#stolen from a kohls

[mossyinkynebulous]

[luveline]

hiii can you possibly write a poly!marauders x reader who is way too much like sirius 😭 i’m so so so similar to him it’s literally scary and we have the same birthday too??? same everything it’s crazy i think it would be so funny to watch them navigate through Two siriuses 😭

thank you for your request <3 fem!reader

Remus has been in love with Sirius since they were fourteen years old, so falling for you was easy. It was practically already done. 

You’re sitting by the window with a tape player in your lap and headphones over your ears. Pretty mouth turned down, eyes lined with a smudged kohl, you look lovely when you sulk. Remus can’t stand to leave you alone. 

He gives you a moment's peace, of course, but with James and Sirius entangled in a dinner-making argument and nothing left to do, he’s almost forced to sit beside you in the window seat. There isn’t much room, bless, but you don’t argue, leaning back into his arm and continuing your staring out the window. 

“You okay?” he asks. He knows the music isn’t too loud. You loathe being snuck up on. 

“Am I okay?” you ask, turning your head gently to the side, meeting his eyes through the fence of your lashes. Mascara lengthens them, has their ends kissing your brow as you widen your eyes slowly, playfully. 

“Sitting all by yourself.” 

“I’m not,” you say, the corners of your lips curling into a pleased half-smirk. You’ve too much affection about you to be truly smug. 

“But you were.” He moves the headphones off of your ears slowly. 

It’s a good thing Remus is such a flirt. You’d be hard to keep up with otherwise. He does wonder how James survives it; you and Sirius will flirt brazenly, almost darkly, a seduction in the smallest of things. Picking lint off of his shirt, wiping coffee foam from his lip. And Remus is quieter, not as shy as some might think him but without the darling charm (well, unless he wants it). 

You hold his gaze. “I knew you’d come and keep me company, Remus… that’s what you’re doing, right?” 

He laughs in your face, which isn’t to stay he’s laughing at you. He just can’t not laugh. You’re nerve wracking and sweet and his to flirt with. Plus, you hear him laughing and the majority of your facade melts away as you laugh yourself, the tip of your nose bumping against his sleeve. “Jerk,” you say. 

You and Sirius are different in some ways, of course. Sirius can’t stand having air blown in his ear and you love it, shivering with delight as you curl into his arm. 

“Hello. What’s going on here?” 

James is climbing onto the window seat before either of you can tell him not to. There’s absolutely no room for him nor his muscly arms, his shirt getting caught on your knee and rising, an unreadable mess of limbs and fabric. A tan hand uses Remus as a lift. James straddles your lap, bringing his face up to smile at you lovingly. “Hello, lovely.” 

“James, this is rather selfish of you,” you say. “Me and Remus were having a cuddle.” 

“He had you all last night.” 

“That’s not true. Sirius shared me with him. I was like a cherry pit.” 

James makes a horrified, undignified shriek like you’ve jabbed him in the gut. “What the fuck.” 

“You know full well I didn’t, Jamie, on account of my being the big spoon to your little one.” Sirius arrives, and announces his disgust with a wrinkle of the nose. “I can’t believe I’ve just said that out loud. Domesticity is becoming too much.” 

James is a tall, tall guy, and he’s not skinny either. Remus gives up his seat before he’s pushed from it, and at least finds a new embrace in Sirius’ space, a hand behind his back, ringed fingers ghosting against his spine. 

“Aw, Remus, what are you doing? …Come back,” James whines. 

You laugh again. “You’ve stolen all the room.” 

“Can I be blamed?” 

Sirius wraps his arm around Remus' waist. One moment he’s being hugged, the next kissed, silky soft kisses pressed to his jaw as Sirius murmurs, “You could’ve stood your ground.” 

But then Sirius wouldn’t be kissing him.

“Forget him,” Sirius advises, his lips parting over a soft spot near threateningly. “Who needs him? You have me.” 

“It wasn’t like that!” James insists. “I just missed her when I was in the kitchen.” 

“And I missed you, Jamie,” you murmur. 

Sirius scoffs, to Remus’ delight. “What’s funny?” Sirius asks, pulling Remus’ head back by the hair, not rough or anything but intimate enough of a move that Remus probably has hearts for eyes as he answers. 

“She sounds exactly like you, you realise?” 

Sirius narrows his grey eyes. “Well, it’s not a bad way to sound.” 

Remus has had enough of him, really, the flirting is fun but he misses his boyfriend, especially if James is going to steal the cuddle with you Remus had been aiming for. “I want some herbal tea,” he says, sewing his arms over Sirius’ shoulders, as much love in his touch and gaze as he can possibly fit. “Do you want some? I’ll make it for us.” 

In the same moment, James is holding your cheek and asking what you’d like for dinner, whatever you want, honey, so close you can smell his aftershave lingering from the morning and the minty cherry hybrid smell of his favourite chewing gum. His weight rests on your hip. Remus can see you heating up from over Sirius’ sharp shoulder.

You and Sirius are also very alike in that you both fluster at being treated with care. Immediate melting. Cheeks hot to the touch. 

“I don’t mind, Jamie,” you mumble. 

“I’d love some,” Sirius says, ever so slightly hoarse. 

[starboy-sirius]

may 9 | captivate | @jegulus-microfic | 671 words

Regulus enters the party with one goal: to captivate.

He struts through the painting, the Fat Lady complimenting him as he does so. “My, you look wonderful, dear. Trying to impress someone in particular?”

He hums, a smirk growing on his lips. “Maybe.”

The Fat Lady’s eyes twinkle at him. “Good luck to you, dear.”

Barty and Evan are on either side of him, towering over him like barking bodyguards ready to glare and bite anyone who dares to get too close. After all, Regulus isn’t trying to gain everyone’s attention. He’s after one boy and one boy only. Barty and Evan, who have watched him fail time and time again to seduce the oblivious and stupidly loyal Gryffindor, were all for Regulus’ new plan. 

“Ready for this, Reggie?” Barty croons, winding one of Regulus’ curls around his index finger.

“Honestly, if Potter doesn’t get the hint after this I’ll fuck you stupid instead,” Evan smirks, eyeing Regulus up and down appreciatively. 

Barty glances over at him, smouldering eyes on fire as they dart between his boyfriend and his best friend. He can't say the idea hasn’t crossed his mind once or a thousand times. “Well, now I’m hoping he doesn’t get the hint.”

“Slut,” Evan purrs.

Regulus rolls his eyes at them, but a small grin does grace his lips. “I’m going to need you two to have more faith in this outfit.”

“More faith?” Barty exclaims. “I was the one who designed this little get up, thank you very much. It’ll work, trust me.”

Evan hums. “Maybe we can get Potter on board with the whole thing.”

They walk into the Gryffindor common room, the party in full swing with people already drunk and disorderly. Some are smoking by the tower windows, their eyes ringed red and their giggles floating around in the air with the smoke. Sirius, Remus and James are sitting with their usual gang of friends on the sofas by the lit fireplace. 

It’s safe to say that everyone’s eyes turn Regulus’ way when he enters. Barty smirks triumphantly. 

Regulus is wrapped in lace, his entire torso on display as it peeks through the leafy patterns on the lace top. His creamy skin causes quite the stir at the party, no one daring to dress as seductively as this. He has more skin on show than anyone has ever seen of him before, the long sleeves falling down and hooking over his middle fingers. His long, lean legs are enclosed in sheer trousers that shimmer whenever he walks, making him look like pure sex as he walks in and comes to a halt, eyes searching for the boy he came here for. 

His eyes, thanks to Evan, are lined with a sharp wing of black kohl, bringing out the silver in his eyes and making them look pearlescent. His lips are rosy and shiny, giving the impression that he’s been biting them, or that someone else has been licking and biting them for him. He looks delectable. 

Regulus meets the brown of James Potter’s eyes and lifts one corner of his lips up, eyes glittering like his namesake. James stares at him with a gaping mouth, his entire body frozen as if Regulus has stolen all the breath from his lungs. Sirius is adamantly trying to get his attention, his own grey eyes flickering between his brother and his best friend, trying desperately to understand what is going on. James ignores him, solely focused on Regulus. 

So much so, that when Regulus raises a hand and beckons James over with a crook of his finger, James is stumbling upwards like a newborn deer and tripping over himself to get as close to Regulus as he can. He’s blushing as he walks over, hands fluttering at his sides giving away his nerves. 

Regulus grins like a shark and leans into Barty, listening as his friend whispers, “Mission accomplished.”

“Well,” Regulus hums. “The night is young. Maybe Evan will get what he wants by the end of it.”

[danikamariewrites]

Okay but being mated to Az, Cass, and Nesta but you don’t know and a foreign dignitary comes to stay at the House of Wind with the four of you and Rhys asks you to seduce/be flirty with them and the three of them are absolutely feral trying to keep their jealousy down

Just One Night

Nessian x Azriel x reader

A/n: I’ve been dying to write another fic with these four! They would absolutely want to kill Rhys for this especially Nesta.

Warnings: possessive Nessian & Azriel

Today is the day. Nesta had decided for the group that today they would tell you about the bond. She was just waiting for you all to get out of a meeting with Rhys and her sister. The last thing Nesta wanted was to confess the bond - and her love for you - in front of Rhys.

Nesta heard the angry footsteps echoing off the marble floor of her mates before she saw them. Setting her book down she tilted her head curiously at their disgruntled looks. The males dropped into their respective arms chairs letting out dejected sighs. Nesta stood with her arms crossed and a raised brow as she looked between the two.

“Well.” She said sharply. Azriel let out a low growl from the back of his throat. She felt his annoyance down the bond and looked to Cassian for an answer. Sighing through his mouth and rubbing the bridge of his nose Cassian bites out, “Rhys is having her seduce the emissary from Montesere. Cyrus Yarrow.”

When they looked up at Nesta those silver flames were dancing with anger in her eyes. Her left one practically twitching. “He’s having her do what?” She growled. Nesta turned on her heel, black dress flaring dramatically. Cassian grabbed her wrist before she could go give Rhys a piece of her mind.

Her fist balled. The first and only warning Cassian would get to release her. Letting go his open hand hovered cautiously. “Wait. She, just…she took the job. She knows what to get from the guy and we won’t let it get farther than that, yeah?” Nesta cracked her neck, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Fine.”

“You don’t want to be overbearing, Nes.” Azriel said. That deep, even voice relaxing her. “You’re right.” She looked back at her mates as Azriel waved her over. His arms open for her. Without hesitating Nesta sat on Azriel’s thigh, resting her head against his chest. “I know you’re impatient,” he says against her hair, “the Mother knows we are too, but we want to make it special for her.”

———

Pulling out the garment bag from your closet a knock sounded at your bedroom door. “Come in!” You hear whom ever enter, shuffling around the room. Nesta poked her head in your closet. You smile at her, “Hey you.” She gives you an equally dazzling smile. For a moment you swear something like love sparkles in her eyes.

Your heart leaped at the thought then quickly sunk. Remembering how in love she is with Cass. Blinking rapidly you plaster that smile back on your face. “What’s up?” You ask lightly. “I thought we could get ready for the ball together.”

You nod vigorously. “I would love that.” You and Mor used to get ready together - Feyre too - until she found Emerie. Usually when Rhys gave you a job for the evening you liked to get ready alone. Being alone lets you think through your plan for the night. Being with Nesta will be a nice change though. She was able to distract you from the awaiting nightmare of Cyrus.

Cyrus Yarrow was renowned for the females he chose to surround himself with. Always beautiful and charming. He was also quite demanding and handsy when he found something he liked. A shiver runs down your spine causing you to shake, your chin dropping to your chest.

Looking back up you saw Nesta had moved closer to your face. Her hand poised to draw with the kohl on your lid. “Are you ok?” You give her a small nod. “Stay still,” she giggled. A warmth bloomed in your chest at the sound.

———

The ball was in full swing. Nesta had stolen you for the first dance before you were swept away by Cyrus. Azriel had grabbed her waist before she could kill the male, dragging her into a waltz she could do in her sleep. Cassian was sending waves of calm to her down the bond. He stepped in for Az once the song was over. Also so Azriel could keep an eye on you for the night.

“Remember what Azriel said, Nes.” She gave him a curt nod, looking over her shoulder for you as they spin around the floor. “Hey,” Cass demanded, taking his hand from her waist to grip her chin. “She is fine. She is capable. I know the instinct to protect her and be by her is intense, we’re feeling it too. But tomorrow, he will be gone.” “Yeah.” She mumbled. Cassian pressed a quick kiss to Nesta’s lips before dipping her dramatically.

Azriel watched from the shadows as you entertained Cyrus. His party from Montesere was nothing like him. Kind and proper as they chatted with Mor and Feyre. His eyes bounced between the groups wanting to make sure that his court was safe. Feyre stood up straighter. A shocked and confused look pulling at her features.

He met his High Lady’s gaze and she tapped on his mental shield wasting no time in updating her spymaster. Cyrus no longer held the power they were told about. His Lord had stripped his title a week ago. This relieved Azriel. It meant he wouldn’t feel guilty about pulling you away from work and that Rhys wouldn’t give him a tongue lashing.

The Shadowsinger was about to step in and save you from Cyrus’s awfulness when a panicked feeling froze him in place. His shadows had reported Nesta and Cassian were safe. He even spotted them smiling and laughing as they danced.

When the realization hit Azriel that it was you projecting your feelings down the bond ran to you, sending his shadows ahead to pull Cyrus off of you. The look of disgust on your face had his instincts to protect you screaming at him to go.

