#they can’t make themselves read anything i want to show them!!! who the fuck are you protecting or helping with this shit

[lepertamar]

just flatly unfollowed someone for reblogging that fucking post claiming goyim shouldn’t learn about kabbalah becuz ‘learning is practicing in judaism’. no. like yes learning is a major part of practicing in judaism but that does not by reversal mean learning about judaism is itself inherently a practice that is off limits to non-jews. that’s the most intellectually dishonest sleight of hand i’ve maybe ever seen on fucking jumblr in my long and sordid history on it. by this logic non-jews should be banned from ever attending a synagogue becuz synagogue attendance is part of practicing judaism, and should be banned from reading torah becuz reading torah is part of practicing judaism, and jews should be banned from teaching goyim about judaism because being taught about judaism is part of practicing judaism. (and you can say goodbye to literally all converts! no one can learn enough to decide they want to convert now!!!)

repeat after me: judaism does not have secret knowledge you can’t show goyim. if our texts on mysticism and kabbalah are literally online, mostly translated, posted there by jews and are published in bookstores in the zohar, published and translated and put there by jews, we are inviting goyim to learn about us, because knowledge and understanding is the greatest weapon against violence and fear and hate. if you tell goyim that they can’t learn about us from the widely and freely accessible material we ourselves put out there that’s a most basic failure of the asshole law: ie all it means is the only goyim who will learn about us are the antisemites who don’t care what we want or say.

[lxnarphase]

PRETTY BITCHES LOVE ME ᯓ★

━━ ❝ SHE A BADDIE, SHE SHOWIN' HER PANTY! ❞ wc. 3.7k

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : suguru is just as big of a show off as gojo, he's just more subtle about it. and he wants everyone in this damn club to know that you're his.

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...cw : blk!fem!reader x g. suguru, suggestive content, alcohol mention, exhibitionism, voyeurism (?), fingerfucking, public fingering, little bit of breeding kink and talks of knocking you up, lots of kissing, suguru really loves his girl, suguru can’t keep his hands to himself

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's note : suguru is just a slut for you i don't know what else to tell you. he's just as much as a mischievous little shit as gojo ! if you want to be tagged for the future posts, comment on the main post here ! enjoy baddies ❤︎ (also yes nonblack readers can read and reblog too, idk why some anons try to gatekeep)

suguru's so touchy with you, it's sweet.

he can't keep his hands off of you whenever you go out. the poor man feels like he might just die if he's not having some sort of physical contact with you the majority of the day.

it could be the grocery store on a late night snack run in matching pajama bottoms or like now, a long night at the club for some celebration.

neither one of you remembers what or who the part is for, the alcohol in your systems causing you to focus on one another. the rest of your group is busy on the dance floor or bar, leaving you and suguru to cuddle up to each other in the VIP area like the lovesick idiots the two of you are.

your sitting across his lap, one hand in his hair and the other holding his shoulder, rubbing random shapes and patterns into the fabric of his shirt. it's so unfair, he just smells so fucking good and looks so damn handsome. you genuinely can't look at anything but him. 

and he loves it so damn much.

"s'guruuu," you coo at him, nose smooshed against his cheek. if you could, you'd get even closer to him, but this would have to suffice for now. "you're so handsome tonight..." 

the corners of his mouth tilt up into a smug smirk as he chuckles, his hand sliding from your knee to your upper thigh, stroking the exposed skin. you're so soft, could you really blame him for wanting to touch you all the time? compared to you, suguru is way more sober and is just eating up all the attention you're giving him.

not just because he loves you, but that was a plus.

no, it's because people are watching.

his sharp purple eyes flicker up, meeting with the group of girls outside of the VIP area that keep looking his direction.

their eyes are filled with interest and want when they look at him, and he can't help but chuckle to himself.

suguru knows he's attractive. hell, he's reminded of it every morning by the way you shower him in kisses and praises as part of your morning routine, making sure he knows just how much you love him and his 'stupidly pretty face,' as you so elegantly put it.

but what makes him laugh is how they look at you with disdain and confusion, as if they can't understand why you're in his lap instead of them.

it's disgusting, really, for them to even have the slightest thought that they could replace you. they must be lying to themselves, he thinks as your lips start to press kisses against his cheek, the soft curls and coils of your hair tickling his cheek.

you're just so cute, so adorable, so gorgeous, so beautiful. you're his pretty little angel, and seeing women jealous of you just fills him with so much pride, knowing you have other women jealous of you.

if only they knew how badly you have him wrapped around your little finger. if you so much as asked, suguru wouldn't hesitate to beat the shit out of someone for you, wouldn't hesitate to kill for you...but thankfully, it never got to that point.

yet.

"hmm, you think i'm handsome?" he leans in, his breath warm against your neck as he nips your ear. "nah, you look so damn gorgeous, angel. you're stealing the spotlight from me t'night."

his fingers trace circles into your thigh, enjoying your little giggles and complaints of it tickling. it only makes him do it more, your laughs and giggles making his heart squeeze a little bit.

fuck, suguru really loves how your skin feels under his fingertips, soft and smooth. it's all he thinks about. he wants to touch you forever, wants to feel you every second of the day. you are just so warm and soft, nothing would ever compare to the feel of your skin.

pulling away from your ear, he sees that those girls are still there, looking at you and him. the smirk on his face falters a bit, and his gaze hardens.

man, he really doesn't like how they're looking at you.

it's so easy for him to tell they have no cursed energy, just mere humans that could never even hope to be on the same level as you. it would be so fucking easy to just...snap his fingers and have them gone in an instant.

you steal his attention away from them and the dark thoughts swirling in his head by tilting his head your way, and instantly, his gaze softens.

jesus, the things you do to this man.

"sugu? what's wrong, honey," you mumble, worry etched into your features. you cup his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks to get him to calm down. "you don't look happy..."

the feel of your hands on his face, paired with the sweet concern in your voice, it washes away all irritation in him instantly. suguru hums, his eyes sliding shut. and the soft look in your eyes...he's so whipped for you, it's sickening.

you're so warm...

"no, baby, nothing's wrong," he reassures you, his smooth voice a low rumble. if he could, he'd be purring incredibly loudly right now, nuzzling into your palms. just your touch is enough to make him melt.

"'m just thinkin' how lucky I am, havin' you all to myself like this. the prettiest girl in the world, and she's sitting in my lap...who knew i'd make it this far in life, hm?"

the low, purple lights of the club cast a soft glow on your face as your fluffy hair frames your face, and suguru sighs, looking at you like you were his everything. you are his everything.

a quick glance to the side and suguru takes note that those girls are still fucking there, looking at you both. instead of getting irritated again, suguru gets an idea.

with a smirk, his hand slides up further your thigh, his fingertips slipping under the hem of that pretty purple dress he bought you that contrasts against the dark color of your skin...so pretty.

"mm, babygirl, just looking at you is making me dizzy," suguru purrs, his gaze dipping to your lips before meeting your eyes again. "you know i love you right? an' that all i wanna do is show you off s' everyone knows how pretty you are, right?"

you know better.

you know better than to trust him when he starts making comments like this, when he starts cooing and praising you out of nowhere.

because you know that it means suguru is up to no damn good.

you still haven't forgiven him for making you squirt on his fingers while he was on the phone with nanami...even though it was kind of cute how nanami couldn't look you in the eye without blushing for about two weeks.

"mhm...i know, sugu, you're a little show off that likes to get us in trouble," you playfully scold, tugging his hair a little as you giggle, looking at him with a soft gaze.

suguru's head tilts back, and his eyes flutter shut for a moment, a soft grunt leaving him. he's always been a sucker for you pulling on his hair like that, likes when you tug him around to make a point...shit, he's getting hard just from thinking of all the times you'd use his hair to get his attention or make him focus on something.

and it doesn't take long for you to discover his thoughts are going south.

with an exasperated gasp, you feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against your ass, letting out a little scold of his name. his grip on you tightens when you shift to confirm your suspicions. his head leans to rest in the crook of your neck, a silent plea for more of your affection.

"but you like it when I show off," suguru teases back, pressing a kiss against your neck as your curls tickle his face again. even your hair was soft, it's like he's got his own little pillow pet in his lap. the thought makes him chuckle, knowing you'd probably swat at him playfully for comparing you to a plushy

"you get all worked up, it's so cute, angel...plus, i think y'like it when i cause trouble." his hand swaps thighs and creeps up higher under your dress, his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. he's playing a risky game. at any moment, someone could catch him and get you both kicked and banned from the club.

but where's the fun in life without taking risks?

"c'mooon, admit it, baby, you like it."

one glance up back into the crowd and suguru hums, his eyes glinting dangerously. still there, it seems.

they aren't staring as hard now, but looks of disbelief cross their face when his hand shamelessly goes right to the apex of your thighs, fingers running over the lace of your panties. suguru doesn't care anymore, if they wanna look so bad, he'll give them something to stare at.

"s-suguru...you're, mnh, gettin' close there..."

he doesn't give you a response, his hand sliding from your back up to your hair to keep your head in the crook of his neck. he may be fine with showing out a little bit to these bitches who tired to glare daggers into you, but no one except him gets to see your face.

the way your lashes flutter, the way your teeth dig into the plushness of your bottom lip...it's driving him crazy.

the faint scent of your perfume hits his nose, and he's gone. his cock is pressing against your ass in full hardness, and he has to stop himself from grinding up into you.

nah, right now, this is about you.

he's going to take care of you, going to make you feel good, going to make sure you know that you are his in every way that counts.

without wasting another moment, suguru's fingers slip under your panties, pausing when they touch the faint wetness gathering at your slit.

"fuck...baby, don't tell me you've been like this the whole night," he rasps, his breathing slowly starting to pick up. your soft cunt is hot to the touch, sticky and wet as he drags his fingers through your slick.

"i can't help it, you just...look, really good t'night, baby," you huff into his ear, gasping a moan when he doesn't hesitate to slip a finger into your slick hole.

he really does look good tonight, dressed in those black dress pants, sleek dress shoes, and that stupidly hot black button-up shirt. and he has the sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone so that you can get a nice view of that necklace with your name on it resting on his collarbone.

how can you not get soaking wet?

"shit." he's groaning, the sensation of you nuzzling your face into his neck to press little open-mouthed kisses into all the sensitive spots of his neck sending a shiver down his spine. it's so sweet and precious how you try your hardest not to make too much noise and not move too much as he stirs up your cunt with just one of his fingers.

he wishes you both were back at home, wishes that he had you spread open on the bed so that he can see how wet he's got you just from his attire, so that he can hear your pussy squelch around his fingers. not even the strongest in the world would be able to pull him from your pussy whenever you get this wet.

the thought of gojo trying to pull him away from you makes him cringe a bit...because he knows damn well that idiot would be shoving his face deeper into your cunt, grinning as he practically makes suguru drown in you.

on second thought, that's not a bad way to go....

another tug to his hair as him unintentionally groaning, eyes snapping shut at the sharp pang of pleasured pain that shoots up his spine. his attention is back on you, his face close to yours as he breathes against your ear.

if you want his attention, then he'll give you all of it with no hesitation.

"suguruu, more...please," you finally whine, the slow movement not enough for you. it's almost torture; the slow in and out motions of his finger making you feel good but not good enough. no, you need more, craved it.

"yeah? you gonna be a good girl f' your suguru and let him take care of this needy lil' pussy? hm?" one finger turns into two, and that familiar heat pools in your lower abdomen. now it's feeling so fucking good that you already know his fingers are gonna be coated in your juices.

this should be embarrassing, it really should. you both are in a club for fucksake! but you can't find it in you to care about it, his thick digits working your cunt so good that your brain is just melting.

one of your hands grips his button-up, fisting in the fabric to ground yourself from the pleasure. "m-mhm! I'll be good, I'll be s' good for you, sugu, promise!" suguru is becoming relentless, determined to make you crack and stop hiding those pretty sounds from him when he takes note of how you go right back to biting your lip after giving him that sweet, needy response.

however, he loves seeing your lips all swollen, knowing they were like that because he made you feel so good you had to force yourself to be quiet.

"sweetheart, don' hide it, lemme hear you, 's just you and me," he whispers to you, his other hand burying itself in your curls and giving a little tug. he knows it's not just the both of you, but right now, in this moment, it's all that exists for him.

the harsh pull of your hair has your lips brushing against his ear and choking on a moan, unable to keep it in. "thaaaat's it, let me hear how good it feels t' have these fingers buried deep inside this tight cunt."

you hate this, hate when he talks because it only makes you wetter. and that means he's gonna talk even more, and you're always right because he's cooing at how much slick is pouring out of you now, asking if it's because of his voice or his fingers.

suguru's so fucking annoying, such an asshole, but you can't help but let him get away with it when it means he makes your eyes flutter closed in pleasure.

you let him get away with way too much, don't you?

the song playing now is so loud, the bass making the ground vibrate. but suguru doesn't care, he's just thankful it's loud enough to cover that fucking beautiful moan you give him when he curls his fingers juuuust right.

"oooh, there? did i find it? fuck, baby, y'got so tight jus' from that."

your desperate nod of confirmation is all he needs before he speeds up his fingers, groaning when he can finally hear the wet schlicks of his hand coaxing more slick out of you.

one more glance up and suguru can't help but grin. the girls are gone, now mixed up in the crowd likely red and hot in the face.

seems like his impromptu little show finally got the message across: he is yours and yours only.

knowing he no longer had to show off, he's focusing on you, on you and that tight, needy little slit between your legs that's dripping down his wrist. it should be a crime for someone to be this wet, in public no less.

"c'mon, angel, don' hold back on me anymore, lemme know how it feels. wanna know 'm treating this gorgeous pussy good."

you let out the prettiest moan, breath hot against his ear. suguru coos, his hand not between your legs holding your neck to keep your head in the crook of his neck. “mhg, suguru, love it s' much, g-god, your fingers feel s'good, 's not fair.”

you can't stop yourself from trying to spread your legs more, giving him a bit better access. you know you can't open them too much ot someone might see.

but...would that be so bad? for people to see how suguru could make you fall apart so seamlessly?

if only you knew that's exactly what was running through his head right now. he's positive at least one person has caught on to what's happening, the repeating motions of his hand between your legs such a dead giveaway.

it thrills him, his cock throbbing in his pants at the thought. shit, he's learning things about himself he didn't know before...he might have to do this to you more often.

he leans in closer, his mouth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he whispers, "y'gonna cum for me right here in this club, aren't you, babygirl? gonna show me how much you love my fingers playing with this slutty lil' pussy, right?"

he gets a sweet little 'yes, sugu' and he purrs your name, the mixture of your moans, the music, and the just barely audible sounds of your slickness being stirred by his thick fingers, making him feel drunk.

you're shaking in his lap, holding on for dear life as he makes it a point to curl his fingers with each thrust, not giving you a break anymore. you're spiraling, feeling the tremors of your impending orgasm building, your hot, gummy walls fluttering around his stupidly thick digits. you're praying silently between each pant and gasp, desperately hoping he doesn't make you squirt, not now, not when so many people are around—!

"c'mon, baby, c'mon," suguru encourages, his fingers picking up their pace. you're so close, he knows it, he knows because he can feel it coming. the way you fist his shirt, the way your hips are trying to hard to not rise up to meet his hand, knowing it would make it so obvious what's happening.

but suguru, oh, he stopped caring so fucking long ago. he just wants to feel you soak his fingers, wants to hear your muted little moan of his name when you finally cum. he just wants to make sure you know you're his.

"b-baby, suguru, shit, i'm gonna cum—!"

"yeah? that's it, baby, let got f'me, you can do it," he urges and coos, his voice bordering on needy and desperate, just like you. he's panting into your ear, whispering little praises as he listens to you pitifully try to keep your gasps and moans down. you're such a mess, it's so cute, you're so adorable, god, he loves you so bad.

your thick thighs are quivering and trembling as you teeter on the brink of release. you know it's going to be a mess, but you try, you try so hard to keep it in.

suguru notices—how could he not—and he's not having it, slipping a third finger inside your messy little cunt, curling deep inside right against that sweet spot, and that knot wound so tight inside you finally snaps.

"s-suguuuu, 'm cummin'—!"

he's reveling in how your hot, gummy walls squeeze and spasm all over his fingers, milking them for all they're worth as you cry and sob his name into his ear, tears caught on your eyelashes from how good it feels. he wishes he could look at you, wanting to drink up your expressions, but no, he'd be risking someone else seeing how pretty you are when you cum.

"yessss, good girl, good fuckin' girl, gimme everything, babygirl."

your cries of release are so damn sweet to his ears, and he continues to work you through it, ensuring your orgasm is as prolonged and intense as possible. if you were home, he wouldn't care about stopping or overstimulating, but he has to remind himself to stay calm and not go too hard.

if he did, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself from fucking you on this couch in the middle of the VIP section in front of all these people.

once suguru feels you go slack in his arms and your hand weakly slap against his chest, he slows his hand, his own breaths heavy with the arousal and need you stirred in him...did you have any idea how sexy you were? if he wasn't as controlled as he was, he's positive he would've cum in his pants.

pulling his fingers out slowly, suguru's quick to pop them into his mouth, sucking off your juices like it would be the last time he'd ever get a last. fuck, you soaked his hand...he doesn't care how obvious he makes it when he licks at his palm and wrist to not miss a drop.

"hhmph, s-suguru, you—"

"i need you, right now. can i take you home?"

of course, he has to ask. he knows how long it took you to get ready, to look so fucking perfect. but right now, he doesn't want anyone to look at you. hell, he doesn't want anyone else but him to be near you, he'd fucking wipe out this entire club right now if you asked.

the soft touch of your hands on his face brings him back, making him melt as his eyes slide shut. you're so soft, he loves you so much, he needs to stick his cock into you while groaning those words into your ear, needs to feel his tip kiss that soft, spongy spot inside you that makes your back arch off the bed, to fold you in half as he stuffs you so full, praying that his cum gets stuck deep inside you, praying that it takes and that he gets you knocked up, and that—

"take me home, sugu, please, i-i need you s' bad."

your words have him acting in an instant he presses a quick kiss to your lips, licking whatever is left of your lipgloss before helping you stand up with him, guiding you out of the club. if he stays in here for any longer, he's not sure he'll be able to control himself.

