#women's climbing trousers

[tragursocial]

Are you in search of the best Women's Crux Climbing Pants? Then Tragur can help. Gear up for your next adventure trip with Women's Crux Climbing Pants from Tragur. Durable and flexible Design, these rock climbing pants provide comfort on every climb. Shop our ultimate women's climbing trousers.

[targaryen-dynasty]

WHAT IS DESTINED CAN NOT BE AVOIDED. (4/4)

Cregan Stark x pregnant!Targaryen!Reader

WARNINGS: childbirth, swearing

WORDS: 3.5 K

NOTES: thanks to @arcielee for betaing this! <3

One hand is splayed out over the curve of your swollen stomach and the other clings to your maid’s forearm as you take your time climbing the edge of the bathtub to lower yourself in the tepid water, releasing a content sigh with it still being warm enough for some of the pregnancy pains to slowly but surely fade away.

“You may leave now,” you hum, head tipped back against the edge of the bronze tub. 

What you don’t notice with your eyes closed is the baffled look the two maids assigned for you exchange, visibly hesitant to leave you alone. One of them, a younger girl whose name you’ve learned is Elia, speaks up first, her voice soft but laced with concern that makes you look at them. “My lady… are you sure you will be alright by yourself? Should we not stay here to assist you?”

You sink down a bit further into the water, chest and shoulders now fully submerged as well. “I am with child, not sick. Rest assured I can take care of myself alone.”

The maid still looks unconvinced, and it doesn’t help that it’s now the older one speaking up. “My lady, ‘tis not meant as any disrespect. We are just concerned about your well-being. You are carrying the Lord Stark’s heir, after all, and–”

The door swings open with a creek that cuts the maid off mid sentence. Your eyes dart over, and you can feel your annoyance subside just slightly at the sight of him. Something about the stay in King’s Landing has changed him a bit. You notice it as you watch how he all but saunters into the room, wearing a loose fitted shirt made of linen with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, similarly loose trousers with a pair of soft leather boots. He has forgone Ice, the large sword resting neatly on the equally large desk standing in the chambers, and opted instead for a simple dagger strapped at his hip, hidden beneath the shirt. 

Yet you’d prefer seeing him in his usual leathers and furs rather in the light-eight attire he’s opted for given the warmer climate of the capital. 

“And Lord Stark is here to take care of his wife,” he ends the maid’s sentence, throwing his vest over a nearby chair.

Both women turn around to bow their heads politely upon his arrival, giving him a knowing look. “Pardon us, my lord,” the older maid says. “We were merely making sure the Lady Stark was tending to her pregnancy well.”

Nodding in acknowledgment to their words, you spot his gaze drifting back to you. “Thank you for your concern,” he says politely but with a hint of dismissal in his voice. “But I can assure you my wife is in good hands now. You may both go and tend to your other duties now.”

Exchanging a glance once more, the maids curtsey quickly and take their leave under the steel of Cregan’s gaze. 

“Thank the gods they’re gone,” you mutter and close your eyes again, sighing softly. 

“You make it sound as if they were tormenting you, my love,” Cregan says, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt before he comes closer to the bathtub. 

Opening your eyes once more, you all but glare at him. “They were hovering over me like a pair of mother hens,” you snap. “Ever since Munkun gave me that wretched tonic to bring the babe quicker, they have been treating me as if I am about to break, watching my every move as if I’ll faint any second from the smallest exertion.”

Completely unbothered by your grousing, your irritation has him chuckling. He leans forward to rest his hand on your belly, feeling the rather large swell of it. “They’re just concerned about you, my love,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “They want to make sure you’re well cared for during your pregnancy. Can you blame them?”

“Do they want to make sure I am well cared for, or is it a command of my brother’s council?” You cock a brow, bringing your hand to rest atop his. 

Cregan sighs at your words, knowing that you’re probably right. The council does meddle in far too many things, and neither of you would be surprised if they’d given strict orders to the maids to watch over you. 

“Perhaps ‘tis a bit of both,” Cregan says. “Aegon might be concerned for the health of his dear sister, and his trusted council is definitely influencing his worry. But they are not entirely misguided to look out for you, my love. You’re carrying an heir and your health is of utmost importance.”

Not quite satisfied with his reasoning, you roll your eyes. “Yes, I understand the importance of the heir, but I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,“ you huff. “But I do not need a flock of overprotective hens following me around, tittering and fretting over every little thing I do. It would not have been like that had we just stayed in Winterfell.”

“Perhaps not,” he agrees, rubbing your swollen bump. “But we’re not in Winterfell, we’re in King’s Landing, and here your brother is king. His council sees it fit to be overly cautious with you. Complaining won’t change that.”

You can’t help the annoyed sigh falling past your lips as you lean your head back against the edge of the tub, sinking further into the water. “How do you think the wolves are faring without us?” 

The change of topic has Cregan laughing softly with the thoughts of your hovering maids quickly shifting to your dire wolves at home in Winterfell. “They are probably fine, my love,” he says, still rubbing your bump despite the rolled up sleeve of his shirt slowly soaking up water. “They are being cared for by our men. They’re tough creatures, those dire wolves. They can take care of themselves.” 

“Just like me,” you quip, raising a brow. “And I was not born a wolf – I am a dragon.”

“Oh, that you are,” Cregan agrees. “A fierce and dangerous one at that. But even a dragon might need a little bit of pampering and attention now and then, don’t you think?”

The earlier annoyance and irritation at the maids quickly melts away with your husband’s teasing but comforting manner, making you hum in agreement. Yet you have to admit it’s mostly Cregan’s attention and care showered upon yourself that you enjoy. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Your hand now journeys along the swell of your bump, while you bring the other to rest at the back of his neck, gently massaging it. His attention and care, however, aren’t enough to keep your light demeanor up as a sharp tug makes itself known in your stomach. Your body curls together at that, making you moan out in pain. 

Not wasting a moment, Cregan leans forward, trying to figure out what is going on. “Are you alright?” he asks with a concerned voice, his wide, gray eyes locked on your features. 

As another pang of pain grips your body, you gasp and clutch the back of his neck instinctively, your eyes widening in realization. “The babe…” you gasp, face twisting in pain as another contraction washes over you. “I think the babe… the babe is coming. Now.”

His eyes widen briefly in surprise, but his instincts kick in immediately. Quickly springing into action, he rises to his feet and reaches for a large cloth. “Let me get you in bed, and then I shall fetch the mae–”

“Just fetch the maester please, this shall be fine.”

Biting back a worried protest, knowing that arguing with a woman in labor would be a futile endeavor, much more with a woman as stubborn as you are, he rushes out the door with a nod of his head and a forced smile on his lips. 

As he leaves the room, you’re left alone, body wracked with increasing contractions that force one groan and gasp from your lip after the other. Your fingers dig into the rim of the tub, the realization dawns on you that you might have to give birth right here in the bathtub. 

The door pushes open again, and behind your wolf of a man barging into the room is Grand Maester Munkun, his expression not as concerned as your husband’s. 

“Maester,” you croak with a strained voice, looking at him as he moves to your side to assess your condition. “Is this normal? The pain, the–the rushed… labor?”

He grimly shakes his head. “‘Tis not uncommon for a tonic to bring on labor earlier than expected when the mother has surpassed her time. And the early onset of labor also does not necessarily mean anything is wrong,” he explains. “The pain you’re experiencing, however, should not be this severe. Let me examine you, my lady.”

You hardly notice your worried maids scurrying into the chambers with towels in their arms when the maester pressed his fingers against your swollen belly, eventually even going lower to feel inside of you. Cregan towers over him from behind, making sure that he does not make one wrong move and ensures your and the babe’s safety. 

And only at the maester’s next words seem you and your husband to be able to breathe again. “The babe seems to be positioned properly,” he announces. “And the pains are strong and regular. This is a good sign. For how long have the pains been coming, my lady?”

You grit your teeth through another wave of pain, meeting your husband’s worried gaze. “I’ve felt little… twinges all day,” you manage to say between labored breaths. “But they were so minor, I did not think them worth mentioning.”

“Sometimes the early stages of labor can be mild and easy to overlook, my lady. But now that it is progressing, the pains will become more intense as the babe prepares to make its entrance into the world.”

You suddenly feel a twinge of pain tear through your body like a hot knife, like you are being torn apart, making it impossible for you to hold back a scream. The maids all but hurry to your side at the sight, the older one bringing a soothing hand to your shoulder. “Take deep breaths, my lady,” she encourages, “and then push.”

Two other maids grab your legs and hoist them over the rim of the tub, making it easier for them to gauge the process through the slightly opaque water. 

Grand Maester Munkun has been forced away by your husband sinking onto his knees, peeling your hand off the edge of the tub to capture it with his own. Your nails dig harshly into his palm as you eventually bear down and push with all your might, your screams echoing off the walls. 

“Cregan…” you pant, completely abandoning any courtesies with other people present. “I… I have changed my mind now… I do not wish–” you’re interrupted by a contraction, forcing you to push once again. “I have no desire to give you an heir,” you pant during a short lived, pain-less moment. 

You’re a fierce and proud woman that has endured so many hardships before, yet this seems to be the ultimate test of your strength and endurance – and right now you’re not quite sure you can finish it. 

Cregan can’t answer before he’s interrupted by another of your screams, each contraction and push bringing more and more agony, pain shooting through you as your babe readies itself to slowly make its way into the world. 

“Keep going, my lady,” the maid says, dabbing a cloth on your forehead. 

“I fucking am!” you all but snap, the sharp tone of your voice solely directed at her even causing the anxiety to leave your husband’s face for a moment. 

None of their gentle touches and encouraging words ease the pain that ripples through your body – not when the pressure inside of you builds up so quickly. 

Beads of sweat drip down your forehead, caught by the maid’s cloth and leaving your skin glistening with the effort of birthing Cregan’s heir. 

The pain gets less for a moment, allowing you to breathe as exhaustion creeps up on you despite you not yet being done. Your head tips to the side, and your gaze meets the concerned one of your husband, an anxiety etched on his features that makes it clear his heart aches with your screams. 

He leans in and tips his forehead against yours, allowing you to close your eyes for a moment and take in a deep breath. “You’re doing so well, my love,” he whispers, a tremor in his voice that comes close to the one that shakes his large hands. “Hold on, just a little longer.”

The urge to push becomes adamant once again, forcing you to hunch forward from the force that bears down on you. You all but squeeze the life out of Cregan’s hand, the pain so overwhelming you hardly hear the words of the maid kneeling at the end of the tub. “Almost there, my lady. The babe is almost out.”

Every bit of your strength is focused on delivering the child, your energy almost completely spent at this point. The pain seems to consume your entire being, filling your mind with nothing but the agony of birthing your child. 

But with another push, all of your suffering suddenly is over. 

The pain starts to subside, replaced by an overwhelming sense of both relief and exhaustion. You collapse back against the tub, your breath coming in ragged gasps. 

That is the moment for the maids to go into action, their training and experience taking over. One of them reaches down to gently scoop the babe from the water, while another already is at her side to wrap a clean cloth around its tiny body. Where your screams have filled the chambers before, it’s now its cries that echo off the walls, easing all of your anxiety. 

“It is a boy, my lady,” the maid still kneeling at your side says, a soft smile on her lips. “A healthy, beautiful boy.” You smile softly as well, releasing a deep sigh of relief.

Grand Maester Munkun leans over the other two maids to assess the newborn, checking for any immediate signs of distress. As much as you want, you can’t keep your eyes open to watch how he peels the cloth aside, and you just smile weakly at his voice. “The boy indeed seems to be in good health,” he declares, clearly talking to Cregan who hasn’t left your side. “A good set of lungs, too, my lord.”

Cregan also sighs in relief, the tension in his body leaving at once at that. Bringing a hand to your cheek, he gently rubs his thumb over your sweaty skin. “Well done, my love,” he praises. “You have done so well. Our son is here and he is healthy.”

“Show him to me,” you demand softly, blinking wearily at him. 

With a nod, he rises to his feet to make room for the maids. One kneels down and presents you the small bundle, but as you reach out, a renewed wave of cramps not as harsh as the ones before takes over your body. You grit your teeth and brace yourself for a sharper pain that doesn’t come.

“Almost there, my lady. ‘Tis the afterbirth,” the older maid assures you, rubbing your shoulder. “You’re almost done.”

It’s been quite some time since your septa has told you about the process of birthing a child, yet you still know that delivering the afterbirth is another messy and unpleasant part of it – one that still has to be done anyways. 

After it has come out without any issues, one maid quickly takes care of disposing of it while another maid tries to detach it from your son. 

With the birth and delivery finished, the attention now shifts to getting you out of the bathtub and into bed to ensure your comfort and rest. The maids have handed your husband your son to gather around you, gently helping you up and out of the water. “Lean on us, my lady,” one of them said softly with her arm around your waist. 

Your exhausted body is dried and put into smallclothes and a nightdress until it’s eventually allowed to sink into the soft sheets. The maids fuss around you, making sure you’re comfortable, before your still crying son is finally brought to you.

They tug at the neckline of your nightdress to free your full breasts without a warning, yet you’re quick to swat their hands away despite having your son in your arms. “What are you doing?” 