Azriel drew Truth Teller, holding it to Cyrus’s neck. “Back away from my mate.” Azriel said practically roared. The fae around them stopped, gasps sounded through the crowd as they stared. You clung to Azriel’s arm through the whole ordeal. As the word mate left his mouth you stared up at Az, your eyes twinkling with love.

You had always had a crush on Azriel. But Nesta, you thought to yourself. No, you’d let her go. You have Az now. “Mate,” you repeat. Azriel stilled as the realization of the word he just spoke dawned on him. He slowly turned to look at you. The corners of your lip turning up at the his shock.

“Yeah, umm…” His gaze drifted behind you. You followed his gaze to find a stunned Cassian and a fuming Nesta. “Az?” You ask softly. The party had resumed around you as the couple stepped closer. Cassian placed his hands on Nesta’s shoulders in a calming manner. “Why don’t we all go talk somewhere else.” Cass suggested. “Why do we all,” you trail off as Nesta grabs your hand to drag you out of the ball room.

You kept looking between Nesta, Azriel, and Cassian as she leads you to the living quarters of the House of Wind. Her iron grip never leaving you. Entering the main living room Nesta drops your hand making a beeline for the bar cart housing one of Rhys’s expensive bottles of whiskey. Pouring herself a finger she downs the amber liquid in one go.

“I thought,” she started, her tone dangerously calm, “we wanted to make it special. To do something sweet for our mate.” Nesta flashed her perfect canines in a saccharine smile at the males. Azriel’s jaw tightened. His head dropped, clearly frustrated with himself.

You hold his hand with both of yours. Running your thumb across the back of his hand in calming circles. Nesta’s words caught up with your brain. Our, she had said.

You looked at her with wide eyes. “Our? As in all three of you are my mates.” Cassian couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah sweetheart. You have all three of us. We’ve been waiting to tell you and we wanted to make it special. Cyrus just got in the way.” You covered your mouth as happy tears lined your eyes. That warm feeling in your chest that appeared with Nesta earlier returning. The bond glowing fiercely as it branched out to all three of them.

You sink on to the plush couch taking in the information. You have been blessed with three mates. Each one you were madly in love with. And you get to love them all for the rest of your life!

Cassian came to sit beside you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders pulling you into his side. You could sense the apology on his lips before he could even say it. Cassian has always been too apologetic for his own good. You grabbed his hand resting on his thigh. “I’m not mad. I am incredibly happy to hear this.” Cassian’s head dropped to rest on yours. Azriel takes the spot next to you wrapping his arms around your waist pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You stare at Nesta who hadn’t moved an inch since you entered the room. You wave her over to join couch snuggles, tugging on the bond to entice her. Nesta ran at you. Jumping to straddle your lap and pushing Cass and Az off you. You hugged her tightly inhaling her scent of fire and steel masked by the vanilla and almond perfume she wears.

“I love you so much, y/n.” She whispered just for you to hear. “I love you, Nes. With all my heart.” You whispered back, just for her to hear.

[starstruckodysseys]

posts i plan in the middle of a kohl’s parking lot

never stop blowing up as textposts* 1/?

*i know some of these are not textposts do not get on me. “things stolen from my pinterest” sounds less cool

[junedenim]

you heard that they were the naughtiest

they were all naked, but he was the exposed one

warnings: smut, prostitution, p in v, blowjob, feelings :(

word count: 3.7k

It's not intentional per se. When he stumbles upon a room of half-naked women he doesn't reject the sight, but he didn't seek it out. He's kind of just shoved into the room. His friends insist it's the perfect way of getting over a break-up. He guesses he can't really handle rejection right now either which is why they aren't picking up chicks in a place where you wouldn't have to pay for it. Plus, they have to be on a tour bus in a matter of hours so they can't waste time here.

At least, that's his friends' thinking. All he can think about are tits, tits, tits! Seriously, he never thought he'd be overwhelmed by the sight of boobs after he made it through the rough stage of puberty but they're everywhere and he can only take his eyes off of them to look at another set of boobs. Two nipples staring at him like beady little eyes. 

"You like?" A woman in a long robe with fluffy feathers lining it comes beside him. She's twice the age of everyone here and she must be the only one semi-dressed.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I mean...yeah." He feels like he's objectifying the women by looking at them but at the same time what the fuck else is he supposed to do? "Yes."

"Have your pick," she invites. 

Alex feels flushed, his voice stolen from him as he chokes on his own spit. "What? Like any of them?"

The woman nods. She has a certain elegance that he wouldn't expect from a pimp. Her makeup is poorly drawn on and her hair looks like it's about to fall off her head but she wears pearls and diamond earrings, which could be fake but he can't tell the difference. "Your friends paid for you," she tells him.

There are blondes, brunettes, and gingers. There's one girl in the back with purple hair. "Can—can I do more than...?"

"More than one?" The woman laughs and Alex shrinks and he suddenly wishes he was getting rejected at some pub instead. "No, no, sweetie. That would be another additional payment and an extra fee. But any of my girls out here are for your choosing. I'm sure they'll treat you better than any girl you've had before. You seem like a nice one too. They might even give you an extra favour for that."

"Like a blowjob?" The question just falls out and he wants to slap himself after saying that.

The woman instantly starts laughing again. "Whatever you want, sweetie. You're in charge. Now, go on, make your pick."

She pushes him forward and brown, green, and blue eyes meet him. Unexpectedly, he's hit with the feeling of being a kid in a candy store and part of him feels bad for viewing these women as candy for him to consume but the other part of him (his cock) is growing hard and needy.

"Um, I'll, um, have her." Alex points to a woman, she must be right around his age, maybe a few years older. Wide eyes, kohl-smeared staring right back up at him. Her hair is long, wavy, reaching down far enough to cover her tits, her nipples peeking through at the movement of her head.

The woman rises from her chair and takes hold of Alex's hand, dragging him toward one of the backrooms. Her ass, bare and in plain view for him. He realizes he can do whatever he wants. He could squeeze it, smack it, rub it, kiss it, fuck it. It's a terrifying thought but the pleasure he gains, the way his dick feels so constrained can't be matched. 

"So, uh, how long have you been doing this?"

She laughs, but it's a cute one, instead of a mocking one. "The whore thing?" Alex nods as she shuts the door behind him. "Couple years."

The room is relatively empty. There's a bed with white sheets, two bedside tables with lamps on each that are turned on, and a painting of a naked woman because they are obviously lacking in the department of nude women. 

"The room to your liking?" She asks him.

He wipes his sweaty palms down on his jeans. "Yes!" He shouts it a little enthusiastically but again the woman giggles nicely and moves onto the bed, sitting on the edge, crossed-legged and tempting.

"How'd you like me?"

"How'd I like you?" He questions.

"Your call, honey. Take me whichever way you like."

He just about busts a nut at this woman, staring him down, who he can have free-range on. Something overcomes hum. Maybe it’s loneliness, but he’s first thought isn’t sex. "Can I kiss you?" He doesn't really know how else you're supposed to start sex. It feels weird to just put his dick in her right away.

She seems shocked by this sentiment. "Uh, sure."

Alex is still standing by the door. He shoves his hands in his pockets. "Not a lot of guys ask that, do they?"

She shrugs. "Some do. But I can see," she points to his crotch, "your erection." Alex's first instinct is to cover it up with his hands but he realizes he doesn't need to do that here. That kind of thing is encouraged here. "Most guys don't like to kiss about when they're already hard."

"Yeah, well, things with my girlfriend just ended, and—fuck, I wasn't supposed to talk about this."

She giggles. "That's fine."

"No, that was like the one thing my mates told me not to talk about. I guess I've been going on about it for a long time."

"Well, this is your time so you can do whatever you like but for reference, you only have me for about a half hour and that half hour started when you picked me so you only have about 25 minutes left."

"Oh, right, so we should probably..."

"Take care of that erection? It's up to you but I'll do everything, except rape kinks."

"People request that a lot?"

She shrugs. "Yeah. People request a lot of weird things. The rape thing gets a little iffy for me because I'm not, well..."

"Willing?"

"Well, I'm willing. I'm getting paid. It's my job. Some of the girls do it if you want to. I guess it helps keep people from raping other people."

"No, I mean, I kind of like it when the people I'm fucking want to fuck me."

"You're still hard," she notes. He definitely is. It's pressing up against his zipper and threatening to rip a hole straight through his jeans. "I don't mind talking to you if you want to do that but I have a feeling you might want to take care of that."

Alex lets out a chuckle of relief, finally relaxing just a little. "Yeah."

"So...however you want me." She's open and offering and it's terrifying. He's usually not the director of these things. It's always been a mutual thing but he feels less scared about taking charge then he thought he would.

"Okay. I'm going to take off my clothes if that's okay."

She chuckles. "Yeah, I think you're gonna have to do that eventually."

"Right." He laughs at himself, carefully taking off his shirt and jeans. He leaves his underwear on, nearing her slowly. He stands above her, tilting her face up with his finger, he looks down at her, and he knows he's fooling himself, but she really does look eagerly interested. Her eyes are erotic and her lips slightly puckered. He leans down slowly and kisses her lightly. "Can you give me a...blowjob?"

She stuffs away laughter and looks up at him with a grin. "Certainly." She pushes him back a step and sits on her knees. Her fingers skim the elastic teasingly, before reaching in, pulling them down, exposing him. She holds it and her hand with stimulating strokes. "You're so big."

He's never thought himself to be particularly enlarged. He hasn't really seen many, except in porn and at the urinals but, you know, he's not really looking at other guy's cocks while they pee. "Do you say that everyone?"

She bites her bottom lip, so close to his dick, he's starting to leak out precum and he can do anything he wants so he might just shove her head onto his cock. But he doesn't want to be brutal with her. "I mean, yeah, but I'm being honest. Swear it."

Alex believes her and gets amusement from the whole thing but he stands up a little straight with a bit more pride. He's apparently well-endowed. "Thanks." 

She hollows out her cheeks and swallows around him, letting his shaft slide along her tongue until it hits the back of her throat. Then she retreats and starts all over again, leaving more and more of her saliva slathered on his cock every time it pulls out of her mouth.

It's wet and messy, but it's the best blowjob he's ever had, which isn't shocking. She does this for a living. Especially with the way she reaches under and cups his balls as she swallows his cock, rolling his sacks around in her hand and kneading his flesh softly.

It makes his knees weak and he doesn't think he can stand anymore. "Can-can I sit please?" He gets out through a moan. She releases him, charmed by his hesitation and his need to ask for permission. He sits down on the edge of the bed and shimmies towards the middle. He lays on his back and spreads his legs for her to crawl between, sharing a smile with her as she gets comfortable on her stomach.

She wraps her hand around Alex's cock again, pulling it back so she can lick up the underside of it repeatedly, from base to tip. Her tongue traces the vein before swirling around the tip, tonguing his slit a few times before making her way back down to suck his balls into her mouth. Her teeth nip playfully at the loose flesh.

That's when he has to pull her off of him. "I'm about to come and, I mean, if you don't mind I'd like to be in you."

She smiles, her eyes bright. "Yeah. On you, you on me, doggy. Should I pull at the Kama Sutra?"

Alex snorts. "You're really funny."

She rolls her eyes. "We're running low on time here. Make up your mind, mister!" 

Alex flips them over after a moment, hovering over her as she looks up at him with wide eyes and an excited grin. "Ready?"

"Yeah." She widens her legs to give him more room to work as he moves back away from her on his knees. Alex reaches a hand down, squeezing those blinding tits. He leans down, placing his mouth over it and a shock goes through him as she moans. His tongue skims over her nipple and she lets out another one and he'll be thinking about how he got a whore to moan for the rest of his life and she also called him big.

He sits back up. "I'm gonna fuck you now," he tells her.

"Please," she groans and he feels like the man. Nothing will top this. He's the fucking man.

Not being able to wait a moment longer to be inside her, Alex slides his cock down to her slick hole and pushes inside. Her warm pussy envelops his cock inch by inch as he slides into her. "Oh my God," he moans as her walls cling to his shaft. "Holy shit."

She hums in acknowledgment. She reaches down and begins to rub her clit as his cock slowly fills her up more and more until he finally reaches the back of her, his balls pressing against her ass once he's all the way inside. She's breathing heavily, clenching her pussy around his cock to get used to the feeling. 

He sighs as he starts to get used to the feeling. He feels on edge but he wants to make use of every single minute he has with her. He begins to move his hips, pulling his cock out just to shove it back in, slowly starting to thrust his hips.

"Yeah, right there," she tells him, pulling his body down so it's pressed against hers as he fucks her. "That feels so good. Do you feel good, baby?"

"You feel incredible," he grunts into her neck, leaning his weight on his forearms on either side of her head, his arms bending her legs back further. He's sure she's said that to a million guys before, maybe even a few today, but the way he feels inside her, he might be kidding himself, but it feels too tight, too wonderful for only him to be feeling this good.

She lets out a whimper in response, hands moving to Alex's head to tangle in his shaggy hair. "Kiss me," she begs, tugging his hair to bring his head up from her neck so he can press his lips against hers. She opens her mouth and allows his tongue inside, sucking on it gently as his cock slides into her in long, sensual thrusts, slowly but steadily.

Their naked skin pressed together, and his cock was deep inside her. Alex feels closer to her than he's felt with anyone in ages. He feels tense and he knows he's close. This has only been perfect and he wants it to end perfectly. He wants to get every penny's worth but he wants to make her feel good because he bet not everyone has made her feel this good.

Her body shakes as she comes, her pussy clinging to him inside her as she moans into his mouth. He wants to come with her so badly, but he wants to keep fucking her more, to show her how good he can make her feel.