"i got you, baby, don't worry, 'm gonna give you what you need. let's go, princess."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's tags : @satoruwiki @llllllllllllloser @screampied @abcdbleh @vicfuentesfangirl @sakurapeach @ohsuguru @crywolfix @naughtygobbo @aura88967 @jeanine-gt @tananaxx @tojancy @happymangosstuff @charming-chikara @actuallynarii @ninikrumbs @inette04 @paint-eater2 @haesify @shaguro

[eightmakesonebraincell]

ateez as pirates who fall for you (hyung line)

read maknae line here

genre: pirate!ateez x gn!reader (fem!reader for hongjoong), fluff, angst, crack, and as always - a brainrot of every pirate trope to exist

length: 10.4k

c/w: heavy and mature themes - mdni, explicit language (swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, illegal acts (piracy, ransoming, verbal abuse, abduction), alcohol, pet names

a/n: maknae line will come yes but who knows when 🤷‍♀️ work has been really testing my dopamine vibes this year 😔👎 thank you @sorryimananti-romantic for keeping a detailed hitlist for me ♡

hongjoong

pov: you're a royal princess rescued by him

“captain, are you sure we can’t toss her overboard?”

jongho and hongjoong watch as wooyoung’s face falls after you pointedly ignore his attempts to make conversation once again

for someone who is technically their guest aboard the arriba, it seems as though you are hellbent on being as difficult as you can be

“unfortunately, we can’t,” hongjoong grouches to the younger, “not unless we want to exchange our payment for a hefty bounty on our own heads”

when jongho sighs, the captain squeezes his shoulder in comfort and adds on, “trust me, i’ve thought about it too”

hongjoong and his crew are privateers - pirates in theory, but technically excused so long as they have their letter of marque to state that they are authorised to attack other vessels

rescuing a royal princess was never explicitly part of the contract, although he thinks that not rescuing you would have pretty much been equivalent to a blatant show of insubordination

you had been taken ransom by one of the merchant ships the arriba had been plundering

needless to say, they had been close to tossing you overboard too; your kingdom had never paid for your ransom

the lack of response from your parents wasn’t anything you weren’t expecting but it’s a sore spot nonetheless

so it’s certainly hard for you to play friendly when you’re quite literally shucked off from stranger to stranger faster than a hot potato

san tugs wooyoung closer towards him and gently says to you, “he’s just trying to be nice - we all are”

the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by you

“i don’t need your pity,” you answer, the only sentence you have spoken today

you’ve lived two decades of your life pretending you don’t see the pitying gazes of your maids and butlers

you certainly don’t need pity from these people - pirates no less

“it’s not-” wooyoung starts to say

but the captain steps in before he can defend himself

“if this is how you’re always acting, i’m starting to see why your kingdom never paid for your ransom”

had hongjoong been less preoccupied by your words, he would have realised that your tone is candid, as if it is only natural for the people around you to pity you

but he’s clouded with his mindset as captain, unable to stand by idly while his own crew put up with your attitude, and so the words come out anyway - shards of shrapnel that bury themselves into your heart

there is only a fleeting second when your eyes dilate with hurt

you conceal it immediately, replacing it with a steely gaze, yet the image has already seared itself into hongjoong’s mind

“maybe you should throw me overboard, then,” you counter, “i’m sure my family will thank you for it”

and even if you have completely neutralised your expression, no one misses the wounded tone of your voice before you disappear down into the lower deck

mingi lets out a low whistle after the resounding slam of the hatch closing

“you fucked up, captain”

hongjoong doesn’t need anyone to spell it out for him

the heavy feeling in his stomach is telling enough

it isn’t until the moon has long since risen that you emerge through the hatch again

you had bypassed the sleeping quarters to the hold, wedging yourself between barrels of grain until you were sure no one would find you

not that they would have tried to anyway - seonghwa had told them all to give you some space

you had run your finger up and down the sides of the barrels repetitively for hours on end, mind simultaneously void and filled with thoughts

the walls you had built around yourself kept you safe, but it had started to become awfully lonely after a while

when it had become a little too suffocating in the hold and you guessed that most of the crew was asleep, you had softly padded back up the stairs and across the main deck

you now sit on the foredeck where the endless expanse of the sea stretches out in front of you, closing your eyes and letting the swaying of the ship lull you into tranquillity

tonight, the moon winks down fondly upon the waters

hongjoong watches you from the quarterdeck

he’s seen you sit at the front of the ship on many nights when you should really have been asleep

he wonders if you’ve always looked so small and fragile with your knees drawn up to your chest, or whether it’s because the flash of hurt in your eyes and voice is still fresh in his mind

“go, captain,” yunho murmurs from where he’s at the helm, “it’s a quiet night”

hongjoong startles at having been caught gazing, clearing his throat and dragging his eyes away

“why should i, if she’s just going to ignore me?” he scoffs

but he knows he’s just being petty at this point and his chest churns in agreement

“maybe,” yunho hums softly in response. “did seonghwa ever give up on you, though?”

it’s rhetorical - hongjoong knows the answer better than anyone

the captain doesn’t say anything but after several beats of silence, he sighs and makes a move to the foredeck where you are

yunho smiles to himself

you and hongjoong may be more similar than his captain realises

your shoulders stiffen when the sound of hongjoong’s footsteps approaches

you’re not sure what to expect and you don’t exactly want to find out and risk getting hurt

but having spent all day swimming alone in your thoughts, you do want to show that you feel apologetic because admittedly, you were being an ass too

getting up to walk away when he’s taken the first step certainly won’t help your case

you hold your breath in awkward silence as he settles down beside you, leaving a respectable distance between your hunched figures

only now is hongjoong realising that he hasn’t actually thought about or decided on what he wants to say to you

but he can feel the confusion rolling off of you in waves, so he grits his teeth and says fuck it

“i won’t apologise for defending my crew, but i’m sorry for how i did it and for what i said”

he hopes you know he is sincere when he continues, “we all have our prickly edges. i can’t fault you for yours”

compassion is a foreign concept to you and so you’re a little stumped for words

hongjoong isn’t sure whether your silence is a good or bad thing, but you have yet to stand up and walk away from the conversation

“there’s only about a week left until we reach port and we’ll leave after you make it back to your kingdom and we receive our payment. i’m not asking for you to be friendly, but let’s at least be civil with each other until then,” he says

you want to nod, agree, anything

and yet you can’t seem to make your head move or the words to come out of your mouth

rome was not built in a day. but neither did its walls fall in a day

hongjoong doesn’t push for an answer when instead, you ask, “how many people have you actually tossed overboard before?”

he resists the urge to laugh at your question, suddenly endeared by the fact that you’re still bothered by his very empty threat

“none, but my offer still stands. you’re welcome to be my first,” he deadpans

you let out a snort and although you quickly turn your head away, hongjoong sees the hint of amusement in your eyes

no further words are exchanged between the two of you and you do not acknowledge him when he eventually stands to rejoin yunho at the helm

but it’s a start

and as with any relationship, be it friend, foe, or lover, there is always that

a beginning.

hongjoong isn’t really expecting much to change immediately so he doesn’t pay you much mind when you walk into the mess hall the following morning

you hesitate at the entrance when you see most of the crew are already present, the conversation you had with hongjoong last night replaying at the forefront of your mind

you chew on the inside of your mouth

wooyoung stops mid-conversation at the scrape of a plate on the table, looking up to find you sliding into the seat beside him with a tight-lipped smile

to your surprise, he greets you with enthusiasm and immediately drags you into the conversation

hongjoong watches as you slowly warm up and add one or two comments of your own in between bites of your hardtack

and when he catches your gaze after staring for too long, he gives you a smile to convey his appreciation; to acknowledge your efforts

you return it with a small smile of your own and unbeknownst to you, it stays on your face for the rest of the day

slowly, there become more and more reasons that elicit a smile out of you

you still sit out on the foredeck when everyone else has gone to sleep, but on most nights, hongjoong will join you even if just for a while

the two of you are content to sit side by side with nothing but the steady pulse of the ocean and intermittent creaks of the ship’s hull to break the silence of the night

tonight though, you find curiosity burning through you

“what’s it like?” you ask

“being a pirate?” he clarifies

you shrug vaguely, unsure yourself either, “being a pirate. being at sea. sailing with your crew”

he takes a moment to gather his thoughts - not because he doesn’t know what to say, but because there is too much he wants to say

when hongjoong answers, his voice rumbles softly from within his chest, tender and heartfelt

“there’s a sense of freedom that you can’t obtain when you’re bound to land and society. sailing the waters, the only limits are those of the open seas and of your own compass… the sunrises, the storms, the moonlight - it all becomes part of your home”

hongjoong leans back to rest on the palms of his hands, tilting his gaze up towards the twinkling sky

he reflects, “you experience brotherhood and gain a family that is worth multitudes more than the treasures you can accumulate, even if you were to live as a pirate for several lifetimes”

you’re enraptured by his words, like poetry that swirls off the pages of a book and drifts into your very soul

“i may be the captain of this crew, but they make me who i am. without them, i am nothing”

his words wash over you and unearth vivid memories

“that’s what the queen always says to me,” you reveal

a small smile starts to grace hongjoong’s face, but it falls just as quickly when he hears your next words

“that without her - without her title - i am nothing”

it’s funny, how the same phrase can hold such different meanings; can evoke such different emotions

you don’t elaborate any further, but hongjoong doesn’t think he needs you to in order for him to understand

he just wishes he had more time to show you that your mother is wrong

he can’t though

tomorrow they reach port and you will return to your rightful place in the palace

“tell me more about your crew,” you attempt to change the topic, “how did you all find each other?”

so hongjoong tells you

he talks for hours and hours and you listen all the while with a heavy heart, clinging onto his every word

on your final night, you two stay like that until the stars disappear and the horizon becomes streaked with the pale hues of sunrise

after the ship docks mere hours later, only hongjoong accompanies you to your kingdom after goodbyes are exchanged

wooyoung doesn’t take it well, and you find yourself holding back tears of your own as you are let through the palace doors with the captain by your side

but you blink them away when you approach the throne room because vulnerability is not an emotion you are willing to display

“y/n”

the queen addresses you curtly when you enter, and hongjoong wonders for a split second whether he has brought you back to the wrong kingdom

he knows your mother does not treat you fondly, but it’s still staggering to see it before his very own eyes

the monarch glances distastefully over him before her eyes flicker back to you

“i did not expect your return,” she states

your eyes remain impassive as you merely answer, “neither am i delighted to be back”

hongjoong recognises this look

he’s seen it when you first boarded his ship; he’s seen it when your hackles were raised

he’s seen it in himself, when he had been a teenager filled with nothing but growing resentment, before he had met seonghwa

your mother sneers, “then you should have made yourself useful and stayed with the pirates. as a whore or a dog, whatever it took.”

hongjoong has understood you since learning of your demons, but right now, he is you

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, standing before a couple who are his parents only by title

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, who doesn’t know what he has done that deems him undeserving of love

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, all alone with no one to take his hand

“or really, you should have died on the ship”

hongjoong is close enough to you to hear the small hitch in your breath at your mother’s final jab

he may not have had someone to save his younger self, but he can do that now

he can be the person he so desperately needed years ago

and so he does just that.

hongjoong grabs your hand and drags you out of the palace

no one stops the two of you from leaving and he is unsure whether his heart hurts for you or sings with relief

you can only stutter in shock as you try to keep up, “hongjoong, what about your payment?”

his determined steps do not slow down, even as he looks back at you with a sure smile, “i told you before. some things are worth more than money”

the comforting squeeze of his hand conveys that you are worth more than any amount of money

the form of the arriba grows bigger in the distance and you think you can see the movement of excitement on deck when the crew spots your figures

hongjoong has slowed down his steps, but he has yet to let go of your hand

“and you deserve to know that. welcome to the crew, y/n”

to a family and love that you never had

you think you like the sound of that

“thank you, captain”

seonghwa

pov: you're a royal navy officer in disguise

you lay awake in your hammock, listening to the soft snores of the crew members around you

sleep doesn’t come easy to you anymore

particularly tonight

you contemplate whether it’s worth the risk to simply not show up

you know what the consequences are if they capture you - a slow and painful death - but you’re unsure whether you want to put ateez on the line too

your ship is currently docked for the night, having made a port stop at alcarres following one of the crew’s wishes to retire the pirate lifestyle and settle in the small town

their last night with ateez had been celebrated with sloshing rum and rowdy jigs, something you had found strange

there’s none of that in the royal navy

when one leaves, it is shameful and through one of three options only; old age, crippling injury, or…death

you had asked seonghwa, the quartermaster, why he and the captain were so accepting when crew members left as they wished

he had simply smiled and answered, “better a small but loyal crew than a large and unpredictable crew”

his words are like a sharp stone in your shoe as you finally slip out of your hammock and make your way off the ship

as ordered, you head to the tavern addressed

you salute the person in front of you and ease into your seat with a formality only when he disregards you

“admiral jang”

“you’re late,” the royal navy officer raises an eyebrow

“sorry, sir. i had to make sure everyone was asleep”

it’s not exactly the truth, but no one needs to know that you had spent an hour in your hammock questioning your morality

he ignores your excuse, jesting as he asks of your captain, “has the pirate king found the chart’s whereabouts yet?”

the charts

centuries ago, a crew of experienced sailors had travelled the six great seas and created the original navigational charts

the charts had become scattered and lost over time, but its value only increased exponentially as more and more sailors became victims to the sea trying to map its waters to the same detail and accuracy as the original charts

of the six originals, only the whereabouts of five are known, with most of them within the possession of the royal navy

it’s rumoured that hongjoong - the pirate king - has his hands on two of them and is currently tracking down the lost chart of the aurorian sea

the only sea that has yet to be chartered after its original map due to its dangerous and unpredictable sailing conditions

you know that your next words can hold an inexplicable amount of possibilities

“not yet. the last lead didn’t get him anywhere. turned out the last of the ahn clan had passed a decade ago”

his lips flatten at the lack of worthwhile information

“where’s the captain headed to next, then?” he probes

for a split second, the thought of lying crosses your mind

you can’t provide a different location - it would be much too obvious and would raise immediate suspicions

but you could give him a different time frame

after all, it’s not uncommon for navigational routes to be one to two weeks off should the waters be unpredictable enough

you find the truth spilling out of you anyway once you’re looking into his stone-cold eyes

“vlasgar. in about three weeks’ time”

for a moment, time stands still as your heart pounds and you attempt to slow your breathing, the officer staring back at you calculatingly

then he finally hums in satisfaction

you think that he is going to dismiss you, but as you make a move to leave, he leans back in his seat

the split second of hesitation was enough

“remember where your loyalty lies, y/n”

the air feels cold with the underlying threat

seonghwa’s words flit through your mind

better a small but loyal crew than a large and unpredictable crew

you swallow, “of course, admiral”

and then you’re dismissed with a nod

the unsettling feeling follows you all the way back to the ship and every miniscule creak of the floorboards underneath you seems to be amplified in the silence

you let out a short gasp of surprise when you’re about to climb back into your hammock, only to see seonghwa blinking blearily at you

“couldn’t sleep ‘gain?” he mumbles

you choke out a response, “yeah”

“i’ll make you tea b’fore you sleep ‘morrow,” his words slur with sleepiness

“okay,” you whisper

but you know it won’t make a difference

after all, there’s no remedy for guilt

it continues to fester the next day, as you linger outside the captain’s quarters

you can’t remember why you had come down to the lower deck, but it doesn’t matter now, not with seonghwa and the captain discussing what you think is related to the aurorian chart

“do you think he’s still in vlasgar?”

“min taesoo? it’s hard to say. but i’m sure he’ll have acquaintances still on the island who may have an idea of where he’s gone”

min taesoo

your brain tries to carefully file the name away, knowing that it’s what admiral jang would want to know, but at the same time, your heart tries to pretend it doesn’t know what you have heard so that you can forget about it

you find yourself scratching the name onto a scrap of paper anyway

unbeknownst to you, at the almost-imperceivable sound of your footsteps walking away, the two men behind the doors share a look

the crew sets sail again in the afternoon towards the next destination - vlasgar - and the scrap of paper in your pocket weighs you down so heavily that you feel off-kilter as you absentmindedly follow jongho up into the rigging to unfurl the sails

you’re near the top of the ropes when a sudden wave lurches the boat to starboard

it’s only a small push, really, but with your mind elsewhere, it catches you off guard and you miss your next step

the feeling of your hand dislodging from the sudden drag of your body weight brings you back to the present with a yell of surprise

(whether it’s your own or jongho’s, you can’t remember)

your sailing experience takes over and you try to swing your body back towards the safety of the rigging

you barely manage to grasp the ropes again but your hands slip down with your weight until they hit the next knot, the hot rush of friction threatening your grip

with adrenaline rushing through your body, you shakily climb back down, where there are several pairs of hands waiting to help you down the rest of the rigging

seonghwa’s hands do not leave you even after your feet are planted on the deck again

dread and shame heat the back of your neck and curl around onto your cheeks, knowing that a mistake like the one you had just made - accidental or not - would lead to a punishment like confinement in the lower deck back in the royal navy

except, when an apology starts to form on your lips, seonghwa bursts out in dismay

“y/n, your hands!”

you let out an unintelligible noise as seonghwa gently turns your palms over and you realise that the ropes have grazed some of the skin off

“it’s fine,” you want to say

but you’re silenced when he leads you to the small sick bay on the orlop deck

even if there is no surgeon on board, there is a small chest fastened to the wall that is home to their few and valuable medical supplies

you sit as he fusses over you with alcohol and strips of cloth

although he does a good job of wrapping your hands, your insides start to bleed with how intensely guilt eats away at you, like a maggot deep inside the core of a festering apple

that night as you shuffle towards your hammock to sleep, you flinch when you find seonghwa already sitting in his

he’s fighting the heaviness in his eyes as he carefully cradles something

upon seeing you, he wordlessly hands it to you with a sleepy smile before he finally sags into his own hammock with a content sigh

you look down and the warmth of it seems to burn through the padded dressing that the man before you has tenderly wrapped around your palms

the sensation travels upwards to burn your heart too

because in your hands is a cup of warm chamomile tea

and yet, despite the emptied cup, you find yourself unable to fall asleep

but in the darkness of the sky, with no witnesses other than the waves and sea foam themselves, a small piece of crumpled paper gets tossed overboard that night

the closer their ship approaches vlasgar, the more distant seonghwa notices you become

he worries

seonghwa thinks he worries for the reasons that he should be

he is the quartermaster; entrusted to protect the crew as the captain’s right-hand man

if that means ensuring no one will compromise the rest of his crew, even if it’s you, then so be it

that’s what he justifies to himself as he walks through the cobbled streets of vlasgar, slinking through the shadows as he follows your figure from a safe distance

(in reality, seonghwa worries for the reasons that he is not quite ready to admit yet)

he follows you into the dim bar of a tavern and carefully situates himself where he can watch over you without being discovered

he orders a mug of common ale as you approach someone

the man is dressed in civilian attire, but seonghwa can tell straight away from his demeanour and expression that he is not as ordinary as he appears

it’s confirmed when he hears you say, “admiral jang”

and then he sees it

the small but striking lapel pin on the breast of the man’s coat - the royal navy’s insignia

seonghwa feels for the sash that’s hidden underneath his own jacket and his fingertips meet the cool metal of the pistol tied inside

“you better have updates for me, y/n. what’s the pirate king’s purpose here in vlasgar?”

seonghwa knows he only has about five seconds to make a decision - one that could jeopardise the crew, or one that could jeopardise you

but you surprise yourself and the both of them when you answer steadfastly, “i don’t know, sir”

despite the din of drunker patrons in the tavern, it seems to fall deathly silent

“am i hearing wrong, officer?” the admiral questions with a disbelieving scoff

to your credit, your voice does not waver when you state again, “no, sir. i believe the captain and quartermaster are lying low. they have not revealed anything to me nor the rest of the crew”

seonghwa suddenly understands why you have distanced yourself

the admiral’s jaw tics

“is that so.”

you do not respond, only focusing on the spot between his raised eyebrows as he leans forward across the table

“where does your loyalty lie, y/n?”

neither the admiral nor seonghwa need to hear your answer to know the truth

a small crew may be outnumbered, but they have strength in loyalty and devotion

there’s a glint of movement from underneath the table as the admiral inches something out from his belt

seonghwa makes his decision

you flinch, eyes wide as there’s a deafening gunshot and the table beside you splinters and scatters the tankards of alcohol onto the floor

instantaneously, chaos erupts

there are drunken yells of fright and weapons clumsily brandished, tables upturned and chairs hurled across the room

it only takes one other misfired shot for the tavern to descend into hellfire as customers who were previously drinking together now turn on one another

nobody notices the two pirates dashing out, not even admiral jang, who is busy wrangling two inebriated men off his arms

your composure dissolves the moment you are dragged into an alleyway several streets away and you look up in shock to discover-

“seonghwa?! why are you here?”

“i could say the same about you,” he counters, hardly out of breath

you’re stunned by the fact that he seems completely unfazed by the mess that he has just dragged you out of

something clicks

“was that you? did you know all along?”

seonghwa smiles, “let’s just say you’re not as subtle as you think you are when you sneak around. plus, it’s uncommon for sailors to have the experience that you do without having had some sort of training”

you curse under your breath and wince, “does hongjoong know too?”

the quartermaster nods and you fear the answer to your next question

“then why has he not…why have you not…”

“killed you yet?” seonghwa chuckles. “i’m sure you’ve realised by now how skewed the royal navy’s beliefs are”

you’re quiet

the royal navy has always been cult-like in preaching the ruthlessness and barbarism of pirates, drilling into the officers the belief that pirates are the scum of the sea

but everything that you’ve known has been proven false since you’ve joined ateez; ironically, the pirates are more humane than the royal navy themself

their crew stand at attention whenever hongjoong or seonghwa walk onto the deck - not out of cultivated fear but genuine respect

when jongho is sore and tired from handling the riggings on a particularly rough and windy day, the others will offer to cover for his chores instead of flogging him into submission

and when mingi is divvying up the shares of the provisions and loot, the others will slip an extra bar of soap for seonghwa, the shiniest ring for mingi, or the largest bottle of rum for yunho, because they want to make each other happy

“hongjoong is the pirate king, yes, but a king should not take the lives of others for his own power. a true king uses his power to change the lives of others for the better…like yours…and like mine”

you frown with a jerk of your head

“what do you mean?”

you can’t see seonghwa as a broken man whatsoever

he gives you a weak smile, “i, too, used to be part of the royal navy”

your jaw drops

everything clicks into place - how he had figured out you weren’t just a common sailor and why he hadn’t confronted you about it

the shame and guilt come rushing back over you in a storm that is much too familiar by now

“i’m so sorry, all i’ve done is betray your trust-”

“but that’s what second chances are for, no?” seonghwa cuts you off, playfully flicking your forehead as he reminds you, “and i’m pretty sure you’ve chosen me over the royal navy”

your cheeks grow hot

“not you. the crew,” you mutter

he laughs and it’s a wonderful sound

“come on, it’s late,” seonghwa beckons. “let’s get some sleep”

when he sees that you’re still rooted to the spot, unsure whether you are deserving to go back, he decides for you and moves behind you to gently nudge you forward by the shoulders

you let him guide you

his hands are warm, you note, even through the linen of your shirt

his hands are also pretty, you observe, when he tries to fluff your hammock once you two have crept your way back to the berth

seonghwa helps you up into the hammock and you watch as he climbs into his

his hands are also teeming with love, you realise, when he wordlessly extends his arm nearest to you in a silent invitation

if you both reach out, you can just entwine your hands together from your respective hammocks

the burns on your palms have healed nicely and without the need for them to be wrapped, you can feel every expanse of his hand covering yours

he doesn’t retract his hand and neither do you, even though it’s not the most comfortable position and you both lose feeling of your arms soon after

but you lay in your hammock, drifting to the soft snores of the crew members around you and the soft tug of seonghwa’s fingers in yours

sleep comes easy to you

particularly tonight

as it will for the rest of your life

yunho

pov: you're the crew's navigator

you know it’s going to happen even before it actually does

you can feel it in the air and from the way the baby hairs around your hairline start to frizz

but you never say anything because you wouldn’t trade it for the moment when the first raindrop hits the back of yunho’s neck and he abandons his duty at the helm to drag you out onto the upper deck

(hongjoong only sighs in defeat before he stations himself at the helm instead)

you don’t like the rain

not like yunho does

you are already looking up from the map spread out in the captain’s quarters, a knowing smile on your face just from the sound of his bounding footsteps alerting you of his presence, when yunho appears with the beckon of rain

you pretend to let yourself be dragged to your feet along to his urges of come on!

but then you dash forward towards the hatch with yunho chasing after your bright laughter

in the short span of time that it has taken him to fetch you, the sprinkle of rain has steadily grown and the weathered planks of the deck are already a dark grey

you feel the coldness of the raindrops hitting the crown of your head and the spreading chill as your clothes start to become damp

but that’s not what makes you feel alive

yunho catches up to you easily and then he is snaking his arms around your waist to lift you up into the air

you barely have time to squeal and steady yourself on his broad shoulders before he is spinning the two of you around, the world blurring away as the spotlight shines on him and he is all that you can see

the deck is your stage and the sea is your audience

rain with yunho is twirling hugs, tiptoed kisses and tinkling laughter. it’s soaked shirts and rosy cheeks and the only thing that matters in the moment

you don’t like the rain, but it’s easy to like the rain when it’s with him

(hongjoong lets the two of you be - so obviously and hopelessly enamoured by each other - because when one sees people in love, one cannot help but watch and smile)

the rain eventually peters out and you and yunho must return to your respective duties, but not until you two have changed out of your drenched clothes and sneaked in a few more kisses

a few hours later, you hear the racket above the deck as a ship pulls up beside the arriba and ropes are thrown across from both sides to lash the vessels close together

hongjoong comes down to join you in his quarters, but he’s not alone

behind him is the captain of the silver light, dae jihoo, and his quartermaster, with seonghwa entering last

you note that this crew doesn’t have a navigator of their own

but you suppose that’s one of the reasons why their captain had implored an alliance for this particular raid

the crew of the silver light are wanting to target the prosperity triangle - an area between three large ports that is frequently trafficked by wealthy vessels transporting valuable goods

it’s a raid that would prove difficult for a smaller pirate crew like your own and the silver light, and especially if they have no navigator

but it’s not uncommon for pirates to form temporary alliances for such purposes, and together, your crews have a good chance of plundering a fortune

you nod your head in acknowledgement when hongjoong introduces you to the two pirates as ateez’s navigator

you don’t miss the way jihoo’s eyes seem to linger on you for a second too long before he flashes a crooked grin and gestures towards the navigational map spread out on the oak table

clearing your throat of discomfort, you step forward and flatten the creases out with your hands

“this is the most open spot within the triangle that the vessel we’re after will pass through,” you tap an annotated spot on the chart, “and this is where we are now”

you slide your finger across, “we’ll follow the rhumb line west to avoid the shallower waters and when we can catch the trade winds, it should be smooth sailing from there”

jihoo challenges you, “how can you be sure we’ll catch the ship within the triangle?”

