that Hawks is not willing to give “his all”: he wasn’t willing to let Dabi attach the city of fukuoka ; he wasn’t willing to kill Jeanist for real. Because if he allows such things he would be a bad person. So greater good is a facade, much like society is Dabi’s facade for craving Enji’s attention (in a pulsion of death style aka the destruction of what it’s loved).

But he met Twice. And twice was the worst to him. Dealing with Dabi is easy: he behaved very evilly, he broke their pact, he asked for someone corpse. So dabi is “evil” and Hawks is “good”. But twice ? He was sweet. Caring. Trusty. Fun. He really felt close to hawks. And once again hawks tries to be a “good person”. But twice is a problem because while he’s a villain (he kills , he steals he kidnaps) but Twice is a good person. I think Hawks never meant to kill him. Instead he was facing a deep crisis: if he left twice alive and he rampaged killing tons of people , hawks would have been a good person? But if he killed a “friend” a nice guy and wonderful friend , someone who welcomed him, would he be a good person? Before dabi arrival I thin hawks was just threatening twice. If he wanted to kill him he could have done sooner.

As fat gum said , there’s only ONE way for an hero to win: no causalties and make the villain lose his will to fight. And this is the route hawks wanted to take : make twice surrender. It was the only way to solve the dilemma : killing twice meant killing a good person. Sparing a villain means to be a bad person. Howeve then Dabi arrived and he posed as a threat. In the first part of the battle hawks saved twice. Meaning that he and twice allign: Dabi is the villain. But this isn’t the case. Exactly because twice is a good person he can’t leave the league. So this is another stall: hawks has to kill twice (he can’t see others right thanks to the commission i think ) but at the same time the reason is the twice is indeed a very good person at his core.

Hawks is capable of incredible speed and cutting power, so I’ve always wonder why he was stalling over twice corpse like that.

There’s a movie , I don’t recall the title, in which a ss soldier asks a Jews teacher to prepare him for an exam in a lager. The teacher knows ethics , philosophy and religion. The teacher takes the occasion to prove the moral law (the universal law inside of any of us to decide if something is right or wrong). The ss answers “you’re are Jews, you are the evil!” But the teacher proves him wrong again and again. Finally the ss pull out a gun but he then is not able to shot. The professor says “this is the moral law. It doesn’t matter what you’ve been taught. Deep down you know it’s wrong”.

I insist hawks is numb to moral law. He instead seeks “greater good” to prove is a good person. But twice tested him. Toga question “So jin wasn’t a person?” It’s fitting : in that moment to hawks jin wasn’t a person. He saved jin. He gave him a chance. He was a good person. But jin refused , high fives dabi he would have killed anyone. It was “Jin” . It was “Twice” and a good person must end a bad person. Especially after this one refuse any “chance of redemption”. However the way he was bent all over twice makes me think he knew it. He knew he had done a bad thing. That was the moral law: he seemed exhausted

Part 2

Thank you for this! I found it very insightful and interesting to read :D

[starl1ght-child]

“Your hands Are so warm” with Shaxx maybe revealing his face... to reader... and it’s all cute and romantic 😘

This is so soooooft, just, shaxx melting in your palms because the first time he’s ever felt your touch on his cheeks is just so warm.

CW: there’s a bit of a praise kink in this one

Lord Shaxx x Reader - Touch

You were having a great day.  Eleven straight, flawless victories in the Crucible.  Shaxx was in awe with you, too.  He was practically screaming in your ears, showering you in compliments and praise; words that made your heart swell and your stomach simultaneously tie itself in knots.  Shaxx was good at giving praise where it was due, but with you?  Traveler, it was something else.  He seemed to make it his life’s work to keep you confident, yet humble.  Since the moment you two swore your devotion to one another, it was like he made it his life’s work to shower you with flattery and praise.

When you transmatted into the Tower, you were practically running towards Shaxx’s balcony.  Not to say that he pushed the other Guardians talking to him aside when he caught sight of you, but he certainly rushed to finish his business with them.  You waited for your turn to speak to him, but he was hurrying everyone along. Once they were gone, he slipped his arms around you and lifted you off your feet, swung you around, and laughed heartily.