Before she even comes down from her orgasm, he is flipping her over onto her stomach and sliding his cock back into her from behind, stretching his forearms so his hands are planted on either side of her body so he can push his hips into her in smooth, hard thrusts. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, keep going," she tells him. He really wants to just press her into the mattress and hump her roughly, but he'll last longer this way, and he can tell she's enjoying it by the way she moves against him.

She arches her back and twists her neck so she can look at his face as he pushes into her, his cock hitting spots so deep inside her. It hugs him tightly and pulls him in deeper and deeper each time he comes barreling down into her.

"Oh, you're making my pussy feel so good," she cries. It's so intimate and makes him feel so connected to her. He can't believe how good he is. 

"You like that?" Alex huffs barely heard over the sound of slapping skin each time his hips connect with her ass cheeks. His tummy tightens as he thinks about how special this feels. "Can I come in your mouth?"

"Yeah, yeah." She nods frantically. He pulls out and she flips onto her back. Alex moves up; he is just over her wide-open mouth. 

A stream of cum shoots out from the tip of his throbbing cock and lands on the tip of her tongue. "Fuck," he moans at both the feeling and the sight of it, splatters landing on her cheek and nose.

His hips jerk as the last spurts of cum come out, landing on her. His legs wobble as his body buzzes in the aftershocks. "Wow," Alex breathes out in awe, enthralled by the sight. "You're so pretty."

"Thanks," she mutters. Alex lands on his back beside her, unable to hold himself up straight anymore. He breathes heavily as she sits up to wipe the cum off of her face. 

"That was the best sex I've ever had." His tongue is spilling things out but he feels like he can tell her these things because that must have been some of the hottest sex she's ever had too.

She looks back at him with a grin. "You're cute, honey."

Alex regains some strength and leans over to where she's picked up a cigarette. His arms wrap around her waist. He wants to hold her tight, wants to cherish her. "You're so gorgeous."

"You want a smoke?" She asks before lighting her cigarette.

He shakes his head. He just wants to look at her without the blur of smoke separating them. "Here. Lay down with me."

"Your time is technically up but I guess I can take my break with you."

He's moved that she feels the same he does. Alex still can't believe what he's experienced, his body still recovering from the motions. She sits up against the headboard, smoking her cigarette so instead of cuddling with her side-by-side in bed like he wants, he'll sit beside her against the headboard. 

"So, do you usually take your breaks with your customers?" He's a special and very lucky man, he knows it.

"Um," she thinks out loud, "sometimes. They'll give me one of their cigarettes or an extra tip if I sit and talk with them. A lot of men who come in here are really lonely."

He's not one of those men. He didn't give her cigarettes or money, she just wants to sit and talk with him and he's charmed by this. He wants to take her out of her. Not leave her in this dirty place where men take advantage of her and treat her nastily. "I can imagine."

She looks over at him with a smirk. "What?" He questions.

Her smirk drops and she shakes her head. "Nothing. So, your ex dumped you or you dumped her?"

Alex sighs. "She dumped me. I thought we might get back together but she's got this new guy and I'm just a loser, I guess." He's worried that means he's calling her a loser so he quickly tells her, "That's nothing against you. I'm sorry if that came off rude."

She laughs and shakes her head. "You're fine. I've been called much worse."

Alex can't imagine anyone being rude to her. She's angelic in her caring and her laugh is like the sun shining on you, beating you in heat after a cold winter. "I'm sorry they've done that."

"It's fine," she insists. "People don't really understand my job. I like doing it and that shocks people. I guess there are your regular creeps but that's half the people out there nowadays. So, this way instead of being stuck with a crappy date with these people, I get paid to sleep with them and never see them again. I mean, who doesn't like sex?"

"I don't know who wouldn't like sex with you." He's being mushy but fuck, if you could see her, if you fucked her, you'd be feeling the same way.

She throws her head back in laughter. "Thank you, sweetie. I wouldn't have hung around her so long if I wasn't good at it. I'm a professional feel-gooder. I make everyone who comes in here feel better when they leave."

"Well, you've made me feel much better," he tells her.

She smiles over at him, taking a pull of her smoke. "Good. I'm glad to have done that."

"Even just talking to you I feel understood." He's looking at her and something pulls through him. He just wants to spill all his guts. Tell every little secret and then she'll share hers. It can't feel this good with everyone.

"Good," she says.

He's leaving town in a matter of hours and he can't even bear to leave her behind, at least not without getting her number. Christ, he doesn't even know her name. He curls an arm around her shoulders. "I'm leaving town soon but how would you feel about going out with me once I'm back in town."

"Oh," she smiles at him so lovingly, heartbeats skip, and he's lost in her eyes. He can't imagine how anyone could badly treat her, leave her, forget her. She softly chuckles. "Honey, I don't do that kind of thing."

His eyebrows furrow. "Are you not allowed?"

She shakes her head. "I just don't go out with people I meet at work. I'm not a girlfriend, I'm a quick fuck. I can give you conversation, I can be a flirt, I can be a slut, whatever, but I'm not gonna date you."

"But...I thought that we..."

"Sweetie," she's cooing at him and he hates this feeling. It's like getting dumped all over again. "I'm just doing my job. You're a total sweetheart. I mean, girls must love you."

"Well, what about you?" He asks like saying that, questioning her will change things.

She gives him a crooked smile and she looks slightly remorseful. "I'm not a girl. I'm not really anything to you. You don't even know my name."

"I could. You could tell me all about you and I'd love all of it—" She tries to suppress a laugh but it pulls through. Everything just sinks in him.

"I'm sorry. I feel horrible. But I can't give you what I don't have. If you're ever back in town, I'll be here."

He scoffs, "You just want money." He feels bad. He's being a bit of an asshole but he's hurt. It pours over him all over again. 

"Yeah," she admits, "doesn't everybody? I truly did have a nice time but I have a feeling you'll find a girl and you won't need any of this."

It makes him feel a little better like the whole thing wasn't made up in his head. Still, he's lost, annoyed, and he fucking hates this feeling. This loneliness that covers him. This was just supposed to be a fuck. If he wanted rejection he could have gone to a fucking pub or called up his ex-girlfriend but, no, he had to go too far in and believe some fantasy.

"I'm sorry," he says. 

She frowns at him. "There's no reason to be sorry. These things happen. You're a great guy, I can tell. You're just not my guy."

He digests this. Dry swallows the cold hard pill. He takes a deep breath and looks away. It doesn't soften the blow anymore. But he feels better knowing that he'll land on his feet. He'll get over this, eventually. He's just trapped in a hole and one day he'll crawl out of it. Even she, the whore, believes in him. "Can I have a cigarette?"

She feels bad. So, she gives him one.

*

a/n: i was kind of shocked how many ideas i had for different eras of alex at a whorehouse. i don't know when i became this dirty-minded but i blame all of you!

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Walk of Shame - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Silco reacquaints himself with his ghosts...

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

He walked. And, one by one, the old ghosts stirred to walk with him.

Vander. The strongest of the old guard, and the first to fall. He was a monolith of shadow. He spoke not one word. But his presence was a palpable weight, as though his specter had draped itself, heavy and ungainly, over Silco's shoulders. It was a weight he'd grown accustomed to, long ago. The weight of a brotherhood gone awry. Blood spilled and bonds broken. The ambitions of two hotheaded boys, once aligned. The heartbreak of two men, irreparably sundered.

Silco bore the weight. He was sixteen again, drunk and in love, with a gash from a brawl across his temple and the scent of tobacco impregnating the weave of his shirt and Vander's arm slung around his shoulders. The two of them, laughing and singing, as they stumbled through the Lanes, the fog splitting to unfold the path ahead, a treacherous one, because in the road to revolution, the only sure thing is the bottom of the grave.

(Blut.)

(Here's to the dreams and dead-ends that made us.)

(And the bodies we buried along the way.)

The memory of Vander's blood was still warm on his hand. Like a coin passed from palm to palm. A treasure, held close, and never surrendered.

Silco walked on, and Vander's arm fell away.

The next shadow to materialize was a willowy silhouette. His breath snagged. For the span of a heartbeat, the landscape was bathed in a blue glow. The lanterns from the Nymph, where he'd first glimpsed Nandi float inside with the long-legged sway of a riverbird descending to the Pilt's shore. And there she was, his riverbird, a sultry apparition of silken black hair and chiming bangles and a secret twinkle of mischief in her kohl-ringed eyes.

She beckoned, a coy finger-curl, and he followed. The years had not touched her. But he did. He was twenty-five again, and a stranger to the ways of love. He'd learn them, soon enough. How to worship a woman's body. How to savor, and linger, and make the leavetaking worth the farewell. He was not a man for spiritualism. But, after she'd slipped from his bed and from his life, he'd wondered, fleetingly, if that soft dark sensuality she'd awakened in him in the cozy decadence of her bedchamber was what mystics meant when they spoke of a soul.

(Nan, my riverbird.)

(I never told you I loved you.)

(If I say it now, will you hear?)

He walked on, and Nandi's specter, like her bangles, fell silent.

Another silhouette. He didn't recognize the child who rose up from the shadows. A slender slip of a girl, with a tumble of dark curls, and a mouth full of laughter, and eyes like the sea, blue and changeable. In his bones, Silco knew she belonged to him. He was twenty-nine, a father for a single day, and a widower forever, his newborn stolen before she'd even known the cradle in his arms, and in her loss left him dumbstruck that a life so tiny could blast a world apart.

She'd never know him. He'd never know her. But he carried her in his black heart all the same.

(My little girl, my lost one.)

(Forgive me.)

(Forgive me for the sin of never mourning you.)

He walked on. The shadow-child, silent, danced off into the dark.

One by one, they came. The shades of a life unlived. Silco bore the weight of each. Not out of penance. But to remember. To carry, forward, the imprint of all these people, and paths, and possibilities, that'd shaped him into the man, and that man into the monster. They were Silco's memories, and Silco's mistakes.

And now, at the end, Silco was ready to make them right.

At last, his shadow came.

At his side, a young man. Slender as an eel, his shoulders sinewy with muscle, tapering into a supple waist and narrow hips. His boots made no sound as he prowled, shoulder-to-shoulder, beside the man who'd caged him, crushed him, and, finally, cut him to pieces. A pair of black-fringed blue eyes, sharp with mockery, flicked his way.

They shared the same stride. The same smile. But not the same scars.

(I never hated you, boy.)

(Only the weakness bred into your blood.)

(That's why I made you strong. I know you never forgave me. But that's fine.)

(Because you never forgot, either.)

The young man tossed his head back, and a curl of black hair cut slantwise across his smile.

"You still don't understand shit, old man."

"True," Silco said to himself. "But I'm learning."

He walked on. The shadow on the path was his alone.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Can I just say I love how like, into revisiting and analysing this dumb show’s scenes you still are — with the rise in popularity of streaming (I’m sure this has something to do with it, anyway) it’s become more and more commonplace for people to consume a piece of media, enjoy it, get bored of it after a while and never touch it again after moving on to the next new thing. It’s so wholesome and refreshing to see people still be so passionate and always find something new to talk about a show that, for all many of us care, ended 8 years ago. I do move in and out of being obsessed and disinterested with the media I’ve enjoyed, but in a world where I’m constantly seeing people say “oh you’re a fan of [X]? But that’s old :/“ (mostly about something that finished like last year lol) your blog is a breath of fresh air :)

Well thank you 🥹

The thing is, I get it. I get why and how people move on to different fandoms so quickly, and I don't really think poorly of that or anything. It's been almost a decade and it's easy to fall out of love with something after so long. Hell, when you think about it, this fandom has outlived the lifespan of a lot of entire relationships people have had 🥴. People find new things to get excited over and the *gasp* feeling of finding this new /thing/ is always fun. So I do get it.

But for me, it's just not that way. It's not that simple. Not because I think I'm somehow special (maybe a lil deranged 😬), but rather that's just how I operate. Before Clexa the only other ship I ever really cared about was Willara from Buffy which I watched when I was a goddamn teenager lol (RIP to my fellow gays always falling for girls who get shot ✊😔). I just don't get attached much to characters and ships. Usually ai like them in passing, enjoy watching them, and then that's... it. Tibette from the L Word. Wayhaught. Brittana. I like them and I follow them, but there's no real desire to delve deeper beneath the surface.

And then something like Clexa comes around and just absolutely fucks me up. It hits me and connects with me in a way that I just can't shake. Watching the show isn't enough. Thinking about it isn't enough. I have to discuss it and dissect it and fill in the gaps that we didn't see, and read and (now) create more stories for them just to understand everything about them to a deeper degree.

So few characters really elicit that kind of connection, but Clexa do. Even for a lot of the people who have moved on, at one time they felt that connection. Clexa was a fuckin madhouse for years and I think the fact that even still to this day people keep discovering and rediscovering them and falling in love with them all over again speaks volumes about just how wonderful that relationship and those characters actually were.

Especially Lexa.

Now, I love Clarke. I make it known that thiiiisss is a Clarke Griffin apologist's blog. That feral little kitten has never done anything wrong in her life. Ever. Including all of the terrible things she's done, as well as the many, many things that were flat out wrong. She is still innocent. She is only a baby. A murderous, tormented, compassionate, complex babygirl. So never get it twisted that I'm saying Clarke is somehow lesser than, but when push comes to shove when we're talking about baseline complexity, there is no character like Lexa. There's just not.

This woman was definition of doomed by the narrative. A child stolen away to be used as a glorified sacrificial lamb for her people. A toddler wielding a sword made of wood taller than her own tiny body, trained to accept her own life as expendable for the greatest good of her people before even learning her ABCs. She took the throne at 12 bby slaughtering her only companions and made her death mask out of kohl and fallen tears. Every person she ever loved as a mother, father, brother, either died for her, or by her own hand. The only two people she ever dared to be weak for were torn from her in the name of politics and the weight of her own bloodied crown. Under all the regalia she was just Lexa. Heda, always surrounded by her people and yet eternally just a lonely soul. Born here on Earth, raised to eventually die for others, left to rule over the people on the ground as best she knew how.