“they’ll need to sail past the equator and i’m almost certain their ship will be slowed down by the doldrums. we can easily gain knots on them”

he squints at the scribbles you’ve made noting down what you’ve gathered of the wind patterns

you know for a fact that it will mean nothing to him, but whatever he sees must satisfy him because jihoo appears to make up his mind

“when do we set sail?” he directs his question to your captain

“three days from now”

he grunts a noise of affirmation and stands, which hongjoong takes as the cue to see them and the rest of their crew off your ship

you trail behind the group as you all head back to the upper deck

you prepare to emerge from the hatch with a playful wink, knowing that yunho will be craning his neck from the helm to get a glimpse of you, when a sudden holler surprises you out of your thoughts

it’s immediately met with the answering cries of several other pirates - none from your crew - and you hurry to clear the hatch to gain your bearings

you’re thrust right into the throes of battle as ateez are forced to unsheathe their cutlasses to defend against silver light’s sudden attack

having been caught off guard, basically none of your firearms are loaded with gunpowder, rendering them unusable

you will have to make do with the short sabre at your waist

there’s no time to account for the whereabouts and safety of your crew members and you just have to pray that you all make it out of this unscathed

especially yunho

but as ateez retaliate, you all notice something is off about the situation

your crew is very quickly overpowering the other pirates - it was a losing fight for them from the very beginning

it makes no sense to you nor the rest of your crew

the losses of breaking the alliance before the planned raid, much less through betrayal, far outweigh any gains they could possibly make from their choice of action

it makes absolutely no sense

until it does.

you are blocking the swing of a sabre with your own when you are tugged backwards harshly by the collar of your shirt

there’s an angry snarl in your throat as you prepare to turn around, but it’s quickly silenced by the warning shot of a pistol right beside your ear

the cold ring of metal is then pressed to the back of your head

you know that firearms require time to reload and there’s a chance that this pistol is now useless

but, like wooyoung has taught the rest of the crew to do, they may have pre-prepared several pistols and you are not willing to play with fire - especially when you are only the flex of a finger away from death

you vaguely hear someone yell out your name in panic, but you’re not quite sure you hear correctly over the clamour of cutlasses clashing, warcries resounding and your own heartbeat pounding

��stand down or your navigator dies,” the voice behind you thunders

it’s jihoo…and he wants a navigator for his crew

“ateez,” one of your men commands, “lower your weapons”

your crew may make decisions fairly, but in battle, only hongjoong has the power to make commands

yunho has never spoken against his captain or disobeyed orders

until now

the words do not come out of your captain’s mouth but yunho’s

the rest of the members hesitate - they will not stand down unless hongjoong commands them to, yet, they are unsure whether they will be able to follow should he demand them to fight on, even if it means endangering your life

but there is no guarantee jihoo will let your crew go unharmed even after you all surrender, and as the captain, hongjoong must make decisions in the best interest for the crew

“captain!” yunho yells desperately

yunho never yells

“stand down,” hongjoong commands

silver light’s captain steps in closer behind you until you can hear and feel the noise of intriguement that leaves his mouth down the back of your neck

“that your loverboy, hmm?”

he smirks

there’s a false moment of primal relief when the press of the pistol is removed from the back of your head, but it is immediately replaced with fear that is irrevocably worse as he aims it in yunho’s direction and shoots

“no!”

you shriek and pull against the tug of his hold, still fisted around your collar, your pupils blown wide with terror at the sight of the clean hole in the mast right beside yunho’s head

“it’ll be pretty boy’s head next if you don’t come with me,” jihoo coos into your ear

the fight slips out of you immediately

because if you can save him, a life for a life, then you will

even if the sight of mingi holding yunho back from lunging forward when the pistol’s barrel returns to your head makes your heart clench painfully

“y/n, don’t you dare,” yunho pleads, voice filled with anguish

you’re barely given enough time to lock eyes with him and say resolutely, “remember what you said to me,” before you are tugged away to the boarding plank

ateez can only watch helplessly as the planks are removed from over the bulwarks and the last of the ropes are untied, releasing the silver light from their ship for good

jihoo tugs you down the hatch as the ship starts to pull away, and just like that, you’re gone from their sights

“fuck!” yunho shouts furiously, unable to contain his emotions as he turns around and connects his fist with the mast

right where the musket ball had made a hole

his hand pulls away with bloodied knuckles from the splintered wood and the sheer force of his punch

a concerned whine leaves seonghwa’s mouth and he tries to approach the taller, but yunho shakes him off and looks determinedly at hongjoong

“we’re sailing to the banver isle just east of the triangle. we’ll ambush them there”

seonghwa looks between the two, hope flickering in his chest at the potential plan, “you think the silver light are stupid enough to try taking on the prosperity triangle alone?”

yunho chuckles darkly, “they were fucking shitbrained enough to take y/n, so yes”

nobody disagrees and hongjoong smirks dangerously

“ateez, ready the sails for banver isle,” he commands. “prepare for battle”

because not only have the silver light taken you away from ateez, but they have also annihilated the light from yunho’s eyes

gone are his warm brown orbs - they are now black holes thirsty for retribution

there will be lives to pay and even that will not be enough for the void

unaware of what your crew is capable of, jihoo looks down at you with a triumphant leer

“you’ll navigate us to the triangle in three days’ time. don’t even think about lying - you’ve already shown me where the location is”

with an even nod you reply, “of course”

it’s true though - you have absolutely no intention of navigating them somewhere else

because you know yunho will be waiting there for you

amidst chaste kisses exchanged between plush lips cold from the rain, yunho tells you in a brief moment of seriousness

“don’t show them where the real location is,” his breath is warm across your cheeks. “you know the coastal island roughly ten nautical miles away? show them that instead”

you tilt your head to look up at him, “you think they’ll betray us?”

“no,” he reassures you with a deeper, slower kiss, “but we can never be too safe”

and even if your vessels miss each other this time, you have complete faith that yunho will sail to the very ends of the world just to find you

two days before the originally-planned raid, the arriba sails as closely to banver isle as possible without risking running aground

yunho has navigated the ship around the back of the isle so that the form of the rocky terrain conceals them from sight

once the anchor is lowered, the crew members use every ticking moment to make preparations

swords are sharpened and firearms cleaned

mingi distributes the gunpowder and ammunition, which is pre-loaded into muskets, pistols and swivel cannons ready to be engaged

the ship’s sails and riggings are checked and yeosang keeps a keen lookout in the crow’s nest

and it’s as if the world itself can sense the brewing storm that grows inside yunho

the sea is eerily still and silent, but the sky is an omen to something impending, its rolling clouds dark and angry with the threat of rain leering over the waters

yunho doesn’t actually like the rain

he only likes it because it’s with you

rain with you is barefoot dancing, breathless confessions and bashful giggles. it’s drenched locks and fluttering eyelashes and the only thing that exists in the moment

but as the profile of the silver light finally approaches the isle two days later, the heavens split open and you are not by his side

rain without you is falling pinpricks, frigid winds and flaunting mockery and yunho despises it with his entire being

at yeosang’s call of, “vessel approaching from starboard,” up in the lookout, yunho smothers the fervid desire to barrage the other ship with cannonballs like hail from hell; to unleash an inferno that blazes through their hull as he sadistically watches the crew jump for their lives

he stamps out the hunger to shoot the ones that make it into the sea, not to kill, only to maim and induce a long, painful struggle in the open waters until death becomes inevitable - until there is enough blood spilt that it becomes the only stench in the air that stretches across for miles

yunho leashes his monsters with an iron fist

because he will not do anything that could even remotely endanger your life

even if it means that he has to hold back - to sit and wait like prey instead of advancing on the other ship like a predator

at least not yet.

silver light do not know, but this is the calm before the storm

the heavens may be crying, the winds may be howling and the waters may be roiling

but this is nothing compared to yunho

yunho is a tempest of unparalleled rage and their ship is in the eye of his storm

as the bowsprit of the silver light starts to appear around the isle, the members ready their grappling hooks and yunho draws his cutlass with a menacing whisper of unsheathing metal

you are his treasure, and pirates never lose sight of their treasure

today…you return to him

yeosang

pov: you're a tavern keeper

watching the ale reach the brim of the tankard you are holding, you’re about to step away from the barrel when the voice of a patron sounds behind you

“‘scuse me, could i get a mint-”

you look up and turn around in confusion as their voice cuts off

only to have the question taken right from the tip of your own tongue as you’re met with the face of the person you had loved for years

the same person you have spent twice as long trying to forget

eyes searching each other’s in a surprised stupor, seeing kang yeosang standing right in front of you takes you back to those memories that you have tried to remember and simultaneously bury

it thrusts you headfirst into what used to be of your shared love - like the feathery remnants of a dream, so distant from the fingers of your consciousness, suddenly returning to vivid existence when you least expect it

“hey, mint leaf. i’m back”

yeosang at least has the perceptiveness to appear a little apologetic, immediately pulling you into a hug and pressing soft kisses against your hairline uncaring of the other people in the tavern

it’s been several weeks since you last saw him, and whilst he had warned you he would be gone for longer this time, you hadn’t expected it to mean two whole months

he’s a small merchant who also fishes along the coast to earn enough to make ends meets, so he’s often gone for a few days or a week or two

you knew what you were in for when you first made it official with him, but just because you become accustomed to something, doesn’t mean it gets any easier

and he’s never been gone for this long

something must have happened - something good - because he looks alive, cheeks glowing and eyes fiery

“i met the crew”

“the crew?” you ask, hands reaching for the bourbon to prepare him a drink as he lets himself behind the counter to stand beside you in your workspace

he nods excitedly, "wooyoung’s pirate crew, ateez"

you think you know where this is going to go and you hate that your stomach sinks at the thought of what your future may become, because yeosang looks so happy to tell you about this and a happy yeosang is all that you could ask for

“the captain offered me a position as their lookout”

you pick out your next words carefully as you hand him his finished drink - a mint julep with two sugar cubes, just the way he likes it

"aren't…isn't being a pirate dangerous?"

“not as dangerous as you might think, actually. they’ve been showing me the ropes the last couple of weeks and…and i think i want to join them. officially”

there it is

the forked end of the road

you wonder how far two people can keep walking with their hands intertwined before the distance becomes too great and they have to let go

his words become a little muddled when he goes on to tell you about how they divvied up their recent loot to include his share too

how he’s gained more money than he’s made from the last two years of working as a merchant and fisherman combined

if he joins his old friend and his crew, he could earn enough to buy his parents a proper house; earn enough to build you your very own tavern

you want to tell him that you don’t need the tavern, just him, but you also know just how important his family is to him

his filial desire to take care of his parents was one of the very reasons you fell in love with him in the first place

before you can say anything though, the tavern keeper is interrupting to let you know that your shift is over

yeosang immediately perks up and herds you out of the place, claiming that there is a new fishing spot he discovered that he has to show you

and so you sit while he rows his modest boat, only the splash of his oars disturbing the peaceful stillness that has settled over the waters as the sun dips below the horizon

the waning light casts a soft, warm glow over him, like a gentle kiss against his skin and birthmark

if angels graced the earth, there would be one sitting right in front of you

“i missed you, mint leaf,” he confesses, gaze shyly averted. “i thought about you when i was gone”

“did you think about showing me this place?” you feel a little breathless

he nods, “every single night”

and that’s enough for you

it feels like everything is okay again

it doesn’t matter if you’re standing at a forked road

you think that perhaps, for him, you can walk on an unpaved path - just so that you can keep holding his hand

“y/n”

yeosang’s voice is deep

the word sounds foreign to your own ears but you don’t dwell on it

(because if you do, you’ll wonder whether it’s because you’ve forgotten the sound of his voice or because you want to hear him calling you something else)

“what would you like to order?” you ask

(because it’s easier to pretend that he’s just another patron than to admit that he used to be all that you ever knew)

yeosang fumbles a little but then regains himself, “oh, um- just a mint julep, please”

you turn your back to him to prepare his drink, hands reaching for the barrels lined along the bottom shelves without needing to look

you’ve made this drink too many times to count

half of those times were in the safety of the darkness that midnight offered; when the tears could flow freely without anyone seeing

it’s only when you start to mix his cocktail that yeosang realises he didn’t ask for his sugar cubes, but he figures the drink will taste bitter tonight either way so he opts to watch you instead

he wishes that he could walk past the counter like he used to and wrap his arms around you

he wishes that he could whisper endearments into your ears and press them against your lips

he wishes that he could show you that he still loves you

“do you still love me?” your voice wavers with hurt as you stand in front of him

he’s finally back after being gone for four months this time and you hate this conversation as much as he does, but it was bound to happen eventually

yeosang pleads, “more than anything”

“then why does it hurt so much? loving you…and being loved by you”

he doesn’t have an answer

but god be damned if he doesn’t try to find a way to fix things

“tell me, mint leaf, what can i do?”

you blink back your tears furiously, having already made up your mind while he was still at sea

“let’s break up”

because in the end, unpaved paths have too many rocks, too many thorns and too many arched roots; they were never meant to be walked along

you pass yeosang his finished drink without another word and then move further down the counter to serve a different customer

his eyes linger on you wistfully before he tears them away from you

it’s a good thing his hair has grown long enough to cover his face when he looks down

because his eyes start to grow wet at the sight of the mint julep you have made him

with two sugar cubes in it, just the way he likes it

perhaps, once you’ve loved somebody, you never really stop loving them

yeosang shows up again the next day and seats himself at the bar

you don’t serve him though, actively avoiding his end of the counter and letting another of your staff tend to him

he orders his usual but he leaves out his request for additional sugar cubes

it feels wrong for him to order it from someone that isn’t you

but you’re watching out of the corner of your eye as the worker mixes the bourbon, sugar and water, topping it with a few mint leaves and then sliding it across the counter for him

you let out a little sigh, half amused, when he takes a small sip and smacks his lips together at the bitterness

you take two sugar cubes and drop it unceremoniously into his pewter cup before you realise what you’re doing

yeosang immediately seizes the opportunity to talk to you

“my crew’s docked for the fortnight…” he waits to see if you’ll respond. you don’t, but you also don’t move away, so he continues. “we’re making some repairs to the hull and sails before our next raid”

you have half a mind to walk away after you reply, “i didn’t ask” 

he forges on regardless

“we’re going to work with another crew for this one. it’s going to increase our chances of a successful raid because-”

your voice comes out a little harsher than you mean for it to when you hiss again, “i didn’t ask”

yeosang’s mouth closes as he pulls away slightly, back straightening

then he says in a softer voice, “i’ve been doing well. wooyoung still takes care of me, even though i’m not new to the crew anymore. i also saw my parents today and they’re happily retired now…”

you don’t stop him from talking this time

because how many sleepless nights have you spent sitting outside your tavern looking up at the stars; how many times have you served a mint julep to a patron and accidentally added sugar cubes; how many moments have you been consumed by the thought of him, simply wondering if he is living well?

this is everything that you have ever wanted - yeosang in the flesh letting you know that, yes, he has been well

but it is also everything that you have ever feared - that he has been well even without you

you don’t know what to feel

“my parents asked about you,” he says gingerly. “how have you been?”

his voice is barely audible, as if he is afraid of what you might say

or perhaps, afraid that you might not say anything at all

“good. excellent,” you force a small smile, your eyes still focused on the mint leaves floating in his drink. you don’t think you can look at him. “i own this place now”

his body loses its tension, cheeks rounding as he looks at you with genuine relief

“that’s…that’s really good to hear”

his words sting

you are unsure if it stings your ego or if it picks at the wound in the shape of the person you have lost

but it hurts to know that he has worried over you in the exact same way you have over him, the whole time you two have been apart

you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the realisation and hot tears well in your eyes almost immediately

your bottom lip starts to crumple so you rush into the back room to escape

“y/n!” yeosang calls out after you, alarmed

when you don’t stop, disappearing into the storage, he jolts up from his seat and follows

your body shudders with every heaving breath you take, unable to stop yourself from crying even harder when you feel him tug you into his chest

you try to pull away but his sturdy arms tighten around you

yeosang refuses to let you go once more

“i hate you,” you sob, struggling against his hold as you hit his chest weakly

he hushes comforts against the crown of your head, soothing noises as he endures your fists

“you have every reason to”

yeosang holds back tears of his own

he feels your body gradually losing its fight, sinking into his embrace instead, hands desperately holding him close

your voice is so impossibly small when you tearfully confess, “but i still love you”

“oh, mint leaf,” he brushes the stray locks of hair away from your face and cradles your jaw tenderly, “i still love you, too”

he presses a soft kiss against your forehead, pulling away once only to reaffirm, “so, so much”

when he kisses you again, his lips taste salty against your own, but nothing has ever tasted sweeter than this

your breath no longer stutters but the tears continue to run down your face because your heart finally feels right after all these years apart

and yet-

you pull away

“we can’t do this”

yeosang feels his heart shattering

“why not? i don’t understand,” he whimpers

“you know why,” you say distressingly, “my life is here, yeosang. i can’t just leave and return whenever i want. but you, on the other hand? you can. you go where your crew goes - you belong with them”

“but my heart belongs to you. please, y/n,” he begs

his arms are still wrapped around you and you feel his desperation as his fingers cling onto you like a lifeline

you look earnestly into his bloodshot eyes, your own vision blurry, “yeo, you’re not the one who gets left behind here. you’re not the one who waits weeks, months, years on end, just hoping that the next person to walk in is the person that you want to see”

he wants to plead that he waits to see you, too, but he knows that he’s the one who leaves, too

“you’re the right one for me - the only one for me - but it’s not the right time,” you tell him gently

slowly, his arms lower themselves from around you

“it wasn’t the right time then and it isn’t the right time now,” he repeats, “then when is the right time for us?”

you shoot the question right back at him, “when is the right time for someone whose life is to sail the world?”

neither of you know the answer

nobody does, because loving a pirate has no certainties

but yeosang doesn’t give up

“if we can’t ever be sure, why don’t we just make it the right time ourselves?”

you caress his cheek sweetly, and despite having stepped away from you earlier, he leans into your hand, starved of your loving touch and affection

“yeosang…what if we’ve already had it? what if…meeting each other was already it? what if we’re just meant to love from a distance, not side by side?” your voice is poignant but resolute

he brings up a hand to cover yours, still warm and tender against his wet cheek

how is it that he can be touching you yet simultaneously feel worlds apart from you

“okay,” he accepts with a whisper

if loving you silently is the only way he gets to love you, then he will choose it in a heartbeat over losing you entirely

he thumbs away the remainder of your tears

“can i kiss you? one last time?” he asks

you nod

“one last time”

your lips slowly meet, slotting together as they find their home in each other’s dips and curves

his hands cradle the small of your back and neck and your own hands rest against his chest

the kiss you share is steady, longing and bittersweet

it conveys everything that you want to say to each other, and even then, it is hardly enough

thank you

i’m sorry

i love you

goodbye…

you can feel your eyes burning up again, but you focus on the feeling of yeosang’s lips against yours instead

because you know that the moment one of you pulls away, that is it forever

in the world of love, there are people who are ill-fated

they meet the right person, but at the wrong time

and then there are people like you and yeosang

not ill-fated, but star-crossed lovers

the right person…

but just not meant to be

[st-dionysus]

(The Poem is named) Emetophobia CW

It’s 2024 and I’m in a 20 year old drag bar, watching the very first trans-masculine performer to compete on their stage, he gets second place even though he deserved first.