“THAT WAS AMAZING!”  He shouted.  “I HAVEN’T SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THAT SINCE IKORA’S CRUCIBLE DAYS!”

You laughed gleefully as he set you down.  “Traveler, Shaxx,” you breathed.  “I’ve never felt so accomplished.”

His tone softened as his hands cupped your jaw and lifted your gaze to meet his helmet.  “You should be proud!  I have never been more impressed by you.  You have come so far, Guardian, you own the field, now.”

Your face flushed as you placed your hands over his.  “Please, you’re flattering me, Shaxx.  Today was just a very, very good day.”

“No,” his voice rumbled through his chest as he let out a small laugh.  “You are being humble, you are one of the best in the Crucible now.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, though you didn’t deny his words this time.  He leaned down and pressed the face of his helmet against your forehead.  “I have a surprise for you,” he whispered so low you almost didn’t catch his words.  “Come with me.”

Before you could say anything, he was already pulling you away from his balcony and down towards the lower, less populated areas of the Tower.  His hand was firmly placed on the small of your back as he guided you though the dimly lit corridors.  He stopped you in place next to a door, typed a code into the pin pad on the wall, and the door slid open.  Shaxx tilted his head towards the door, so you followed his direction and went inside.  Your eyes scanned the room, it was small, but functional:  a bed in the corner that was so neatly made you could bounce a coin off it; a small, but function kitchen directly to your right; numerous weapons and parts littered the workbench that spanned the entire left side of the room; photographs of Shaxx with numerous others were framed and mounted on the wall.  You blushed as you approached them and caught a photograph you had taken with him, and there was one of you, as well, looking over the balcony.

“This is your home,” you murmured softly.

“Yes,” Shaxx replied tenderly.

Your shoulders stiffened and you whirled around to see him placing his helmet on the edge of the workbench.  You froze in place as you laid eyes on his features.  His dark complexion was marred by scars, but looked as soft as velvet.  His eyes—Traveler, his irises were such a deep, dark brown that seemed to swallow his pupils, but they glimmered with wisdom and mystery.  A scar cut across his right eye, from his forehead to his cheekbone, another followed a similar path over his temple, and smaller scars decorated the rest of him.  A thin layer of dark stubble decorated his cheeks and jaw.

He noticed your silence and walked over to you with a smile.  His lips were full and made wrinkles appear at the corners of his eyes and lips, but maker, the sight of his smile almost made your knees give out from underneath you.  He closed the distance between the two of you in three strides, the closer he got the harder your heart pounded in your chest.  “Hello, my love,” he whispered.  “I thought… it was time for you to see who I am.”

You were speechless.  You were nearly in tears and you were overjoyed, knowing that you were likely the only one who has seen his face.  Slowly, you reached up and cupped his face.  Slowly his eyes closed and he leaned into your touch, his hands covered yours as he pressed his face into your palms.

You had never heard him speak so softly as his head turned and he pressed his lips against your palm.  “Your hands are so warm…”

You smiled as you combed your fingers through the stubble on his face, and for a moment, you thought you heard him sigh contentedly.  He seemed to be melting into your hands like puddy.  You pressed your forehead against his.  

“Shaxx,” you started, but his hand slipped off of yours and his thumb pressed against your lips to silence you.

“Stop.  Just let me stay with you for a while.”

“Am I the only one?”  You continued.  His eyes opened, he looked at you curiously, and pulled back slowly.  “Am I the only one who’s seen your face?”

His fingers combed through your hair until his hand settled on the back of your neck.  Slowly, he nodded.  “The only one alive.”

A smile crept to your lips and you held his face in your hands as you stood up on your toes and kissed him.  His hand on the back of your head pressed you tighter against his lips; his arm wrapped around your waist.

“I hope that’s not an omen for me,” you giggled softly.

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest.  “After that display today?  Never.  You could take entire armies and emerge from the dust victorious.”

Warmth flushed your cheeks and your smile turned sheepish.  “Maybe.”

Shaxx laughed, full and hearty, and lifted you into his arms.  “If I have to spend the rest of my lifetime telling you so, I will.  You are stronger than you give yourself credit.  And you are the only one worthy of seeing me.”