“My lady,” one of them begins, “‘tis important that you begin to feed the babe as soon as possible. The first milk is the best source of nourishment for your son. We just wish to help you with the positioning and latching.”

Their words make you doubt yourself and your mothering abilities, although a part of you knows that it’s not their intention to make you feel that way. 

“I know how to feed him,” you snap suddenly, maybe even irritated at your son’s hungry crying, and the maids recoil at your harsh tone. They know that the first hours with a newborn are never easy, and they know that you are exhausted, sore, and overwhelmed by the recent events – hence their quick recovery. 

“Of course, my lady,” one says, her voice gentle. “We did not mean to overstep. We only want to ensure that both you and the babe are safe and well cared for.”

Letting out a deep breath, you meet your husband’s gaze and try to keep your irritation at bay. “I understand,” you reply, slightly opening your arms to allow them to continue. 

The earlier, chastened demeanor of the maids is replaced by a reassuring one as one maid grabs your hand to bring it to your breast, demonstrating how to help your babe latch on your little bud. “There you go, my lady,” she whispers as you eventually begin to nurse your son, offering quiet, encouraging words. 

Cregan, who has been silently observing the scene, finally interjects. “Thank you for your services,” he says, voice kind but firm. “You all have done an excellent job and you may leave now.”

The maids and grand maester glance at you and your son once more before filling out of the room, leaving your small family alone. Your husband contemplates sitting down in a chair close to the bed, but instead opts to occupy his side of the bed, scooting closer to you and bringing a hand up to brush your son’s cheek lightly with a finger. You shift a little to accommodate him right next to you.

Your eyes are fixed on the infant in your arms as you continue to nurse him, watching as he greedily sucks at your breast with soft smacking sounds filling the otherwise quiet room. Despite the exhaustion, a sense of contempt washes over you. 

“Can you believe he is really ours?” you ask softly, not tearing your eyes off of your son. 

Cregan chuckles softly and shakes his head. “I can scarcely believe it,” he replies. He leans in and presses his lips to your temple, speaking against your skin. “You are incredible, do you know that?” Pulling back, his gaze is filled with love and admiration. “Everything you went through… I have never seen anything more courageous and admirable.”

“What do you think about Eyron?” you whisper, eventually meeting his gaze. 

He repeats the name, testing the sound of it and seriously considering it. “I like it. It has a strong, northern feel to it. Suits him well, I think.”

Your smile mirrors his as your eyes drift back down to your son, who is still suckling at your breast, his tiny hand clutching at the neckline of your nightdress as he does so. You gently brush a finger over his head, feeling the softness of the light hair. 

Relaxing into your husband’s embrace, your body fitting against his like a missing piece, you close your eyes in contentment. “You do know you will not ride at the front with your men on the way back north, do you not?”

He kisses your temple yet again, chuckling softly. “That is something to discuss once you have recovered and ‘tis time for us to return, my love.”

[military1st]

Military 1st Trousers Sale

We offer 10% off the entire Trousers category with Discount Code PANTS10.

Discover a wide range of tactical and combat trousers from top brands like Brandit, Helikon, and Pentagon. We pride ourselves on stocking the best selection of classic cargos and functional combats, so we've got you covered whatever fit and style you need.

Find out more about the latest arrivals, such as brand new STOIRM Tactical trousers, ideal for casual, covert and everyday use. Made of Teflon-coated stretch twill fabric, these tactical trousers come with waist/hip stretchable side panels, two hand pockets with reinforced inserts, low profile cargo pockets with internal organisers, two regular back pockets, lightly pleated knee panels and bottom hem with rear reinforcement in high-use areas.

The UK customers: mil1.st/TrousersUK

The rest of the world: mil1.st/PantsUS

Hurry up: this special offer ends 22 January 2023, midnight. It applies only to the Trousers category and excludes already discounted items.

Enjoy free UK delivery and returns, and swift shipping to the U.S., Ireland, Australia, and across Europe.

[writingsofwesteros]

What happen if Jace went with Daemon to kill Ameond, and both decided to sneak instead of Blood and Cheese. They can't find Aemond, but instead they find his sister wife. Jace seeing his pretty aunt again, never denied her beauty. Knowing this will hurt Aemond they kidnap her and fly back to Dragonstone. The Greens are furious when they find out the next morning, the princess is gone. Alicent falling to her knees crying that her perfect daughter is gone.

The pretty princess begging her nephew not to kill her, is surprise when Jace said why would he kill the most beautiful woman on the Earth. She blushes, seeing how Aemond has never even complimented her that way. Instead just calling her cute and nice, but never beautiful. Jace allowing her to roam around, is always by her side, complimenting her, gifting her jewelry. Taking her flying on Vermax or with her dragon.

The princess is enjoying herself feeling more freedom then she did at the Keep. Jace smirking mischievously seeing how he manipulating his pretty aunt, into opening up more to him. Jace smiling that his plan is working, is ecstatic, when he one night wakes to find princess, coming to him to find comfort telling her she feels cold. Jace taking this opportunity doesn't hold back, pulling her into bed and kissing her roughly, to which the princess response eagerly, feeling Jace slide his tongue between her lips to were she open and allow his muscle to wrestle with hers. Aemond never kissed her the hard, he only gave chaste kiss. The princess feeling heat coursing through her blood, can't deny Jacaerys has grown to a find young man. Climbing onto his lap, the princess doesn't release her lips from his. Jacaerys feeling up and down her side, doesn't hesitate to grope her plump breasts, bringing a moan from within her out. The princess just reacting on instinct, rolls her hips over Jace lap, feeling her cock, through his trouser. She gasp pulling back from the kiss feeling how big and thick he is. Jace smirking at her reaction, rips her gown, leaning taking her perky nipple in his mouth sucking and lapping away her the taste of her sweet scent.

The princess moaning to Jace rough tongue lavishing her nipple, can't wait any longer and beg Jacaerys to fuck her, not seeing the devilish smile he sporting. Pushing her on her back, Jace doesn't waist time kissing her from her neck, licking her pulse point causing more moans to spill out her pretty lips, kissing and nipping every part, til he reached her cunt, part her folds and licking her like she was his favorite meal. The green princess feeling pleasure she never felt with Aemond can't help moaning Jace name, bringing music to his ears. Jace making sure to suck her clit, doesn't stop pushing three fingers already into her tight cunt, making her eyes roll to the back her head. After making her cum twice, he pulls his trousers off, making her turn red when she noticed that not only is he thick and big, but he bigger than her husband ever was.

Jace pushing into his gorgeous aunt, making sure to thrust in her making her scream loud, to were he hitting parts she never knew she could feel inside her. Jace makes sure to praise her calling her a saint, a goddess among women, a Targaryen goddess to all Targaryens. The princess not being able to hand all the sweet praises her own brother couldn't hold back, climaxing hard milking Jace cock, to which he pulls out out flipping her over to all fours just to push back in feeling him deeper than ever.

"Ahh..jace, gods I love this..ah..ah" The princess can't help but to moan to deprave pleasure of her Strong nephew, taking her so beastly.

"So pretty....fuck...so gorgeous." Jace telling her while still fucking her like a common whore off the Street of Silk.

Jace making her climax again, feels her tighten to were he finally spills his seed deep within, making sure she takes every last drop.

After that night, Jace marries his aunt in the Valriyan way, both smiling at this with everyone present on Dragonstone. A letter is sent to King Landing to the anger and wraith of The Greens. Aemond more furious at thinking she was force against her will without actually knowing the truth.

The maids gossiping from Dragonstone to King Landing about the Strong prince and Targaryen princess who engage in very deprave acts. Hearing the princess moaning like a whore calling out the prince name, almost every night. To where they catch the two, in different rooms, with the princess either bent over or the prince under her skirt. Some have even caught the green princess on her knees for the prince in the halls bobbing her head back and forth on his cock, moaning to the feel of him in her throat with no care who sees.

The Green mostly Aemond and Alicent believe Jacaerys have force the princess to become whore, even more upsetting when they get news a few months later detailing the birth of a new babe with violent eye like the princess and brown hair like Jacaerys.

THE HOTTEST!!!!!!!

[lexithwrites]

Please more sugardaddy moonwater hcs. Pls!!

this might get long sorry (but this is kinda what i wanna write next so pls give me feedback) xoxo

they met through a sugar daddy website that james showed to remus one night (he's on it and is absolutely not telling him that he's met a guy)

remus is so embarrassed at first, he was on tinder like twice and had bad dates because of it so he isn't exactly confident this will work but he does get a lot of attention

he gets messages from kinda old guys, and a few older women, that are either way too pushy with what they want in return for an 'allowance' or just kinda creepy and he almost deletes it

then he gets a message off of someone young, maybe his age, and he's gorgeous

remus is so sure its a scam, no one can look that good and be on an app like this but he messages them anyway when they say hi first, and he asks about them and the guy is regulus arcturus black (he gives his full name, he's a loser) and he's literally just looking for company and someone to spend money on, nothing in return, he doesn't need it

remus is kinda shook because like what?? how is this guy lonely he must have friends but turns out regulus just has rich friends that can buy their own things, he doesn't have anyone to spend time with other than when he goes to family events which he hates

and remus is like okay,,,,maybe drinks first and regulus sends him the location of probably the nicest bar in london and remus is close to passing out because he cannot afford this at all but he said he'd go

he wears his nicest outfit (its a brown jumper and some nice trousers and his converse, he cant afford anything else rn because his cat started a hunger strike against the food he's had for a year and remus had to upgrade, kids eh?)

regulus is already there because he is never a minute late, and checking his rolex thinking he's been stood up but remus runs in like 'hi im so sorry i missed the train hi' and regulus is in love already, just straight up his heart starts hammering in his chest because not only is remus gorgeous in a weird, dorky way but he's just...he's adorable

regulus is calm tho, think levi ackerman levels of expression, he just kinda sits there arms folded and asks remus questions about his life and what he would like as an allowance and remus is just,,,confused?

he asks why regulus wants to spend his money on him and regulus insists he's bored (he's so fucking lonely and wants someone around him to dote on) and just needs a date to events as his parents are giving him shit for being single at 26

remus is unsure but decides fuck it, james can probably throw hands if regulus tried anything, and they agree to attend some gala together for regulus' family and remus says he'll have to get new clothes and regulus then sets up a date the next day to buy him an outfit and its a lil montage of regulus giving remus clothes to try its very cute

and is remus confused and guilt ridden for this man spending money on him? yeah, duh, but also he doesn't have to pay his bills anymore, he has amazing clothes, his stress levels are so fucking low than before, and he likes regulus....he really really likes him

and regulus is getting what he wants, but also he has remus lupin as eye candy and that's an added bonus, and god remus is so adorable and nerdy and he wants to climb him like a tree

also yes remus sees james at the event and he's like what the fuck are you doing here and turns out james is with HIS sugar daddy, aka regulus' brother and its a whole ordeal

and maybe one night regulus invites remus to stay with him for the night because its too late to get the train and he doesn't really want to let remus go and maybe they drink wine and maybe they touch just to see what its like and maybe MAYBE they kiss and make out and fuck slow and deep and then AND THEN—

i might write more if people like this idk,,,,

[vivwritesfics]

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter Eleven

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

1.3K

warnings: Smut, p in v, unprotected, guns, ambushing (i suppose)

Series Masterlist

Although the private plane was a nice touch, it was unnecessary. It was a luxury she didn't need, but it was still nice.

They had the whole private plane to themselves, but Charles pulled her into his lap, holding her as they took off.

But then they were in the sky and Charles was kissing her neck and pushing her legs apart. "Charles," she gasped through a whine. "We can't fuck in your brothers private jet."

"Yeah, we can," he mumbled, lips hardly leaving her neck to speaks. "C'mon, chérie." He stood and pushed her forward, pushing her back against the seat opposite.

Charles kissed her, tongue exploring her mouth. He pushed at her, pushing against her hips, holding her against the chair. A whine left her lips as she wrapped her hands around his neck. "You wanna join the mile high club?"

She pulled away and stared into his eyes. "I can't believe you're being serious right now," she whispered and twirled her fingers around his the hair at his neck.

"Seriously? You can't believe I'm being serious? You seriously can't believe I'm being serious right now?"

Okay, he had a point. A breathy laugh left her lips and she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him as close as possible.

Charles wasted no time. He felt her through her shirt, and reached his hand beneath to touch her tits. "Charles," she gasped, legs squeezing around him in such a way that it had him grinding against her.

The two stayed as clothed as possible. Charles reached under her skirt and pulled down her underwear. He hastily freed himself from his trousers.

He disappeared beneath her skirt, pushing into her. Her eyes squeezed shut and she gripped him tight, finger nails digging into his shoulder. He held her tight as he rocked his hips against her. "Gotta keep quiet, chérie," he whispered.

She buried her face against his shoulder, muffling her sounds. But it wasn't like the staff didn't know what was going on. Before Lorenzo had met his wife, he'd brought a multitude of women to this plane, fucking them as he flew where he needed to go.

Charles couldn't hide his grunts as he rutted into her. It was easy to feel it when she tipped over the edge, teeth sinking into the meat of his shoulder and cunt clenching around him. With every snap of his hips after that she whined out, sounds pathetic but oh so beautiful.

He clenched his jaw as he came, spilling inside of her. He held himself up, arms shaking as he caught his breath. "Is that us officially in the mile high club?" She whispered as she touched his jaw.