And yet through the pain, she was strong. So fucking strong it emboldened the warriors around her. She was brave, and lethal, and unyielding in her pursuit of peace. Meeting every push against her forward march to change head on, never flinching in her own brutality along the way. She knew that she was born for this; believed the black of her blood to be every bit as much of a blessing as it was a curse. Even when people doubted her and did their best to end her reign, Lexa always came out swinging.

She loved hard and kicked ass even harder, is what I'm saying. And the fact that they took a character like that and ended her so fucking carelessly? I just... I'm gonna be pissed off about that for a very long time. And until I'm no longer pissed off about that, I'll be here running mouth about it 🥴 probably still trying to make it better by writing her and the love of her life in as many stories as I can, so they can finally get the happy ending that was robbed of them in canon 🫡

[honeybeefae]

Congratulations on 2k followers! We absolutely love you and what you write for us. We appreciate you and everything you do! For your ask spree, what if Lucien was appointed High Lord of Day Court but tradition states that to make it official he has to consummate the union with his Queen. And they’re mates or the reader is given to him and they’re both nervous and holding back but really want it. I don’t really know just drama and smut ensue 🔥

(I hope this is okay and it was so much fun to write and I wanted to write more but it was already nine pages long)

Royal Duties (Lucien Vanserra x Reader)

WARNINGS: Arranged marriage, worries over abuse, SMUT, 18+, super sweet, loss of virginity?

All eyes were on you as you were presented before the new High Lord of the Day Court, Lucien Vanserra. He had just recently taken over after the death of his father and although he was able to pick up on things rather quickly, the fine print of his crown made him raise his eyebrows.

It was written that the next in line to be the High Lord must not only take a Lady but also consummate the marriage. This was to ensure that the line would not end and that the thrones never sat empty. Lucien could have his pick of any court member or even one of his subjects in the villages. It was all within his hands.

And he had picked you.

You did not know why and had spent the better half of last night and this morning trying to figure it out. He had chosen you out of a lineup of noblewomen in the court, not even sparing a glance at the others once his gaze fell on you.

As far as you knew, he didn’t even know your name. This complete stranger had turned your world upside down with a point of his finger and wave of his hand. You were still coming to terms with it as your ladies dressed you in the court’s colors, making sure not a hair was out of place as the veil was draped over your head.

“My Lady, you are a vision.” Yuri smiled as she fixed the train of your dress. “Our High Lord will be most pleased in your attire.”

“Most pleased indeed.” Savit agreed, finishing the final touches of kohl and powder. You gazed at your reflection and barely recognized the woman staring back at you. The one in the mirror was fierce and beautiful, a true Lady of the Day Court. But that wasn’t who you were.

“Is he…” You swallowed as your voice squeaked in nervousness. “Have you heard anything bad about him? Does he treat…people like us fairly?”

Savit caught onto your worries and ran a soothing hand down your arm. “He is a good man, my Lady. He will treat you well.”

The words gave you some comfort but it all disappeared when you heard a knock and saw the advisors waiting for you with pleasant smiles on their faces. You almost tripped over your own feet as you followed behind them, the grand doors to the ballroom waiting to open for you.

“Good luck my Lady.” They bowed slightly just as the doors opened, revealing a room full of your family, friends, and other people of the court. You stood there for a moment, too scared to move, until you looked up at the front of the room.

Lucien was standing there, a vision of his own as the white robe clung to his body like water. His hair was halfway tied up and his golden crown was atop his head, matching the color of his mechanical eye. He was staring at you, drinking you in just the same, and gave a small smile when your eyes finally connected with his.

Something in his aura told you it was going to be okay and so you took a deep breath, held your head high, and gracefully walked up the steps until you were facing him. Golden light filled the room as the priestess said her words, both of you tuning her out as he held your hands.

His thumb was stroking the back of your knuckles in comfort when she finally ended her prayer, looking at the two of you expectedly. Your eyebrows were knitted in confusion until Lucien gingerly dropped your hands and lifted the veil off your face to reveal yourself to him.

Your very breath was stolen from your lungs as he gave you a wider smile, turning to grab the crown on the pillow beside the priestess and placing it atop your head.

He pulled away and admired you as the entire room erupted in applause, your heartbeat drowning out everyone as Lucien bent down and gave you a simple kiss on your lips.

It made your mouth tingle as he pulled away and you had to resist the urge to touch your lips where he had just been. You could feel him watching you as you turned to the room and gave them a smile and a wave, both of your hands conjoined as you walked down the steps and back through the doors you came from.

After that you barely had time to converse with your new husband as you got introduced to everyone in court, all of them bowing and offering bountiful gifts of different sizes and shapes. A grand buffet was served almost immediately and you noticed it had some of your favorite foods along with Lucien’s.

You didn’t have much time to eat though because the music started up and the festivities went in full swing. People were dancing, drinking, and dining while you were being whisked all around the room so much that you thought you would get whiplash. 

The entire night was like a dream and you found yourself actually enjoying his company. He was funny and sarcastic, whispering jokes into your ear about certain members of the court as they approached you. You were pleased to notice that he seemed to enjoy you as well, the two of you conversing easily over many different subjects.

Everything was going great until you heard an advisor stand up, his glass raised, and shout, “To the marriage bed!”

It was luck that you hadn’t eaten much because as soon as those words registered in your head, you felt your stomach drop with nerves. Your mother and sisters had given you a brief explanation of what would happen tonight, telling you it was not very pleasurable but to grin and bear it for the new High Lord.

They had warned you of pain and bleeding but had made clear that you should not cry. You felt your hands go clammy as Lucien grew distant immediately, dropping your hand and frowning. Did he not want this? Were you not desirable?

“Off you go, we must hurry!” One of your ladies whispered into your ear, taking your arm and gently leading you to a side room. You turned to look for Lucien, uncertainty in your eyes as he watched them lead you out.

“I thought he would be taking me here, Yuri.” You mumble as you are brought into a grand bedroom with a four-poster bed. 

“He will meet you here later.” She assured you as she began to undo the ties of your gown. “We need to get you oiled and ready for him before then.”

“Does he not do all that?” Your voice was laced with confusion and concern as the dress fell off your body, leaving you in the lacy undergarments they had put you in earlier that day. Savit took the dress and laid it on a hook, shaking her head at your naivety. 

“No, my Lady, he-” She began only to jump in fear when she heard the door open up. All three of you turned and were shocked to see Lucien standing there, his lean frame resting against the doorframe.

“Leave us, please.” He ordered. Both Yuri and Savit stood immediately, bowing their heads and gathering their things quickly. You were near trembling when the door shut behind them. It was the first time you had been alone with him.

“Do you, um, I just,” You were fumbling over your words as you wrapped your arms around your body. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“I won’t touch you if you do not want to be touched,” Lucien assured, walking towards you in two long strides. “I do not want to force you to do anything of that sort, though I realize the irony of that statement given our quick marriage.”

The corners of your lips turned up in a smile. “It’s not that. My mother told me what would happen tonight.”

“Do you not know yourself?” His voice had dropped an octave, realization dawning on him. “Have you not been with any man? Or woman?”

Embarrassment made your cheeks heat up as you shook your head once, fiddling with a stray string on your panties. “No. I haven’t. Does that displease you?”

“Displease me?” Lucien chuckled in disbelief, shaking his head in bewilderment. “Displease me? What about you? Mother above, I picked you because you seemed smart and capable and beautiful, I just assumed you had lovers before…and for this to be your first time?”

He began to pace around the room as if he were battling with his inner morals. You felt guilty for making him upset or whatever emotion he was currently experiencing. You let out a breath and reached out for his arm, stopping him midstep. Lucien’s eyes instantly fell on your body, his skin turning warm from arousal at the sight of you.

“I will be fine, Lucien. I promise.” You gave his arm a tiny squeeze. “Shall we get on with it?”

You didn’t wait for him to confirm, too afraid you were going to lose your nerves, as you climbed atop the bed and laid on your back. According to your mother, this was the position that would hurt the least. Lucien watched you with amusement as you situated yourself between the pillows, noticing the slight shakiness of your hands.

It wasn’t until you began to pull down your underwear that he stopped you, following you up the bed and gently grabbing your wrists. “You look absolutely silly, Y/N.”

“I’m not trying to look silly.” You huffed in frustration. “My mother told me this is how it is done. I lay here, you do something down there and I just look up at the ceiling. Simple as that.”

“Cauldron save me…” Lucien mumbled under his breath. “I’m sure that some people do it that way but this is supposed to be pleasurable for the both of us.”

“That’s not what I was told.” You purse your lips, rising up on your elbows. “Are those men still coming to watch?”

His frown returned as he rolled his eyes, the mechanical one whirring. “Unfortunately but these curtains will be drawn so they will not see you or I. I want you to feel as comfortable as you can tonight.”

“Really?” You ask with a raise of your brow, smiling as he gave you a sincere nod. “Well, if you truly mean what you say, could you, um, show or maybe tell me what it’s supposed to be like? I was told there will be pain and if I am being truthful, I do not deal with pain that well.”

The air between the two of you seemed to shift as his gaze darkened. “I have no problem showing you what your body and mine can do, but I need your consent first. This should not be out of force of duty.”

“Consent to what, exactly?” You breathed as he hungrily drank in your body once more. 

“To touch you, Y/N,” He replied huskily, raising a hand and skimming his knuckle down your arm. Goosebumps followed in his wake and you felt small tingles of excitement going down your spine. “To taste you, to make love to you…”

“Do I have your permission?” 

“Yes.” 

Your reply was instantaneous as was the kiss that followed. He tipped your chin so you were looking up at him, his body hovering over yours as his lips pressed against you. It felt like fireworks this time instead of tingles, the kiss was deeper and longer than before.

He tasted like sunlight and cinnamon, an intoxicating combination that made you crave more. When he tried to pull away you surprised yourself and him by throwing your arms around his neck, bringing him back to you.

“I didn’t know you would be so eager.” Lucien teased as he nipped at your bottom lip. Your thighs pressed together in need as he trailed his lips from your mouth to your ear. “However, I must say it is a good look on you.”

“Please, Lucien.” You panted, not even sure what you were truly asking for. It was like your body was on fire and his lips were the only thing that could put it out. 

“What do you need, my lady?” He asked you, appearing in your field of vision once more. “What do you want me to show you?”

“Everything, just, please! Please touch me!” You whined. 

One of his hands trailed down your neck, his fingertips ghosting over your skin until he brushed against one of your clothed nipples. It made you suck in a breath when he pulled on it, testing your reaction.

Lucien’s pupils were blown wide as he had you raise up and remove your bra. You threw it somewhere to the side, your body buzzing with excitement as he licked his lips at the sight of your bare breasts.

“You are gorgeous…” He hummed as he took both of them into his hands, squeezing the flesh while watching you bite your lip in need. Slowly, with his eyes focused on you, he took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked. You couldn’t hold back the moan in your throat at his action, your eyes closing as he lavished you with attention.

“Feels so good.” You praised, fists clenching the sheets as he moved to the other one. The panties you were wearing were wet with your arousal, something that had only happened to you during your dreams, and the lacy material kept rubbing against you in a way that was making you wild.

You hadn’t even noticed you were grinding your hips until Lucien placed a firm hand on your stomach, holding you still. 

“What are you doing down here, princess?” He asked you, his voice teasing. The nickname was unexpected but it made your stomach fill with butterflies. 

“I…I don’t know.” You looked away, ashamed, while closing your legs tightly. “It just felt good.”

His hands came up and pried your thighs apart, admiring the way your cunt glistened in the candlelight of the room. Lucien’s chest rumbled with satisfaction as you allowed him to touch you, his jaw clenching at just how soaked you truly were.

“I’m gonna show you how good you can feel, Y/N.” He growled, peeling your panties off and stuffing them into his robe pocket for later. You tensed, watching him with uncertainty until the first swipe of his tongue had you melting into the bed.

“Oh, Lucien…” You sighed, the feeling foreign but good. He wrapped both of his arms under your thighs and held them apart so he could feast on you, his tongue darting in and out of your hole before coming back up to your clit.

When he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue you almost jumped in surprise. You heard a small chuckle from him as he repeated the action but this time, this time you moaned loudly. 

“Right there, please.” You pleaded, your face flushed with desire and embarrassment. Logically you should be horrified that he would be anywhere near your sex. It was something you had thought was taboo, or at least had been told, but this pleasure he was giving you made it go out the window. You were on a euphoric high.

As he continued you felt something building up inside you. You started to squirm, wriggling your hips and even humping his face which he did not seem to mind at all. The pressure kept building and building and when you tried to pull away to explain, his hands roughly grabbed your ass and kept you still.

“Wait, Lucien, I feel like-” You tried to get out but then he started to suck on your clit, humming softly, and your entire body suddenly seized in pleasure. 

“Oh, oh!” You cried out, your core clenching as your hips rose high in the air as Lucien continued to eat you out. He drank every drop of your cum as you rode his face, your head thrown back in the pillows.

It was what you imagined heaven to feel like as he slowed down his licks, pulling away to gaze at you. Your hair was a mess, cheeks pink, eyes wide, and your mouth smiling as you stared up at the ceiling. 

“Are you okay?” He asked you, smiling when you rose up to look at him. 

“Can we do that again?”