Masterlist | Tag List: @mail-me-a-snail @galagd @speed-boop @threevie @squadnos @daggerthegamer @reaped-winnower @lady-efriyeet @eris-horn @basically-nacl @khashoggisship @andromeda-sighs

[ricaffeine]

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐎𝐧𝐞

an: i'm sad because of hyunji drought and this is helping me cope :( but fr if tvn decides to make hotel blue moon then yeaji needs to be in it!!

also very annoying, i can't reply to comments bc this is a side blog (bruh wtf tumblr, i'm so sad should i make a new one?) reblog if you feel like it and my asks are open if you wanna chat 🖤✨

CHAPTER TWO

Weekdays at Seoul's National art gallery were usually the same. Buzzing curators dealing with hot-tempered clients. One thing or another was typically going not right and art directors cried about their wrong coffee order.

Although today was not the usual as to the crowds of bubbly news reporters and dazzled art critiques swarming up the wide place. As to Munyeong on the other hand, she was not pleased to the slightest.

"Just smile at the cameras, don't forget about the paycheck you're getting today." Sangin repeated himself for the fifth time. "Don't cause a scene, just think about the money."

Ah right. The paycheck.

As to The Nightmare Garden was bid off for over ten-million dollars, all of today's fanciness was dedicated to her, nation's celebrated female illustrator. However in all honesty, Munyeong barely liked her so-called masterpiece, but considering the amount of cash it will make her, she could be appreciative for the sake of it.

Behind her oversized sunglasses, Munyeong glared at her pesky manager– if looks could kill, he'd already be eleven feet under his grave. Sangin shut his mouth.

"Let's just get this over with," she simply responded, hooking off her eyewear then strutted into the hall with her long legs. Eyes whipped at her and cameras started to flash intensely, almost blinding her and Munyeong wondered how much those little pests could afford her if they got her blind.

And so the event played on. More pictures were taken– as if they hadn't blind her enough cheerful compliments flowed along with the spring breeze. The insincere joker smile she mastered whilst she met her million-dollar client– according to Sangin a hotel owner, though the woman did not have the looks for it– and the glass of filthy wine she almost had a chance to taste if Sangin's sixth sense was not so creepily fast.

Another dreadful two hours later as the dusk had set, hitting the edges with its golden flare, everyone had left. They got their articles and Munyeong will certainly be getting her pools of cash.

To her displease Sangin had informed her to wait as he had to take care of some paperworks she doubted he went to bribe the press into censoring her quoted inappropriate words. 

Nevertheless it was not her bother. She gave his plead a second before storming off to the complimentary section of the building.

Luck on her side, for nobody was there and she was able to grab one of the wine bottles with her– as for a fact it definitely was not stealing.

"Don't be shy, I know you want it."

Munyeong stopped within her steps as soon as an obnoxiously familiar voice echoed from the gallery she previously was in. Curiosity taking the lead, she peaked through the corner and had to muffle her own snort. Stood there, nation's art historian with the sharpest tongue– Choi Seojin.

She finds it hard to believe that his articles are highly known around, or even relevant, when his mouth is full of complete shit. However not disregarding the nastiest tea yet– a frightened girl seized under him. Her hands were locked, frightened eyes grew larger as the man spewed out nasty things.

Instantly, she took out her phone to film the disgraceful scene. Munyeong grinned to herself, reminiscing the rage she felt last time when he mentioned about her mother, and how her irritating manager had interrupted her before she could've sent him down the stairs to Satan.

The man reared into the poor girl's cheek when she attempted to fight him off, and Munyeong's smile dropped.

That piece of shit.

Munyeong entered the room, arms crossed, head high. Her wedge heels clicked against the hardwood as she let out an unamused wow.

Mad dog– what she personally thinks he should be called– 's head whipped at her with wide eyes. Like a child getting caught of lying.

"Oh my. Your hobbies are quite interesting Mr. Choi. Talking shit and sexual harassment?" Munyeong spat. "The girl looks like she'd rather kill herself, why are you even trying?"

As if he thought he could get away with what he just did, mad dog released his foul grip on the girl. Munyeong clicked her tongue and tauntingly held out her phone.

"Oh no, don't bother pretending. Judging by the looks, that won't even favor you at this point." She spared a glance at the quivering girl. "Why are you waiting? Go."