"Yes, chérie," he said as he pulled out of her. Charles flipped her skirt up, watching as he dribbled out of her. He placed the skirt back down, picked up her underwear from the floor and pocketed them.

Charles sat back in the seat opposite her. He watched her for a second as she fiddled with the hem of her skirt. "You okay over there, chérie?" He asked.

On shaky legs, she walked over and climbed into his lap. His arm immediately wrapped around her as she settled against his chest and promptly fell asleep for the rest of the plane ride.

***

Italy was beautiful. A car was waiting for them, a loan from the Ferrari Family while they were in Italy. They would have provided a driver, too, but it was no secret that Charles liked to drive himself.

Sunglasses sat on her face as she sat in the passenger seat of the open roof Ferrari. As Charles drove, a wide smile on his pretty face, he rested his hand on her thigh, thumb brushing over her skin, occasionally squeezing.

God, Italy really was fucking beautiful. It wasn't beautiful in the same way Monaco was beautiful. Monaco was beautiful in it's wealth, Italy's beauty was older. She admired everything they passed, every gorgeous building, every tree, every bush, every plant. The roads, the landscape, everything.

"This is wonderful, Charles!" She called under the roar of the wind.

He simply smiled wider as he drove to the apartment in the city. The apartment itself was a gift from the Ferrari family, something that was apart of the deal that they'd struck with the Leclercs.

(Now, dear reader, let me explain something to you. The Ferrari family was both a car manufacturer and a family, much like the Leclercs or the Verstappens. The family is more a car manufacturer, and when the Formula One team began driving in the Monaco Grand Prix in 1950, they struck a deal with the Leclerc family. Now, the Leclercs and the Verstappens were the only ones who really knew the details of this deal).

Charles drove into the parking garage beneath the apartment building. His parking was horrible, just like it was in Monaco. But it had her laughing as he pulled the door open for her and took her hand as he led her to the elevator.

"How are you finding Italy?" Charles asked as he held her close, the elevator taking them up to one of the highest floors.

She let out a content sigh, her head against his chest. "I love it, Charles," she said and reached up to kiss him.

There they stood, snogging as the elevator took them up to their floor. His hold was her on tight, refusing to pull away until the doors slid open. Even then, he hardly noticed it.

Grabbing his hand, she pulled away and pulled him out of the elevator. Charles tucked her into his side as he began leading the way, leading her down the hall, towards the Leclerc apartment.

"Who was the last person to use the apartment?" She asked out of nothing more than genuine curiosity.

Charles thought about it. "Hmm, I think Joris," I said as he they turned the corridor and walked to the end of it.

But, as they got closer, Charles stopped her. "Chérie, wait," he hissed, pushing her behind him.

Charles pulled out his gun. She didn't even know he had it on him as he wandered towards the open door of the apartment. It shouldn't have been open; the Leclerc family hadn't been to Italy in near a year. The apartment hadn't been used in nearly a year.

No matter what, the door shouldn't have been open.

"Hold onto me," he whispered as he slowly approached the door.

Her hands fisted the back of his suit as the two of them walked into the apartment. It was dark, too dark for the middle of the day in the Italian summer. The shades were drawn, hiding the stranger in the apartment in the darkness.

Charles clicked the safety of his gun off, the sound audible. He said something in Italian, something she couldn't understand.

It was all very dramatic, the way the lamp turned on. The blonde man with the freckle on his lip sat there, one leg crossed over the other. "Hey, Charles," the man called in accented English.

Suddenly the door was blocked men with guns much bigger than Charles blocking the door. "Fuck," he hissed under his breath as he spun around. "Your dad set a fucking trap, Max?" He shouted as Max stood up. "Why? What the fuck couldn't be settled with a meeting?"

The men in the door, members of the Verstappen family, pointed their guns towards the couple. "Put it down, Charles," said Max as he pushed himself out of his seat.

Suddenly, she was pulled away from Charles. A cry left her lips as Max pulled her back, pulled her away from him. "Don't do this, Max," Charles said, voice strained as he raised his hands to his head.

"You know I haven't got a choice."

If you enjoyed this, please feel free to buy me a coffee

Permanent Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool

@rewmuslupin

@prettiest-at-the-party

@hellowgoodbye

@minseok-smaus

@formulaal

@hiireadstuff

@urfavnoirette

@goldenharrysworld

@andydrysdalerogers

@raikkxz

@llando4norris

@evlkking

@lilymurphy03

@hollie911

@customsbyjcg-blog

@honethatty12

@nikfigueiredo

@darleneslane

@not-nyasa

Series Taglist (OPEN): @ninifee1802

@booksandflowrs

@ashy-kit

@weekendlusting

@annispamz

@watermelonworries

@spideybv28

@janeholt03

@barcelonaloverf1life

@ver-lec

@shobaes

@jaydensluv

@bingussthirdtoe

@a-beaverhausen

@doofenshmirtzevil-inc

@charlotte1697

@iamkaku

@arrowheadleadingushome13

@pretty-angel333

@styl1shl1v

@sltwins

[yourfatherlucifer]

MDNI - Pirate!Hongjoong

Ft. Seonghwa and Yunho

prince!reader

fucking god… 😩 btw this may seem cnc but its completely consensual, reader is just hesitant, he's not used to the pirate ways, and is in the closet.

please REBLOG

The very aggravated prince was thrown down into the brig, his body practically hogtied together, "You won't get away with this! My father will have your head on a silver platter!" He snarled and thrashed.

With a giggle, the captain of this ship approached the small cell, "That's so cute, but unfortunately for you, you won't be going anywhere, pretty boy. I have more uses for you than some gold for my crew." He grinned.

Hongjoong paced around the brig, his head facing towards the ceiling, "As the pirate king, I need a..how can I say this, a plaything? No..a cocksleeve is more like it. Someone who can entertain myself and my crew." He quickly slammed himself onto the bars with a laugh, which startled the prince greatly.

"Having a royal was the perfect choice." Hongjoong peeled himself away.

"What on earth are you talking about, vile pirate? You couldn't just find some woman, not a man, a crown prince at that?" His eyebrows furrowed in disgust.

"Are you shaming my sexuality, little prince?" Hongjoong's gaze darkened with anger, "I'm a pirate, we don't like women aboard our ships. They're bad luck."

The prince rolled his eyes, "No, I'm not shaming you, but why me?"

"Because. I can."

Hongjoong walked away and whispered in his crewmates ear, "Bring him to my quarters and stand guard outside."

With that Hongjoong left and the other man unlocked the cell, cutting the rope on the prince's legs. He hoisted him up very roughly, "Let's go, pretty boy. You're in for a fun time with my captain, lucky you." He smirked and pulled him up the stairs to bring him up-deck.

Seonghwa shoved the prince into Hongjoong's room and shut the door behind him once he left and stood guard outside. The captain smiled and pulled him to his bed.

Hongjoong pulled a knife out of his boot and sliced off the rope on his wrists, "I need your hands free for what I'm gonna do to you." He smirked as he climbed on top of the confused man.

"Wait, I didn't agree to be your cock-" He cried out as he was interrupted by Hongjoong grabbing on his bulge.

"Are you sure about that? Because I saw the way you were looking at my lackey. Don't tell me the good little prince is hiding in the closet?"

His face flushed red in embarrassment and pushed gently on Hongjoong's chest, "Shut up, pirate!"

"Tell me your name, crown prince."

"It's M/N.."

"Well, M/N, I'm gonna ruin you for any woman and for any chance of you giving heirs to your kingdom. You're mine now."

He whimpered beneath Hongjoong and straightened up his body.

Hongjoong sat up and pulled down his own pants just to pull out his cock, slighty startling M/N in the process.

"Oh my-" He tried to scramble away.

"Calm down, pretty boy. You can handle it."

"How is that going to fit!" He scoffed.

"Really? You think this is far too big to fit inside? Well then, looks like I'll have to introduce you to someone later." He chuckled as he yanked down the prince's trousers and threw them wherever.

Hongjoong's fingers danced around M/N's tight ring and slowly pushed a couple in, receiving a loud moan from the prince in response.

When he deemed he was ready, he pushed his cock in with a grunt. M/N let out a couple tears from the stretch and wrapped his arms around Hongjoong's neck.

Hongjoong watched as his cock sunk repeatedly into M/N's ass, with a crazy grin, "Fuck, you're practically pulling me in. Wanted a cock that bad?" He giggled.

M/N let out several assorted moans and cries each time Hongjoong slammed his hips against his.

Hongjoong pulled his own shirt into his mouth to get a better view of his assault on M/N's hole.

After a few more thrusts, Hongjoong flipped M/N into a doggy style position and called out for best mate, Seonghwa.

"Seonghwa, get your ass in here and get undressed!" He barked out.

The male walked in, slamming the door behind him and stripped himself of his clothes, cock already hard and standing at attention, "Yes, Captain?"

Never stopping his thrusting, he looked back at Seonghwa, "Get underneath him." He growled and turned back to M/N, "You're going to fuck him with me."

"Yes sir." Seonghwa climbed underneath the nearly fucked out prince with a grin, his hair sticking to his forehead and his eyes rolling into the back of his head each time Hongjoong hit that perfect spot.

Seonghwa pressed their cocks together and gave them a couple tugs before letting go and guiding his cock to M/N's already occupied hole. It was a hard stretch, especially with M/N's protesting.

"Wait! I can't take two at once!"

"You can, and you will." Hongjoong growled as he felt Seonghwa's cock slide against his inside of M/N.

Both men were jackhammering into the poor prince as he fell on top of Seonghwa's chest, he felt like he was in heaven, he was very overstimulated but didn't care. Being fucked by two cocks was the best thing in his opinion. Hongjoong was right. He was definitely hiding in the closet and was more than happy to come out if this was the result.

M/N was leaking so much cum from his cock onto Seonghwa and he couldn't help it. Not with the way they were fucking him, like he was a doll and nothing more.

Hongjoong suddenly stopped and grinned mischievously, "Sorry to break your fun early, Seonghwa. But, I need you to go get our biggest, tell him..I have a plaything for him. Then go back to guard duty."

Seonghwa sighed and pulled out, and slipped out from underneath the weak prince, "Fine, but you owe me." He grumbled and threw his clothes back on and left.

Hongjoong also pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants, leaving the limp boy on the bed, "Like I said, I'm gonna introduce you to someone." He walked over to his desk chair and watched as the naked prince laid nearly asleep on his bed, "Don't fall asleep, I'm not done with you, pretty boy."

A few minutes passed and a very big man walked in, "Captain?" He approached Hongjoong's desk.

"My bed. Have fun." He grinned and watched as Yunho slowly turned around to see M/N, "He's all nice and stretched out for you. No need to be fragile with him."

Yunho smiled, "Thank you, captain." He walked over to the prince and took his massive cock out, "Hey there, just lay there. Don't need to do anything. I got it." He pulled M/N's hips to his as he faced down on the bed, too weak to move, he didn't even feel like turning around to see how 'big' this man was.

Yunho roughly pushed his cock in, stretching M/N with his girth and length alone.

M/N groaned and squeezed the blanket beneath him, "So big.." he muttered and squeezed his eyes shut as Yunho fucked into him, his hips angled in such a way that he was doing nothing but slamming against M/N's prostate, repeatedly.

Hongjoong watched with a grin, fisting at his own cock without a sound from his lips.

But by the time Yunho had cum, M/N was already falling asleep, and Yunho was still rock hard.

"Sir, he's passing out, little thing can't keep up with me." Yunho chuckled.

"Then pull out and return later, he can't consent if he's asleep. I'll call for your comeback." Hongjoong sighed in annoyance and waved off Yunho.

"I'll clean him up." He grumbled and watched as Yunho left.

Hongjoong then walked over and leaned into M/N's ear, "I have five other men who will love playing with your hole, pretty boy~"

[m-jelly]

Hii There, I saw the requests list, and i wanted to ask if you could write a fic about Post- war Levi (if you confort with) and Fem!reader having a make out session? (Levi asked her for it because he was feeling needy) It was to be something casual and inocent (in some parts) but somehow they start with a hand here and there so ended up with both of them doing… YoU KnOw ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Comforting kisses

Pairing: Postwar Levi x Fem!Reader

Genre and tags: Canon world, love, romance, established couple, foreplay, soft smut, fluffy.

Concept: Levi is needy for your attention, so you start cuddling and kissing each other. Your kisses turn to touching and finally into soft gentle sex. Levi asks you if he can be on top and promises his knee is well enough because he desperately wants to make love to you.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @li-anne @2moth-anon2 @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @cypidity @nyxiieluna @notgoodforlife @galactict3a @demonsimp6 @nbinairyn

Levi limped through the house looking for you. He wanted your love and affection, he needed your attention and desired your lips on his. He smiled when he heard you softly singing under your breath. He hurried along to the bedroom to see you putting away freshly cleaned clothes.

He stood in the doorway and felt a bit nervous asking for your attention, but he really craved it. Levi was very serious about you and his feelings for you. He'd hired you to help him in his small teashop and he'd fallen hard for you. He loved you deeply and the two of you moved fast in your relationship. Now, you were a month away from getting married.

"Love?"

You lifted up the last few clothes off the bed and smiled at Levi. "Hello, sweetie. Is everything okay?"