[sp00kygoddessxx]

 🖤Dangerous Intentions🖤

The pirate camp was a cacophony of noise and debauchery, as Vaas and his men celebrated another successful raid. Drunken laughter and the clinking of bottles filled the air, creating an atmosphere of unrestrained chaos. You had found yourself at the heart of the revelry, sitting near Vaas himself, the man who had become both your captor and your fascination.

Vaas's wild, kohl-rimmed eyes bore into yours, a mixture of amusement and intensity flickering within them. His lips curled into a sinister grin as he leaned closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Cariño'," he purred, "you lookin' for a little fun tonight?"

You couldn't help but feel a shiver of anticipation as you met his gaze. Vaas had a reputation for unpredictability and cruelty, but you couldn't deny the strange allure he held over you.

"Maybe," you replied, your voice laced with a hint of flirtation. "But the question is, can you keep up with me?"

Vaas's grin widened, a sinister and seductive sight. He leaned in closer, his lips dangerously close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Oh, Cariño'," he whispered, "I can keep up with the best of 'em."

You felt a surge of attraction to this enigmatic man, a reckless magnetism that drew you further into his dangerous web.

With a swift and unexpected motion, Vaas's hand reached out and settled on your thigh, his touch electric. His fingers traced a slow, teasing path along your skin, igniting a fire within you. It was a bold move, but you weren't one to back down from a challenge.

Leaning closer, your lips brushed against Vaas's ear, your voice a sultry purr. "Prove it, Montenegro."

Vaas's laughter filled the air, a wild and maniacal sound that sent shivers down your spine. His hand slid higher along your thigh, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your skin. The chemistry between you and Vaas was undeniable, a magnetic pull that defied reason.

"Careful, Cariño'," Vaas said, his voice low and smoky. "You might just awaken a beast you can't handle."

You couldn't deny the dangerous allure of the man before you, and the world around you seemed to blur as you engaged in this intimate and dangerous dance of flirtation. The line between right and wrong had never been so blurry, and you were willing to play this dangerous game.

As the night continued, you and Vaas found yourselves at the heart of the chaos, flirting and teasing one another with increasing intensity. The tension between you was palpable, an intoxicating mix of desire and danger.

With each stolen glance and whispered innuendo, you felt the magnetic pull of Vaas Montenegro drawing you further into his enigmatic world. It was a world where the rules were undefined, and power and control were the ultimate currency.

But as the night wore on, Vaas's demeanor shifted, his playful and seductive demeanor turning more intense. His dark eyes bore into yours, filled with a smoldering fire that left you breathless.

"Cariño'," he said, his voice low and intimate, "you might just be the most dangerous thing I've come across in a long time."

You couldn't deny the surge of attraction that coursed through you, a reckless desire that left you craving more. The world around you had become a blur, and in this moment, there was nothing else but the magnetic pull of Vaas Montenegro.

With a final, heated glance, Vaas leaned in, his lips claiming yours in a passionate and demanding kiss. It was a kiss that defied reason, a reckless surrender to the allure of danger and desire.

When the kiss finally broke, you were left breathless and disoriented, your heart pounding in your chest. Vaas's dark eyes were locked onto yours, a mixture of desire and intensity in his gaze.

"Amor'," he said, his voice low and husky, "you've got a fire in you that I can't resist."

You could only respond with a sultry smile, your own desire mirrored in your eyes.

As the night wore on, you and Vaas continued to dance on the edge of danger, your attraction and chemistry reaching new heights. In this unpredictable and perilous world, you had been drawn into a dangerous game of desire and temptation, a game where the line between right and wrong blurred, and where power and control were the ultimate currency.

[bullet-prooflove]

LA!Series Part Three: Legacy - Manny x Reader

Tagging: @wnbweasley @darqchilddaydreamz @theesirenteller @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx

Manny’s adjusting the sleeves of his suit jacket when you step out of the bathroom, he looks up and it’s like someone has stolen all of the oxygen from his lungs. You’re clad in a sleeveless mini dress, adorned with a black and white Aztec pattern, the tattoos that decorate your arms on display. You’ve paired it with Black Doc Martens and a black leather jacket that clings to your form.

His thumb runs over the silver studs in your ear, the first a set of stars, the rest three tiny pin drops that decrease in size the higher they go.

“Very pretty.” He says, feeling something stir inside of him.

The whole thing is just so unapologetically you.

It’s outside the gallery that you falter, you step up to the door, your gaze lingering on the people on the other side and you just stop. His hand comes to rest on your lower back, his thumb tracing a soothing circle as your hand grasps the door handle.

“We don’t have to do this.” He says quietly.

You tilt your head towards him, your kohl lined eyes meeting his. He sees the trepidation in them, the indecision. This is a crossroads for you, you can either step forward and tell your story or you can run, the same way you have been since you were eighteen years old and newly turned out from the care system. Your grip on the handle tightens before you take a deep breath, allowing the oxygen to flood your lungs and walk inside.

You’re a hit, Manny knew you would be. He smiles, watching from a distance and sipping from a flute of Prosecco as you talk to a group of young people who accosted you on the way back from the bathroom. They’re just like you, he thinks creatives in the making. They show you their work, explaining the concepts and you take such interest, asking questions, pointing out the features you like.

In that moment he understands what it would be like to be loved by you, and he realises how much he wants that.

His attention wanders and he finds himself in front of your photographs. They’ve got a lot of attention tonight, people in the industry, alternatives, kids from the programs the studio hosts. He stands in a rare moment of quietness surveying them.

There’s a rawness in the images, it brings out the depth of the art styles, the reverence behind each and every one of them. There’s such beauty in these pieces. They all capture a moment, a snapshot in time where the past and the present merge together. Old techniques and new ink, clashing to create something real, something visceral.

This is your legacy, this passion project of yours.

This is you in all of your glory.

He sees it as clear as day.

When he looks at you again, it’s in a different light because you’re far more to him than just the woman he fucks. You’re the one that owns a piece of him.

When you’re asked to speak, he can tell you don’t expect it. A microphone is thrust into your hand, and you take up residence alongside your artwork, your gaze lingering over each of the images before you turn your attention to the small crowd. You clear your throat before your eyes come to rest on the kid in front of you, the one that’s been vying for your attention all night.

“People don’t realise how lonely it is being in foster care.” You find yourself saying. “How isolated you become, you feel like you don’t have anything to say and when you do, it feels like no one’s listening. For me photography became a way of expressing myself when I couldn’t use my voice. My pictures showed the world how I saw it when I couldn’t speak the words.”

You think of the feel of the camera in your hands, the way things just clicked into place for you. It was a polaroid; you remember the whir as the picture was spat out of that tiny slot. You were fifteen years old at the time.

“There weren’t art programs like this when I was in care, I stole my first camera from a guy who was paying me to model for him…” You trail off and there’s an agony in Manny’s chest because he knows the kind of shoots you’re talking about, how they start and how they finish. He wishes that hadn’t happened to you, that none of this had happened to you but that’s not your reality, it’s not his either. “I’m thankful that things have changed, that there are programs to assist young people who have faced the same things that I did. I hope that seeing my work shows you that there are opportunities for you out there, that your past doesn’t have to shape who you become.”

He's there when you hand the microphone back to the host. You come to stand beside him, your spine straight and your head held high. You’re withdrawing back into yourself, shutting him out, Manny can feel it. This is the most real you’ve been with anybody, and it takes courage to do what you’ve just done, to speak your truth.

“I’m proud of you Mami.” He says, his fingers seeking out yours. He squeezes your hand lightly and you squeeze back. “I think you’ve made a difference here tonight.”

Love Manny? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

skz prompt game!! i’ve got a request ;) image 4 prompts 32,33,38 and image 2 prompt 4! i’m thinking a seungmin/jeongin/fem!reader style thing! i love to see some maknae line representation 😏 especially in ur writing style! love u and ur work, jess! <3 - 🦊

SKZ Prompt Game

Prompts: "If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god."

"I'm going to put on some clothes before you say anything else."

"Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?"

"Excuse me, I have to go make a scene."

Members: Kim Seungmin, Yang Jeongin

Relationship: Burlesque Performers!FemReader x JeongMin

Genre: Fluff

"Guess what?" You flounce into the dressing room with a triumphant look on your face and a Cosmo in your hand.

"No." Seungmin replies back instantly, voice flat, face uninterested, as he leans forward to finish applying his makeup in the mirror.

You ignore his sour attitude, smirking slightly, as you lean your hip up against his vanity and watch him perfect his winged liner.

"It's a full house out there. Packed."

Jeongin appears at your side, stealing your drink from your fingers, ignoring your glare, as he takes a delicate sip and grins widely, arching a brow.

"Of course it's a fucking full house. All the best are here tonight."

You lean over Seungmin to grab a tube of lipstick out of his carefully organized makeup case, jabbing him with your elbow on purpose as you do so.

He flicks his dark eyes to yours in the mirror and stares you down, still crowded into his space.

"If you don't get your tits out of my face right now-"

You grin down at him and shake said tasseled tits in his face. "Oh, you mean these?"

He sighs as you finally straighten up and move to your own vanity, carefully applying the red stolen lipstick.

Jeongin finishes off your drink and sets down the empty glass, moving around you to sit down on the small couch to tug on his black heels.

You glance over at him as you finish your lips, a pout on your face.

"How is it fair that your ass looks that great in those pants?"

Jeongin grins, wiggling his brows at you, the dark kohl around his eyes darkening his pupils.

"I know right? I'm going to get so many fucking tips tonight."

Seungmin shoves back from his vanity, standing, as he tugs at the ropes of pearls draped around his long neck, adjusting the hem of his open vest as he glances between the two of you with something akin to irritation on his pretty features.

"Are you two going to banter like this all night?"

You give him a sly smile, moving to throw your arm around his shoulders as you nuzzle your nose into his neck, ignoring his attempts to push you away.

"You know it, babe."

You kiss his throat, leaving a red lipstick stain there, and he rolls his eyes.

Music and announcements echo down the hall from the main stage, and Jeongin stands, straightening his black leather pants so they hug his ass perfectly, adjusting the gold chain around his throat in front of the mirror.

He turns to the two of you, grinning, and motions with his head down toward the stage and the starting show.

"Excuse me, ladies, but I have to go make a scene."

Seungmin rolls his eyes as Jeongin disappears from view.

"Fuck. That means we have to control said scene, huh."

It's not a question.

You smirk at him and give him another quick kiss, pulling him along with you down the hall by the straps of his suspenders.

"On the contrary, baby boy. If we don't control the scene-or Jeongin-they're bound to make us a hell of a lot of money tonight."

********************************************************************************

"Introducing, the Songbird of Seoul himself-here to serenade us with his unmatched rendition of Love Poem-his unmatched vocals, raw talent, and stunning looks are sure to be a firecracker way to start off our show here tonight, ladies and gentlemen."

"And of course, not to be forgotten, our own lovely lady of the night, Mistress 9. Direct your eyes heavenward, beautiful audience, because she's about to descend like a dark angel from above and show you what those long legs and tiny waist can do for you-aerial style."

"Last, but certainly not least, we direct your eyes to the center of the stage, where the jewel of Seoul's performing scene stands ready to dazzle you with a routine he choreographed himself, the grand finale, give it up for the Maknae on Top!"

********************************************************************************

The show goes off without a hitch.

As it always does.

You are the best of the best after all.

After the rowdy audience has finally vacated, and no one is left but the small amount of staff, you let your facade drop, heaving out a long breath as you instantly lean over to unbind your ankles from the heavy, velvet manacles tightened around them.

You move to your wrists next, carefully placing the velvet ties, lined with lace, into the waiting box someone had brought out for you beside the stage.

You rub at the slightly reddened skin, stretching slightly, leaning over to once more take off your stilettos, and feel eyes on you.

Glancing up, you catch the eye of a guy you've never seen before-clearly a bouncer-frozen beside the stage, his shocked gaze clearly locked on your exposed breasts.

Bent over like this, you're sure it's quite the view.

His eyes finally drift to your face, and you smirk, raising a brow at him as you ask in a teasing purr, "Like what you see?"

The guy instantly goes ruddy, blushing heatedly, and looks away, clearing his throat in embarrassment, moving back to his job of stacking chairs.

You note appreciatively the way his arms flex every time he lifts another onto the pile.

"For the love of God, (Y/N), please don't embarrass another one of my bouncers into quitting." Chan, the owner and announcer, bemoans, appearing at your side, giving you a stern look as he lowers himself to hop down off the raised stage.

You laugh, straightening back up, the tassels that barely cover your nipples tinkling with the motion, and grin at Chan, giving him an innocent, wide eyed look in response as he begins to gather up the other props strewn around the club.

"He's cute, Channie. Where'd you find him?" You ask conversationally, kicking your heels to the side and breathing out a sigh of relief as your sore feet finally get to breathe.

"None of your business." Chan replies back grumpily, and you bite back another smile, because you've known him long enough to know he's all bark and no bite.

The bouncer gives you a sidelong glance again, and you move to the edge of the stage, sitting down, cocking your head as you study him.

He's definitely hot.

Large and muscular, dark hair sweeping into his eyes, a strong jaw.

"Am I allowed to at least talk to the new bouncer?" You ask Chan without really looking at him, catching the way the big guy blushes once more under your obvious stare.

Chan sighs, and you take that as the go ahead.

You swing your legs against the edge of the stage, playing with the ripped fish net tights that stretch across your thighs, and when he moves to stack another chair onto the growing pile, you ask curiously, "You got a name, new bouncer? Or are we all just referring to you as bouncer from now on?"

He glances up at you, meeting your eyes quickly before looking away with a harsh clear of his throat and a tug at his black turtleneck.

"Changbin."