I show up to the men’s bathhouse on trans night to get free entry and get turned away at the door, and told it’s for transgirls only, bitch you could have put it on the flyer that transmen need not apply.

I’m doing a line of ketamine off the table, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I get banned from the camsite for listing myself as transgender when I don’t have a dick, I complain online and get told that the trans-masculine body is to grotesque to be fetishized and I should be grateful.

I wear a packer and hitch up a skirt, walk the street, get $20, calling it stealing transfem valor.

Cissie puts a TW #body-mutilation tag under my thirst trap. Tranny puts a TW #dysphoria tag under my thirst trap.

T-girl with a callout post pedojackets me, Enby with TME in bio pedojackets me, T-boy with a self-deprecating joke about men in his bio pedojackets me.

I do another line of ketamine off the table, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I am at the woman’s clinic, I am at the woman’s clinic, I am at the woman’s clinic wearing a mask – not cause I’m compromised (I am), just to hide my beard – avoiding making everyone uncomfortable.

I am getting re-diagnosed with BPD, which just means I have bitch disorder and no one trusts me.

I take my pills and throw them up. I drink my liquor before the beer and throw them up.

I am just 14 when the picture and videos go up. Remind me that I have it easy, they were only pictures and videos.

I am just 17 when the recording of my proof stops before it happens, my phone memory is full, I’m called a liar and now I can’t see buttered crackers, thanksgiving, or sriracha sauce without wanting to kill myself.

No one gets me therapy, but they still want to convert me, she puts her hands down my pants, at least I’m 19, to remind me I’m a woman – tell me how they love trans men again.

I do a third line of ketamine off the table, realize it doesn’t effect me, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I call myself a dog, I start biting my lovers and I have to hold back from ripping out a chunk of flesh, I don’t think I’d throw it up.

I am reading the statistics, 40% of BPD patients try and kill themselves. 1 in 2 transgender men try and kill themselves. I’m one of them. I’m 12 and I swallowed all the pills. I’m 14 and the gun is empty. I’m 17 and I put the box-opener against my throat. Therapist calls me a liar, there is no scar, and my words don’t count for anything.

I’m using he/him pronouns for Stormé DeLarverie, like the stonewall veteran association said to, and telling you he started the riot, calling it stealing transfem valor from a woman who told you she didn’t fucking do it.

I’m shoving my fingers down my throat in a fit of mania, convinced I can vomit up my uterus. She tells me I should be grateful, she’d do anything to be able to get pregnant.

My brother in the struggle gets bottom surgery without top, calling it stealing transfem valor to feel comfortable in his body.

It’s 2024 and I’m at trans pride, the announcers tells everyone to give a round of applause for trans woman, a round of applause for gender-queers, a round of applause for transfems, a round of applause for the enbies, a round of applause for trans-masculine people. You forgot someone. Did you know a trans man started the first ever transgender pride parade?

A book on queer history talks about gay men and lesbians and trans women and the women who dressed as men for better job opportunities. I’m reminded that my invisibility is a privilege, if you aren’t seen you don’t get bashed.

I’m 13 and they throw me in the girls bathroom, pin me down, beat me, and in black sharpie write “dyke”, write “tranny”, write “lesbo”, and pull my hair out the cap I shoved it in.

I’m 19 with D cups that a binder can’t hide and a beard I refuse to shave less I break the mirror and kill myself with the shards of glass I would swallow.

Man at the bus stop calls me tranny and tells me I’ll never be a woman. I’d laugh if he didn’t have his hand on my throat. Calling it stealing transfem valor.

I’m 21 and have to pull a taser on him, cause from the back, even with short hair and top surgery, I look rape-able.

I’m 23 and in the gay district when they chase me down the street, calling me faggot.

Make another forcemasc post, calling it stealing transfem valor.

Read an article about a trans man prostitute that kills himself and ends up another female statistic.

Read an article about a trans man shooter, they blame the HRT he didn’t have access too.

Going to read a callout about me, five pages on Google Docs, does this post make it on the list?

Do a final line of ketamine, write the final line of a poem that makes me want to die, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I puke and miss the toilet.

[remuslupinslittleslut]

No, like this

Anon asked: I need more of the teach me dynamic like that was so hot. The way Remus helped Sirius ate you out using his hair holy fuck that was hot. maybe it’s like Remus gets jealous cause it’s close to the full moon so he shows the boys how to properly fuck a girl and it’s super rough maybe and then James and Sirius are just there jerking off like super turned on by the scene cause wow Remus is really good at making reader be loud.

And YES! I love this dynamic and this ask was so very lovely and gave me so much inspiration THANK YOU BABE <333

Here's a very jelly remus, pre full moon, showing his friends how to fuck his girl hot damn

Masterlist. (Teach us part one. And part two. Though it can easily be read on it's own, just the same dynamics <3)

“No, you’re doing it all wrong,” Remus growled.

You were laid out on your back, James on top of you, hips moving against yours at a steady rhythm. It was good, really good. But the full moon was getting closer, and Remus was aggravated, jealous and very territorial of you.

James whined at the harsh words, and you kissed his nose telling him, “You’re doing well darling, keep going.”

He did, though not quite as confidently as before. His head came down to rest in the crook of your neck, and you felt his cheeks were heated from embarrassment. You and Remus had taught both James and Sirius a lot since your first night together, and they’d both made great progress, all the while Remus was perfectly okay with sharing you – as you also did share him with his friends.

James had just started to get it right with each thrust again – making you moan and whine, telling him what a good boy he was being – when Remus interrupted yet again.

“No, move,” he said, standing up and pushing James off of you, making all three of you gasp (Sirius wouldn’t miss this show for anything in the world), “let me show you how to fuck her properly.”

It was, to put it plainly, rude. You would have to talk to Remus about it later, that he can’t act that way with your littles, but he was so sexy, towering above you, hands tugging at his buckle, trying to free himself for you. You knew what was to come would be life changing-ly amazing, and you did not want to get in the way of Moony when he was tearing at the seams of Remus like this.

Remus was finally naked, standing next to the bed, where James still lay, “I said move.” James did, shying away, trudging toward Sirius’ bed.

“Arms above your head, darling,” he said, steadying his body above yours. You did as you were told, knowing not to argue at this moment. “See, you’ve gotta tell a slut what to do, she’s too dumb to think on her own.” This wasn’t really true – though you loved letting go of all your common sense to let Remus take full control, so you did.

He didn’t give any warning before he pushed himself into you, widening your tight little hole, taking your body from you. “Little sluts like this don’t need to be warmed up, she can take it, right love?” You nodded, knowing you hadn’t been given permission to speak.

His hips snapped against yours at a brutal pace, it almost hurt, you knew it would later, but the way the head of him pushed against your walls felt too good. While he was fucking you, he kept narrating the whole thing, “yeah, that’s right, touch your little cocks to my girl, hear that? My girl. You’ve gotta move faster, harder, like this.”

It was so hot, having your life fucked out of you by your boyfriend while your other two partners watched, touching themselves. You could finally show them the Remus you knew, the Remus who could make sure you didn’t walk straight for days – he’d been so nice and soft since you invited James and Sirius, but now he was back, with his back-arching, toe-curling, orgasm-giving sex.

You hadn’t been quiet for a while, and when your orgasm washed over you, the sounds coming from somewhere deep in your throat only got louder. “There you go, see this, this’s how you make a girl come.”

Pulling out of you, Remus kissed you once, deep and hard and dirty, before he flipped you over, pulling on your hips to make your ass stick out. Leaning down over you, he kissed down the back of your neck, biting and pulling at the skin, hard teeth scratching soft skin. “You ready, little one?” He asked, almost softly, and when you nodded your head he pulled back and pushed in, in one sweeping motion. The angle from this position was even better and you felt your eyes roll back as you dropped your head against the pillow, feeling another orgasm come creeping.

Holding himself up with one hand on the headboard, the other kept a tight hold on your hair. “Now this is how you fuck a girl real good, she won’t be able to think straight when I’m done with her, shame you’ll never be this good,” the cockiness could be heard in Remus’ voice as his hips kept pushing against yours, your ass shaking with every thrust. “Go on then, come, all over your hands from watching my girl take my cock, go ahead… You too, princess, go ahead, let go f’me…”

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered some grunting from the other bed, though most of your senses were filled with Remus, the wet sound of him thrusting in and out of you, the smell of him on the pillow, of both of your juices mixing somewhere further down on the bed, the taste of him left on your tongue, the sight of a veiny arm holding him up, the feeling of him all over you, against your back, the hands in your hair, his cock inside you, pulsating and ejaculating, filling you up with white, hot spurts of cum, the feeling of it running out of you, the wet patch on the bed between your legs.

And then… nothing.

When you woke up, it was to a hot, wet rag on your face. “Hi, love,” Remus said, kissing your forehead, hand holding your cheek still. “Welcome back, you went out for a bit, but don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you now, okay baby?”

Smiling, you reached your hands up – not a small feat, considering your arms felt like boiled spaghetti – and took a hold of his face to pull him back down to you, pressing your lips against his.

“And now this is how you perform proper aftercare, don’t ever skip that,” he said, a pointed look directed at his friends, who he was about to treat with some of the same love that you’d received.

Tagged: @remussbitch

[scruus]

★̶̲ [ 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 ]

✎ sub gepard + dom gn reader (cock can be read as strap) notes: feminization, lingerie, overstimulation, praise and a bit of degradation, calling gepard princess; i was so lazy to write anything but here i go again.

“Shit…look at that ass princess”, you groan to gepard, staring at his reflection through the mirror. Your hands groping his plump ass so tightly it would surely leave marks. The blonde haired boy seated on your lap muffles a whimper as he turns to look at himself in the mirror.

The flush on his neck and cheeks start flaring when he notices his position on your lap. The captain of the silvermane gaurds was appearing no less sluttier than a hooker and how this was a blessing for you.

You were seated at the edge of the bed, gepard on your lap, in your dimly lit bedroom.

However it wasn’t the way you two were seated but in actuality, what was gepard wearing, that made the entire situation a hundred times more filthy. Something that made you want to ravish your pretty boy.

He had decided to surprise you by wearing a white and blue lingerie set the night before you both took off for a trip with serval to the underworld for work related issues. And sure as hell, gepard was delighted when he saw the way your eyes lit up upon laying your eyes on him in that attire.

A baby blue transparent lacey bralette which showed off his perky nipples and huge pecs so prettily. They were also in the shape of a butterfly so it looked extremly adorable.

But the thong. Oh goodness the thong. It was satin and so intricately designed but it was barely able to keep his weeping cock in. The raging bulge, which he had tried to hide from you was futile the moment you pulled him onto your lap. Your hands obviously unable to keep to themselves when you saw your lover like this.

His plush bubble butt was making it very difficult to see the line of the thong going down his hole but given the loving pervert you were, you spread his soft cheeks apart and just slightly moved the thin strip of fabric to show off his pink pulsing hole.

“Fuck, look at that princess, your tight hole is looking so greedy”, you grinned to yourself as gepard turned his flushed face away from the mirror and whined in the crook of your neck. He was embarrassed but so badly turned on by your words. They were fucking honey to his ears.

“Its okay gepard, you know how much i love you and fucking that pretty little ass of yours?”, you caressed his back all the while slowly kneading his soft ass because you just god damn can’t keep your hands off of them. It was fucking impossible.

“Uh huh”, he nods shyly, tightly holding on to you and slowly grinding on your crotch, unconsciously. The way you were touching him. The soft massages, the dirty whispers, the lust in your voice, it was making his hard dick throb and his hole clench like anything.

Why did his damn sister have to come tomorrow?! It was the only day he was getting free and he had planned to spend the entire day with you!

But it doesn’t matter now, because he will be getting dicked down by you tonight, no matter what! He needs it or the lord so help him tomorrow.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・･.・゜*: ﾟ✧*:･・゜゜・・

Loud, whorish moans filled the room while hips slapped against each other. Gepard’s face was all flushed and red. The pearly tears running down his face and his swollen bruised lips further intensified the ruined look.

Hands flinging on to scratch at the pillows he was laid upon, he feared he may rip them open but who cares now when you have been pounding into him like a madman. Not stopping even once.

The thong and bralette now tossed aside (and probably ripped?) with the rest of your clothes on the floor. His eyes focused and unfocused, staring at you as garbled moans left his throat, too far gone to be ashamed by own his voice.

Tightly gripping his waist as you plummeted your cock deep in him, he could feel your swollen tip hit his prostate, every time. Your thrusts were angled as such because of the way your dick just knew the entirety of his insides so well. Going in and out of him at such a pace you didn’t think was possible but it was expected after a month of no intimacy.

You grin, licking your lips, looking at the debauchery under you. Drool dripping down his chin, mouth wide agape and spilling such beautiful moans only you were a witness to, his teary blue eyes staring at you with such love and lust. Like you were his saviour.

The saviour who was breaking him. Ripping him apart.

“Fffuck princess you look so beautiful getting ruined on my cock”, he nods dumbly, babbling yess’, eyelashes fluttering open and shut as he feels another orgasm approaching him. His warm walls squeezing down on your dick.

The cum pooling on his stomach along with his hard throbbing cock slapping across his abs was so obscene. You were groaning just looking at how filthy he looked. His hoarse screams calling out your name as if it was a mantra and you just cooed to him. He was your princess. Your good girl.

“You see this b-baby? See my dick going in and out of your cunt?”, you moan and gepard, even though was dizzy, looked down and mewled at the sight. “Oh i love you so fucking much honey”, you groaned out.

The way his tight hole was swallowing you all up was making him lightheaded. A guttural moan left his lips at the way his hole was enveloping your entire dick. Covered in his and your cum, veiny and so fucking thick. All from the tip to the base. Splitting him open. Taking it all in just like the good whore he was.

How was his poor little ass even able to take it all in?

“s too good, t-too goooooddd”, he babbles, his insides clenching down on your thick cock, while your tip rammed into his prostate. Eyes rolling back into his skull, his squeals were making the blood thump in your ears.

His back arched and he groaned into your mouth, chasing after your lips. “ghh s-stop am g-gonna cum~”, his hands smacked at your chest trying to get you to slow down but you were way stronger than him. Scratches on your chest were the result of his already losing attempt to push you away.

But you hissed, liking the pain. I guess it was a way of making yourself feel that you belong to him. Just like he does to you.

His legs trembled as you used both of your hands to push him into a mating press, trying to get your already huge dick further deep inside him. Sheating your entire dick in his tight little hole. He shook his head back, choking out sobs and lolling his tongue out when he felt your entire dick literally upto his throat. Jolts running down his entire body with each thrust. Oh heavens you were so big.

“Am gonna fuck a baby into your womb”, you groaned out, rocking your hips in and out of him with a feral speed. “Fffuck yesyesyesyesshh”, gepard slurred as he came again. Not comprehending anything your saying. Just dumbly agreeing and nodding like a dumb slut. His throbbing cock shooting out spurts of cum, covering his chest and chin while his legs spasmed.

His entire body was shivering as you slowly stilled your motion to stop. His throat barely able to make any noise now after the way he was screaming your name when he came but still allowing his heavy breaths accompanied with low, hoarse whimpers.

“Princess?….gepard are you okay?”, you inched closer to his face as you slowly lowered his legs down but still remained inside him.

You softly smiled looking at his sleeping face. Rosy cheeks stained with tears and pretty eyelashes shut. His adorable lips formed into pout, just like they always are when he falls asleep.

“He passed out?!”, you laughed to yourself before kissing him on his eyelids. Looks like you fucked him too hard.

[circlebuttons]

Rafe on Love Island US

-super duper short blurb

The social media challenges will definitely target Rafe.

It only makes sense that the producers would pick a tweet that is a personal testimony to his behavior on the outer banks. Rafe has already explained to you that his past isn’t anything to be proud of, making promises to show you his real record when you get outside, and openly answering any questions you have. You’re confident that you know the real Rafe and you accept every version of him. Therefore you’re not phased when another islander reads from a card how ““blank” is a conman that “blank” has fallen victim to since his rich family paid to have majority of his record cleaned. Can’t wait for her to find out the truth about the man she’s fallen for”. Since Rafe is the only guy who comes from a notably rich family the two of you are the only people it could be about. You watch as Rafe hardens up a bit at the comment and when the host asks for a response you throw your arms around him and say, “I’m already aware of everything. I think he’s done a lot of growing and if anyone else here had the ability to remove every bad thing about the themselves from the public they probably would too.”

The game moves on, but you hate how Rafe seems bummed out for the rest of it. You wait until everyone arrives back to the villa before you bring it up. “You know I don’t think you’re evil right?” You ask him quietly, while the two of you lay on your backs up in soul ties.

“I know, it’s just- like what are your people gonna think about me?” Rafe has opened up to you before about a lack in self worth. He’s open about how having such a dark past compared to you makes him feel undeserving of you and going back to the outside to meet a family who thinks the same is his biggest fear.

You role over to your stomach so that you can look at him, “My family is fucked up in their own ways, trust they have no room to judge”

“I should grow my hair out and make sure to meet them wearing my best polo, maybe bring them a pony” he comments with a dramatic sigh.

You swat at his shoulder, “Stop, they’re gonna see that I like you a lot and nothing else will matter”

“A lot?” he questions looking down at you with an exaggerated eyebrow.

“A lot” you admit, shying away from him until he reaches over to pull you on top of him. He has smile on his face for what seems like the first time all day. The two of you lay together for a while talking about everything there is to do on the outside like different dates and trips. You love listening to the way Rafe plans for you to come see the outer banks, he only mentions a few people he really wants you to meet, but wants to show you a thousand different places and you just sit pretty on his chest agreeing to any and everything.

[2cupids]

pairing: gamer bf yunho x fem reader (ft. ys, wy, and jh)

word count: 1.2k

tags: mdni (17+), brat taming, light d.egradation and h.umiliation, cowgirl, petnames, mentions of other members and they basically listen to y’all fuck (they all get off to listening to you but wooyo is the only one who makes it obvious lol), a tiny bit of humor towards the end.

notes: this was about jongho at first but yunho’s been on my mind real bad lately and this was a drabble but i accidentally turned it into a fic. thank you in advance for reading. feedback is appreciated!

“don’t be shy now baby, this is what you wanted.” he’s exactly right but it doesn’t do anything to soothe the feeling of humiliation that’s coursing through your veins at the moment. “let everyone hear what a slut you are. give em a show!” he laughs, letting one of his big hands come in contact with your ass, a deafening echo filling your shared bedroom.

in all honesty, you did deserve this— to be humiliated like this. you kept bothering yunho while he was trying to play whichever silly game he and the other members had decided upon. he told you numerous times that he would do whatever you wanted after he got done playing, which was fair enough.

but, like the spoiled brat you are, you didn’t listen. you kept up your little game; teasing him and distracting him and almost causing him to get killed at one point. he warned you to stop but you refused, instead wanting to see how far you could go before you eventually pushed your boyfriend over the edge.

you eventually succeeded in doing so. the final straw was when you started to palm his dick through his sweats, resulting in him grabbing your wrist and forcing you into his lap as he paused the game and told his friends that you had a little surprise for them.

that’s how you got here; riding your boyfriend in his beloved gaming chair in a desperate attempt to get yourself off while his friends listen attentively in their respective areas to what’s unfolding.

through his headset, you can faintly hear someone utter something incoherent on the other side that’s accompanied by a high pitched moan seconds later. “you okay over there woo?” yunho questions, as if he’s worried for him, yet there’s not an ounce of concern evident in his voice as he flashes you a mischievous grin.

you can’t hear wooyoung’s reply but yunho nods his head and gives a small ‘mm hm’ in response to whatever he said.

yunho covers his mic with one hand, making sure no ones hears this but you. “naughty girl, look at what you’ve done. you’ve got my friends jerking off to you.”

the embarrassment and humiliation you first felt minutes ago slowly starts to fade away, being replaced by a different feeling. one that excites you, that stirs up something inside you. it’s the feeling of— arousal.

the realization hits that his friends are listening in on an intimate moment between the two of you, and that they’re touching themselves and masturbating to the sweet sounds of… you.

never would you have imagined that you would find people listening to you having sex arousing, the thought alone was gross and disgusting, but for some odd reason it’s causing more wetness to pool between your legs.

it unintentionally makes you clench around your boyfriend’s shaft, drawing a chuckle out him. “you like that don’t you?”

you let out a whimper in response to his question. your grip on his broad shoulders tighten as you roll your hips against his faster, as you feel your orgasm start to build up.