He shuffled over to you. "No."

You put the clothes away and turned to Levi. "No?"

He pouted. "No."

You reached over and played with his soft hair. "No? What's wrong?"

He lowered his head. "I missed you."

You hummed a laugh. "Bless you." You hugged Levi against your body. "You can come to me whenever you want. I'm always here for you."

"I um...I would like kisses."

You pulled Levi to the bed. "Let's get you off your feet then." You helped Levi onto the bed and pulled his slippers off. "Get comfy."

He wiggled in place and hummed. "Yes."

You climbed up and sat on his right side. "I love you."

Levi blushed at your words. "I love you too."

You cuddled up to Levi and captured his lips in a loving kiss. You rubbed his chest and smiled against his scarred lips. You softly kissed him again before nipping his lip and pushing your tongue into his mouth. You smiled when Levi sighed happily as your tongues moved together. You thought Levi was perfection, he was so soft, gentle and loving with you.

Levi wrapped both his arms around you and dragged you close to him. He sighed through his nose as he felt happy at having all your attention again. He squeezed you in delight as your scent washed over him. He was deeply in love with you and happy beyond words at being able to kiss you like this and hold you.

You pulled back a little and sighed. "Better?"

He whined a bit. "More, please?" Levi reached over and massaged your thigh with his left hand. "Only if you want to."

You caressed his cheek. "You're so sweet." You kissed Levi again and felt so happy.

Levi was so kind and sweet with you. He would ask for consent on every little thing, including just touching you or hugging you. You knew that Levi grew up around sex workers and saw how men could be with women. Levi wanted to do everything possible to make you feel comfortable. He was a pure and wonderful gentleman.

Levi pulled from your lips and panted. "C-Can I touch you?"

You kissed under his eye making him hum. "Yes. Can I touch you?"

He nodded shyly. "Please."

You unbuckled his belt and undid his trousers. You pushed your hand into his boxers and smiled as Levi let out a little whimper as soon as you touched him. You pulled his erection out of his boxers and trousers. You moved your hand up and down his thick member and smiled at his pink tip.

You kissed Levi's neck and smiled. "You're perfect."

Levi slid his left hand under your dress and pushed down into your underwear. "You're more perfect. I'm covered in scars and I'm full of faults."

You panted against his skin as he caressed you and parted your folds and coated his fingers in your arousal. You shivered as his fingers dragged up and moved against your clit. "Levi, you are precious to me. You have a big heart and a pure soul. You are the sweetest man I've ever known. I love you."

Levi grunted as your hand moved on him. He welled up a little at your words, you were always so loving and kind to him. You always showered him with love. He nuzzled your neck and sighed. "I love you too. You give me strength. You make me feel like a better man."

You kissed Levi and smiled at him. "You're better than you think."

He purred at you. "So are you. You're a Goddess."

You shivered as your coil tightened up. "I adore you, Levi." You moaned against his lips. "I can't wait to be Mrs Ackerman. You'll be all mine."

Levi chuckled. "Actually, you'll be mine." He moved his fingers a little faster on your clit. "All mine, no one else's."

You squeezed your toes. "Mm. Yes, Levi, all yours."

He nibbled the crook of your neck as he bucked a little into your hand. Your hand felt so perfect on his cock. Your hand was so soft and warm. You caressed him so perfectly making him feel like he was in pure heaven. He loved every inch of you and felt bliss whenever you touched him.

You tangled your fingers in Levi's hair and tugged. "A-Ah, mmm."

Levi licked your neck. "Cum for me. You're so pretty when you do."

You gasped and hugged Levi as you came against his fingers. "Mm, Levi."

Levi caressed your back with his right hand. "Good girl."

You pulled back and blushed. "Want to keep going?"

Levi blushed. "Y-Yes."

You slipped off the bed and removed everything but your bra. You climbed back up and straddled Levi. "Do you want your trousers off?"

He massaged your buttcheek. "Please. Oh, but my knee looks bad."

You kissed Levi lightly on the lips. "You're beautiful." You shuffled down the bed as you slowly pulled his trousers off. You leaned down and kissed his knee and thigh that was dotted with scars. "Beautiful."

Levi blushed. "Th-Thank you."

You slid up the bed and unbuttoned his shirt. "I will keep telling you that you are wonderful." You pushed his shirt open and caressed his muscles. "I deeply love you just the way you are."

Levi held your hips. "Thank you for loving me."

You knelt up a bit. "Thank you for loving me."

Levi moaned as you sank down on him. He shivered in delight and hummed a moment. He ran his hands up your body to your waist. "How can I not love you? You are magnificent."

You rolled your hips against Levi and lightly kissed his lips. You pushed your tongue into his mouth and hummed in happiness. You wrapped your arms around Levi and moved against him. You sighed in contentment at feeling his thick cock pressing your pussy in all the right places. He caressed the deepest parts of you.

Levi gripped your thighs and started pumping his cock up into you. He moaned against your lips as your walls massaged him and squeezed. He grunted as you rode him a little faster. He moved one hand to your front and began rolling your clit against his fingers. He smiled when you clenched him tightly.

You tapped your forehead against Levi's and smiled at him as you felt your coil tighten. "I love you." You crashed your lips against his. "I love you so much."

Levi mewled at you. "I love you too. My love, my darling, my everything."

You whimpered a little. "Levi."

"Let go, my love." He smiled. "Cum for me."

You hugged Levi's face against your breasts as you moved a little faster. You cried out as you felt the snap of pleasure burn through you. You bucked roughly against Levi as your orgasm burned through you. You relaxed a little as the orgasm became a gentle trickle going through you.

You sat on Levi and hummed. "Levi. I want you to cum. I'll keep going."

Levi blushed. "I want to be on top."

You rubbed Levi's upper arms. "Is your knee okay enough?"

He nodded. "Yes. I want this."

You pulled off Levi and lay back on the bed. "Okay. I'm ready."

Levi rolled over onto you and leaned on his okay knee. He leaned on his forearms on either side of your head and smiled at you. "Could you help?"

You nodded and pressed him back into you. You both sighed happily as he stretched you again. "Mm."

Levi kissed you. "Thank you."

You rubbed his back. "Slowly, okay?"

He nodded and grinded into you making you moan. "I've done this a few times. I can do it again." He purred at you. "I want to make love to you." He moved a little faster. "I want to spoil you."

You clung to Levi's back as you arched your back off the bed and moaned. "Levi."

Levi pressed his lips against yours and slipped his tongue into your mouth. He lowered his body against yours allowing you to feel each other. He moved against you and mewled in delight at being one with you. He shifted his arms and tangled his fingers with yours and held tightly. He felt complete that he was able to make love to you and let you be worshipped.

You wrapped your legs around Levi and melted under him. You often worried when he took the lead because of his bad knee, but as soon as he did start taking the lead he was perfection. Levi was always so delicate with your body. Levi made love to you like your body was the most precious thing in the world. You felt so loved and wanted by him.

You both started smiling and giggling as your hearts filled with love. You kissed each other now and then and gazed longingly into each other's eyes. You teased Levi a little by clenching around him and biting his lip a little and tugging. You gasped as he responded by pumping his cock into you a lot harder.

You cried out as he pressed himself deep into you over and over. You whimpered and whined as you felt on the cusp of your orgasm. You leaned your head back and moaned to the room. You closed your eyes as you felt your coil tighten up. You shivered under Levi and mewled as you felt the delicious snap and your orgasm rush through you.

Levi grunted and moaned as your walls caressed his cock. He released your hands and wrapped his arms around your body and held on tightly. He bucked into you but his movements were sloppy. He moaned your name against your ear as he felt the urge to cum building up.

Levi whimpered your name and pressed deep into you as he came hard. He shivered and moaned as his cum spilt into your pussy and filled you. He panted and hummed before relaxing against you. He nuzzled the crook of your neck and felt happiness spread through him at being one with you.

You massaged your fingers in Levi's hair. "Levi? Are you okay? How is your knee?"

Levi lifted his head. "I'm wonderful. I want to go again."

You giggled at how sweet he was with a gentle blush on his cheeks. "Cute."

"Are you okay?"

You rubbed your hand against his cheek. "I'm amazing. You were perfect." You kissed him and sighed. "I would love to go again, but we need to clean and you need to rest your knee."

Levi pulled out of you and shuffled down a bit before lying his head on your chest. "Mm, not yet."

You played with his hair. "Levi Ackerman not wanting to clean?"

He laughed. "Yeah." He looked up at you. "I just want to be with you."

You shuffled down the bed and lay on your side and faced him. "I love being with you."

He smiled at you as he lightly touched your cheek. "I love you."

"I love you."

He smiled and nuzzled his nose against yours. "I love you."

You giggled. "I love you."

[theplaid-wearingmoose]

Giving It Up ~Cavill!Sherlock x Reader smut~

When Enola had told him he needed to learn to give up control sometimes, he was fairly certain this is not what she had meant.

He'd told his beloved Y/N about his conversation with his little sister and she immediately got a mischievous gleam in her eye. He knew that look. She was about to get him out of his perfectly designed comfort zone and experiment. Sherlock hated to experiment...

That was how he ended up in this position. His darling had managed to seduce him out of his multiple layers until he was left in just his trousers. He usually had an iron grip on his emotions but Y/N was just about the only person who could addle his senses like this. She had sweetly convinced him to lay on the bed and before he even knew what had happened, she had pinned his hands above him and used his necktie to bind his wrists to the bed frame.

"Now dearest...I don't think this is what was intended when I said I would be less controlling about things." He protested. Y/N flashed a wicked grin at him, something that had his cock twitching in his pants even as his words came out with an uneasy tone. Sherlock wasn't opposed to trying new things in the bedroom. He was just very used to having her under him, taking her quickly but passionately. He liked being the one to determine when she came. He knew all of her favorite places to be touched, kissed, and caressed. Her body had been thoroughly inspected and studied by him until he was confident in his ability to please her without any issues.

"Sherlock, my darling, I know how much you love your routines. I just think this is a good opportunity to test out this new advice. A fun little project, wouldn't you say?" She asked, running her finger down his chest teasingly. Sherlock felt his face warm under her touch. This new dominating side of her was simply shocking and borderline scandalous. He could imagine Mycroft's horrified expression if he knew his brother was allowing his woman to behave this way. Even if they were in their own bedroom.

That thought was quickly shoved out of his brain as Y/N stood and began to remove her clothes. Sherlock watched with lustful eyes as layer after layer was removed. His chest began to rise and fall faster the more she took off. Of course they'd been bare before each other many times, but part of Sherlock's routine was that he liked to be the one to undress her. This giving up control thing was starting to wear on him as she took her time unlacing and unbuttoning. He'd decided he needed to voice his frustrations.

"Darling, you're driving me mad. At least let me take those damn bloody things off you. Then you can have me back where I was." Y/N grinned. "Are we already at the bargaining stage, my love? I've barely started and you already can't bear it?" She teased. Sherlock groaned but stayed silent. His hands tensed against his restraint and he cursed himself for wearing one of his more expensive ties today. The material would not tear easily.

His eyes were drawn back to his beloved at she got down to her last layer. Sherlock inhaled sharply as he took in the sight before him. "Where on earth did you get that from??" He choked out. He had never seen these undergarments on her before. They reminded him of the outfits he'd seen on a case where he had to investigate a brothel. The women there had tried to seduce him too and he noticed the way Y/N carried herself in this moment reminded him a great deal of them. The independence, the confidence, certain that they were going to get whatever they wanted from the man they were entertaining. Y/N had this same attitude about her, as if she knew she was going to get exactly the reaction she wanted from him.

She didn't answer his question. She simply climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips. She rolled hers against him, moaning contently at feeling him hard beneath her. "Sherlock..." She sighed, her eyes closing and a blissful smile forming on her face. She pressed her hands to his chest, supporting herself as she ground down on him harder. Sherlock felt sweat begin to appear on his forehead as he looked up at her. Pleasure coursed through him the faster she moved. Moans and sighs of her name fell his lips until he found himself unable to stand her teasing any longer.

"Please...please my angel...let me be inside you." He begged. Sherlock surprised himself with this behavior but he couldn't help it. Y/N was truly an astounding woman to reduce the great Sherlock Holmes to a begging, sweating mess. And she knew it. She leaned forward and planted a messy kiss to his lips. He groaned as her tongue explored his mouth. He never would've imagined enjoying being on the receiving end so much. He always preferred being the dominant one. It seemed natural to him. Yet here he was begging for his love to give him release.

Breaking the kiss, Y/N sat up and slid down Sherlock's legs to reach his trouser button. Sensing her lover's anticipation, she took her time unfastening them and only pushed them down far enough to free his erection. Sherlock cursed as she began to stroke him. His head fell back against the pillows and his eyes fluttered closed. "You are too good at that, my love." He sighed. Y/N grinned and continued faster. Sherlock bit his lip in an attempt to stifle his moans but Y/N's hands moved with such skill he could hardly contain himself. "D-Darling...I don't think I will last much longer if you keep going like this. I want to be inside you...please." He moaned.