"Changbin." You try it out on your tongue, and like the way it tastes. You glance over to Seungmin, who is currently busy straightening crumpled dollar bills and ask without preamble. "Seungie, are we looking for a fourth?"

You hear Changbin choke on his spit.

Chan's exasperation is practically palpable.

"Not actively." Seungmin remarks dryly without looking up from his task. He slides a glance over to Changbin and you see his brow tick slightly in interest. "But minds can change."

Jeongin appears then over Seungmin's shoulder, pulling wads of tips out of the tip hat sent around to each table.

He gives Changbin a sharp toothed grin, eyes alight, and you're sure he's taking stock of the way his muscles flex with his movements, just like you had moments ago.

He watches Changbin heave the stack of chairs easily against the wall, and heated interest suddenly sparks in his gaze, his grin growing predatory.

He's watching the new bouncer like he's his next meal, and you can't say you blame him.

"Are you trying to turn me on, new guy, or are you really just that oblivious?"

Changbin chokes again, going beet red, stuttering out something unintelligible, and Chan shuts one of the lids of the prop trunks a little too hard to be accidental.

"Okay, seriously?" He groans, glaring between the three of you. "Can't you all just behave for one night?"

"Of course they can't." Minho scoffs, polishing glasses behind the bar, not even looking up from his task as he addresses Chan. "Everyone who works here is a heathen."

"You work here, hyung." Jeongin points out cheekily, sliding down to sit beside you on the stage with a large grin in the bartender's direction.

"I know. And I'm no better than the rest of you." Minho remarks, and as if to prove his point, slaps one of the waiter's asses on his way by the counter, carrying a full tray of glasses.

Jisung yelps and glares at Minho, the tray rattling in his hands. "Hyung." He whines. "I could've dropped these!"

"And you'd clean them up too." Chan begrudges, dragging a full prop trunk past the disgruntled waiter and the smirking bartender.

"God, you guys are disgusting." Hyunjin remarks, making a face at Minho and Jisung, as he pushes past with his own tray of used glassware. "I hate it here."

"He doesn't mean that." Felix adds quickly, as Hyunjin disappears into the swinging doors that lead to the small kitchen.

"Yes, I do!" Hyunjin's voice drifts back out and Felix sighs, rolling his eyes and following the other waiter into the back with the rest of the dirty dishes.

"Regardless-" Chan says, reappearing from the storage area, a serious, business like look on his features that you all recognize. "-We need to talk about a few new acts for the show. We need to keep our stuff fresh to attract more customers-"

Everyone in collective hearing range groans.

"God, hyung, you're literally no fun." Jisung complains, before he escapes to the back to help wash dishes with Hyunjin and Felix.

You don't blame him.

Everyone knows anything is better than listening to Chan give one of his 'dad' talks.

"No, but seriously-" Chan protests, as people resume what they were doing, Minho moving further away to wash down alcohol bottles, Seungmin pulling his mic to the side to begin to clean it.

"Oh my god." Jeongin groans, looking heavenward as if any god within hearing range will spare him from Chan's onslaught. "I'm going to die."

"Jeongin, you specifically-" Chan turns on the youngest member of your troupe, and you take the opportunity to quietly slip off the stage and tiptoe back toward the dressing rooms.

"Please, hyung, just kill me. It would hurt less and be way less boring."

"If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god-"

Your foot hits a creak on the floor, and you instantly freeze, grimacing.

"(Y/N)." Chan's voice echoes out behind you, and you wince, turning to him with an innocent look and a sugar sweet smile. "We need to talk about a new aerial routine-"

You hold up a hand. "I'm going to put on some clothes before you say anything else."

Behind the bar, Minho snorts.

You can feel Changbin watching you as you walk away.

********************************************************************************

Changbin catches up to the three of you as you leave through the back door into the dark alleyway behind the club, your breath frosting in the early winter air.

"Hey, wait-"

"Fuck!" Jeongin jumps and swears, whirling around as you all turn to see the thick bouncer behind you. "Scared the shit out of me, man!"

Changbin's face grows apologetic. "Sorry, but I just-"

Seungmin tugs his coat up further around his throat and shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, and when he speaks, his voice comes out as a sort of high, nervous squeak, "We were just joking about the fourth thing."

You smirk at the bouncer over his shoulder. "I wasn't."

"What? No-" Changbin's face grows red, and then he shakes his head quickly, stepping forward and holding out his hand without really looking at any of you. "Chan just sent me after you to return this, said one of you left it behind."

There's a phone held in his large palm, and instantly, you feel Seungmin breathe a sigh of relief as he sags against you.

Jeongin pushes past the two of you, taking the phone from the bouncer's hand with a slight smirk as their fingers brush purposefully.

"Thanks, big boy. I would forget my head if it weren't attached to me."

Changbin's blush grows even deeper at Jeongin's casual use of the nickname.

You grin and tilt your head, studying him. "Wanna get drinks with us?"

Changbin's head jerks up, and his eyes grow slightly wide, before he's hurriedly shaking his head.

"I shouldn't, I should probably stay and fill out paperwork-"

He glances back toward the door that leads to the club, but his body language tells you he wants nothing more than to accept your invitation.

"God, you're already beginning to sound like Chan-hyung." Jeongin gripes, stepping around you to take hold of the bouncer's burly upper arm, and you don't miss the way he gets in a few appreciative squeezes as he pulls the man back toward you. "C'mon, big boy, live a little. He won't kill you if you do your paperwork tomorrow."

"He might." Seungmin deadpans, but there's a hint of a smile on his lips as he watches the unsure bouncer held in Jeongin's grip.

"We wouldn't let him." You assure with a slight smile and an arch of your brow, and Changbin's chest rises and falls with a sigh.

"Okay, if you're sure-"

Jeongin's face lights up with a grin, and he pulls Changbin with you down the alley.

"Of course we're sure!"

"He's definitely going to kill us for this, you know." Seungmin says under his breath, as the two of you trail behind the chattering Jeongin and the long suffering Changbin.

You shrug and give him a sidelong smirk, looping your arm with his as you walk.

"He can't. Not if he really cares about the club and making money. We're his best after all."

Seungmin hums in some sort of affirmation beneath his breath. "Yeah, I guess."

You tug him closer to you and snuggle against his side, the soft fur of his long coat brushing your cheek.

Your gaze drifts to the large bouncer walking in front of you, and your lips curve up into a smirk.

"From what I gathered, the new guy really likes tassels."

Seungmin huffs a little chuckle out his nose. "Yeah?"

You grin and look up at him. "Yeah. Can't wait to show him our impressive collection."

Seungmin's lips quirk into the hint of a dry smile and he rolls his eyes as you laugh and rib his side.

"Luckily for him, he's chosen the right profession then, hasn't he?

[toorumochi]

"𝕿𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖞: 𝕬 𝕻𝖎𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖊’𝖘 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖊"

A Karushuu Pirate x Prince AU

@akabane-yum if you see this, no you didn’t.

In a world where royal lineage clashes with pirate rebellion, two unlikely souls are entangled in a web of fate. As ancient feuds simmer and alliances teeter on the brink of collapse, a prince and a pirate must navigate treacherous waters of love, loyalty and longing. Bound by destiny yet torn apart by circumstance, their story unfolds amidst a backdrop of adventure, danger and forbidden desire.

In a tale as old as time, Gakushuu Asano, a scion of a royal lineage, and Karma Akabane, born into the infamous ranks of a pirate clan, found themselves locked in a generations-old feud. Initially, their animosity towards each other ran deep, both harbouring a visceral disdain that seemed insurmountable. However, fate intervened one fateful day when their paths converged at a bustling port on a remote island.

Bound by a fragile truce enforced by the island's formidable locals, the families of Gakushuu and Karma were compelled to set aside their longstanding grievances. The imminent threat of the islanders' prowess in combat loomed large, serving as a deterrent against any acts of aggression between the warring factions.

It was amidst this uneasy peace that Gakushuu's perception of Karma underwent a profound transformation. Observing the pirate's striking resemblance to his father, the prince found himself inexplicably drawn to Karma's rugged charm and rebellious spirit. There was an undeniable allure to Karma's rough-edged exterior—a magnetism that stirred within Gakushuu an unexpected and tumultuous attraction. 

Karma Akabane, the son of the most powerful pirate captain known to roam the seven seas, at the mere age of 19, embodies the definitive pirate aesthetic with the weather-beaten tricorn hat, tilted daringly to one side, and decorated with a crimson feather. His once-pristine white shirt, now bearing the marks of countless battles, is adorned with faded embroidery and ragged sleeves, while a leather vest, weathered and worn, boasts brass buttons etched with intricate sea monster designs.

Burgundy trousers, rolled up at the cuffs, and a midnight-coloured coat with gleaming gold trim complete his ensemble. Multiple belts and sashes cinch his waist, each laden with pouches containing the tools and treasures of a true pirate, while beaded necklaces strung with seashells, pearls, and ancient coins adorn his neck. His fingers glitter with rings bearing emblems and gemstones, a symbol of his status and prowess.

Karma's bronzed, weathered skin, long crimson red hair cascading like molten gold, kohl-smudged eyes gleaming with mischief, and a grin revealing teeth as sharp as cutlasses, speak of a life lived on the edge of danger and adventure, with scars as souvenirs of battles fought and won, displaying strength and tenacity in the face of trouble.

As Gakushuu watches, he sees Karma's father laughing with him, playfully taking back the tricorn hat he had placed on Karma's head, revealing beneath it a bandana, a symbol of their legacy of piracy that runs deep within their bloodline.

 

One morning, Gakushuu spotted Karma snatching a handful of fruits from a stall before darting out of sight behind the nearby booths. He decided to follow him up until he couldn’t see him anymore. The streets were crowded so it was hard to see.

Suddenly someone grabbed him by the arm, pulling him somewhere. Gakushuu was ready to fight back, but the person put their hand on his mouth to keep him quiet.

It was Karma, who was calmly grinning and eating the stolen apple with one hand and with the other, he held Gakushuu in place. 

As Gakushuu's eyes widened in surprise, Karma's mischievous grin only grew wider. The two boys stood in a hidden alleyway, away from the bustling streets of the port. Gakushuu's heart raced, unsure of what Karma had planned.

"Shh," Karma whispered, removing his hand from Gakushuu's mouth. "I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't cause any trouble for our families. The locals here are no joke, and I don't want to risk any fights breaking out."

Gakushuu's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why would you care about that? We've always been enemies, haven't we?"

Karma chuckled, taking another bite of the stolen apple. "Yeah, we have. But that doesn't mean I want to see you get hurt. Besides, it's more fun to mess with you when we're not fighting."

Gakushuu's cheeks flushed slightly at Karma's words, a mix of annoyance and intrigue swirling within him. He couldn't deny that something was captivating about the pirate's carefree attitude and rebellious nature.

"I don't need your protection," Gakushuu retorted, crossing his arms defiantly. "I can handle myself just fine."

Karma raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Oh, I know you can. But that doesn't mean I can't lend a hand now and then. Plus, it's not like I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I just don't want any interruptions when I finally defeat you."

Gakushuu's lips curled into a smirk, a challenge gleaming in his eyes. "Defeat me? We'll see about that, pirate."

Karma's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I look forward to it, prince."

He released Gakushuu, who felt a subtle stirring of arousal, though he adamantly refused to acknowledge it.

Despite their families' long-standing feud, there was an undeniable spark between them. It was a connection that neither of them could fully understand, but one that seemed to draw them together despite the odds stacked against them.

As the days passed on the bustling island port, Gakushuu was unable to shake the memory of his encounter with Karma in the hidden alleyway. There was something about the pirate boy that intrigued him, something that stirred emotions within him that he had never experienced before.

Meanwhile, Karma couldn't seem to get Gakushuu out of his mind either. The image of the prince's defiant smirk and challenging gaze lingered in his thoughts, igniting a fire within him that he couldn't extinguish.

It was on one fateful evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, that their paths crossed once again.

Gakushuu was wandering the crowded streets of the port, lost in thought as he pondered the events of the past few days.

He had tried to push thoughts of Karma from his mind, to focus on his duties as a prince and the expectations placed upon him by his family, but the boy seemed to haunt his every waking moment.

Suddenly, he caught sight of a familiar figure up ahead, his heart skipping a beat as he realized who it was. Karma was once again standing at the edge of the bustling marketplace, his eyes scanning the crowd with a mischievous glint.

Without hesitation, Gakushuu made his way towards him, his footsteps quickening with each step. He wasn't sure what compelled him to seek out Karma, to seek out the very person who was supposed to be his enemy, but he couldn't deny the pull that drew him to the pirate boy like a magnet.

As he drew closer, Karma turned and spotted him, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, look who decided to grace me with their presence," he said, his voice laced with amusement.

Gakushuu rolled his eyes, trying to mask the fluttering feeling in his chest with a look of indifference. "Don't get too excited, pirate. I'm only here to make sure you're not causing any trouble, once again."

Karma chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded Gakushuu with a playful glint in his eyes. "Ah, but where's the fun in that? Besides, I thought we already established that I’m up to nothing strange."

Gakushuu bristled at Karma's words, a surge of irritation coursing through him. "That doesn't mean I have to stand by and watch as you wreak havoc on this island."

Karma raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, so now you're concerned about the well-being of this island? How noble of you, prince."

Gakushuu scowled, his cheeks flushing with anger. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for the people who call this place home, people who deserve better than to be caught in the crossfire of our family's feud."

For a moment, there was a flicker of something in Karma's eyes, a hint of vulnerability that took Gakushuu by surprise. But before he could dwell on it further, the moment passed and Karma's usual smirk returned, his mask firmly back in place.