Shakingly and with thankful eyes she nodded and left, her footsteps filling void of silence before it coated the air again.

Mad dog snickered, as if there was something to laugh about. "Don't mess with me Ms. Ko. You know me, I won't die alone."

"Certainly I'll drag you and Mr. Lee down with me. Why do you think they call me the suicide bomb?"

Munyeong walked towards him and spreaded a smile, though even dogs could tell you shouldn't push her further. "You mean the bastard you can't fall down without dragging everyone else with him? Why?"

"I can destroy your career with the tip of my pen, I'm sure you know." He gave her a look, panning out his hand. "Now if you hand me your phone, I think we can compromise something."

Munyeong unraveled her arms, eyes hardening at his next sentence. "You think so?"

"Nation's beloved artist turned out to have antisocial personality disorder. What do you think will happen when people find out?" Mad dog sneered. "Her mother who mysteriously commited suicide–"

"Shut up." She warned. His words lit up the flame from their last encounter, adding fuel to her burning fire. Her head pounded, hard. For a moment she had hoped that if he proceeded as she said, then things would not have to get ugly.

"And her father? Spending his last days in the psychiatric hospital."

But men never listen, do they?

Munyeong tightened the hand around her bottle and striked it at him with full force. The bottom part crashed the wall behind him– just above the hung painting- glass shattered as rich burgundy stained its way down, smearing all over. Its taste fused with the air and Munyeong glowered at the creature who dodged her flawless aim.

"You crazy bitch!" He yelled, scrambled on the floor. But Mad dog was quick to lunge at her, they both hit the ground, stumbling as her open purse had been knocked away– and Munyeong's eyes landed on something very specific.

She was quicker, getting on her feet and spared the bastard a strong kick in the groin, leaving him groaning as she reached for her pen.

Her favorite calligraphy pen– its lining was stunning, coated in shiny teal with hints of gold, but most importantly, the dangerously sharp tip. The way it writes like reaping out blood from your hand– hence why it is a favorite.

She hawled back over and he screamed at her, though she didn't hear him. Her head was light as she felt blood rushed through her veins. Munyeong raised her arm and struck it back down.

Die.

Both of them froze. No, not her and mad dog, but him.

Deafening silence had lied between the walls and there they stood, eyes pierced into another's souls. Hers burned like fire, but his were dignified like the deep ocean.

Droplets of blood trickled down his forearm and splattered the floor, staining the rolled up sleeves of his crisp white shirt. What a waste.

"Let go. You can't kill him." The man– still with a bloody pen graved in his palm said.

Munyeong couldn't help but scoff, especially after that fucking bastard had just strangled her. "Don't be dramatic. I was just going to give him a few scratches."

Well maybe that's not entirely true.

Rough scrambling erupted underneath them, but when Munyeong turned to look, the mad dog had just ran off, like a lost puppy. Angrily she bit her lip, close to drawing blood until she felt the man draw his own hand back.

She watched as he did. The way he carefully slid her pen into his jacket and brought out a black silk handkerchief. Very rarely, she'd be astonished by something, and now it's him. Though she found it quite difficult to understand him– since when do you interrupt another's stabbing session by screwing up your own hand instead, and also the audacity to tell her she could not stab somebody?

So lost in her thoughts it took her a few seconds to realize her pulse was not pounding anymore.

"Did anyone not tell you that it is basic etiquette to not pry into someone else's business?" Munyeong said– seized the napkin from him, and began to tie a knot. She shot him a glance.

No reply. The man simply stared at her.

"Hmm?" She raised a brow, amused at his slight flinch when she tugged a little harder.

"Don't stress it too much, my manager will take care of our little incident." Munyeong chuckled as he proceeded to ignore her. "Do you know what? There are a lot of people in this world who deserve to die. And some very thoughtful freaks secretly take care of that, so clueless humans can sleep peacefully at night, completely unaware. Which one do you think I am?"

She dropped his hand, anticipating for his answer. Flares of light shined through the blinds, sharpening at his strong features and she noted his small– yet devilish smile.

"A clueless freak."

He finally responded, leaning towards her. His eyes traced her face, gazing down at her lips for a second too long, before their eyes were locked once again. "And of course you will have to pay, but at what price?"