Satisfied that he'd been broken down enough to accept this new change of pace, Y/N stopped stroking him and reached down between her own legs to play with her clit. Sherlock moaned again at the sight of his beautiful Y/N touching herself. It seemed almost scandalous to be watching her, but the way her eyes rolled back and her full lips parted to release those adorable little gasps she let out, held his focus and he couldn't bring himself to look away. "Y/N....my sweetheart...I need you." He groaned, impatience rising in him. Y/N's fingers continued to work inside her as she brought her sultry gaze back to her lover. "What do you need me to do, Mr. Holmes?" She teased. Sherlock cursed again and sighed heavily. "Please my love, I need you to sit on my cock. I need you to ride me until I cum inside you and you coat my cock with your delicious release." He all but growled his answer back at her.

Biting her lip and humming in satisfaction at his answer, Y/N removed her fingers and moved to hover over Sherlock's large erection. Bracing herself on his chest, she lowered down onto it, the two of them moaning loudly. Y/N gasped as she sank down all the way. She felt so full and stretched as she took him inside her. Sherlock's eyes darkened as he watched his cock disappear inside her. "Ride me, my love...I want to see you fuck yourself on my cock." He rasped. Y/N began to move her hips, pushing on his chest for leverage. Their gasps and moans filled the room as Y/N bounced up and down on him. Her tits moved deliciously in Sherlock's face and he wanted so badly grab them and bury his face between them. He needed more of her. He needed to touch her, hold her, wrap his large arms around her and hold her to his chest as he slammed up into her wet heat.

Y/N leaned forward and pressed kisses down his neck. This new angle allowed Sherlock to fuck up into her like he wanted. Her cries of pleasure rang throughout their home. "Fuck, angel. You feel so good like this. So tight around me. I can feel you squeezing me....I need you to cum, my darling...cum on my cock while I fill you up." Sherlock growled in her ear. His words combined with the fast pace they were setting pushed Y/N over the edge. She spasmed and trembled as her orgasm hit her, her wetness soaking Sherlock as it gushed out of her. Using the last bit of strength she had, she pushed her hips back to meet Sherlock's thrusts, sending him to his release as well, as her ass jiggled against him. Y/N felt his warm cum spill inside her, filling her.

As they lay together, both trembling and sweating, Y/N brushed Sherlock's hair from his forehead and lifted her head off his chest to look at him. "Did you enjoy that, darling?" She asked. Sherlock gave her a sleepy smile. "Of course I did, my love. You are very impressive when you take control like that." He complimented her. "Does that mean you'll be willing to give up control in other things?" Sherlock hesitated. "One thing at a time, my sweet. I will try, but one thing at a time."

[possamble]

Followed for the fic but im staying for the correct dunmeshi takes! That Marcille knows shes cute but doesnt understand why is such a good read!

Im curious what you think of Falin, then? Does Falin think herself attractive? I think shes no longer insecure about her blush, but that is a hint that shes though about her physical appearance.

Aha thank you! For Falin... the funny thing is that the makeup comic confirms that, while she was super self-conscious and insecure, she was ADHDing too hard to actually follow through on any kind of beauty care routine no matter how simple.

I think she falls into an experience I've felt is really common amongst ADHD women (and people functionally regarded as female for most of their lives) is just kind of... accepting it? going with the flow? having a few moments where we'll try for a bit then just forget entirely again?

Falin seems pretty unconcerned with her appearance in the canon, and I feel like that comes from a combination of literally not having much awareness of herself most times and a resignation that she'll never be as pretty as people who can be regular about upkeep.

As for what we see of her post-dragon... her new style of clothing clashes with her old wardrobe in really interesting ways to me. Before, she was wearing mostly very baggy clothing, surprisingly gender-neutral healer type stuff. After, she's wearing tight trousers, bustiers/corsets, and shirts with the sleeves rolled up.

Now, that could just be because she's more active now and climbing and clambering with loose clothing is annoying as hell. But in my experience, aversion to tight clothing is usually caused by a certain discomfort with one's body -- for me, the fact that she actually seems to prefer that kind of clothing afterwards implies that she feels comfortable with herself now.

And I think that's a really lovely subversion of the "came back wrong" trope. Falin came back to life as a half-monster, and feels more at home in her own body than she ever did before.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 67 - Oh Eleanor

You get back to camp. That goblin man would like a word.

On AO3.

There’s a stream up here in the mountains. It’s small and fast, the water crisp. Nowhere near deep enough to wade into, but it’s plenty good for everybody to refill their canteens and splash the blood off themselves.

Y’all boot-scooted the fuck outta cultville the second Karlach got to the last cultist. None of y’all lingered for any kind of looting or anything, not with that diminished god rolling around on the ground and wailing.

That fuck powder still burns your sinuses.

You didn’t make eye contact with nobody as y’all found a place about an hour later. It’s another, small clearing on a gentler slope of mountain. The trees thickened just a bit, enough to where y’all are fairly sheltered from view once you get all safe and tucked away. Gale sets up making some kinda griddle cake—ain’t none of you much in the mood for meat tonight, except Lae’zel, and they all have the courtesy to leave you be as you head off a little ways into them woods.

They probably know what you’re doing. You try hard not to think about that as you fumble with the buttons of your trousers enough to shove a hand down your pants.

It’s been a while. You do this—did this—more often at home. Helps with cramps and insomnia and good old boredom. But this first touch here draws a sigh outta you.

You find a slightly grassy patch and habitually check for snakes. You ain’t actually seen once since you crawled off that butthole ship. Coast is clear and you’re laying yourself right on down.

It ain’t gonna take long. Between the time gap and that goddamn powder (those bitches drugged you, fucking assholes) you’re already primed up. You barely have to start thinking about anything and your breath speeds up before you automatically start to hold it.

You don’t make noise if you can, at all, help it; you’ve lost orgasms when you surprised yourself with noise, because for all the sex positivity work you read and whatever, the shame shame shame still whispers that you can’t be heard, this has to be a disgusting secret.

Back to the imagery. You ain’t really attracted to like, real people until you know them. Until you feel something for them. If you were to walk up to somebody and try the stuff you’re thinking about, that warm pleasure would burn right off. But the pictures, the movements, the imaginary feelings?

Then you’re thinking of tight pants and a stupidly high waist and—no, no, what is that doing here?

Back to something else. A woman on all fours, fingers clawing into sheets, mouth open and wide hands wrapped around her hips—

You know who else has wide hands?

“Fuck off,” you hiss.

Two women. One mouthing at a neck. Moving down, down to the breast, to the nipple. Lips closing and suckling—

The climax rushes through you. Back arches and hips jerk up as the back of your head digs into the grass. Your jaw clenches and you can’t help the soft, strangled sounds that make it past the blockade in your throat. You slap one hand over your mouth, over your nose, too, for good measure as you buck over and over, riding it out. Thinking of that new toy you got and how you only ever got to use it the once and how bullshit that is because it was expensive and it felt so good having something like that inside.

Then you fall back, gulping for air, one hand in your pants and the other falling to the forest floor.

…you could go again.

“Oh ~Eleanor~!”

Oh fuck.

You tug your hand outta your pants and climb to your feet, fumbling with the damn buttons again. Astarion sounds entirely too pleased with himself out there.

“You stay over there!” you holler.

No water to wash; that’s back at camp. You look around, imagine the bastard slinking closer, and eye the dirt. Claw your fingers through it and rub your hands together like it’s soap (gross). Wipe what you can off on your blood-spattered trouser legs. You’re gonna have to wash you and your clothes tonight.

“Are you decent, darling?” At least his voice don’t sound any closer. Bitch ass goblin man.

Then you remember him pointing down, below the indoor balcony at the tollhouse. The fourth heartbeat. Wyll though vampires could hear the stars at night and did this fucking man hear you.

Your entire front goes hot. The sun’s almost down, and you know that fucker can see in the dark.

Shit goddamn fuck!

You take a deep breath. Take another.

You ain’t gonna be shamed. You refuse to be shamed. You just got propositioned and damn near magically fucking roofied for a starter-pack sex god, and none of them got any right to judge you for coming out here. Them cult fuckers seemed surprised you didn’t tear your clothes off right there on the spot.

“You better not be lurking,” you say as you start towards camp. You ain’t stealthy in the underbrush. He can track you and meet up if that’s what he’s after.

And then he’s right here, in his camp clothes with that—this bitch has unlaced his fucking shirt to show off more of his chest. The absolute goddamn audacity.

You meet his gaze, head held high, and fucking dare him to say something.

“Enjoying the evening, I take it?” he says.

Fucker.

But you ain’t backing down. “Ye-awp. You?”

He waves a hand all theatrical. “Oh, I try to find amusement here and there.”

“Uh huh,” you say in the single most unconvinced auntie tone. You brush past him towards the clearing where everybody’s set up. “Gale almost done with dinner?”

Then he’s next to you, soundlessly. You shove down the urge to jump, and nearly succeed. The man is a menace.

“So am I your amusement for the night?” you say.

He keeps pace with you a few steps. Close enough you could reach out and touch him, but just shy of breaching your personal space.

“More of a curiosity, I’ll admit,” he says.

And here it comes. The questions, the side-eye, the stupid bullshit and the whispers. The worst possible person to find out anything about you, and now you get to deal with it. Yippee.

You stop. Turn to him, hands on your hips. “It ain’t that complicated, but I’ll give you three minutes to ask whatever bullshit you got cooking up in that skull of yours, and then we don’t ever talk about this again, you hear? And if you make this weird it ends here and now. Agreed?”

The taken-aback stares lasts only long enough for him to blink. Then it’s replaced with pity. “You poor, sheltered thing. All this time and you’ve never taken a lover? Ever?”

It’s just sex—or lack thereof. It’s other people who make this weird.

“Never needed to. Next question.”

“So, a virgin experienced in self-pleasure, then. That’s something, at least. Just how sheltered are you, darling?”

Oh, all the things you got in that junk drawer of your brain. You probably ain’t gonna scandalize Mr. “Pile of lovers in the city” and you don’t want to get too personal. “I seen a fair bit of it, but not in person. More like reading a book, only it’s all pictures and they move and make sound. Real stupid sounds. Don’t go assuming I’m some kinda little church girl that never seen fucking.”

“So you like to watch.”

…days ago y’all wasn’t on speaking terms, and now this? Good god, it’s scary how easy it is to fall into shenanigans with this man. Cause…you want to. The shenanigans, not the fucking. It’s fun. And it’s such a goddamn relief to have somebody to be fun with. He’s damn near seen you at your worst by this point, and yet here he is. It’s hard not to fall into banter with somebody who saw all that and still comes at you with that sorta tease.

Is this flirting?

Wait. Is he flirting? Are you flirting? Goddamnit, nobody teaches this shit!

“I been on a couple of dates before,” you say. “Nothing serious, though.”

He watches you. Seems to be waiting.

“And?” he says.

“And what?”

“This ‘date.’ I assume from the context—if that potion is translating correctly—you’re referring to courtship?”

You start to answer. Then squint at him. “Holy fuck you’re old. You’re just a walking goddamn antique, ain’t you? Who says courting?”

Two hundred years and an elf. Astarion is a goddamn grandpa.

And now the whole thing is sliding away from where he’s been directing it, judging by the flash-pan scowl he smothers. That’s probably why he pivots as aggressively as he does. “Our little almost-tryst in the woods. Have any of your courtiers ever kissed you?”

His lips were cool and soft. His tongue touching yours gives you goosebumps just remembering it.

And that’s a hesitation too long. His eyebrows scrunch together in pitying amusement. The man actually hides a snort behind his hand. “Oh darling, no. You’re positively untouched!”

It’s a real pity your shoes are laced up boots. Can’t slip that off fast enough to throw at him without him dodging.

“Just so you know, I was copying you, you jackass. If it was that bad, it’s your fault.”

“It was a rather clumsy attempt.”

Okay. Alright. His time is up.  You don’t gotta stand here and take shit from this…this hobgoblin.

“Don’t be so sour,” he says. “It wasn’t that bad. I wasn’t expecting anything masterful, anyway. I could tell you were inexperienced. I just didn’t imagine you were quite that inexperienced.”

And then he blinks at you, and some emotion you can’t decipher flashes in his eyes.

“You could have told me, you know,” he says.

You should have. Would’a avoided a whole lotta stupid mess if you’d just taken the chance to be truthful.

“Yeah,” you say. Look to the first flickers of fire light in the clearing just beyond the trees. “I know.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He’s dropped the gremlin mask. The flirty, the smarm. Well, not all the smarm; man’s physically composed of at least twenty percent smarm on a molecular level. But there’s that strange lack of expression on him again. Not the deliberate cover—everything bolted and battened down like you yourself do as easy as breathing—but just that…inquisitiveness.

You think he might be genuinely asking.

And god help you, this would be a good time to come all the way clean. But you swore you’d never confess your sins for nobody ever again, and you ain’t about to start that now. That kind of vulnerability ain’t something you can live with.

“People get weird about it.” It ain’t a lie. And you was slightly worried he’d be one of them. “I…I panicked.”

Also true. You’re doing it right now.

His head cocks to the side, his eyes almost…soft? “I would have understood, darling. Slowed things down.”

“Yeah, well.” That’s shame clawing at the inside of your chest, ain’t it? Hateful bitch. She got in you good as a kid on the farmstead. Chewed a hole right through your ribs and made a nasty little nest in there. “What’s done is done. So why’re you actually out here?”