"Well, aren't you just full of surprises, prince," Karma said, his tone teasing. "But enough talk. How about we make a deal? You let me go about my business, and I promise not to cause any trouble for your 'precious island'."

Gakushuu hesitated, torn between his duty as a prince and the strange connection he felt with Karma. In the end, curiosity won out, and he found himself nodding in agreement. 

"Fine," he said, his voice firm. "But don't think for a second that I'm letting my guard down around you, pirate. I'll be keeping a close eye on you."

Karma grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I wouldn't expect anything less, prince. After all, where's the fun in a little competition without a bit of tension?"

With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Gakushuu standing alone in the bustling marketplace. As he watched Karma go, a strange mixture of emotions washed over him, leaving him feeling both exhilarated and unnerved.

Amidst the longstanding rivalry between their families, their fathers found themselves ensconced in a local bar, their laughter and camaraderie echoing into the early hours of dusk. 

Gakushuu observed Karma from across the room, perched in a secluded corner, thoroughly entertained by the adoration of the town's girls. His charm was palpable, he even gifted one of his penknifes to one of the girls.

Gakushuu couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy—not for the girls themselves, but for Karma.

Meanwhile, amidst the joviality of the bar, a young sailor approached Gakushuu's table, his intent clear as he sought an opportunity to secure a position aboard Captain Asano's esteemed ship. Such a feat was no easy task, as the entire port was aware of the formidable challenge it presented.

Despite the sailor's persistent flattery, Gakushuu's attention wandered, inevitably drawn back to Karma's table. Their gazes met fleetingly before being interrupted by the sudden clamour of the girls surrounding Karma. With infectious laughter and playful tugs, they whisked him away towards a concealed doorway, leaving Gakushuu momentarily captivated by the sight.

As Karma disappeared into the throng of giggling girls, he threw a small wink in Gakushuu's direction—a gesture that sent a flurry of emotions coursing through him. Confusion mingled with excitement as Gakushuu grappled with the unfamiliar sensations stirring within him, unsure of what lay ahead in this unexpected entanglement with the enigmatic pirate.


As the night wore on, Gakushuu found himself unable to shake the image of Karma's mischievous grin and captivating presence. He couldn't understand why he was so drawn to someone from the enemy camp, someone who had caused him so much frustration and anger in the past.

Unable to resist the pull any longer, Gakushuu excused himself from the sailor and made his way towards the door Karma had disappeared behind. He pushed it open cautiously, unsure of what he would find on the other side.

—————————————————————————

You can continue reading the rest of this fanfic on my AO3 if you're interested!

[zoeyslament]

feels like pornography (watching you try on jeans)

Estelle is not a fan of clothes shopping, but Zoey insists on dragging her through store after store. Only once they hit the dressing rooms do things get heated.

Estelle had hated clothes shopping since youth. She remembered those long days, clutching her grandfather’s hand as he dragged her through Macy’s or Kohl’s, throwing only the comfortable clothing into the cart, because god knew she would refuse to try on anything made of denim. As she aged, she stopped going to those sorts of places, instead choosing to thrift as much as she could. In adulthood, she could count on one hand the amount of shopping trips she’d been on.

And yet here she was: 23 and being dragged by one hand through Target. 

“Zoeyyyyyy!” Estelle whined. “Are you almost done?” She pouted, toddler-style, as the brunette’s head popped out from behind a rack. 

“Look at these pants, bub.” Zoey held out a pair of jeans, and Estelle stuck her tongue out in protest. “Oh come on, you think they’ll make my ass look fat?”

“No?”

Zoey looked displeased. 

“I mean yes, definitely.”

“Good.” She tossed them into the cart. “I need a top to go with it…” She practically purred, turning around to a rack of floral crop-tops. “One of these? Estelle, are you even listening?”

Estelle was not, in fact, listening. “Yeah, yeah, um, we’ve been here for nearly two hours, and uh…”

Zoey laughed and took her girlfriend by both hands, kissing her gently on the forehead. “I know, babe, I know. But, look how fucking hot these are gonna look on me. Changing rooms?” 

Estelle trudged behind her like a child five minutes away from a temper tantrum. Zoey shoved the cartful of clothing up into the changing room. “Will you be joining me, darling?”

That was enticing…

“I think I will, princess!” She said cheerily. She trailed along behind her lover, smiling as she caught the playful roll of Zoey’s eyes. “What, not the time?”

“Careful what you wish for.” She shut the door behind them and Estelle plopped down on the bench. “Now, I didn’t think you were into that sort of thing but if you were, I wouldn’t complain.” 

Estelle’s face flushed. “Jesus! I wasn’t- no, no- I didn’t-!” Zoey smirked, satisfied. “Oh yeah? Tell that to your cheeks, babe. You look like a cherry.” She gave her girlfriend’s nose a little boop and moved closer to the mirror, unbuttoning her pants.

“You gonna watch?” She teased again, and Estelle turned away, only to sneak a glance back at Zoey, who was standing in her panties and bra. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

Wild thoughts ran through her head, none of which were safe for work, or anywhere but the bedroom, really. Moments later, another stolen glance revealed Zoey in a skin-tight top and booty shorts, and Estelle felt her knees go weak. Oh my god, oh my god-

“You look amazing…” She managed to spit out. “God, baby…how did I manage to end up with you? You are so out of my league and yet here…here we are.”

Zoey turned away from the mirror to smile at her lover. “I don’t know either. There’s just something about you…” She sauntered over, hips swinging side to side in a way that made Estelle’s heart leap. “You just gonna sit there?”

“N-no…” She hesitated. She shakily got to her feet, looking into Zoey’s pretty green eyes, big and warm and flecked with gold. It was hard to ignore the pounding in her chest, the way her cheeks heated up, the way a warm feeling had begun to form in her lower belly, as she reached for Zoey, arms wrapping around her neck and pulling her in for a kiss.

Their lips met, and immediately their tongues began a frenzied dance, some sort of weird, wet, aroused tango. Estelle wound her hands into Zoey’s hair, painfully aware of Zoey’s hands on her lower back, slipping under her sweater and gliding across her skin, leaving a trail of heat wherever they went. 

“What’s the matter, pretty girl?” Zoey smirked against Estelle’s mouth. She ran her tongue over the ginger’s bottom lip, weakly pushing its way in. Estelle shuffled her feet, moving to grasp onto Zoey’s shirt. 

Estelle had adopted a rather wide stance, so as to keep her balance. This gave Zoey a perfect opportunity to stick her knee between the shorter woman’s thighs. Estelle let out a short, squeaky moan, grinding down on her with an excited, but gentle force.

“Oh, someone’s enjoying herself…” Zoey teased. “You needed this, didn’t you?”

What was Estelle meant to say? ‘Yeah, I haven’t done this with you since we got drunk on our third date because I’ve been too scared to ask for it?’ She settled for a simple grunted response. Zoey made a kind of ‘tsk tsk’ noise, and continued to make out with her lover, pressing her tongue between her now wide open lips. 

They had been going for a while, but neither seemed to want it to end. Estelle gasped as she felt herself shoved against the full-length mirror. Zoey’s entire body was pressed upon her now, and Estelle was well aware of every curve, every nook and cranny of her lover becoming obvious, they fit together like puzzle pieces. 

Oh yeah, I could get used to this…

“Mmf…Zoey…” She slid down against the slick mirror, sweaty with arousal as she sank to the floor. She panted, taking a few seconds to catch her breath. “Are we gonna get thrown out of here? Somehow this seems wrong, and um-”

Zoey proceeded to catch her lips in another kiss. “Don’t I tell you not to worry?” She whispered after a while. “If we’re quiet about it, nothing will happen…”

She pulled Estelle back up to her feet. “You don’t like this, do you?”

“I’d prefer to get the shopping done and have fun at home.” She admitted. “You can’t just do that to a girl! With the way I’m headed I won’t be able to walk home!” 

Zoey grinned and removed the top. “You’re right about that, babe. I think I’m gonna buy this anyway…you know, for the memories.”

[ramayantika]

~ The one deceived

»»————> ◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐<————««

O lovers, enchanters of your sweet maidens, must you keep in mind to never displease the queen of your hearts.

'She who adorns herself in fine silks and jewels, awaits you at night hiding from the entire town in the heart of the forest where fierce beasts lay, she must never be kept await for long and certainly must not be left alone if ever your eyes droop for a night. Who knows someone else might snatch the beauty away?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

With dark eyes not blue lotus

she fashions a welcome garland.

Petals she strews—

not various species of jasmine

but smiles.

Water she offers from ripe

moistened breasts

rather than ceremonial jars.

With only her own body

she makes for her

lover an

auspicious welcome.

~ Erotic Love Poems from India

A tightly knotted braid pinned by jewelled pins moves like a serpent by her waist. She carefully arranges flowers in her hair, just the way he likes. She spent months apart from him, and now is the time to bring long lost romance back into their lives -- of sweet nothings, stolen kisses, teasing words and the bliss of just being around your lover.

The morning was spent in perfuming the hair and the body. His favourite scent: the rain perfused soil. It always enchanted him when she passed by the busy market place in front of him. She usually preferred a light scent of roses, but today she has to make him heady as soon as he catches a whiff of air around him.

A necklace decked with moonstones sits on her making her look dazzling. Her wrists are adorned with glass bangles, and a shy smile teases her lips when her friends tease her on the various ways glass bangles can be broken tonight.

"Quiet. You must not speak like this. He's a gentle lover," she admonishes them with a stern look that soon melts into a beautiful blush and her friends once again start teasing her.

"You look perfect now. If you decorate yourself anymore, your dazzling form shall blind him as soon as he enters the house," says a friend, dabbing a kohl dot behind the jewelled maiden's ear to ward off the evil eye.

»»——⍟——«« ♧♧ »»——⍟——««

The letter in betel leaves 🥀

Handmaiden bears a large plate on her tender hands.

Soft silks from lands far and wide,

jewels crafted in nothing but perfection,

perfume extracted from only exotic flowers and oils,

But what pleases the bejewelled beauty?

A silver box revealing a richly stuffed Kaushal paan.

'In separation I have burned for several moons, and my heart wailed in agony. Where do I carry this ocean of love when you are the shore that binds me to you? Oh, my dearest, my lovely moon, it is you I desire. Come meet my by the riverside near the sweet-smelling jasmine bower.'

.・。.・゜✭・»»——⍟——««.・✫・゜・。.

झांझर झमके सुन झमके आधी रात को

उसको तोको न रोको तोको न रोको

आधी रात को।

𝐎𝐡, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬.

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭,

𝐌𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬,

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.

𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞,

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬...

'We sipped on moon-gleam at midnight.

And the moon rose in our eyes, at midnight.'

-- Delicate as the moonstone, bangle laden wrists

alert the love god who stands ever ready with love arrows.

She traverses down the narrow forest path,

Her feet leave behind fresh red footprints on earth,

And jingling anklets make the serpents steer off her way.

-- The jasmine bower fresh and fragrant as ever,

Fireflies adorn the bushes like earthen lamps in a house's courtyard.

The moon unveiled shines on the resplendent maiden

And like the chakora, she fills her eyes with the moonbeams,

In each, a vision of the man prisoned in heart.

-- The forest grows still.

Doe eyes search for him in every corner of the forest.

Is he playing games today? Must I walk and search for him now?

The love god too has dozed off, his bow and arrows discarded beside.

The garland around her neck now frail,

Tiny buds fall down and mingle with the earth...

»»————>○○○○○○○○○○○○<————««

And, rasikas, here we behold a man who did not keep his promise. Sends the extravagant betel leaf and promises of giving a beautiful night, but gives in to the sweet embrace of slumber while the beauty awaits in the forest, her once radiant face now pale in fear and annoyance.

Oh, the pain of shattered dreams filled of love, sweet words, passionate touches and long nights. How can one scorn a woman this way after long nights of loneliness?

Chuckle in mirth my friends, for the man dreams of kissing her lips in his sleep. Who shall tell him about his lover's wrath at dawn break tomorrow?

*******

Breathing hard into the lotus calyx

Annoyed at his care less actions,

She wipes an angry tear from her soft cheek.

Tosses away the wretched droopy garland,

Flings the silver anklet far across the room.

Red lips that should have been kissed curse the sun.

Arms that should have been curled around his neck

Lay bare bereft of bangles on the silken sheets.

Her bosom that should have carried drops of perspiration from a sweet night of love

That should have been kissed tenderly, Adorned with a chain of bites

Now heave in anger, wanting a respite.

The love god scoffs at the man yet deep in sleep

Who makes love the scorned woman in waking.

The love goddess pitifully caresses the heart broken girl,

And winces when the moon-like beauty sends

A silver box encasing an empty betel leaf and a lone anklet

»»——⍟——««

Tags: @ratna-the-furball @swayamev @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @pulihora @arachneofthoughts @krishna-priyatama @yehsahihai @reallythoughtfulwizard @ketchup-jar-ka @manujanolavu @morally-gayy @celestesinsight @desi-cleopatra

I used a lot of references from kamasutra for this and probably this is one of my in a way most explicit lol

[violettduchess]

My favorite writer taking requests! I have to ask for Carlo and kiss 8 - dying to see what you come up with!

A/N: Here you go, anon! This took some time but I hope you enjoy it! 💜

Carlo x f! Reader

Word Count: 3106

Today:

How did I get here?

You stare at yourself in the floor-length mirror, taking in the fitted, shimmering green skirt that is supposed to represent a mermaid’s tale, the filmy pale pink and yellow of the material wrapped around your midsection and chest. Your bare shoulders and upper arms have been dusted with pearlescent white powder, your hair held out of your face by small hair pins in the shape of seashells. You look every inch the siren, foreign and mystical and not at all like yourself. 