“aw, you close baby?” he coos, pressing a few small kisses to your jaw. “gonna let them hear those pretty moans of yours while you cum all over my dick? hm?”

you acknowledge his words and simply give him a weak nod of your head, scared no words will come out if you open your mouth. you look down at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him to help you out, to touch you where you need him the most. he gets the message loud and clear but he needs to hear you say it— to beg for it.

“can’t read your mind, tell me what you need. talk to me.”

“touch me. p-please touch me.” your voice comes out frail and shaky. it’s embarrassing and pathetic but it’s gets the job done because no sooner than the words leave your mouth, is yunho’s delicate hand between your thighs, rubbing at your clit.

you continue rutting your hips against his, chasing your high. his name repeatedly falls from lips as your stomach tightens and legs tense, your fingers dig into his shoulder blades as your pussy spasms around his length. his hand stays on your clit, working you through your orgasm and it takes everything inside him to keep himself from cumming with you and filling your hungry cunt with everything he has to give.

as your brain clears and you come back to your senses, your body relaxes and you rest your face in the crook of yunho’s neck as you try to catch your breath and regain your composure.

it’s only a few moments after you’ve come that you hear a loud groan come through his headphones. you look up at yunho only to find that he’s already looking down at you and he busts out laughing. “hopefully everyone enjoyed themselves, especially you, wooyoung. whenever everyone’s ready, we can continue where we left off.”

you exhale, letting out a deep sigh as you bring your hands up to cover your face. yunho softly laughs at your reaction while rubbing your back to comfort you and put you at ease.

you raise up to get out of yunho’s lap and leave his warm embrace but you pause as you overhear what sounds like bickering coming from his headset.

“hey! if you’re going to do that, turn off your mic. we don’t want to hear you!” you hear what sounds like jongho’s voice and presume he’s talking to wooyoung.

then you hear yeosang chime in, appearing to agree with jongho, saying something along the lines of it “being weird.”

“what the fuck?!” wooyoung shouts. “now all of a sudden you two want to act like you’re holier-than-thou like you weren’t just doing the same thing! i just forgot to turn my mic off, what’s the problem? you guys are always doing stuff like this to me— i don’t even want to play anymore.” you smile to yourself in amusement, you can basically hear the pout in wooyoung’s voice.

jongho and yeosang backtrack on what they said and try to talk wooyoung into not leaving and that’s when you see your chance to get up. you maneuver yourself out of yunho’s lap with his help and fix your shorts back to the way they’re supposed to be. you turn to leave and go to the bathroom when you finally register something. he didn’t cum.

you turn back around, feeling guilty and wanting to return the favor. “why didn’t you—“

“i knew you would ask that.” he says while tucking himself back into his boxers before pulling his sweatpants back up. “don’t worry about that right now, just be prepared to be sore for the next few days. i gave you what you wanted, now go and leave me alone before i show you what real humiliation feels like. understand?”

he playfully raises his eyebrow at you but you can tell by the tone of his voice that he’s far from being as playful as he appears and you know it’s best not to try him. at least not at the present moment.

[breeyn]

An essay rebutting the “bad writing” claims of s2 ofmd. Spoilers herein.

I’ll preface this with saying you’re obviously allowed to like and dislike whatever you want. I am in no way opposing that. And your reasons are your reasons. Have at. (Also - this is a collection of observations from the past few days, I’m not calling anyone out)

I AM going to rebut the idea that season two was poorly written and lost the spirit of what the show is about.

My favourite movie of all time is Empire Strikes Back. It’s been my favourite movie since I was four. I’m pretty sure it’s a fave of David Jenkins, too. He and Taika have made absolutely no attempt to hide their love of all things 80’s - Prince, the Princess Bride, Kate Bush, Star Wars, etc.

I have ancient video tapes (that I can’t play because who has a vcr) where Lucas is interviewed by Leonard Maltin? Malkin? I dunno. Who cares. Maltin asks him about the Star Wars (original trilogy) story arc. Lucas says “in act I, you introduce all the characters. In act II, you put them in a situation they can’t get out of, and in act III, they get out of it.”

That’s how it works. This is how stories and literary structures work.

Of course you’re not satisfied with season two. You’re not supposed to be.

The arguments I have read on why s2 loses the spirit of s1 is because no one heals. No one learns anything. No one moves forward properly. The person who makes the biggest move towards healing dies. The two main characters end the show doing the exact fucking thing they had promised themselves and each other they wouldn’t do. Our romantic lead still doesn’t understand his value or make any headway on addressing his tragic flaw. It makes no goddamn sense.

My gremlins in weird: it’s not supposed to. In Act 2, EVERYONE LOSES. This is how it goes.

I’ve read a lot of people saying “but this felt like a series finale, not a season finale.” We all know that outside politics play a part here, the strikes make everything precarious. I remember the last writers strike. It destroyed tv for fifteen years. Anyone remember Pushing Daisies? Some of y’all have never had your fave show cancelled with zero resolution for the characters and it shows.

Daddy J did us a kindness. He softened the blow of a tough season. After the brutal cliffhanger of s1, he gave us a little softness and hope. All those things you’re mad aren’t resolved? It’s because THE STORY ISN’T OVER.

No one on earth thinks “stuff all your trauma into a box and ignore it” is good advice. A way to actually live. This show did not have enough screen time to throw out dialogue for no reason. There was foreshadowing in s1 for s2, and there is foreshadowing for s3 in s2. This is a well-crafted story by very smart people who care very much for these characters. There is zero chance Frenchie explained the box in his head for no reason. The reason people have not resolved their trauma and growth is because they haven’t done it *yet*.

And friends - it’s not thinly veiled. They straight up fucking tell us what they’re doing.

Luke Skywalker spends the first two movies fucking up and desperately trying to prove himself and just generally being an idiot. Sound familiar? He ignores the lessons he is supposed to be learning to go off and do what he feels like doing, and loses fucking badly. At the end of Empire, Han is gone, Luke and Leia wave goodbye to the Falcon that has Lando and Chewy - the rest of their crew - aboard. Everyone has lost everything they care about. Vader is undefeated. Yoda is pissed. Nothing is resolved.

You see where I’m going?

If you think I’m stretching this too far, welp, when Ed tells Stede he loves him - the climax of the finale - Stede quotes Han fucking Solo. Like - *it’s right there*. The story structure. The reason everything is unresolved.

So yeah. They wave goodbye to their ship because they have wounds to heal (like Luke’s hand). The people aboard the ship have things to find. Ed and Stede have *not* learned their lesson about whims and how not to be like Anne and Mary. It’s not stupid that they’re doing the same thing, and it’s not pointless that we were shown Anne and Mary. It’s all relevant.

The resolution comes in Act 3. None of these people are done. The story is far, far from over. And just in case the studios want to be dicks about it, David Jenkins was lovely enough to not repeat my enduring heartbreak over Pushing Daisies.

Thank you, @davidjenks 🖤

[ghosts-bandwagon]

HELLO UM YEAH, do you think ghost is a jealous man? he's an overprotective man for SURE HE IS. But jealous? I don't mean toxic jealousy. I mean that itch we can feel when insecurity lands on our shoulders. That itch of insecurity that makes you feel that out there there is someone better than you and that's when that jealousy starts.

Like, hell yeah. Ghost know that he got some issues in there. But fucking hell.

um yES??? My beautiful, sweet, boy, he knows you deserve better than him and he knows there’s better out there. There’s someone that exists free of the ghosts that haunt his every step, someone who can bring work home without inviting death to your door, someone who can keep you safe from themselves.

His jealousy doesn’t stem from something silly like looks, aesthetics, career, or anything like that. It comes from not being able to be normal for you. It burns him alive that his nightmares have a chance of becoming your own and he can hurt you, it breaks him that he pulls himself away from you when he needs you the most, it breaks him that his touch is less than gentle when it comes to helping you with your own troubles.

He sees other couples and it rips him in two that he just. can’t. hold. your fucking hand without sweating bullets about who would see you together and put a target on your head. He wants so badly to take you out to restaurants and movies and show the world you’re his, but the moment he brings you out into the spotlight with him, you’ll be ripped away from him and that’s that. He hates having to keep pictures of you hidden, because if he doesn’t, you’ll be found and tortured just to get at him.

Yeah, Ghost’s jealousy is fucking agony.

(Bonus: Just take the lead. Grab his hand and kiss the callouses on his fingers. Get take out and pull up a movie on Netflix. Get dolled up even if you’re staying in. Remind him that out of everyone in the world, there’s no one for you but him. Even if his words can be harsh, remind him that you’re smart enough to read through them. When his shoulders tense up when you pass by another couple, bump into him with your shoulder. Give him a jolt to bring him back to you. And when you’re alone, remind him that he’s yours as much as you are his.)

[jolalibrary]

iv. anchor me

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter four of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

chapter warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. hand stuff (f receiving), illusions to the past, bi!frankie.

an: thank you to @thetriumphantpanda for reading this after bake off and telling me that i can do the thing.

wordcount: 3.4k

The moment Benny’s (insistent) invite landed in your messages, you had expected the one from Frankie.

Phone in hand, tapping your foot, counting, barely making it to 30 seconds before the banner slid down your screen. Because, of course, the can’t-say-no invitation was on the day the two of you had a scheduled thing.

Unsurprisingly, his simmering annoyance hadn’t vanished when he came to pick you up—another thing insisted—and you came out to meet him.

I’ll pick you up. I can drive there and meet you, save you coming across town. I‘m picking you up. Means I get to make sure you get home okay.

The sound of the car door slamming into place as you lock up, turning to walk towards his vehicle to find him eyeing you up in a way that makes your cheeks burn and you want to hide your face.

He keeps having that effect on you.

Make heat lick up your spine, your brain forget its sentence or thought, and your eyes find themselves unable to stop dropping to his lips .

It’s why it takes all your strength to say, “Eyes up here, Morales.”

He does, although he does take a second. Licking his lips, before doing exactly that. “Do I tell you enough that you look good?”

Laughing, you roll your eyes. More for him. An act, a pretence. Because you’re trying to seem unfazed—attempting to ignore it, the flutters of wings in your stomach.

Having to focus on it more and more when he stops in front of you, the bill of his hat shielding his eyes from the sun, allowing you to see how they drink you in, swallow you. Practically smothering you in simmering heat that makes you want to tear your clothes from your skin.

“You’ve mentioned it a lot lately.”

He doesn’t move, a thing which makes the wings flutter worse. More intense. Practically beating them as you stare at him, fighting the urge to wrap your fingers around the back of his neck and pull his lips to yours.

To have him. Kiss him.

Remembering as you shift in your shoes, that you’re not with him. This is all an arrangement, a plan—a schedule, a date each week (or two) that Benjamin Miller fucked up.

Nudging him, you wink. “C’mon, I want first dibs of the food Will is cooking before you lot leave me with the scraps.”

You were outside in the backyard an hour, before a water gun soaks you.

Benny’s—of course—a stupid gift you’d purchased him, now used on the neighbours’ kids, with you caught in the crossfire.

By the time you’ve realised, you’re being flooded with apologies. Each coming from Benny’s tongue tenfold, rushing over as though he’d sprayed you in bullets and not water.

Your discussion with Will all but ended with a gasp as you stared down at your now transparent shirt. Watching his eyes lift up, trying not to glance or look.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I was—and then—let me show you where the towels are—“

You’re not sure who you laugh at more: Will or Benny. Holding a hand up, accepting one of the many apologies that fall, waving it all off, as your eyes scan the other guests, not finding the one pair of eyes you really want.

“It’s fine—can I, borrow something?” you ask, dropping your voice, “There’s kids around.”

Before Benny has even finished nodding, you make a beeline for the house. The one you know. You’ve been here enough times, dipping in through the side door, feeling your top cling to your skin more uncomfortably than it had outside.

That’s when you stare outside. Noticing that the gathering was closer to a party, it all loud and busy—even from inside. Suddenly grateful for the cover to spend a minute cooling off in the house. An excuse merged with gratefulness when you could hide and slide your shades off—wanting a drink, water, ice.

Suddenly needing a second.

Because all you’d done is eye-fuck your friend. The one you’ve seen naked—the one who looks more than good, and fucks even better.

The one, you suddenly can’t spot.

The glass in your palm lets condensation droplets slide down your wrist. The rim against your bottom lip, staring out at the people laughing, smaller kids being chased by Benny and his water gun. Eyes scanning, nervousness bubbling, mind beginning to worry you’re about to see him with someone else.

Like you have done so many times before .

You’re so lost in it, you don’t hear him, never mind feel him, until his arm snakes around your waist. The man you’d been missing—the one who’d been burning holes into your spine, but never coming over.

Now, though, he’s all warm mouth again to your ear, a whispered shh, as he peels your glass from your hands.

“You’re all wet, querida. We best get you dry.”

And then you’re walking, being led. Moving with ease as Frankie—who you hadn’t even seen come inside—was wrapping his fingers inside yours. Leading you, down the familiar hallway you’d helped paint several years ago, to the bedroom you still called Frankie’s, even if he hadn’t lived here in years.

You remember when you‘d knock on the very door to call for him, or hang out on the other side of the frame.

Frankie and Benny had shared this space before Frankie had found his own. The offer of your spare room had not been good enough—even if he painted it in, not wanting to be an inconvenience. How you’d sit on the bed that’s now for guests, perched, waiting for him before the two of you grabbed food or visited the movies. Simple things—friend things.

It isn’t like that today. His mouth slants over yours as soon as you’re both alone, pressing your back to the wall, devouring, licking into your mouth as you gasp.

Because the two of you could be caught. A shudder spreading out at the idea. The thought of the door being thrown open, making you groan into his mouth.

But, you’re not sure you’d care if you did.

You don’t fucking care if they all found you like this.

Lost, whimpering, desperate—all for him.

Not at his hand places itself around the base of your neck—lightly touching, pressing the smallest amount of pressure down, as he hushes your soft moans. His finger resting against your chin, the others slowly bury themselves in your underwear, giving you more reasons to be loud than be quiet—not something close to friend things.

“You been thinkin’ about me?”

The yes leaves your lips, but it is swallowed by a moan. It travelling from somewhere deep, flowing up, rippling out as you begin to writhe against his touch. Your eyes fixed on his—drowning in brown, sinking in as he curls his fingers inside of you. Beckoning, pleading with you to hand him what it is he wants.

Fuck, you want to give it to him. Had done from the moment you’d arrived, pulled up in the space outside Benny’s home—the former fixer-upper, turned dream house.

Frankie always looked good, even if his wardrobe was minimal. The back of him easy to pick out from a crowd, so broad you’re sure you could draw it with your eyes closed. You’ve stared at it so much—and that was before this all began. This, whatever this mutually beneficial thing is between the two of you, neither of you will properly name.

It’s why you kiss him, needing to taste his groan, lather your tongue in the way he says your name. Pronounces it. It more noticeable when your hand cups him—greeted by the hard outline of him against your palm, all noticeable, barely contained by his cargo pants.

“—tan bonita,” he croaks, throwing your hand away before placing it back to cup your cheek, forcing your head to his, the base of his palm catching your bundle of nerves as he slows his ministrations. “Be good for me, querida. And just focus on being quiet.”

A chaste kiss pressed, a signature on the dotted line—one you agree to as you chase his lips. Just tasting the beer-tinged air of his breath as he continues to bury his fingers inside of you. The sounds of it so vulgar, loud, barely muffled by the strangled whimpers you try to keep back.

“So good for me, tan perfecta.”

Your eyes close, lashes clenching. His whispered words make it harder to stay quiet, to be the thing he’s just told that you are.

And the worst is, you know he knows it. Can feel his smirk against your jaw, the way the tip of his tongue swirls over your pulse as his hip pins you in place, his fingers continuing their wanted assault, keeping your feet rooted to the ground, head barely able to think about anything but this.

“Please,” you ask.

Eyes open, capturing his. Hooking in. Watching him drink it in, your request—your ask.

“Alright baby, I’ve got you,” he whispers, more breath than words, right against your cheek, finger drawing circles against your clit. “Always got you, haven’t I?”

It’s electric, and also fire. It surges and licks up your spine as you nod. As your throat goes dry, sound goes fuzzy, before he’s good—to you, for you. Alternating between filling you with the same fingers that built your furniture.

“Doing so well for me,” he says, nose against your cheek, fingers pumping—

In and out.

In and out.

“Be good though, let me feel you squeeze my fingers—wanna feel you come, querida. Please. Please.”

Your eyes clench, feeling both nothing and everything. Because someone could walk in. Your teeth bite into your lip as you try to keep back the chants of his name. His fingers are so deep, feeling so good.

“Let go, querida.”

It falls from his lips like honey. Sweet. Almost sticky in how it clings to the air as your eyes open, finding him.

The first thing you think is: earlier was nothing on the way he’s staring at you now.

Doing more than devouring, he’s drowning in you—likely unaware you’re doing the same with him.

Each nerve illuminated, your ears slowly buzzing louder and louder as you crash your mouth to his and lick into his mouth as you still, tense and writhe all at once.

Then you are stars, feel yourself unknotting, all at once. In the bedroom that used to be his.

Frankie shouldn’t like seeing you in an old t-shirt of his, but he does.

Unable to tear his eyes away from you as he leads you to two seats, your laugh flowing—something he said under his breath, now forgotten, still swirling through you, forcing your eyes to close and your fingers to dig into his forearm.

He likes you like this—has always liked your laugh.

Blissfully aware that he should, but shit, he can’t take his eyes off you. Even if he knows he needs to—plenty of eyes around, ones who have always teased, always taunted.

You’d be so good together. You pair are so cute.

The comments go on, and on. Have done for years.

Except now, you’re dressed in him.

To most, it’s a simple, old tee splattered with paint. To him, it’s when the group of them painted Ben’s house. His eyes having drank you in, wishing he could wash the paint from your legs, unsure how you’re covered in as much as the wall.

Your clumsiness having painted itself against you, your own clothes ruined, before you’d purposefully (and intentionally) splattered yourself against him when you’d come in for a ‘hug’.

Now, you’re sitting next to him, curled under one leg, shades hiding where your eyes are—but he hopes they’re on him—wishing you’d be on him.

“You dry, querida?”

“Oh, jodete.”

Smirking, he takes a sip of his drink. Licking the front of his teeth, leaning forward.

“Rather fu—”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

Your tongue traces the bottom of your lip, slowly shaking your head. A part of him wanting to pull you close, have you in his lap. Fuck everything and just give in and—

“So,” Will announces. Suddenly there. Blocking the sun, pointing at an empty chair before he sits beside you.

And Frankie drowns his throat in beer.

He listens, while staring off, as Will asks how your friend is—when she’s back in town, because Ben won’t. You knotting and unknotting the end of the tee around your finger, chatting and chatting.

Something tightening inside of him when he catches sight of you, from the corner of his eye, throwing your head back as Will makes you laugh. Him trying not to grimace each time his friend does so.

Because Will is his friend.

A good one, a great one. Yet, when it comes to you, he always feels inferior. Less than. Somehow more broken more than—

“Fish?”

Will’s voice drags him from his thoughts, blinking. Thumb tracing the neck of his bottle as he nods.

“I said have you heard from Pope?”

He tenses. Frankie feels himself still. Back all straight.

The question cuts through his bubbling thoughts. Suddenly aware of the sound of his own heart in his ears. That knotted ball of things, the one full of rope, strings, steel wire, as it all tightens inside his chest—and in his stomach.

Worst of all, he then feels your eyes land on him. Searching, cutting through the sheets he throws up as walls, desperate to press something warm to him, keep him rooted.

He takes a breath, feeling you willing him to. Appeasing you, even if you’ve not asked verbally, finding himself easily able to.

It’s always easy with you.

Just like it was the night he told you. Confessed it. Whispered it out on the floor, his back to the wall in the same bedroom he just had pressed you against.

I’d suspected it, honestly.

Your fingers brushing, carding through his curls until you pulled his head into your chest. A whole other sea of emotions bubbling, both of his long loves out of reach—even if one had their fingers buried in his curls, attempting to soothe him. The rest of his confession dying on his tongue, letting it rot, fester.

Because that one was and still is harder to confess.

It desperate to escape. Almost coming out the night you’d suggested he found you repulsive. Not knowing how wrong you were—

“Um…” you murmur, eyes digging further into him, practically clawing. Not to hurt, but to pull him back. “I don’t think I have—not since before?”

Frankie swallows. His heart hammering heavier, lifting his eyes and landing on you—and it all goes calm. Your face, like it always has been, is like a blanket that smothers the leftover hurt and anguish, an anchor that roots him in place.