Astarion slips his mask back on. Rolls his eyes and gestures all dramatic. “We’re nearing a githyanki creche after a run-in with a cult that specifically wanted you. Forgive me for keeping your safety in mind.”

He’s out here sniffing around, is what he’s doing.

Still.

Still.

All the shit going on and all the shit y’all’re no doubt walking into. This feels better than keeping him at a distance. Joking and…and fucked up camaraderie eases something inside you and you don’t got many outlets for that out here.

He’s a bastard but…but…goddamnit. He’s a likeable bastard when he wants to be. So long as he don’t try to stop you from helping literal torture victims again.

So you sigh, and give him a silly bow. “Thank you.”

And god bless his little heart, he visibly perks up. Just a pinch. Just enough you don’t think he himself notices.

He swoops down into a dumbass bow of his own. “My pleasure, darling. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I rather desperately need to find a bite of my own.”

What a fucking dork. You give him a wave and head towards the clearing and the scent of woodsmoke.

“And,” Astarion says. “If you ever do want to reconsider your pleasure, you need only ask.”

There he is. He can’t let that go. Physically could not fucking restrain himself and let you walk off without tossing that one out there. Man must’a been close to blowing a blood vessel keeping that in as long as he did.

“Good hunting, Astarion,” you say.

He gives you a smile as he disappears into the dark like a creeper.

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[alwaysonthemend]

Part III: Three Sheets to the Wind

Word Count: 4506

Warnings: Violence / talk of prostitution / vivid descriptions of death and injury / threat of sexual assault (sexual assault does not happen - if you would like more information before reading, please feel free to send me a message and I will be more than happy to explain further), / talk of unrequited love.

I think that is all but if I am missing something please tell me.

18+ only. Minors DNI

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

Voices wafting through the wooden panels of the door draws me back into consciousness. The rocking of the Starcatcher had lulled me to sleep in my exhausted state, but now the constant to and fro makes my stomach roil with nausea. I keep my eyes closed against the hot, acidic waves in my belly.

“Miss Y/n?” 

It’s Daniel’s voice on the other side of the door and I sit up, doing my best to smooth over my hair as much as I can. It’s a lost cause. 

“Yes?” I call, voice cracking with sleep. 

“I have breakfast for you, miss.” 

“Come in.” 

Daniel’s broad frame comes into view as he opens the door, a tray of food balanced precariously in one hand. In the other he has clothes folded across his arm. 

“The Captain sent these clothes for you.” He says kindly, placing the tray of food in the bed next to me and holding up the garments. The blouse he holds up is white, along with a pair of brown trousers that look to be my size. 

Sitting up, I furrow my brows in confusion. 

“These are women’s clothes. Where did the Captain get women’s clothes?” 

Daniel only smiles tersely at me. 

“Belonged to a friend.” He answers, laying the garments across the foot of the bed. “We’ll be hitting land soon and the Captain has requested that you stay on board for the duration of our visit.”

Rising to sit up fully, I appraise Daniel with a raised brow. 

“I assume that is a demand and not a request?”

“Aye.” He nods once and begins making his way back to the door. “I’ll leave you to it, miss. Won’t be long before we’re ashore. We shouldn’t be staying long.” 

“Thank you, Daniel.” 

– 

Breakfast had been nothing but strips of salted beef and grapes but I had scarfed it down quickly – finding myself still shockingly ravenous despite my earlier nausea and the food had done well to settle my stomach.

Daniel had not been lying when he said that we would be landing ashore quickly, as no sooner had he left the room, the whole ship had rocked and lurched as she was anchored to land. I’d listened intently to the sound of the men moving about on the deck above, their heavy boots pounding against the wood and making the whole room shake. 

After I’d finished eating, I puttered about below deck for a while, trying my best to familiarise myself with the ship. Though, after noting that an hour had passed since last I’d heard movement, I quickly grew restless. Daniel had said that they wouldn’t be long on shore, but time was inching along slow as molasses. 

Deciding that the Captain had no right to order me about like the rest of his crew, I changed into the clothes he’d provided for me and slipped up the stairs. I climbed back out onto the deck and squinted as the light of the sun hit my eyes. Judging by its positioning, it must be just an hour past midday. 

– 

As soon as my feet touched the ground, my senses were assaulted by a foul smell. It wasn’t overly pungent, but rather seemed to be leaching from the very ground itself – stale and unavoidable as I made my way across the dock. 

The streets in front of me were crowded – bustling and busy as men in all sorts of dress made their ways to and fro. Some were dressed in Navy petticoats with feathered hats and leather shoes. Others were dressed in clothes hardly worthy of being called such – stained and ripped and hanging off their sinewy frames. The ramshackle buildings that lined the streets were all wooden, each looking as if it had been thrown together as an afterthought. Not a single structure looked as if it had been planned; only haphazardly thrown together at the last second. As I eyed the chaos in front of me, the name of this place struck me like a ton of stones. 

This is Nassau. 

Nassau. The place where Benjamin Hornigold had managed to establish a safe haven for pirates from all across the seas. I’d heard mutterings of it from fisherman back in Easthallow who had been unfortunate enough to cross paths with those seafarers who consider themselves a part of this God-forsaken pirate republic. Though a “republic” is a kind term for this place. No real official dealings took place here – only pissing contests between men like Hornigold who happened to have garnered enough prestige amongst these heathens to be able to call himself their leader. This island is no place for a woman – least of all on her own, but no sooner had the realisation of where I was hit me, a man was already approaching me with a determined stride. 

He’s tall – broad shouldered and his long black hair lays matted across his shoulders. His skin is tan. So tan, in fact, that his skin looks more like leather. His clothes are not so tattered as some of the others that I had seen, but they were still a far cry from the Naval petticoats that others were wearing. I cannot help but to take a step backwards, ducking my head and shrinking away from his imposing figure. 

“How much?” The man asks as he steps in close to me, his hot breath carrying with it a foul smell as he speaks. 

“I beg your pardon?” His question took me off guard. 

“I asked how much?” He repeats, tone already bleeding with impatience. 

I stare at him for a moment, brain working overtime trying to figure out what he means. Though, as soon as I do, I wish that I hadn’t. As I glance around, I see no women populating the busy streets. No doubt, the only women who come to a place like this only come for one reason: money. Money gotten by selling their bodies – a last ditch effort to keep themselves alive and fed in the only way that they can. And this man thinks that I am one of them.

Deciding that there is no way that this man will believe me if I tell him that I am here on business (though not of my own), I instead just shake my head at him. 

“I’m.. I’m not working at the moment, sir.” I manage to stutter out, taking yet another step away from him. 

“Not working?” His thick eyebrows raise and disbelief and I worry for a moment that he’s going to become angry. Instead, he merely shrugs his broad shoulders before shuffling away in the opposite direction. 

I release a breath, my own shoulders untensing as he takes his leave and relief floods through me. That could have gone south quickly and there would have been nothing I could have done to stop it. 

Brushing my sweaty palms across my thighs, I scan the bustling streets in search of a familiar face. Daniel, preferably, but anyone would do at this point. Seeing no one that I know, my eyes land upon a tavern across the road. I scan my eyes side to side one last time before darting across the road, doing my best to avoid the puddles of water and mud. 

– 

The tavern is dimly lit – the windows completely covered by the shutters. I scan the crowd, taking note of each man inside. There are a few slumped over at the bar, eyes half-lidded and chins glistening with rum. Some sit tucked away in shaded corners, hunched over the tables and whispering amongst themselves. 

The room reeks of alcohol and sweat and the back of my neck prickles with unease. Coming here was definitely not one of the wiser choices that I have made. 

Though truthfully, I cannot help the awe that fills me – a bit reminiscent of child-like wonder at the sight of Nassau. Growing up. I had heard from countless sailors about the dreaded pirate republic tucked away in the Bahamas and always the idea had intrigued me. A place where men do as they please – free to go and do as they wish. A place where even freed slaves might find a place as part of a pirate crew. And here I am, seeing it for with my own eyes. If only my younger self could have known.

Scanning the crowd, I still find no faces that I recognize and figure that I should most likely take my leave of this place before things go awry. But, as if the universe can read my thoughts and is intent on making things more difficult, just as I turn to leave a man locks eyes with me. He’s incredibly tall, with long black hair and a thick beard on his face. He stands as he spots me, taking large strides in my direction and the thud of his boots on the floor are like a countdown to my own doom. 

Sensing his intentions, I dart back out the door, rounding the corner blindly in an effort to lose him. It’s a cramped alley, smelling of shit and rotten food. I press myself against the wall, praying that the man will not follow. 

My prayers are not answered as he rounds the corner as well, his eyes locking onto me almost immediately. 

Dear God, his eyes. Dark, wild looking. They practically glitter as they rake up and down my form. 

I swallow around the lump in my throat, my hands beginning to shake slightly. 

“This be no place for a girl like you t'be alone.” He mutters, stepping closer and using his body to block me from going anywhere. Behind me there is nothing but a cobblestone wall – too high for me to climb. He’s got me caged. 

“I- I’m here with someone.” I tell him, mustering up as much courage as I can to meet his gaze. 

He glances around, comically searching for a moment before glaring back at me. 

“Don’t see any'ne but us, lass.” 

“He’s a captain.” I manage to say meekly as he begins to step even closer. There is some hopeless little part of me that thinks maybe he’ll leave me alone knowing that I am here with a captain of a ship. 

He doesn’t stop until he’s standing just a foot away from me. His smell is rank – body odour and rum. It makes me want to hold my breath. 

“I am too.” He says, tilting his head and grinning lewdly. “I don’t see him nowhere near, though. Jus' you an' me, it would seem.” 

He leans his head downwards and I turn my head to the side, closing my eyes and pressing myself into the wall as much as I can. His lips hover just above the skin of my cheek. 

“What say we pass the time a bit… until your Captain comes back?” He murmurs, his rough hand coming up to grip my arm tightly.

I try to yank free but he’s far too strong for me to overpower. I feel helpless – like a caged animal. He is large – far larger than me. And the cutlass on his hip means that I truly cannot hope to fight him off. 

“Please let me go.” I plead, heart thumping madly in my chest. I know how this ends. 

“Make me.” His other hand comes up and grips my jaw, forcing me to face him. His eyes dart down to my lips and my stomach roils. 

“Help!” I scream and immediately his calloused hand presses over my mouth, muffling any sound. 

“Shut it.” He says through clenched teeth, pressing his body into mine. I can feel him – hard and hot against my stomach and I whimper past the hand over my mouth. 

“She said stop.” 

Both of our heads whip to the side to see Jacob, his dark eyes glaring menacingly at the man in front of me. He’s got his hand on the handle of his cutlass, ready to draw it at any moment. 

“Is this your Captain, lass?” The man mocks, looking Jacob up and down. 

This man is far larger than Jacob – taller and broader. As thankful as I am for him coming to my rescue, I fear that he is outmatched. This man is nearly twice his size. 

“I am.” He nods, before pointing at me. “And she’s mine. So I ask you to please step away from her. I don’t want to hurt you.” Jacob says, voice eerily calm. His face is passive – no emotions. 

The man laughs loudly, tossing his head back as he does so. He steps away from me and shoves, sending me crashing to the ground gracelessly. 

“I’d like to see you try, boy.” He says, drawing his own cutlass and pointing it at Jacob. 

Jacob doesn’t move – his hand still lays still on the handle of his cutlass. He doesn’t draw. Instead, he waits. Dark eyes watching like a lion watching its prey. I can do nothing but sit there as the man walks towards him, slowly closing the distance between Jacob and his sharp blade. 

I wait with baited breath – desperately wishing that I could do something but seeing nothing near that I can arm myself with. 

With a gruff cry, the man lunges – his blade cutting through the air with wicked speed and I watch in horror thinking that it will slice through Jacob. 

Instead, Jacob only side steps, just barely avoiding the blow and moving his body to the side. The man – having thrown his entire body into the cut, stumbles forward and loses his balance. In the blink of an eye, Jacob’s cutlass is drawn and the sharp blade presses into the man’s neck. He freezes, half kneeling on the ground and glaring up at the Captain. 

“Are you hurt?" Jacob asks, his gaze softening ever so slightly as he glances at me.

I stand with a wince and shake my head 'no' as I make my way slowly to Jacob’s side. His eyes sweep up and down my body, looking for injuries. When he finds none, he jerks his head towards the road. 

Understanding his silent command, I step past the two of them – keeping my eyes trained on the man, and move past them out of the alleyway. 

Jacob moves to follow me, keeping his blade pointed at the pirate on the ground.  

“Don’t touch what isn't yours.” He says darkly, before turning his back and lowering his blade. 

Though I know he’s only making a point and that he is by no means calling me his, heat still rises to my face. Though out of necessity, he’d defended me; saved me from what would have been a horrific and vile experience. All at the risk of himself. I cannot help but to feel a warmth in my belly.

I turn to Jacob, intent on giving him my thanks but instead I gasp as I see the man lunge forward. 

“Jacob!” I call, but it’s too late. 

His blade slices through Jacob’s forearm causing his cutlass to clatter to the ground. Jacob groans and his other hand grabs the wound, red seeping through his fingers in a worrying gush. He stumbles backwards and the pirate lunges– shoving him with all his might. Jacob grabs him by the lapels and pulls, effectively bringing both men crashing to the grown. The breath leaves Jacob’s lungs in a huff as the man falls on top of him, but still he immediately begins to grapple with him for his blade. 