Behind you, you hear footsteps across the wooden platform, soft muttering in the language of Benitoite and you turn to see Carlo, Prince Silvio’s aide, followed by the twittering costume designer as he approaches to get a look at himself in the mirror. Gone is the solemn man in the plain clothing that skirted the border of being shabby but saved itself through quality of material. His ebony curls have been freshly washed and brushed away from his angular face, his dark blue eyes, the color of the sea at midnight, lined with black kohl. His usual fitted shirt has been replaced by a swashbuckler’s billowy tunic, wide open to reveal a surprising amount of well-muscled chest. Carlo used to work down at the docks before Prince Silvio found him, recognized the flame of intelligence that burned in those dark eyes and plucked him out of one life stained with hardship and into another one of research and service. Fitted black trousers hug shockingly well-formed legs, the calves of which are also covered by knee-high black leather boots. A sword hangs loosely about his hips, drawing far more attention to that area than it should.

He looks up from fussing with the scabbard, seeing you and he stops walking, nearly causing the costume designer to crash into him. With a few chirps she flits from here to there, making minute adjustments now that he is finally standing still, not noticing the way your gazes have locked with one another, the way his throat works as he swallows, trying to fight the sudden dryness. You have stolen his capacity to breathe, to think. How, how will he ever even remember his lines when he has to see you.....looking like that?

You turn away, hand pressed against the thunder of your heartbeat.

How did I get here? 

Yesterday:

In your role as Rhodolite diplomat, King Leon has sent you to many places. You had proven yourself during your time as Belle and he valued your judgment in many matters. He had been especially impressed with the way you had won over his brothers, each and every one of them coming to, if not exactly like you, at the very least respect you. There was no one else he would have been happier to see take on a representative role, your intelligence and kindness and charm qualities befitting an exemplary ambassador. 

You had chosen the gift for the Benitoite royals with care: a first-edition copy of a play by one of Rhodolite’s most famous writers, a tragic love story between a sailor and a mermaid who fell madly in love with one another but whose families were locked in a centuries-long feud that would ultimately lead the sailor to drown in the arms of his lover rather than be apart from her. Leon had chosen this gift as the story is set in what is now Benitoite and hoped it would please the royals.

And it had. Perhaps too much. Silvio, mercurial as he is, had decided he wanted to not just read the play, but actually watch it be performed. When he had been informed that the national thespian troupe was on tour, traveling throughout the Ruby kingdom, he had turned those sharp ocean eyes onto you.

“I’m sure the ambassador is willin’ ta do just about anythin’ to please us. Ain’t that right?”

Alarm bells began tinkling in the back of your mind but you found yourself sitting up straighter at the table, head tilting to one side as you regarded the haughty prince. A smile, much calmer than you felt, touched your lips.

“Of course Prince Silvio.”

He leaned back in his plush chair, necklaces jangling softly as he crossed his arms. Something about the expression on his face made those alarm bells begin chiming even louder.

“Then I say you do it. You can be the mermaid princess and uh....” His gaze scanned the room and landed on the man standing by the doorway, half in a shadow, quietly reading from a small, black leather-bound book. “Carlo!” The man looked up, startled. 

“Yes, your Highness?”

Silvio smiled broadly. “You will play the lovestruck sailor.” He nodded once, pleased with himself. “Arrange for costumes, music, and all that shit. I wanna see the play tomorrow.”

Carlo blinked as he looked around the room, his expression one of bewilderment. The leap from whatever he had been reading to his new reality seemed to have clogged the mechanisms of his brain as he comprehended what had just happened.

“Go on.” Silvio waved a jangly hand carelessly in your direction. “Go meet your lover.”

His gaze jumped from Silvio to you and the question he was asking himself was written plain as day on his face:

How did I get here?

Several hours later you found yourself in the library, which normally would have thrilled you to no end. Except instead of foraging for new literary treasures, you stared at the gift you had brought like it was to blame, while Carlo stared at you, looking a bit like an owl that had been awoken far too early from its slumber and wasn’t quite sure if it was night or day.

Silence filled the room, snaking its way around bookshelves and wrapping you both up in its tendrils, leaving you awkwardly stiff and unable to form words. You had introduced yourselves, fumbling over each other’s sentences, words clumsily knocking into each other, and then you had placed the book on the desk with a loud thump. 

Since then, there was  no sound.

Finally you cleared your throat. “Staring at it isn’t going to help us. It seems Prince Silvio really is expecting us to….perform this.”

Your voice cut the strings that the room’s silence had been holding him hostage with and he sank into the chair across from you, a frown on his surprisingly handsome face.

“I would try and speak to him but I fear if he knew how much neither of us wanted to do this, he would dig his heels in even more and perhaps invite outsiders to witness our….production.”

You found yourself regarding him a moment as he ran a hand through his dark curls. “You really know him well.” Silvio Ricci was not a man that let people close to him. Clearly Carlo was one of the exceptions.

A smile, ephemeral as quicksilver, touched his lips. “Si. He is truly….exceptional in many ways.”

You sensed how there was more underlying his words, an entire iceberg under that small sentiment that poked out from the ocean of his experience with Silvio. But now was not the time….you tore your gaze away from him, clearing your throat as you placed your hands on either side of the book.

“I can edit this…write out the lines of the most important scenes. That way we don’t have to worry about the entire play.”

He nodded, encouraged by your brilliant idea. “Excellent thinking, Signora.”

You glanced at him. “You can use my name.” You added a warm smile, lifting one shoulder with a shrug. “After all, we’re going to be scene partners, aren’t we?”

You didn’t expect the flustered way he ran a hand through his dark curls, a faint dusting of warmth falling across his slanted cheekbones. 

“If…if you insist.” 

Tilting your head, you searched for and caught his gaze, your warm smile still in place. “I do.”

He nodded, rising from his seat to walk over to a desk across the room, kneeling to open a drawer. That smile was fogging his brain and he needed a moment away from its radiant light. You weren’t aware of the effect you were having on him. You were suddenly far more aware of the broad expanse of his shoulders as he crouched, rifling through that drawer and the narrow taper of his waist as he rose back up to full height. Quickly you forced your attention back to the play, opening up to the list of characters, blinking against the swift barrel roll your blood was doing inside your veins. A moment later, Carlo returned, setting several sheets of blank paper and a fountain pen of marbled blue and silver next to you. 

“You can write out our lines here?”

“Yes, perfect. Thank you.” And you got to work, forcing yourself to focus on the familiar play rather than the man who was smiling so openly it made you literally ache to touch his cheek, close to that smile.

Another hour had passed. Outside the sky was readying itself for the night, painting itself in the most striking orange and pink. You were writing madly, lost in your work as you read over the famous play, picking out the most important scenes and transcribing key lines that would keep the story intact but trim away any extras. Carlo peeked over the top of his notebook, his mind distracted from nautical calculations and oceanography notes by…..you. You, lost in the play, mouthing certain lines as you copied them out diligently. And in beautiful handwriting, no less. Especially when compared to his own chicken scratch. You, so focused, trimming the play like a master butcher, carving out the heart of the story from within the many words. He understands that kind of concentration, that singular mindset as you navigate work like a skiff on the water. That was what he told himself anyway, that he was interested in watching you work and not in the way the evening light, spilling in through the library windows, blanketed you in its softness, catching highlights in your hair, the rose of your lips, the brightness of your eyes.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, only that the sound of the fountain pen dropping to the wooden table startled him, his dark sapphire eyes blinking rapidly as he brought his gaze quickly back down to the notebook he had been happy to ignore. 

“There.” 

You slumped back in your chair, shaking out your hand, a grin on your lips. You actually did it and the pride in your accomplishment hung on the curve of your smile. Standing just as suddenly as you let the pen fall, you shoved back your chair and walked around the table to set yourself down next to Carlo. “Let me show you.”

His notebook disappeared into his pocket and he leaned in to where you began explaining the play and the scenes you chose. You spoke quickly, excitedly, as if making up for all the previous silence.

“This scene is where they meet, the handsome, adventurous sailor and the innocent mermaid…..” You went on to explain their instant connection, the fascination they have with one another. But their relationship is dangerous, forbidden by their differences, and when the sailor tries to tell the mermaid they shouldn’t see each other anymore, she responds with a desperate kiss, one of the most romantic, most famous kisses in any drama throughout the lands. 

When you got to this part, he noticed the way you paused, lifting your gaze to meet his and suddenly you were both imagining the same thing: kissing the other person. 

Your gaze dropped to his lips, tracing their shape. He has such a beautiful mouth….He found himself wondering if your lips would feel as soft as they looked. The moment stretched out, the only sounds in the room the knocking of your heart against your breastbone, the audible inhale and shaky exhale of Carlo’s breath.

And then the doors to the library swung open, scattering the moment like sand in a violent breeze.

“There ya are. I’ve been lookin’ all over for you.” Silvio sauntered in, shaking his head, golden earrings swinging with the movement. “You’re still my aide, ya know, Carlo. I ain’t got all night to wait while you two practice your little show.” He stopped walking, taking in the blush spreading across your cheeks and the way Carlo had immediately shoved his chair away from yours. Blue eyes snapped from you to him like taunt sails in the wind and then a slow, wicked smile claimed the prince’s handsome face.

“Looks like I'm interrupted somethin’.”

You sprang to your feet, dipping into a quick curtsy. 

“Prince Silvio. We were just going over the edits to the play I made.”

Silvio cocked his head, moonlight-colored hair falling to one side as he continued to grin. “Yeah I saw.” He paused, considering his next words. “Well I hate to break up ya’ little rehearsal or whatever but I need my man here.”

Carlo nodded, brushing down the front of his shirt. “Of course, your Highness.” He turned to you, not meeting your gaze as he pointed to the papers on the table. “May I borrow these in preparation for tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you answered, the words coming out a touch too fast, stumbling on each other’s heels. “I remember which lines I transcribed. I can study them from the original.”

Amusement has Silvio’s eyes gleaming like coins in the sunlight. The sardonic curve of his mouth told you both how much he was looking forward to whatever happened tomorrow. He turned on his heel, jewelry jangling and snapped his fingers as he strode out of the library, but whether the motion was a signal for Carlo to hurry up or simply a sign of his glee at the situation he had forced you into was unclear.

Carlo started after him, holding the papers you painstakingly wrote carefully to his chest. Suddenly he stopped mid-step, turning to look your way one last time. Your eyes locked and then he gave you a quick bow.

“Until tomorrow.” He glanced up quickly, and then in a softer tone, added your name to the thought. The sound of it coming from his lips, rounded by that accent, sent a flare of warmth from your stomach up through your face. Every nerve in your body felt incandescent and alive. You managed to incline your head in return, hoping he didn’t notice the flush you knew was rolling across your skin.

When the library door closed behind him, you found your legs too shaky to support your weight and you sank back down into the wooden chair, drawing in several deep breaths. 

How did I get here, you wondered, hand pressed against your midsection as if calming the tornado of butterflies that had taken residence within.

And what am I going to do?

Today:

Carlo is a marvel. Never would you have expected the quiet, seemingly shy attendant to step out from behind the red velvet curtains and become the witty, bold sailor who enchants the mermaid princess. He strides across the stage, a new man, shoulders wide as if challenging the world to even try and burden them. Sometimes, as he delivers his lines, you recognize shades of Silvio in the lilt of his voice, the swagger in his movements. Carlo mirrors the Benitoite prince as he brazenly proclaims his love for you, swearing to fight the seven seas themselves if it means he is allowed to be yours. He makes it easy, so very easy, to slip into your role as the lovestruck siren, completely taken by this man, wondering if she could risk everything to be with him.

You’ve arrived at the turning point of the play, the moment when the mermaid princess has had enough of denying her feelings and makes the decision to follow her heart. How does she do this? By interrupting a passionate rant, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and yanking him towards her, stopping the flow of words with a kiss.

Carlo is pacing, his lines flying from his lips, memorized with the same perfection he uses to calculate wind rates and ship speeds. His hands, glinting with golden rings under the bright stage lighting, are as active as his mouth, punctuating his words with gestures, emphasizing his embattled state of being in love and never wanting to wonder what could have been.

And then it feels like a dream, like you really are swimming underwater as you cross the stage to where he is standing, roughly gathering the soft white cloth of his tunic in both hands. You pull him to you, leaning up to press your lips against his.

The ocean roars in your ears the moment they touch. The stage, the gathered audience of royals and nobles, the cavernous ballroom where the performance is taking place, the dazzling stage lights. All of it is swept away, like the sea raking its fingernails over the shore and pulling sand along with it. All you know now is the shape of his mouth as it fits against yours, the feel of his arms as they wrap around you and pull you tightly against the safeguard of his body. It is both electrifyingly new and astonishingly familiar, as if your body already knows something your mind doesn't. His lips part and he seeks entrance to your mouth, brazen as the wind when it plucks at a ship’s sails, snapping them to and fro. There is no resistance. You yield, softening in his arms, relinquishing your hold on his shirt to run your hands down his sides, around his body, palms pressing possessively against the small of his back. You are sinking, down, down, into the taste of his mouth, the heat of his embrace. Still waters run not only deep but hot, full of unexpected fervor and heart-stirring excitement. 

You have no idea how long you kissed, the time it takes a wave to caress the shore once, twice, fifty times. What you do know is when you finally break apart, the audience is motionless, breathless, hanging on the edge of their seats, and in Carlo’s midnight gaze you see truth, burning like the fire of a thousand stars.

In the front row, arms loosely crossed, Silvio Ricci smiles slowly. Knowingly. His instincts had been right and he practically glows with the satisfaction of it all. Benitoite will likely be seeing much more of the Rhodolite ambassador. Che bello.

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