“N-no. Not heard a thing,” he says, as plain as possible. Direct. Trying to hide the shake.

Because he can still feel your eyes on him. Focused, unwilling to leave his face as Will mutters and mumbles about something until he’s shouted away, beckoned by an overzealous neighbour, Frankie plants a smile on for, not moving to greet or speak to.

You say nothing.

But you do lift your shades. Smothering him in warmth and kindness, and a bit of sorrow too. Your teeth nursing the skin on your bottom lip, picking and picking.

Fuck he wishes he could tell you.

He wishes he could tell you that Pope knew—knows. Had already guessed it. Teased him on it before he dragged it out of him in the cold, rainy depths of Colombia.

You just have a thing for friends, Fish. That it!

It had ripped from his throat then. Shooting, spitting in mixed English and Spanish as he told Pope his feelings for you—how long they’d been there.

How they were messy. The same as his feelings had been for him. That they churned and turned for months with the conflicting ones he had for him.

That it has shaped him—the thing that neither of them talk about, but had let happen the handful of times it did.

And now he was repeating himself, but differently. This time, he suspected there was something more there. Something there in your eyes in the moments after he’s brought you to pleasure, it twinkling, it licking into his mouth when you kiss him, softer, desperate in a different way.

“Are you okay?”

“Come to mine. Tonight. After.”

You release your bottom lip. Staring. Thinking. “Are you going to take me home after?”

He tries not to let his face shift, but he fails. It falls and drops out over his features as you take a sip from the bottle in your hand.

“Frank…”

“You like my bed.”

You roll your eyes, brow slightly arched. You’re faking annoyance, he can tell. He can tell because you’re ticking, pondering. Weighing up the options of what difference one night would make to your principles.

“It’s not because of that.”

“No?” you say, arched brow and laced in sarcasm.

Fuck, he wants to take your hands. Pull them to his face. Because he doesn’t feel like that for him anymore. He hasn’t. Not for a long time.

Not since before he showed up with his plan, and his lies, and his mission that ended with Redfly’s death.

He wanted to let it roll from his tongue that he meant it that first night. That he has hated all of your exes for the reason you must think, deep down—the one you’re unwilling to question or acknowledge for the same reasons he won’t.

Because he’s scared. Because he knows he’s only worthy of being a dirty secret—not something real. Not something stable and concrete, things you truly deserve.

And, he wants to respect your wishes, your rules. But, he also wants to wake up beside you in his bed. Wanting nothing more than to have his cake and eat it too, because how could he not? How could he not want you there for one morning, when he wants you there every single day?

That thought was the one he had shouted, it burning the air between him and the man he now doesn’t hear from.

You gonna tell her? Depends on if we fuckin’ get outta here, doesn’t it?

He didn’t. Even if he did make it out, make it back. You in his arms, sobbing, worries running from your mouth to his ear as he held you—silently sobbing into your shoulder for reasons he has never explained.

Which is precisely why he doesn’t reach for your hands. It’s why he lets the silence thicken before he answers.

Because he knows he loves you.

“No,” he says firmly.

Hoping it’ll be enough. Hoping the finality of the word will inform you that, if anything, it’s in spite of the memory of his former friend, former brother-in-arms, former…

“I live closer to here,” he shrugs. Not wanting to admit that it’s for any other reason. “Means we’d be quicker to—“

“Morales!” you cut him off.

All stern, cute—as though he hadn’t had his fingers buried inside of you half an hour ago in his old room.

“How have you been sleeping?”

It’s a simple question, easy. Your lips around the straw, draining your cup before placing it on the grass, next to his empty bottle.

His fingers reaching up, itching the front of his fringe under his hat—your eyes following his movements, holding on to them, adding them to the mental notebook you’ve likely made.

Frankie shouldn’t be surprised that you remembered. The trip that lasted more days than it should have and left its own marks on you, too. Scarred you in ways that you can’t explain or ever get rid of.

“Fine. I guess, just…”

“I know,” you say with a faint smile. Forced. Placed there to soothe him, but it doesn’t do much.

You don’t play with the radio.

You don’t even really talk. Just drumming your fingers on the door, staring outside, letting streets pass the two of you, until he pulls up outside his place.

All the way, he thinks about apologising.

For everything, and yet for nothing all at once. His eyes sliding over to you as he drove down roads, turned his chin a little more to gather more of you as he turned a corner.

You don’t look at him until he turns the engine off. Head rolling on the back of the seat, the softest, most beautiful smile on your lips—one he wants to taste, feel moulded to his mouth. Capture and steal it, in case he never gets the chance to again.

“If you say you’ll stay, you haven’t broken the rules,” he whispers.

It is all quiet, except for the little noises made by the car as it cools and relaxes from its journey here.

Frankie hears you swallow, and then sigh.

“Won’t I be?”

Shaking his head, he turns to face you on the plastic seat. Palm cupping your cheek, thumb stroking soft lines, hoping it’ll ease you. Relax you.

“If you prefer me to take you home—“

Your eyes drop.

“—then I will. But…”

Your eyes flash back up to him, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. Even under twinkling lights, he can see each fleck of colour in them.

“But?” you whisper.

And he drags his thumb across your skin. “I just really want you to stay, for tonight.”

Sliding your lips to the side, your fingers move over his, pressing his palm to your cheek, giving him a smile—a gentle one, reassuring, sweet. “I want the right side. When you let me sleep.”

Smirking, he nudges closer, going to kiss you, but finding himself pressing a kiss to your forehead—one brimming with a smile.

Only realising he’s done so when he retracts.

Little lines appearing in your brow, gone, vanished in the next second, because then you’re moving closer, your lips on his—and for a brief, but pleasant moment, he forgets all of this isn’t real.

Falls into it, lets himself live there as he runs his hand up your thigh, before he’s dragging it over his. Uncaring that there’s a bed some so many feet away, he just runs his hands over your cheeks, along your jaw, thumbs on your neck—as he groans against your mouth.

Swallowing your moan, he fights a smirk at the way you rock your hips against him. Hand moving to your hip, pinning you—chasing your lips before kissing you again, and again.

Not ever having enough. Always wanting more.

As he has done for years. As he’s thought about for years.

Because there may have been others, but since he let himself think it, it’s always been you. A notion he kisses against your lips, writing them with his tongue against yours, content, happy.

“Can’t wait to spread you out on my bed, querida.”

He feels your lips spread into a smirk against his. “Can’t wait to have your cock down my throat again, Morales.”

He groans. Loud, almost undignified. Unsure how he got to be so lucky. Your fingers digging into the base of his neck.

CHAPTER FIVE ->

[the--blackdahlia]

Total Eclipse of the Heart (Beetlejuice x Reader)

Title: Total Eclipse of the Heart

Summary: Beetlejuice and (Y/n) share a bond that's suddenly severed. He would do anything to get her back.

Warnings: Mentions of attempted suicide, depression, longing

Beetlejuice let off a maniacal laugh as Juno yelled about the surprise he’d left on her desk. His favorite pastime was annoying the ever-loving shit out of her, and he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. He made his way through the halls, a shit-eating grin on his face. He saw people standing around the water cooler, chatting away—typical civil servant behavior. Beetlejuice grabbed a coffee cup from some random desk and joined them.

“So, what are we talking about? Sam and Diane? Frasier and Lillith? Are we still on who shot JR?” The people around the water cooler all quieted at his presence. Something that never really happened before. “What? I got shit on my face or something?”

“Beej,” One of the few friends he’d managed to make since working on his “people skills” with (Y/n), approached him. This was a man named Chris. Beetlejuice didn’t know his whole backstory, but he knew he’d done some really bad shit.

“What?” He snapped. Chris held out a nametag to show Beetlejuice. Placing it in his hand, the demon was able to see the name.

(Y/n).

“What the fuck is this?” He asked before the pain set in. Starting at where his heart should be and stretching down his left hand to where a ring sat. Not a wedding ring, because she wasn’t ready. But a promise ring. Which, in Beetlejuice’s eyes, was the same thing. He dropped the coffee cup, watching it shatter on the ground before he took off running towards the exit. He hit the door with a force he didn’t know he had, falling through the brick wall of the Maitland-Deetz home. He landed on the attic floor, right at Barbara’s feet.

“That looked rough,” Her comment sounded flat, probably due to her and Adam staring out the window, watching for the Deetz to come back.

“Where’s (Y/n)?” The demon stood and dusted himself off.

“We don’t know,” Adam turned to look at Beetlejuice. “Lydia and Matilda are out looking for her.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Adam and Barbara looked at each other. “I swear on Ryan Reynolds, someone better tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“Here,” Barbara handed Beetlejuice a piece of paper. He unfolded it to read.

I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. Nobody blame yourselves. You were all lovely. I’m the broken thing in this house. Nobody summon Juicebox to look for me. He’ll see me sitting at a desk in the Nether before long. I love you all.

~(Y/n)

“The fuck?” He wasn’t sure he understood what was happening, but he knew it was hurting him. “Where is she?!” He boomed, closing his eyes and hoping to hear her say his name. But nothing came.

So he waited. He stood at the window while Adam and Barbara milled around, doing things to keep themselves distracted but not having much purpose. Neither of them had ever seen Beetlejuice stand so still. He normally bounced off the walls, and if he was sitting, he was bouncing his leg or playing with whatever fidget toy Lydia or (Y/n) would give him. Matilda swore he had ADHD, but how do you diagnose a demon?

Finally, he saw Matilda’s car at the end of the driveway. Beetlejuice was right at the front door as Lydia and Matilda entered. Barbara and Adam were hovering not far behind, and even Delia was waiting.

“We found her. Got her to the hospital,” Lydia explained. “They’re going to observe her overnight, make sure there’s nothing medical that needs to happen. Then she’s going to a psychiatric hospital for a mandatory 72-hour observation. After the 72 hours, they’ll determine if she’s safe to return home.”

“Did you tell her to summon me?” Beetlejuice asked, noting that both Lydia and Matilda stayed quiet. “Lydia!”

“She didn’t want us to summon you there. I don’t think she wants you to see her as anything less than perfect.”

“But she’s always so happy! Always smiling!”

“Beej, sometimes the people who smile the biggest are the ones that are hurting the most,” Matilda was trying to be gentle. But Beetlejuice wasn’t having it. He stormed off to spend time in the graveyard in the attic. Lydia sighed and looked over at Matilda.

“It’ll be ok. They’ll both be okay…” Matilda took her hand and led her towards their home library.

****

(Y/n) sat in the strange, sterile office of the doctor she would be seeing while in the psychiatric hospital. There wasn’t much in the way of decorations. The diplomas on the wall seemed to be laminated photocopies. No glass that way. Instead of porcelain knick-knacks, there were a couple of small, plush toys. Like the little bag clips that kids would load onto their backpacks. Across the strong, oak desk that is bolted to the cold vinyl flooring, sat Dr. Edward Wheeler. An older gentleman with thick graying hair, and glasses placed on the bridge of his nose. He had (Y/n)’s file opened in front of him.

“Well, Ms. (y/l/n)...”

“Please, call me (Y/n).”

“Okay. (Y/n). What led you to being in my office today?” He looked up at (Y/n), watching her fidget in the uncomfortable chair.

“Dunno…” She mumbled. He made a tsk noise and wrote a note on his notepad.

“Well, according to the notes from the ER, you had a high level of opioids in your system. And you told the staff that you took them intending to end your life,” He looked back up at her. “Your friends, Lydia Deetz and Matilda Wormwood, they were the ones that brought you to the hospital, is that correct.”

“Yeah,” (Y/n) signed. “Always seem to know when I’m in trouble.”

“Now, (Y/n), looking at your past medical history, you’ve spoken to a therapist about…seeing ghosts?” He raised an eyebrow. “And specifically, one named Beetlejuice?” He noticed the little smile that spread on her face. “Does that speak to you?”

“If you say his name three times, he’ll come here and prove I’m not crazy,” She was excited to see him again. She knew he’d probably be mad at what she did, and a little overprotective, but they could see each other again.”

“Well, then that is our sign to no longer use that name,” Dr. Wheeler wrote a few more notes. “From now on, that will be a banned word during therapy and as long as you are under my care.” Instantly, (Y/n)’s hand went to the ring that was on her left hand. One made from the same material as Beetlejuice’s. Dr. Wheeler noticed. “How did you get that in here?”

“Oh, this is from Be…Beej. It’s a comfort item.”

“I’m sorry but you can’t have this. It will be placed with your other belongings,” He held out his hand for her to place the ring in.

“Oh please Dr. Wheeler, let me keep it. Please.”

“I can’t do that (Y/n). Now please give it to me. I don’t want to have security come in and remove it from you,” (Y/n) felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she twisted the ring a couple of times before slowly removing it from her finger.

She felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest as she placed the ring in the doctor's hand. She couldn’t feel Beetlejuice anymore, and she suddenly felt really alone.

****

“AHHHH!” Beetlejuice screamed, throwing himself to the ground and holding his chest. The dramatic display spooked everyone, including Lydia, who didn’t scare easy. “(Y/n)!”

“What’s wrong?” Matilda moved through the kitchen to where Beetlejuice was now sitting up, holding his hand out in front of him.

“Her ring is gone. I can’t feel her anymore,” He watched as the light faded out from the band on his finger. He could always tell how (Y/n) felt through the ring. If she took it off to wash dishes, there would be a slight tingle followed by the scent of whatever soap they had that week. If she was mad at him and took off her ring, it burned. But this, this was different. It was just like someone had stuck a branding iron through his chest.

“She’s not…dead, is she?” Adam put down the paper he was reading.

“No. If she was dead, I’d know. She’s not dead,” Beetlejuice managed to stand up. “I have to go see her.”

“How are you going to that? She’s not going to summon you,” Lydia crossed her arms. “And there’s no visitors until she calls us to say she’s allowed visitors.”

“Well, when’s that?”

“Whenever her doctor says she can have visitors.”

“FUCK!!!” Beetlejuice went storming off.

“You think he’s angry?” Barbara was matching paint to the new wallpaper Lydia had helped her put up.

“I think that’s the understatement of the year,” Matilda returned to her baking as Lydia returned to help Barbara.

****

“Hello?” Lydia answered her phone. It was the number for the hospital that (Y/n) was at. It had been two weeks since the incident, and Beetlejuice had alternated between moping around the house and going to perform bio exorcisms to keep his mind distracted. But he was at home, listening to Matila having a book club with Adam and Barbara.

“Lyds? It’s me.”

“(Y/n)! How are you feeling?” That got the group's attention. Beetlejuice was on his feet in an instant.

“Let me talk to her!” He tried to grab for the phone, but Lydia held it away from him.

“I’m doing ok. Dr. Wheeler says I can have visitors. I was wondering if you and Matilda would come visit me.” She sounded different. More relaxed.

“Of course. We’ll come by tomorrow. We both have the day off from work.”

“That works perfectly. I have therapy today, but tomorrow I’m free. It’ll be great to see you guys.”

“Do you want us to bring you anything? Or anyone else?”

“No, that’s ok. Thank you for the offer. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Lydia hung up then.

“Why didn’t you let me talk to her?” Beetlejuice asked with a slight growl in his voice.

“I didn’t want to bombard her with things. Especially as she’s trying to heal Beej,” Lydia’s voice was calm and even, the complete opposite of Beetlejuice’s voice. “She asked for Matilda and I to go visit her tomorrow.”

“I’m going too.”

“Beej…I don’t think…”

“I’m. Going.”

“Okay, fine. But if she doesn’t want you there, you pop out. Wait in the car or something, okay?”

“Deal.” Beetlejuice turned and went back to Matilda’s deep discussion on A Game of Thrones.

****

“We’re here to see (Y/n),” Lydia told the receptionist.

“Just the two of you?” She wrote out their name tags. Beetlejuice was trying to stay hidden—part of the deal he made with Matilda and Lydia to get to join them. Stay hidden until they get to see (Y/n).

“Yes ma’am,” Matilda smiled and accepted the nametag.

“More than likely, she’s either in the garden drawing or she’s in the great room playing piano. I’d try the garden first. It’s a nice day.”

“Thank you,” Lydia, Matilda, and Beetlejuice made their way to the garden. A few people were walking around, talking with each other or with a nurse. They saw (Y/n) settled into a molded plastic chair, sketching an older gentleman just down the walkway. He was sitting on one of the concrete benches, watching birds.

“(Y/n),” Matilda was trying to make her voice as soft and even as possible. (Y/n) looked up and smiled, setting her sketchbook down and getting up to hug Lydia and Matilda.

“You guys made it. I’m so glad to see you.” She smiled, but it didn’t really show in her eyes. To Beetlejuice, it seemed that the life had been sucked out of her.

“Hey babycakes, I’ve missed you,” Beetlejuice spoke up. But it was like (Y/n) didn’t see him. “(Y/n)?”

“Let me show you guys my room. A couple of the teenagers here drew some art for it. I’ve got a radio, and Nurse Shelley brought me a big fuzzy blanket to cuddle up with,” (Y/n) led the group towards her room. Matilda walked ahead of Lydia and Beetlejuice.

“What the fuck is going on? She can’t see me?” He asked. “Why the fuck can’t she see me?”

“I don’t know Beej. We’ll figure it out, okay?” Lydia patted his shoulder.

“Here it is! I’ve even got a window. I love sketching the sunsets,” (Y/n) showed them the small room with bars on the window. “I’ve gotten a lot better. Dr. Wheeler has hope that I should be able to go home soon.”

“Well, I know Adam, Barbara, and Beej miss you,” Lydia tested the waters. (Y/n) looked at her like she had two heads.

“Adam…Barbara…oh. The ghosts. The ones that I made up to represent the homelife I never really had,” (Y/n)’s smile fell a bit. “They’re not real.”

“(Y/n), you know that’s not true. Plus, Beetlejuice really misses you…” Matilda stopped when (Y/n) backed up from her. “(Y/n)?”

“Please don’t say that name. That is a bad name. We don’t use that word here,” Lydia glanced over at Beetlejuice, whose mouth was hanging open. (Y/n) couldn’t see him, because she didn’t believe in him. Not anymore.

“Excuse me,” Dr. Wheeler knocked on the door. “(Y/n), is everything okay?”

“Yes, Dr. Wheeler. I was just showing Lydia and Matilda my room,” (Y/n) smiled at the doctor. “Lyds, Tillie, this is Dr. Wheeler. He’s helped me so much.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you two,” He shook their hands. “(Y/n), it’s almost lunch and medication time. I’m going to take your friends to discuss the process with them. Oh, it’s pizza day.”

“Oh, I love pizza day,” (Y/n) walked past the doctor. Beetlejuice wanted to follow. He wanted to be near (Y/n), but he also felt like his heart was breaking. So he walked behind Lydia and Matilda as they followed Dr. Wheeler to his office.

“So, you’re Lydia Deetz, and you’re Matilda Wormwood, am I correct?” Dr. Wheeler asked once the girls had settled in chairs across from his desk.

“Yeah. We’re (Y/n)’s best friends and roommates,” Lydia could feel Beetlejuice standing right behind her, sizing up the doctor.

“Then you must know how fragile (Y/n)’s psyche is,” Dr. Wheeler opened (Y/n)’s file. “In her first therapy sessions, we asked her to draw things. We just wanted to get a sense of what she was seeing, what she was feeling,” He laid a few drawings out. One was Adam and Barbara, sitting on the couch together. But there was a dark haze to it. Too much black crayon was used on what was a pretty sunny memory. Another was Beetlejuice sitting at a table, feet up, smoking a cigarette. Lydia taking pictures of food, and Matilda making books float around the room. All of them were memories, but all of them seemed to be have a shadow over them.

“These are good,” Matilda commented. “(Y/n) doesn’t draw as much as she used to. We have some of her work hanging in the library.”

“We asked her to draw what she sees at home. And she drew ghosts. She told us that this is Adam and Barbara Maitland, who, according to our records, died quite some time ago. She drew Ms. Wormwood using magic to move things around the house. She drew Lydia doing possibly the only normal thing. But what is most concerning is this personification of her depression, the mess in her mind.” He pointed to the picture of Beetlejuice.

“That’s not a personification of anything,” Lydia started, but Dr. Wheeler raised a hand to stop her.

“She says this is named Beetlejuice. She told me if we said his name three times, that he would show up. We have worked very hard to help her work through this creation. She now draws happier things. Flowers, birds, the sunset. We banned this name from being said, and she has come to terms with the fact that she created these imaginary characters to help her cope with the stresses of life. These people do not exist.”

“Dr. Wheeler, you don’t understand…”

“No Ms. Deetz, you don’t understand. (Y/n) is sick. We are trying to heal her. If I had my way, she would not be returning to the house on the hill. But she’s an adult and we can’t stop her from going someplace. And since we are so close to getting her to a healthy point, I will have to ask that you do not visit anymore until she is ready to be discharged.

“WHAT?!” Beetlejuice all but screamed, but Dr. Wheeler didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss.

Reluctantly, Lydia and Matilda left his office. He promised he would take care of informing (Y/n) about the new arrangement. Beetlejuice wanted to stick around the hospital to watch over (Y/n), but Lydia pulled him away.