On sheer impulse and adrenaline alone, I stoop downwards and wrap my hands around the handle of Jacob’s cutlass. With a cry of my own, I shove the man off Jacob and he falls to the side with a growl. I point the blade down at him but my will falters.

Jacob is up and off the ground in a flash and rips the cutlass from my grip and plunges the blade into the man’s stomach before he has a chance to take advantage of my hesitation. He cries out, a sick, wet sound coming from between his lips. Blood spills down his chin and he collapses backwards as Jacob pulls the blade out. He seems to struggle for a moment, a grotesque rattling sound coming from his chest before he stills, one last exhale coming from his nose as the life leaves him. 

I stand there, the adrenaline finally leaving and in its place, ice cold dread. Jacob is breathing heavily as he wipes his blade on his coat before sheathing it again. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He demands, whirling around to face me, his face twisted in anger. “I told you to stay on the fucking ship!” 

I can make no argument. He is right. He told me to stay and I had disobeyed, and now a man lays dead at our feet. A horrible one, surely. But still a needless battle with bloodshed that could have been avoidable. 

“I am sorry.” I whisper, eyes flooding with tears that I refuse to let fall. 

“You should be.” He grabs my arm, fingers digging into the place where the man had done the same just moments before and a wince slips past my lips. Jacob’s grip softens, and his eyes flash with something before the mask falls back in place. “The men are already back on the ship. We got back and I found you to be gone.” 

I nod, feeling shame wash over me. If I had just waited for a while longer, none of this would have happened. 

– 

The trek back to the Starcatcher had been completely silent. Not a word was spoken as we boarded, nor even when all the eyes of his crewmates swept to us as we came onto the deck. Their eyes were filled with countless questions – especially Joshua’s as his eyes finally landed on Jacob’s bloodied arm. 

“What the fuck happened?” He demands, eyes turning to me with an accusatory blaze. 

I expect Jacob to tell them everything of my foolishness – to make a mockery of me for defying orders. Instead, he only shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand in Joshua’s direction. 

“All is settled now.” He says placatingingly, tucking his injured arm behind his back. “But we should leave.” His voice pitches lower, turning just a tad more serious. “Quickly.” 

His men had taken the hint, and the ship is quickly put into motion. 

Guiltily, I turn to the Captain, my eyes cast downwards to his feet. I cannot bear to meet his eyes.

“May I help?” I ask him quietly, aching at the knowledge that he'd gotten hurt in defense of me.

His eyes sweep to mine questioningly.

“Your wound.” I clarify, nodding my head to the arm he holds behind his back. “Please.” 

– 

By some miracle, he relents and follows me back down to his quarters. He sits before me at the foot of his bed, shoulders weary and eyes tired

It’s silent between us as I make my way to the lantern and light it – casting the room in a warm glow. He watches me as I grab my pack and pull from it a linen blouse that I had grabbed the night we left. 

I rip the fabric, causing Jacob’s eyes to widen subtly as I tear a long strip. 

“Do you have any alcohol in here?” I ask him, wadding up the rest of the shirt in my hand. 

“Under the bed.” 

I stoop downwards and sure enough, a bottle of rum sits waiting. I grab it and make my way over to him, crouching down on my knees at his feet. He’s got his left hand clutched over his right, his knuckles white. His face does not show it, but the wound must be hurting him. 

“Here.” I gently pry his fingers away and dip a corner of the ripped shirt into the rum.

The cut is not too deep - but it is long. It runs from the crook of his elbow all the way down to his wrist. Blood oozes from it lazily and there is no doubt in my mind that most people would be crying out from the pain.

I press the rum-soaked fabric to the wound and he hisses through his teeth, yet still says not a word. His body is tense, rigid as stone. He’s shed his coat and belt, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black pants and a white shirt. His sleeves - one of them stained red, are rolled up. He looks so much less imposing without his coat and cutlass and it feels almost sinful to see him so… exposed. 

As I carefully clean the wound, I cannot help but to let my eyes roam the exposed skin. His forearms are thick, riddled with old scars and his skin is tanned and weathered. His hands, rough with callouses, lay limply on his knees. The veins on them stand out clearly - a testament to the strength of them. It takes everything in me not to stare.

He hisses again as I pull the now red cloth away from him. 

“Captain,” I say softly.

He glances downwards at me, lips pressed together. I cannot read his face. 

“I am sorry. For disobeying your orders.” My eyes fall, unable to meet his piercing stare. “And for causing your injury.” 

He is silent, and I think at first that he is not going to answer. But finally, his voice – soft in a way that I have not heard before, breaks the silence. 

“All is forgiven.” 

My eyes snap to his, shocked at his tone. I had been expecting further reprimand. Perhaps even to be yelled at again. But instead, his voice remains quiet and smooth. Though he does not look at me as he continues to speak, I sense no anger in his words.

“I am upset with you for disobeying. I told you to stay here for your safety." He begins, brown eyes swirling with what I can only describe as worry. He had been worried for me. The thought is somehow comforting. "But you are not the cause of my injury. That man was.”

I only nod as I grab the strip of linen that I had ripped from my blouse and wrap it tightly around his forearm. I am grateful for his words, yet still... shame courses through me. 

“Y/n.” He says, drawing my focus back to him. It is the first time that I have heard him say my name in such a manner. I think that I could listen to him utter it for eternity. “What that man did… what he tried to do, that is not your fault. Yes, you chose to leave the ship. But it was him who attempted to do something so vile. That is no fault of yours.” 

His words ease the black ball of guilt and shame that had lodged itself in my sternum, melting it away to nothing but gratitude. His kindness – rare as it may be, makes my heart race and my cheeks warm. 

“Thank you, Captain.” I murmur, tying a knot in the fabric. “I’m afraid that this is the best that I can do.” I tell him, rising from my knees to put the bottle of rum back in its hiding place beneath the bed. 

Jacob rises too, flexing his hand and testing the bandage. 

“It is far more than I am usually afforded.” He says, lips tilting upwards at the corners in a barely-there smile. 

I wish suddenly that I could see a real smile on his face… one that reaches his eyes. I imagine it must be a beautiful thing. And as much as I want to push the thought away, this new, kinder side of him makes it impossible. So I covet the feeling, burying it away deep in my heart and storing it there to dissect later.

“Thank you for saving me. And thank you for letting me sleep here.” I nod my head towards his bed. “If ever you would rather me sleep somewhere else, just ask. Your hospitality is appreciated, though unnecessary. It is your bed, after all.”

“I don’t mind.” He says, watching me as I stand before him. “I prefer not to sleep in here, anyway.” 

“Why?” The question slips past me before I can think better of it and I tense, expecting his walls to go back up as they always seem to do when I ask questions. 

Instead of growing angry, he only shakes his head. 

“A story for another day.”

I nod, letting silence fall. As I turn my head away from him, my eyes land on the painting on his desk. They must linger there for a moment too long, as when I look back at him, his face has fallen slightly. Instead of anger, there lies only weariness. 

“I know that I have not told you anything. And please know that I am thankful for you agreeing to help me as you have.” He starts, his own eyes downcast. “But there are some things that I would just rather not speak about. Not just to you, but to anyone.” 

“I understand.” I tell him, and I am shocked to find myself truthful. As much as I ache to know the meaning behind his quest, as much as the secrets had angered me at first, I sense now that this is not something that he is yet capable of talking about. Perhaps in time it may change. But for now, I must be content in knowing nothing. 

“Thank you.” He says, bowing his head once before turning to leave. “Dinner will be sent down to you soon.” 

He steps through the threshold and then stops and I wait with bated breath. Without turning back to face me, his head turned down to the floor, he speaks ever-so quietly. 

“She is my wife. And I am trying to bring her home.” 

With that, he’s gone. 

I collapse numbly to the bed, my thoughts running rampant with possibilities. I look back to the painting, the woman’s dark eyes staring back into my own. 

His wife. 

There is no doubt in my mind now that whatever this quest may be… it means far more to him than I could ever understand. The sadness that he carries, the anger that is always there – just barely simmering below the surface, suddenly makes sense. 

He is hurting. Suffering. He lashes out like a wounded animal.

And somehow my fate has been entwined with his to help him find this woman again – wherever she may be. Whoever she may be.

As I sit, the feeling that has been brewing deep within me since the moment I met him finally comes to the surface. It is not love – not yet. But I know myself well enough to feel certain that it will become it.

There is something about him… an aura that surrounds him that seeks to pull me in. And as much as I hate the feeling, as much as I hate myself for falling for a man like him (and under such circumstances), I know in my heart that I will stop at nothing to help him find this woman whom he loves. 

It’s a scary thing – to care for someone enough to aid them in their search for happiness that does not live with you. It aches in the way old wounds do – a dull throb that is almost constant. But I cannot stop myself. I will help him find her. Whatever the cost. 

There is a knock on the door. Dinner, surely. But I do not rise to get it. I am not hungry. Instead, I lie down on top of the covers, feeling as though I have suddenly aged one hundred years. My eyes catch the painting – her dark eyes seemingly staring into my very soul. I roll over. 

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨

Part IV

Mirror of the Damned Taglist:

@jakeyt 

@joshym

@sacredjake

@carbondancingthroughtime

@literal-dead-leaf 

@sinarainbows 

@ohgodthefeeling-gvf 

@aflame4goinghome 

@writingcold 

@ignite-my-fire 

@mysticalstarcatcher 

@brinlygvf

@mackalah 

@vanfleeter 

@chewbeka22 

@starcatcherchords

@char289 

@amygvf13 

@way-to-go-lad 

@jaketlove

If you would like to be added to any of my taglists, please fill out the form here or send me an ask <3

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Hi, I hope you don't mind me asking but why did Zee hate being a nurse? Well, other than her being forced into the role

I don't think she hated it at first. She loved being a professional in a crisp uniform with real rank and authority all her own on the virtue of her education and experience. It's a far cry from being permitted to do more or less whatever she likes because her father is a man with rank and authority. She likes the puzzle of diagnosis, the riddle of keeping people alive, and the profound speed with which medicine advances thrills her. But even as young as she is by the standards of her own kind, she still gets a bit restless. And it's in those times that just how unfuckingfair everything hits her.

When Jack's bored, he can pick up anything he pleases. Natural history, biology, paleontology, leather tanning, winemaking. If he's tired of the city, he can just up and fuck off into the interior to be a stock hand If he wants. No one will stop him. And to a certain extent, she can too if she really wants, but it's just so much harder and riskier. What she is does give her a certain amount of protection, but it's still a hard thing to pull off. So she switches jobs, visits her father or a brother or friends or throws on trousers, and leaves gender behind entirely. But life is still so often a choice between harrowing or stifling.

Patients love her; she's an excellent nurse. She's funny, a bit naughty, and always partial to her own. She can give as much as she gets when speech becomes sparing. She continued in pediatric and community nursing over time, but I think she got heartily sick of nursing during WWI. She climbed the cliffs of Gallipoli half out of spite but still took the hill of Chanuk Bair. She left her gender behind and smashed her brains in with rocks like any other half-starved body on the trench line. She did her part to cut that hill from Turkish hands at bayonet point. She showed a talent and a propensity for violence no one wants to believe exists in pretty young women. The only real victory Gallipoli saw was hers, brought to heel by her brutality. But then the British lost the captured ground almost instantly, and it was for nothing.

She slides back into nursing not long after as Churchill's foolishness finally comes to a close, and she spends the rest of 1916 trying to preserve whatever decency, whatever sanity remains to her and Jack. And that's almost harder for her to do as a nurse, witnessing death after disease after devastating injury, one after another after another. She wanders around as she likes from unit to unit, corset or helmet on and off, but often feels guilty when it's not in a corset because nurses are in much higher demand than any grunt with a rifle. Sometimes, she just can't stand the sight of another broken body. But she does kind of redeem nursing for herself by mid-1917 when the British army commands that dominion nurses can't be trained as anesthesiologists, and she only mentions Canada and Australia. I always think of that as a sly little move on Arthur's part because it puts Zee on a pay and rank basis equal to doctors for the first time and that her forceful personality can go to some real reforming use for the first time in a while.

So yeah, too long didn't read: it's not that she hated nursing so much as she hates misogyny and the front-row seat to senseless violence it granted her.

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Crawling Back to You - John Shelby

You want to curse Tommy for what he's doing. He's taken your husband and brought him in a den of sin. And you don't even believe in the concept of sin, in the Christian way...

You are left at home, with the children and the dogs. And with the knowledge of what John's doing. The sting comes when the children are all abed. When you are all alone. You go to bed far too early, tossing and turning, your sheets and pillow cold.

He stumbles in, late at night. He reeks of booze and other women's perfume. He climbs right on top of you, pulling at your night dress. "M sorry." He slurrs. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck. "M so sorry." He presses cold wet kisses onto your skin. His hands are cold against the skin of your thigh. You shudder and whimper. John heaves a dry sob. "I love you." He whines, dragging down your panties.

He thumbs open your folds. You shudder at how cold his touch is, but you don't push him away. You just can't bring yourself. "J-john." You whine as he grazes your clit. It is just a brief tender touch, though, because a moment later he pushes two thick digits into you. You cry out, part in pain, part in pleasure. You are not yet wet enough and the temperature is adding something else entirely.