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[dragonkeeper19600]

The Origami Siblings in the Underwhere

In the deepest pits of the Underwhere, where no sinner would ever dare to tread, there lies a mirror.

The mirror is perfect. Flawless in every way. Those who look into it see themselves, exactly as they are.

All souls carry with them an idea of who they are. They think of themselves as “good” or “clever” or “generous.” They think of themselves as “needy” or “idiotic” or “pathetic.”

The mirror sees through all these words with glass unclouded by pride or self-loathing. It sees you, in your entirety, all your faults and virtues. The mirror cannot be reasoned with, it cannot be argued against, it cannot be denied. Once you have peered into its depths, you are forever changed by the truth of yourself.

Souls have lost their minds, torn themselves to shreds, been reduced to raving beasts, all under the cold gaze of the mirror. The truth, the unfiltered truth, is not something meant to be borne.

Two origami siblings arrived in the Underwhere, one after the other. The eldest, the first to arrive, was a boy filled with regret. He had sought to fold the world into his own kingdom, and only at the very end had he seen his folly.

The youngest was a girl in whose eyes the light of life still blazed. She had been granted a wish, and she had used it to follow her brother.

The two, brother and sister, had presented themselves to the Queen of the Underwhere to be judged. The worthy, the virtuous, would ascend to the Overthere and reap their eternal reward. The unworthy, the cruel, the selfish, the sinful, would be sentenced. They would waste away in the Underwhere, and join the countless masses of all worlds as they writhed in penance.

The Queen looked into the soul of the younger sister and saw light. The girl had not lived for very long, but in her short time, she had gained much and lost much. She had learned courage, joy, and companionship. She had learned regret, sorrow, and sacrifice. Though only a child, she had fought for the sake of both loved ones and strangers. Her life, short as it was, had been full to bursting. She was a beacon in that dark place.

The Queen looked into the soul of the older brother and saw fractures everywhere. His mind, his heart, his past were all cracked and warped. His life, not much longer than hers, had been filled with hate. He had looked upon the world into which he had been born and the people in it with loathing. He had found a savage joy in creation, which he used not to make but to remake. In his heart, there was only one spot of tenderness, and that was for the girl at his side, holding his hand and reassuring him not to be scared.

The Queen made her decision and told the children so. The girl could move on. The boy could not.

The boy did not seem surprised, but the girl was horrified. Go on without her brother? Impossible. Her last wish had been to follow him. She couldn’t leave him alone in this dark place.

The boy told the girl not to mind, but his voice was drowned out by the supplications of his sister. She begged the Queen, again and again, to give her brother another chance. He knows he’s done wrong, she said, but surely he’s already been punished enough? He had given up his own form to make her wish come true. He had expressed regret. He would have changed his ways if he’d only had time. Please, there must be a way!

The Queen was feared throughout all the Underwhere, but in truth, her heart was tender. She looked with pity upon the children, so young, whom she had seen fit to separate forever. Moreover, she found herself unable to turn away from the pleading face of the girl. The girl, so small and frightened, reminded her of her own beloved daughter, and she knew she lacked the strength to ignore her plight.

She said: The boy was already dying when he gave himself to make the last paper crane. He had sacrificed nothing.

She said: Even the girl’s wish could not undo all the damage he had done.

Then she said: But, it is true that he expressed remorse in his final moments.

Moreover, it was true that he was young, that perhaps he would have changed if there had been time.

Therefore, she offered the boy one last chance. 

If he wished to ascend with his sister, he must journey to the Underwhere’s abyss and retrieve the single flower that bloomed there.

If he could bring her this flower, he would prove himself worthy to ascend to the Overthere.

The origami girl was immediately cheered.

Pick a flower? That didn’t sound so bad.

The boy accepted the Queen’s request. He lacked his sister’s enthusiasm and her optimism, but he felt he owed it to her. He had abandoned his sister for so long. He would not let her be alone again.

And so, the two set off for the deepest pits to retrieve the flower.

But what they did not know was that the flower only bloomed within the mirror.

Only those with the strength to face the mirror and their truest selves could hope to pluck the flower.

Was the boy who once called himself the Origami King strong enough?

He would have to find out for himself.