“We’ll get her back Beej,” Lydia promised him when they got to the car. But when Lydia looked at Matilda, there were tears in her eyes.

Maybe they had actually lost their best friend.

****

“Okay, I’m going to go pick up (Y/n),” Matilda told Adam, Barbara, and Beetlejuice over a week later. “Lydia will be home from work shortly. Now, we don’t know if (Y/n) is going to be able to see all of you guys or not. We just have to be gentle with her, okay?”

“We will all be on our best behaviors,” Adam promised. Beetlejuice rolled his eyes and went back to staring out the window at the driveway.

That’s where he was when Lydia got home from work. Watching for Matilda’s car to come up the drive. Lydia sat down next to him.

“It’s like watching water boil or paint drying, isn’t it?” She asked him.

“What’s taking so long?” He grumbled, watching a bird fly in front of the window.

“Paperwork probably. It takes a while,” Lydia looked out the window with him. That’s when Matilda’s car appeared, pulling up the driveway. Everyone waited as (Y/n) and Matilda got out, (Y/n)’s few belongings in a bag in her hands. They walked into the house.

“It’s a little chilly in here,” (Y/n) walked right past Barbara and Adam without saying a word. “But it’s so good to be home.”

“We’re glad to have you back,” Lydia hugged (Y/n). Beetlejuice watched (Y/n) curiously like a cat just watching his territory.

“Babe,” He whispered, but it fell on deaf ears as the girls headed upstairs to (Y/n)’s room. Beetlejuice started to follow.

“Maybe you should give her some space,” Adam commented, but Beetlejuice just glared at him before heading upstairs as well.

“Here, I drew some new things,” (Y/n) handed Lydia and Matilda some new artwork she had done. “I think I might take painting up again.” Lydia wanted to say that Adam would love to have a painting friend, but she kept quiet. “Oh, there’s that ring.” The two other girls looked back at Beetlejuice, who was excited. Once (Y/n) put her ring back on, she’d be linked to him again. He’d be able to feel her, to help her. “Do either of you know where I got this? I don’t remember.”

“Uh…” Was all Matilda could muster. (Y/n) shrugged and looked at the elegant band again before setting it on her dresser.

“Who’s hungry? I’m starving,” (Y/n) walked past Beetlejuice, stopping for a second. “Man, I just got a draft. I think I need to get my hoodies out of the closet.” She walked away then as Beetlejuice stood there.

****

It had been a couple of weeks since (Y/n) had returned home. While things were peaceful, Lydia felt she was walking on eggshells, trying to keep the ghost talk to a minimum. Beetlejuice was pining a lot. He just wanted (Y/n) to see him. But nothing seemed to work. So he was currently sitting in the kitchen, watching as (Y/n) did dishes and sang along with the music from her phone. He heard the beginning piano of that Bonnie Tyler song playing.

“Turn around,” He whispered along with the guy on the song.

“Every now and then, I get a little bit lonely, and you're never coming 'round,” (Y/n) sang. Beetlejuice perked up a bit. Maybe this was what he needed.

“Turn around,” Beetlejuice watched her.

“Every now and then, I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears,” (Y/n) sang into the wooden spoon she had been drying.

“Turn around…”

“Every now and then, I get a little bit nervous that the best of all the years have gone by,” She rinsed a plate and set it in the drying rack.

“Turn around…”

“Every now and then, I get a little bit terrified, and then I see the look in your eyes,” Beetlejuice stood behind (Y/n) then.

“Turn around, bright eyes…”

“Every now and then I fall apart…”

“Turn around, bright eyes…”

“Every now and then I fall apart,” (Y/n) turned around to face Beetlejuice and he swore for a brief second, she was looking right at him.

“Turn around,” He reached out to touch her, but she was just a little out of reach.

“Every now and then I get a little bit restless and I dream of something wild,” The Maitlands, Lydia, and Matilda could hear (Y/n) and Beetlejuice singing from the kitchen. They didn’t want to break whatever spell was going on. They all wanted (Y/n) back, but they also needed to see what was going on.

“Turn around…”

“Every now and then I get a little bit helpless and I'm lying like a child in your arms,” (Y/n) could feel the cold air in the kitchen with her, the same cold feeling that had been following her around the house since she came back. She could also feel eyes on her from the dining room but made no move to look that way.

“Turn around,” Beetlejuice watched her. He could tell she was feeling something. He was feeling that spark back in his heart.

“Every now and then I get a little bit angry and I know I've got to get out and cry,” (Y/n) could feel tears in her eyes.

“Turn around.”

“Every now and then I get a little bit terrified but then I see the look in your eyes,” (Y/n) couldn’t stop singing even if she wanted to. Something was compelling her to keep going.

“Turn around bright eyes,” Beetlejuice couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on his face.

“Every now and then I fall apart.”

“Turn around bright eyes.”

“Every now and then I fall apart!” Right then, Beetlejuice made his move. He reached out and was finally able to touch her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and held her hand in his other one. She rested her other arm on his shoulder. She couldn’t see what was going on, but she could feel cold against her skin.

“And I need you now tonight, and I need you more than ever. And if you only hold me tight we'll be holding on forever. And we'll only be making it right 'cause we'll never be wrong,” (Y/n) sang as she was twirled around the room. Right then, she was able to see Adam and Barbara standing with Lydia and Matilda.

So the ghosts were real after all.

“Together we can take it to the end of the line. Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time.”

“All of the time,” Barbara, Adam, Lydia, and Matilda found themselves singing backup. Part of the Beetlejuice band apparently.

“I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark. We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks,” (Y/n) sang to the invisible force in front of her. She knew who it was, but she just couldn’t make the connection. Not yet. “I really need you tonight. Forever's gonna start tonight.”

“Forever gonna start tonight,” The quartet sang as (Y/n) stopped moving around the room.

“Once upon a time I was falling in love, but now I'm only falling apart. There's nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart,” (Y/n) looked around, a little confused as to why she had stopped dancing. “Once upon a time there was light in my life but now there's only love in the dark. Nothing I can say, a total eclipse of the heart.”

That’s when she felt herself being lifted up and placed on the breakfast table, a clattering of glassware on her less-than-graceful landing. She felt herself moving around the table again with the same invisible force. Now the other four stood around the table, watching her.

“Turn around, bright eyes. Turn around, bright eyes,” She could hear them sing, but there was a fifth voice there. A deeper, more gravelly one. One that she heard whisper her name many a night. “Turn around.”

“Every now and then I know you'll never be the boy you always wanted to be.”

“Turn around,” Beetlejuice sang, and (Y/n) could hear him clearly this time.

“But every now and then I know you'll always be the only boy who wanted me the way that I am,” She could feel her feet leaving the table as she floated up into the air. The rest of the world just seemed to melt away as a hazy figure entered her vision.

“Turn around,” He sang to her, with an accompaniment. But she knew it was him.

“Every now and then I know there's no one in the universe as magical and wondrous as you,” There he was, with that shit-eating grin he always wore. The one she loved to see, even when he was pulling pranks on her.

“Turn around,” He whispered to her, moving his head to kiss the hand that he was holding.

“Every now and then I know there's nothing any better. There's nothing that I just wouldn't do,” She returned the favor, kissing his hand this time.

“Turn around bright eyes.”

“Every now and then I fall apart,” She felt him pull her a little closer at that statement.

“Turn around bright eyes.”

“Every now and then I fall apart! And I need you now tonight. And I need you more than ever. And if you only hold me tight, we'll be holding on forever. And we'll only be making it right 'Cause we'll never be wrong. Together we can take it to the end of the line. Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time!”

“All of the time.” The quartet sang back to her.

“I don't know what to do, I'm always in the dark. Living in a powder keg and giving off sparks!” She was putting emotion into this that needed to be let out for years. Tears were streaming down her face, but she never wanted Beetlejuice to let her go. “I really need you tonight. Forever's gonna start tonight.” He lowered them back down to the table.

“Forever’s gonna start tonight,” He whispered in her ear as he pulled her against his chest.

“Once upon a time, I was falling in love. But now I'm only falling apart. Nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart,” She all but cried into his chest. “Once upon a time, there was light in my life. But now there's only love in the dark. Nothing I can say. A total eclipse of the heart.”

The pair didn’t hear the four finishing off the song as Beetlejuice kissed (Y/n) deeply, emotions pouring off of both of them. Once the world seemed to come back into focus, (Y/n) looked up into his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” She whispered, more tears threatening to spill. He cradled her face in his hands.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he wiped the tears away with his thumb. “I’m not going to let you fall again. I promise.”

[darnell-la]

𝗔 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗢 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗬

pairing: the worst!logan howlett x Wade’s goddaughter!reader

warnings: cussing, heavy drinking, teasing, age gap, sex toys mention, body contact, rough sex, sniffing (Logan doing what he does best), etc.

note: full story here.

yes, the reader is black, BUT we don’t really mention it in the story. we want everyone to be able to read our stories to imagine themselves.

we will be turning this into a mini-series. there is a plot and there will be dark trauma. if you’re an X-Men fan, this won’t be too dark for you (maybe).

we rushed through this story... we will do better in part two.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

-----

“They treat you guys this good?” Logan asked as he stalked behind y/n who was now walking to her dorm room. “Yeah,” she said with a stern tone, still upset at the man.

Logan chuckled as she finally made it to her room. “Alright — Thank you for walking me to my room without me asking. I truly feel safe,” she faked a smile with an eye roll she’s been wanting to get out for a while.

“Suck up the damn attitude, bub. Only wanted you to be safe,” he truthfully told. Y/n’s heart felt soft at his words, but she didn’t let him know that.

“Can I see your room, Bub?” The man asked, feeling obligated too. He drove and walked her all the way here. Showing her set up would be the least she could do for him.

The man didn’t know what came over him, but deep down, he wanted to get to know the young lady. Usually, people have to beg for him to give them attention, maybe even do something for that would be if it him, but right now, all he’s doing is begging her for attention.

Y/n wanted to invite the man in, feeling like he deserved it, but she quickly remembered that she hadn’t cleaned up.

“No,” she said, trying to keep it simple. “Why not? You hidin’ a boy in there?” He teased. “No, I just- I haven’t cleaned, and I hate when people see my space dirty — Come by tomorrow,” she suggested as she walked behind her door to push it closed, but he placed his foot in between the door, stopping her from shutting him out.

“C’mon — Can’t be that bad,” he said before pushing the door open. A scoff left her mouth when the man walked in. She wanted to stay angry at the man, but he was kind enough to slip off her shoes. She did the same as she stalked the man, hoping he wouldn’t find anything.

The young lady prayed to god he wouldn’t walk into her bathroom — Sadly, he did. She went to yell for him to stop, but it was too late.

Y/n cover her face in embarrassment as the man walked in. She could hear him laughing, the laugh already sounding like a tease.

“Fuckin’ hell, kid — What are you studying in? Being a freak,” he joked as he walked out, closing the door behind him. “Get out, Logan,” she said, now upset, but more embarrassed.

“Hey, c’mon, sweet cheeks — It ain’t like Ian seen toys before. I mean, back in my day, there were only a few sizes but it seems like you’ve got them all,” he teased again with a laugh.

She hated the way he mocked her with no remorse, but deep down, she liked the feeling of being embarrassed. Of being caught. She knew his mocking wasn’t to make her feel bad. It was to overpower her in some way.

“Talk to me, y/n,” Logan broke the silence after she looked away. “You ain’t gettin’ the love you need?” He asked, stepping towards her with a dark intimidating look that made her knees buck.

Y/n didn’t reply to the man. He had no right to know about her personal life. Her sex life.

“Gotta buy all these toys to feel good? These little boys here ain’t lickin’ your bean right?” He teased, chest up against hers. The man softly turned her head towards him after she looked away, suddenly feeling all the lust run through his blood.

At first, she was just a child to him. A lying one at that. She had a fucked up attitude and carried herself like Wade’s long-lost twin.

Yet, she was too hot, and too beautiful to let that turn him off. Someone would have to work a miracle to make him dislike this one.

“Look at me, bub,” the man said, her eyes still looking somewhere other then his until they finally looked at him. “Because if you ain’t gettin' the love you want, I can do it for you,” Logan went all the way in, feeling his cock pulse at the way her eyes soften.

“W-What do you know about love?” She asked, making him chuckle. “I’m a simple man, baby — Ian gotta do much to impress that pretty body for yours. You sure don’t have to do much to impress mine,” Logan said as he grabbed her hand to place it on his hard-on through his thick blue jeans.

“Your collection sizes seem to be different sizes — like you’re looking for the perfect size,” the man read the young lady like a book. “I gotcha perfect size right here, and lemme tell ya — It’s way bigger than your biggest toy,” the man mocked the sad excuse of an extra large dildo she owned.

Before she could say anything, Logan picked her up and threw her on her bed. He’s been eying the bed ever since he walked in here, hoping that wasn’t the dirty she wasn’t talking about. He wanted to come right in here and try his luck.

“Logan,” she spoke, not saying anything to follow. All she did was watch him get undressed. “Am I disappointing you?” He asked, knowing he looked exactly how she imagined. How she liked.

He never forgot when Wade mentioned the Wolverine was her favorite superhero. He wondered why for a while until he saw what she saw in him.

He knew for sure he looked good. Her eyes would glance at his muscles every once in a while, but that wasn’t the giveaway. The giveaway was the way she looks up at him all day today. Those pretty eyes sparkling when his met hers, even if it was just a few seconds.

“Never,” y/n replied. Logan instantly groaned at her voice, thankful that she was willing to go on with his actions. “That’s a good girl,” the man growled as he hovered over the woman, heavy cock dragging up her leg.

“Your pants are so thin — I can smell your cunt like you’re walkin’ around asking for it,” he said before ripping them off. “And no panties? What a fuckin’ slut,” the man chuckled as he traveled his hands up her body.

“W-Wanted to look good in my shorts” she said, knowing her ass would jiggle just right. “Well, it worked, princess — But I prefer your shorts when they’re off,”

Logan attacked the girl's lips, kissing her roughly like he’d been starving to taste her for decades. She tasted so sweet. He knew she would.

Y/n wrapped her legs around the mans waist, allowing his cock to rub up against her bud and in between her folds. “Fuck,” he sighed as he leaned his head back before going back in to kiss her.

The man would’ve loved to watch his cock slip in her cunt, but he couldn’t get his body off of her. Instead, he lifted his hips high enough, moving until his tip pushed at her entrance.

Y/n whined at the feeling, knowing he was about to fill her the most she’s ever been filled before. Without warning, he did just that.

Y/n slightly screamed at his hard bullied thrust.

“Don’t worry, baby — Gonna stretch you just right. Mold this cunt until it’s my perfect fit,” he began snapping his hips as his mouth grazed on her ear.

“Gonna stay at Wade’s place, just for you — Fuck — Now I gotta tell the little bastard that you are a good reason to stay,”

Y/n moaned, nails now digging into his back at his words. The man groaned loudly, loving the slight pain she gave him. He was certain that anything y/n wanted to do to him, he’d enjoy. As long as he gets a taste of her soaking cunt right after.

“C-Cumming,” y/n cried out, gushing all over his cock. Then the man chuckled at how easier it was to fuck into her cunt now. The young girl was still tight, but her wetness made the feeling better.

“L-Lo,” y/n stuttered, not being able to say the man’s full name. When she fucked herself with toys, she mostly thinks about the man and how good Logan would feel in her. How he’d come back from a mission just to fill her up.

“Yeah, bub, You like it? Like my old cock up your pussy? Gonna tell the whole world how good I fuck you after this?” Logan snapped his hips hard, knowing y/n’s mind was slowly fading away.

“So fuckin’ dumb on my cock,” Logan grinned down at the girl. “Gonna have to come by here every day. Scare the boys away because I know for a fact, you bring ‘em up in here — I smell them,” Logan’s voice instantly seemed angry.

Y/n wasn’t sure until the man was upset until he leaned up and gripped her waist on both sides.

“W-What? I don’t do that,” she lied, and that was a mistake. She had been pounded so dumb, she forgot he had enhanced smelling.

“You’re in for one, bub,” Logan’s warned as his nails dug into y/n sides before he pulled her into his hard pounds. He was knocking the wind out of her repeatedly.

Y/n tried pushing herself back, but she could barely keep herself together. The moans and crying that came from her mouth, egged the huge muscular man on.

Watching her body jolt at each thrust and her tits bounce under her shirt, made him think about the future days he’ll be touched all over here.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” the man began to sweat. He hasn’t fucked this hard in a while. The load he’s about to give her will fill her cunt up to the fullest.

“Logan,” y/n moaned, head throwing back as another orgasm washed over her body. The man’s hips stuttered, watching her body arch as he kept her in place. The pulls into his thrust only made him closer.

“Y-You can’t be seen with me. I-I can end up hurting you,” y/n spoke, feeling like she needed to say something, but she was struggling. “Thought you said that’s how life is,” Logan reminded her.

“T-This is different — He can hurt you,” she said felt guilty for telling him so late. “I doubt anyone can hurt me,” he smiled down at her. Logan instantly realized that the girl was actually terrified.

“H-He’ll do anything to hurt me,” Y/n teared up as she lifted her hands to his face. “Then I’ll end him so he won’t get the chance to hurt you again,” the man said, ready to get at any college student who made her feel this fear.

Y/n pulled Logan into a tight hug, rolling her hips up into his thrust. She was scared, but soon felt safe again. Logan could handle the heat that was coming. He’s the Wolverine. He helps people. He helped Wade save his world.

He could save y/n’s world. He can save her peace. He can save her.

Logan bite down on y/n's neck, trying to form love marks as his cock twitched around her walls. The thought of her needing him, made him feel good. He's always needed someone to depend on him, but this felt different.

Logan had a choice to leave, but he's choosing to stay and make y/n understand she's too young and pretty to be going through a rough time with a man.

"Gonna cum, bub," the man's voice muffled into her neck as he pulled her closer. Y/n's walls clenched around the man’s length, sucking him in tightly. "F-Fuck," the man slightly moaned right before he spilled into y/n, filling her up until she couldn't hold his seed anymore.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

[anemonelovesfiction]

Kinktober 12- Fingering

Ao’nung x Human Fem Reader

Warnings ⚠️: The title gives it away, soulmate AU (matching tattoo’s)

Honestly just happy you guys enjoy my writing ❤️ thank you for your likes, comments, and reblogs, they make me incredibly happy and I look forward to seeing them☺️

I can’t remember if I proofread it but don’t be afraid to call out any mistakes :)

Word Count: 2.1K

I was born on Pandora like the rest of the kids here, scientists got horny and decided to have children, there was no effective birth control they could create and a new generation of humans had been born. Spider was the first of us, I was the second, and with us being born came a new wave of soulmate tattoo’s permanently imbedded in all our wrists. Something so special to the Na’Vi had started showing up on all of us, meaning the all mother must have had special plans for us or even saw us as her children.

I have no idea if Neytiri’s tattoo of Jake’s name had been in English or in Na’vi and at this point, knowing how she had been toward Spider, I had been afraid to ask but I couldn’t help and wonder if this had been something she often kept covered as a teenager, believing she had been rejected by the all mother due to the incomprehensible symbols on her wrist, and therefore believing she did not having a soulmate?

They did, however, keep their children’s wrists covered from the moment of their birth up until the moment they passed their iknimaya. Sure every kid had their curiosity and peeked under the band, but the name had been something kept a secret, some parents wouldn’t even take a look as they did not want to influence themselves to play matchmaker with their friends, it had been something they took seriously, a blessing from Eywa that their perfect match had been out there.

To be completely honest I hadn’t even known they wrote things down, or that they had a written vocabulary as they often spoke of their history, used the song chord to keep track of their lives, it wasn’t new to me that the tattoo on either wrist meant it was the name of your soulmate. Had this meant that the letters of my name littered themselves across a Na’vi’s wrist in English, or was it written in their language so they could understand it, did that specific Na’vi think they had been cursed had the letters been in symbols they had yet to understand? I’d purposely avoided wanting anything to do with learning the Na’vi written language due to the fear of rejection, had the specific person known it was their name they could decide what my fate would be.

There were three options. They could reject me flat out and reveal themselves as my soulmate, they could ignore me completely without having told me a thing and I’d die alone, and the highly unlikely scenario in which they’d want to have me for themselves and actually go through with being with me their entire lives. But all of that had been thrown out the window the moment Spider and I had been captured by his reincarnated father- which threw the both of us in a loop after he’d shared who he was- all of that shit had been left field, and we’d finally ended up with the Metkayina.

Due to suffeirng from foot-in-fucking-mouth disease, Lo’ak had blurted out to the people they often hung out with, that I could not read in Na’Vi, and that my soulmate was also Na’Vi. I had been given a bracelet, decorated with traditional Omatikaya colors and pattern, that I had yet to take off of my wrist from the moment Neteyam had made one for me, knowing I would want nothing more than to hide it. Even if Tuk had been young, she’d known how sensitive the topic was for me, and slapped the back of Lo’ak’s head from being a loud mouthed bitch- her words, not mine.

I’d kept a close eye on the bracelet he’d made me and assured it was tied around my wrist as tightly as possible, while allowing room for circulation, which was tricky considering riding on an Ilu- especially with Lo’ak or Neteyam, that shit loosened up every time. But with my close observation it remained intact and on my wrist, effectively covering my tattoo.

Until we’d all been huddled around the cook fire, the same group of people who hung out together sitting closely to one another, Kiri’s gasp breaking us all out of the concentration we’d all been in while listening to one of the guys talking about whatever it was they felt like sharing. All eyes had followed hers and like every other time, I’d been the last one to follow what they’d been doing, noticing my wrist had been handing something to her, vulnerably showing everyone what my tattoo had said, my eyes widened as I immediately look on the sand to find my bracelet and feeling my arm being tugged in another direction.

_________

Big hands had currently been forcing my thighs to stay open even while I attempted to shut them on his face, I’d been feeling overstimulated at the moment but his tongue continued to dance around my clit as if it had choreographed an entire show, I was on the verge of yet another orgasm and weakly attempted to push his forehead away, all while my hips pushed closer to him. I suck in a breath and throw my head back in frustration at my failed attempt, the coil in my stomach had tightened even more and I knew I was closer to release, a chuckle coming out of the mouth of the bastard who was currently eating me out.

“Ao’nung!” I whisper-yelled at the teal man below me, another quiet moan slips past my lips without wanting to, compelled to stop fighting as soon as his eyes shoot up through his thick lashes to meet mine, my knee’s growing weak at the sight. I couldn’t see his mouth as he was keeping it busy, but from the look in his eyes I could tell he had been smirking, feeling his fingers prod at my entrance, not bothering to tease any longer and sliding them in. I’d had two orgasms previous and the third one was right at the cusp, his fingers working diligently, he was insatiable at this moment and seemed to be doing what he wanted- not that I could complain as my hips buck upward to meet the teasing thrusts of his fingers.

I could feel the coil in my lower belly just about to give in, but his mouth detaches from my already soaked cunt, biting his lip as he focuses on his fingers being swallowed, and yet all I could do was attempt to wiggle my hips further, upset at his fingers retracting. Another whine had built itself in my throat and I look down to see him looking through his lashes and into the depths of my soul, completely forgetting he’d attached his kuru to the base of my skull and that he could feel everything I was feeling at the moment. I clench around his fingers subconsciously at the thought of how close we were at this time, his eyes were hazed with lust and longing, I could only imagine what my face looked like.

“You look gorgeous on my fingers, yawntu.” In the time I’d gotten lost staring at his eyes, he’d managed to meet my face with his own, his fingers working me closer to the edge without allowing me the satisfaction of coming, fingers pushing up against a specific spot and I could feel the waves of euphoria getting stronger, but not enough to crash over me. I grunt right as his lips meet mine and effectively muting the sound, feeling his opposite hand lightly pushing my thigh apart as his other continued its ministrations.

“Don’t stop-“ I’d grunted as his thrusts pick up their speed, my eyes closing on instinct as I bite my lip to keep from making too much noise, marui’s were considered their homes, but nobody had to tell me it was obvious you could hear every sound -there are gaping holes everywhere- I didn’t need to be the one human ruining it for everyone. My own gasp brings me back to the present feeling his fingers pushing harder, he’d been squatting on his toes while attempting a third orgasm out of me -which wasn’t that far behind- but from the angle I was at I could see he was hard under his loincloth, but he’d been too busy focusing on my cunt to care about himself, and who was I to mess with his concentration?

I’d wanted nothing more than to allow myself to moan, but considering our circumstances and how close we were to everyone else, I settled for short and fast pants, it was near impossible to keep any noise down with how well he’d been treating me and the sting overstimulation had only been temporary, being drowned out by the pleasure I was feeling at the moment. I was starting to feel myself spiral in my own head and felt like I needed something to hold on to, previously I’d been holding on to his pretty hair and accidentally pressing my nails into his scalp, but with nothing in reach for me to hold on I’d started slightly thrashing in the floor of our marui, but I’d rather do this than be loud.

“I want to see you come on my fingers.” My eyes snapped open -barely- at how low his voice had sounded only to realize he’d been too focused on my pussy to realize he’d said anything. I’d taken note he’d often speak without realizing he’d said anything at the moment until someone- usually Tsireya- called him out on whatever bullshit he’d said, ironically most of it was usually aimed at Spider and me. A whine sneaks past my mouth and one of my hands comes up to reach just as one of his hands come to squeeze the sides of my neck, staring right at me, eyes begging me to come.

“M’coming-“ I struggle to whisper and stated quite breathless before feeling my eyes shut again, a blinding white vision coming behind them as his fingers rub against the spot he had been assaulting this entire time. I could feel an insane amount of energy flowing through my body as I orgasmed and was surprised at how quiet I’d been, biting my own lip and thankful enough to not draw blood, allowing the waves to crash over my body silently. It kind of felt like when someone stretches in the morning, their limbs are spread wide and are on the verge of getting a Charlie-horse, minus the loud groan accompanying it.

Slowly but surely my senses start coming back to me and I could feel my body had been run through the ringer, I felt exhausted and energized at the same time, although a feeling of shock was coursing through me and it had taken a bit to remember that I had been attached to my husband, opening my eyes and seeing his shocked expression fitting the emotion I felt through our bond. I look down toward where he had been staring and it takes a second for me to realize there were droplets of something wet running along the length of his arm and some on his knees, my own eyes widening slightly at the sight, slowly reaching his stare -as he had found it in himself to look up- and realizing I was sharing the same shocked expression.

“What was that?” He asked and the amusement was clear as day in his voice, feeling a million thoughts starting to run through my head, although I was certain most of them had been his own. I shake my head a bit to rid myself of the disorganized chaos that had started flooding my brain to try and understand the predicament we were in, distinctly remembering that I may have done this one other time, but not remembering what it had been or even felt like when it happened before, but this one had definitely made me feel like I needed twelve business days to recover from.

“I need to see you do that again.” His eyes darkened as he said that and I could feel myself start to squirm with excitement, but hissing slightly at the sting of overstimulation, I was definitely in for it tonight and it was already late as fuck, were we ever going to get the sleep we needed to keep up with our busy day tomorrow?

_________

[scamallach-1]

When fellow “US” settlers tell each other that they wanna learn about indigenous decolonial land back here on this land but then spend time making an issue about their time, saying they don’t really have time to educate themselves, my autistic ass is at a loss. Cus I’m stumped. You say you want to learn and then when provided with resources your regular response is that you don’t have time? I see it constantly, this excuse. In comment sections when people ask questions and then claim they don’t have time to read the answer; in my own circle when my fellows blab about things they don’t know and then when presented with correct answers and sources, they get quiet and say they just haven’t had time to look into it (yet that doesn’t quiet their mouths on shit they don’t know). We settlers need to ask ourselves right now what we are willing to change for the greater good. If you make a bed from selfishness then expect to sleep in it, I think.

I can’t make other people work decolonial edu into their schedules, I can only send them the resources directly from where I myself am learning about decolonization: the First Nations educators and historians and scholars and Black New Afrikan educators, historians and scholars. If you want to learn about this stuff - and you must - I think it does require making the sacrifices in your daily life necessary for you to be able to do that. Settler-colonialism has us in a chokehold so we need to be more than what it ‘allows’ in order to unlearn it!

I don’t know what other settlers want me to say? Do they want me to be wishy-washy with them about it? Say that whole “if you have time, please consider, sometime…” No, i am not gonna say that because I believe that is bullshit and nothing will get done with that passive attitude.

I do think we working class/poverty class/disabled settlers need to help each other be able to prioritize this education NOW. The indigenous and Black educators we learn from also have jobs, also have children they need to care for, have personal responsibilities and important things to do - and have active genocides against their people. They believe full-heartedly in working toward decolonial land back because of course they do. This is their lives, and not just individual by individual. They’re working for their people’s liberation in the face of settler-colonial genocides!

And so when we look at our work and school and family schedules - as settlers, no different in status than the “Israeli” settler occupying Palestine - and we prioritize our own overwhelm when we are asked to make the fucking space and take the fucking time for this imperative education, so we can be ready accomplices to decolonial action in the coming years, you gotta know how fucked up that is. We should no longer snap into this typical self-serving behavior!

No, I’m not going to say anything less than what I believe is factual, based on the edu ive so far learned from the indigenous and Black liberationists who are telling us, with their radical perspective and wisdom, what we need to do and how we should go about it, even as potential settler accomplices. Prioritize decolonial edu. Make fucking room.

We settlers should all help each other to accomplish this. Plenty of settlers like me with learning disabilities are out there trying to encourage others and make it easier for people to read the histories and theories. People break this information down for you so you can learn it in different ways (audiobook recordings, forum discussions, infographics that take a couple min to read, key histories in “less than 6 minutes”, YouTube interviews and discussions, podcast discussions, free book banks with PDFs, free articles). We have different ways of learning and in different stretches of time available - I really think what matters is that you work to get it done regardless of daily constraint. Show some solidarity. Working class settlers are not the center of the oppressed under settler-colonialism. We are the settler-colonialism. We must actually work to dismantle it by following FN leadership.

The idea that anything liberating and meaningful just falls into someone’s hands is a white supremacist lie.

What I wish is that in my circle at least, fellow settlers would say “I want to learn this but it’s hard and I need help, will you help me?” — to which I would do all I can in order to ensure they can learn. I have more time than others do because I work only part time due to my disability - but that is time I have to give to discuss, share, read-to others (I have dyslexia but I will fucking READ TO YOU because I know how hard it can be!) The point here is, if you begin your edu, you won’t be alone. Reach for support to make it happen and there will be people who will take the endeavor seriously with you.

But you have to be committed to learning this going forward. You have to actually want to begin learning about decolonial land back.

[lovelettersbyj]

A King and His Queen ❌

Warnings: Kissing, slight man-handling, intense biting, unprotected sex, slight dom!Coriolanus, ejaculation on body.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem Reader(?).

Summary: After a surprise Academy ceremony, Coriolanus Snow is now one of 24 Academy students in charge of a tribute for the 10th Annual Hunger Games ceremony. Pearl Whitegrove, desperate to climb her way to the top in Panem, must try anything and everything she can to keep Coriolanus Snow focused on the big picture. Even if that means, extreme, and potentially seductive measures.

Word Count: 2,192.

A/N: Happy holidays! I know it's been a minute, but I hope everyone had a wonderful winter break. I've been attempting to draft out how I want these events to play out; I really love Pearl and this toxic love affair so I want to make sure I include everything I thought of. Some of the dialogue might be slightly off from the movie since I'm shaping it around to my idea. I hope you all enjoy! Make sure to comment and let me know what you think. 💛

Also a very happy birthday to Tom Blyth! An absolute coincidence I'm finally posting part two today, but a great one nonetheless.

Read Part One here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The crowds of students, parents, school staff, and Capitol citizens flooded the ballroom floor; everyone clearly in a mild state of panic. Tributes and mentors? Academy students as mentors? There’s no way they’d be able to train these kids to survive a slaughter in The Games. But that wasn't entirely the point, was it?

I pushed my way through the vibrantly dressed bodies, raising myself up as high as I could in search of Coriolanus’ blonde head. About to admit defeat, a hand wrapped itself around my right bicep and pulled me back. I gasped as I turned around, arms wrapping around me and two familiar blue eyes staring right at me, “Are you alright?”

I nodded warily, “Yes.”

Coriolanus guided us stealthily out of the ballroom, avoiding anyone attempting to approach him and rile up an anger-fueled conversation. We ended up outside by the car loading area, thankfully empty. We stood in between the large concrete columns, attempting to stay relatively hidden from any prying eyes.

“What the hell is going on with Highbottom?” Coriolanus snapped, “Students as tributes? Is he out of his mind?”

I chuckled, “Clearly. Those kids are all going to die anyway; the Games themselves are getting more boring every year. If something doesn’t change they’ll just stop doing them altogether. The Capitol is desperate.”

Coriolanus went silent, his eyes glued to the floor. I watched him a moment, then stepped closer to him, lifting my hands and clutching his pale cheeks in my grasp. “Coryo, look at me.”

His serious expression remained, but his eyes began to soften as he focused on me.

“You’ve got this, Coriolanus Snow. You’re going to show Highbottom and everyone in the Capitol what you’re capable of.”

He chuckled, “But Lucy Gray—” “I don’t care about Lucy Gray. I care about you, and I care about you impressing Dr. Gaul. I know you want to help your family, and I know you want to ultimately work in the Capitol, right?”

He nodded, raising his hands and lightly holding my forearms, “I want to do great things with Panem.” He spoke so softly; a first glimpse at vulnerability. His eyes almost watering, looking at me a bit more desperately now, “I want to be President.”

“And you will, Coryo. I know you will. But you can’t lose sight of what they want out of the games. It’s not just about who survives. It’s about who they remember the most… And they’ve got to remember you.”

Fuck it. Before thinking twice I pulled his face towards me and kissed his warm lips. I felt his hands tense against my arms; fingers pressing a bit harder on the skin. This kiss was so comforting, for both of us. He sighed into the kiss, growing more confident now and pulling me into him. Suddenly a cough followed by someone clearing their throat made us pull away hastily. 

Turning around, we both were uncomfortably joined by Dean Highbottom, who leaned against a concrete pillar with his lips draining the last drops of a clear liquid in a tiny glass bottle.

“Always creeping around, aren’t you Highbottom?” I chuckled dryly, turning to face him as Coryo’s nervous hand gripped my wrist, “Don’t you have children to terrorize?”

A ghost of a smile decorated his face; sarcasm dripping from a chuckle as he looked up at me, “Hanging around the Snows, are we Pearl? That’s low, even for you.”

I took a step closer, but Coryo’s hand held me firm and prevented me from getting any closer, “You better watch how you speak about Coriolanus and his family. They’re more powerful than you could ever dream of being.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t crave power… unlike some people. Isn’t that right, Snow?” His gaze darted over towards Coriolanus, who stood silent behind me.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms and shaking my head, “You can try to scare the Academy graduates all you want, but Coriolanus is going to win. You’ll see.”

Highbottom chuckled again. “With that little songbird? I don’t think so.” He began to walk away from us, heading back inside to the chaos he had created not long ago. Stopping in his tracks, he turned to face us again, “It’s a good thing Whitegrove is here to stand up for you, huh Snow? But once the Games begin, you’re going to be all alone… Then we’ll see how powerful you really are.”

———————————————————

The sun had set in Panem, everyone holed up in their homes, anxious after the ground-breaking news. I was with Coriolanus in the old Snow mansion, sitting in the living room with my legs crossed and watching the blonde haired man pace back and forth as he explained to Tigris exactly what had happened earlier that day. She was disapproving of the way Snow talked about Lucy Gray Baird, practically chastising him for doing so. She snapped back at him saying that if she was in Lucy’s position, she wouldn’t trust Coryo at all— my blood boiling at the insult.

“What else is he supposed to do then, Tigris? Let her go into the Games knowing full well she’s going to die right away? Let’s be serious for a moment.”

The two of them looked over to me now, Tigris’ eyes narrowed, “So what do you suggest?”

I paused for a beat, thinking sincerely. I still had no idea what Coriolanus should do, but there was no way in hell he was about to lose this ridiculous competition. He needed to win… I needed him to win.

“That’s what I thought.” She spat out dryly.

—————

Tigris had abandoned Coriolanus and I in a bubbling rage, closing herself away in her room for the night. I now sat in an old, worn out chair in the corner of Coryo’s small room. He nervously picked some clutter off of the ground, rummaging around in a quick attempt to make everything seem a bit more presentable.

“It’s okay, Coryo.” I assured softly, “Just relax.”

Resting a broken pencil on his desk, he sat himself on the edge of his small bed, directly across from me. We basked awkwardly in a moment of silence, before he exhaled a nervous breath, “I have no idea what I’m going to say to her tomorrow.”

“I think showing up at the train station is a smart idea. I doubt any of the other mentors would ever think about doing something like that, you’re on the right track.”

I stood up, shrugging my coat off of my shoulders and tossing it onto the back of the chair. Stepping closer to Coryo, I delicately lifted a hand onto a stray curly lock that hung over his forehead, tucking it back behind his ear and cupping his face, “You’re a brilliant man, Coriolanus Snow. You’re going to get Lucy Gray Baird to trust you, and you will be King of Panem one day.”

“King?” His eyebrows furrowed.

I chuckled, “King, President. Whatever you prefer.”

“There’s no way I’m going to win with her, she’s not going to last a day—” “She doesn’t need to last a day. She just needs to be remembered; so that you can be remembered.”

Coryo’s features went soft; eyes watering at the thought of how low his chances were. The fate of his future in Panem rested in the arms of a lowly girl from District 12. I cupped his face with both hands now, brushing away a tear that managed to slip down.

“If you can impress Dr. Gaul by the time all of this is over, you won’t need to worry about some District 12 country bum. You hold all the power, Coriolanus. You are powerful.”

Slowly, I lowered myself in between his legs, straddling his right thigh. His eyes darted down to watch the way I pressed down onto him, his mouth letting out a soft gasp.

“Pearl…”

Coryo’s eyes met mine, and our gazes held a moment. Suddenly he wasted no time in kissing me, his hands gripping the back of my neck to hold me in place as his lips tackled mine. I wrapped both arms around his wide shoulders, using his body to steady myself as my energy quickly grew weak under his touch.

Hastily in between kisses, my fingers fumbled with his white shirt buttons in a desperate attempt to pull the material off of his body, Coriolanus doing the same with the zipper of my golden dress. His hands slowly glided up the sides of my body, long fingers taking in what he could as he made his way up to my breasts. An excited spark went up my spine, feeling his cool, pale hands against my warm flesh. 

His hands cupped the outer curvature, massaging the breasts slowly. I bit my lip at his intricate touch, closing my eyes and slightly leaning my head back as I swallowed hard. At this notion, Coryo immediately leaned forward and clung his lips onto my fully exposed neck, playfully digging his teeth and swirling his tongue on a single, concentrated spot. Eventually his hands expertly unclasped the bra, and the clothing item also found its way quickly to the floor.

My hand rested on his fully hard cock, pressing aggressively against his tight black slacks. I knead my hand slowly, making sure to guide it along the full length. Coriolanus groaned, his head falling onto my exposed shoulder as he was fully at my mercy. I slipped his earlobe in between my lips, biting it teasingly as I slipped my hand past the pant confines and through the boxer briefs. His cock was rock solid, and at the touch of my hand twitched excitingly. I guided my hand along the length, only slightly cupping his balls before working my way up and beginning a steady pump rhythm.

“Oh my god, fuck,” Coriolanus gasped, one hand wrapped around my wrist as I continued to work my way along his cock. His eyes fluttered closed, and I pressed my lips onto his forehead as his breaths grew short and aggressive; I knew he was close.

Suddenly he pulled my hand out, and in a quick switch in attitude, he was back in charge. Coriolanus ripped my dress down, making sure to include my panties as he left me fully nude. He finished pulling off his pants and boxers, and with both hands on my waist, pulled me on slowly over his fully erect dick.

“Those were some pretty inspiring words,” He spoke in a low growl, guiding my hips as he slowly rocked me back and forth against him, “You just want a man with power, huh?”

“Oh,” I shuddered, completely at a loss of control. My core pulsed as my dripping warmth completely coated onto his entire girth. His hands pressed deeply onto my hip bones, guiding my rhythm as his mouth sucked hard on my exposed collar bone. My hands dug into his soft, blonde hair, looping my fingers in his curls as I held onto him dearly.

He continued his pace, my grinding trying to become a bit more desperate as I felt a tight ball of heat build up in my core. I started to pant, pulling tightly on his hair as I moaned out, “I’m going to c-cum.”

Coriolanus smirked in delight, moving a hand down to my clit and rubbing the sensitive bud vigorously with his thumb as he gave me a long kiss, swirling his tongue on my lower lip before pulling away and whispering, “Cum for me, my queen.”

His deep voice was enough to push me over the edge, and I clung to his broad back as I dropped my head onto his right shoulder, my teeth sinking into his skin as I felt my warm juices release completely onto his lap. 

“Coryo,” I gasped out, and I felt his chest rise and fall in a soft chuckle, pleased with the mess I had made on his body. He wrapped his arms around my curves, pulling me close as I continued to slowly ride out my high.

“I can get used to this, sweetheart.” Coriolanus smiled, lifting my chin to look up at him as he left a tender kiss on my lips, “You’re beautiful.”

I chuckled softly, kissing him again on the cheek as he helped lift me up. My legs slightly wobbled as I steadied myself, and he immediately reached over to grab a cloth. We both laughed, slightly embarrassed as we cleaned ourselves up. Coriolanus and I settled in his bed, practically clinging to each other under his bedsheet cover. “You’re going to do great tomorrow, Coriolanus. I believe in you.”

His hand held the side of my face as his thumb repeatedly stroked my cheek softly, “With you by my side, all my doubts are fading away.”

I had him. He trusts me—needs me. He’s mine.

 “Is that why you called me your queen?” I giggled, leaning up to kiss him.

He smirked, nodding his head slightly, “As you said, I’m going to be the King of Panem one day. Every King needs a Queen, right?”