"M so sorry. I love you so much."

You wrap your arms around his broad, freckled shoulders. You make a shushing sound and run your nails over his skin.

John groans, slowly fucking you on his fingers. His skin warms up and your core grows wetter with each thrust. "Need you." John rasps. "My trousers." He is full dressed on top of you. And no way he is going to stop finger fucking you. It is up to you to get his cock.

You pull open his trousers, running your nails over the cloth of his underpants. John grunts, shoving his crotch into your hand. "Please." His voice wavers. You feel the urge to squeash his balls. But your ignore the impulse and instead pull down his underpants. His cock flops free against your lower belly.

"Inside." John urges.

You want to oblige, line him up, but his fingers are still thrusting in and out of you. "J-John..." You whine. "Sorry." He mumbles again. You wish he'd just stop apologising. What's done is done.... John is not truly to blame. Tommy is!

Slowly he pulls his fingers from you and you whine at the loss. John makes a sushiing sound and pushes against you. He doesn't quite manage to breach you. "J-john... Gods." You manage to strangle out. You help him line up properly. He pushes on, splitting you apart. You moan loudly, hooking your leg on his hip. "G-gods." You whimper.

He fucks you without rhythm, just shoving in and in and in. His breathing is ragged and thick, moist against the crook of your neck. He apologises some more, words becoming more and more unintelligible mumbles as his pleasure increases.

You feel him stiffen when he spends himself inside you. And he rolls off of you at once. You hear him heave a dry sob. "It's not your fault." You whisper, rolling onto your side and snuggling up against him. John sighs deeply and puts his arm around you.

"I don't deserve you, you are too good for me."

[littlelostmabari]

4. Eating/Cooking Together

Pairing: Shadowheart x Halsin x Tav. Tav isn't described, and uses no pronouns.

Warnings: A teeny bit of angst, but they're all happy.

Word count: 1.3k

It's all just fluff. Fluff fluff fluff. Thanks to @kelandrin for the lovely BG3 Pride Prompts! (Link to that post here) (Dividers here)

The sun was grazing the horizon when the door to Chateau Buttercup was gently pushed open to reveal a form waddling through the barn with a stack of boxes too tall to carry with any ease. 

“Halsin?” a voice called out from behind the boxes. “I brought the – oof!” The boxes would have fallen comically into Buttercup's stall, had there not been a wall of elf blocking the path. A rough chuckle and relief of the top three boxes revealed a tall, broad-shouldered Halsin wearing nothing but trousers, sandals, and the remnants of Buttercup’s thorough grooming. He easily hefted the three boxes up and over into the empty stall next door, following up with the second three a moment later, leaving Tav’s arms blissfully empty and sore. 

“Thank you, my heart, for helping me with this little surprise.” He opened his arms for a hug. Tav leaned back and made a face, gesturing to the leftover cow hair. Halsin laughed heartily, brushed himself off with a casual aire, and then leaned forward to place a kiss at Tav’s temple. He took care not to shed more Buttercup onto Tav than was necessary for the contact. “I’ll take care of the rest of this,” gesturing to the boxes now well hidden behind the faded red wood of the stall. “Why don’t you go and make sure she doesn’t come out here while I work.” 

Tav nodded, bent forward for one more temple kiss, and then hurried out the front of the small barn. It was easy enough to find Shadowheart this time of day — sundown was often a time where her mother could reliably remember herself. Shadowheart had taken to sitting at the foot of her mother’s lounging chair, allowing the older woman to run her hands through her daughter's silvery hair. Sometimes Tav would stand in the doorway, just watching as Emmeline carefully braided colored ribbons; Shadowheart would wear them with pride until they fell out of their own accord or her mother insisted on trying a new hairstyle. Sometimes Emmeline would sit back in her chair and Shadowheart would read to her, other times Emmeline would tell her of happy times before the influence of Shar broke their family apart. Arnell would often leave during the latter evenings, the knowledge of those lost years too much to bear in front of their new family. 

Tonight was a reading night, Shadowheart had climbed up into the chair with her mother and the two were snuggled, carefully perched on the extra wide armchair. The book was “Nimoneon’s Fantastic Adventures”, which let the two of them choose their way through the story. Shadowheart was endlessly amused by how often her mother chose the same pathways, because they had read often enough that they both knew the story by heart — and Emmeline would always pick the ending where Nimoneon found his true love and rode off into the sunset. 

Tav took the long way around their modest cottage, stopping to place a kiss on both women’s cheeks, before seeking out Arnell in the kitchen. He was busily stirring a pot of something that smelled extraordinarily delicious; it reminded Tav of the tomato stew that Yenna had made one night in the Elfsong. Arnell looked up with a smile and pointed at the vegetables still on the counter waiting to be added. The carrots and squash still needed chopping, and after a brief question on how Arnell wanted it done, Tav set to work. Tav also kept a careful ear out into the main room, ensuring that Shadowheart’s beautiful voice was still carrying through the cottage — and not interrupting Halsin’s carefully laid out plans. 

Thirty minutes later, Arnell announced to the room that dinner was ready, and Tav left the kitchen to gather the rest of the family to the table. Halsin needed five more minutes, so Tav took the time to make sure that the table was perfectly set, Emmeline and Shadowheart’s wine glasses full, and both women happily chatting about which choice they would make after dinner when they settled back into their peace. Arnell and Tav happily served the table, as Halsin entered the cottage with fresh clothes and hair still wet from rinsing off the day’s work. 

The stew was delicious, but Shadowheart’s eyes became more and more glazed over as the meal progressed. Tav and Halsin both noticed; Tav’s hand was on her thigh and Halsin’s on her back as her eyes welled with tears. She was clearly confused as to what brought on the sudden increase of emotions, and Tav looked to Arnell who was gently smiling at his daughter. 

“This was the meal you always asked for on your nameday, my sweet,” he said gently. “I’m glad to see you remember it.”

“I do,” Shadowheart said, with a small sob. “But there’s something missing, something sweet and crunchy and —”

“The bread rolls that your nanna used to make,” Emmeline interjected with a smile. “She made them with the local flour and added a touch of honey to the dough. Unfortunately those we lost when she passed, but she would be so happy to know that her rolls were something you remembered!”

Shadowheart burst into tears, reaching an arm over Tav’s shoulder and pulling Tav close. Halsin pulled both hands from the meal and used them to rub soothing circles into her back. It took a couple minutes but Shadowheart pulled herself together and wiped the tears away with the back of her hands. Arnell reached across the table and tossed a handkerchief, which she caught readily and finished cleaning away the mess that had been brought about by such happy memories. Tav and Halsin shared a worried glance, but it was quickly remedied when Shadowheart burst up from the table and ran to her father with a new set of tears. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she cried into his shoulder. Emmeline couldn’t help herself either, blowing her nose noisily into her own cloth. A few more moments passed before — “Wait,” she said, her head poking up from the embrace. “You said that I asked for this on my nameday? Why did you make it today?” 

“Oh, my sweet,” Halsin said sadly under his breath, shaking his head. Both Halsin and Tav stood, Halsin leaving the room quickly and Tav helping Shadowheart stand and return to her chair. 

“My darling,” Tav stated gently, kneeling at her feet. “It is your nameday.” 

Shadowheart’s eyes glanced about to her mother and father, who nodded. A smile began to grow, turning into a toothy grin and another series of tears left her eyes. “Kythorn 3,” she laughed. “With my propensity towards the dramatic, I would have bet I was a winter baby!” The table laughed along with her, and distracted her long enough for Halsin to enter with his and Tav’s gift in tow. He placed it gently in the space where the side table had been (Tav lied very convincingly that the side table never fit with the decor, and Shadowheart allowed its removal). 

Tav took Shadowheart by the shoulders and turned her to face an exquisite carving of the five of them, their beautiful found family, holding each other around a small opening, which was currently empty. It seemed as if a candle might fit, but Shadowheart knew better. Tav held onto her tightly from behind as she gestured a gentle incantation, a small call to Selûne, and a wisp of moonlight flickered into being above the circle of their love. 

“Happy Nameday, Shadowheart,” Tav said, clutching her tighter. Halsin’s arms wrapped around them both, kissing the top of their heads. Arnell wrapped an arm around Emmeline, kissing her temple as well. Shadowheart closed her eyes and leaned into the warmth of her partners, once again eternally grateful to be home. 

[lala1267]

Her property.

Summary: just a spoilt girl named Aria that always gets what she wants. Not this time.

Warnings: smut kinda, obsession??

Notes: I might make a part 2, idk yet. And btw "she" is Aria.

She sat in the croud of blurred faces. Her eyes were glued to the dancing angel that sang with a spice to his voice. He was like a white jumpsuit ghost. His flared trousers were studded with shimmering rhinestones, as was his top. His white boots stomped across the shiny floor. His black hair stuck to his sweaty forehead whilst his large hands held the microphone. Her eyes widened as her heart pounded against her ribcage. She grasped the wine glass with her shaky hands and sipped the liqour. The spice travelled down her throat, leaving a haunting tingle. Her breath quickened as her dirty thoughts clouded her brain. His blue eyes shimmered in the stage light. He was like a Greek God. A few women jumped over the barrier so that they were on the edge of the stage. Their hands reached up to the godly man that towered over them.

"Elvis! Kiss me!"

They shouted with desperation in their annoying voices. Elvis smirked before he knelt down towards them. He cupped one of their faces and planted his soft lips onto theirs. He did the same with every other girl that needed him.

She sat in the crowd with a frown on her face and furrowed brows. Her hand tightly gripped the glass of blood red wine whilst the other clawed into her thigh. She was blessed with beauty, but she was filled with jealousy and rage. She was only seventeen, yet she had such a temper. She was a strong baby doll who always got her way no matter the consequences.

She stood up from her seat and rushed over to the barrier that separated the crowd from the stage that was blessed with Elvis. She pushed through the hundreds of women without care. They all looked at her with offended faces. She grasped the metal railing and climbed over it. She planted her heels on the ground before running over to the stage. She looked up at the white jumpsuit ghost that hovered over her desperate self. She reached her hand up to attempt to grasp him. His eyes wandered to her. He smiled before bending down towards her. His eyes fluttered shut as he inched closer. Her blood rushed around her circulation system like rapids. Her heart was ready to burst out of her chest. Her hand landed on the back of his neck. Her fingers intwined with his wet black hair. She puckered up her cherry red lips as she closed her eyes. Finally, their lips met in a kiss. Her world was complete. All of her worries, problems, and ills faded away as Elvis's lips healed her. Lust replaced her rage. She wished that she could stay in this position forever, but all miracles must come to an end. Elvis pulled away, leaving her stranded and desperate. Her dough eyes opened. A single tear streamed down her pretty face. The trail of water glistened on her skin. Elvis looked to her before mouthing the words,

"Meet me backstage."

Her heart filled up again as a smile cascaded her face. Her hands toyed with her long hair before she made her way back to her seat. She sat there kicking her feet and giggling for the rest of the performance.

As the show came to an end and the lights dimmed, she stood up. She lifted her handbag onto her shoulder before adjusting her short pink dress that hugged her figure perfectly and glistened in the dim light. She fixed the large pink bow in her blonde hair before pulling out a compact mirror from her handbag. She also pulled out a red lip gloss. She opened the mirror and stared at her pretty self for a few moments. She was obsessed with herself. She unscrewed the lip gloss before applying the sticky substance to her soft lips. She smiled at her reflection before placing the things back into her bag.

Just then, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to look at the man standing before her. His eyes widened at her beauty before he forced his words out.

"Elvis would like you backstage, I'm here to take you. My name's Jerry"

He said as he reached his hand out towards her. She nodded happily before taking his hand and following him. They walked through a set of grand doors and into a room that was filled with people, mostly women. She looked around, desperate to find Elvis. Strobe lights illuminated the room as people danced like no one was watching them. Jerry turned to her before speaking.

"Just settle yourself and have a good time. Elvis should be with you shortly."

She nodded before walking over to the bar. She sat on the stool before staring at the dozens of expensive alcohol bottles that were neatly placed on the shelves behind the counter. A cashier stood I front of her before she spoke.

"Aunt Roberta, please."

The cashier's eyes widened in shock as he looked at her with confusion.

"That's a pretty strong drink ma'am, it's got three onces of vodka."

"Just give me the goddamn drink, I'm paying you, remember?.

She said in a sassy tone before the cahsier turned around to make the drink. He placed the glass of liquor in front of her. It was orange with a hint of red in it. She smiled at him before picking the glass up with her fingers that were decorated with expensive rings that past lovers had brought her. She gulped a good amount of it down with no hesitation and still made it look lady like. A few men around her clapped and whistled as they saw her drink it with such ease. She laughed as she crossed her long legs.

Once she finished her drink, she stood up and walked towards the dance floor. She looked through the crowd as she pushed and shoved other women that were in her way. She bumped into a large figure. The smell of expensive cologne invaded her nostrils. She looked up to find Elvis staring down at her with a smirk of his face.

"I've been looking all over for you."

He said as he held her hand.

"You have?"

She asked.

"Who wouldn't? You're by far the prettiest girl in this building."

He whispered into her ear. A smirk rose over her face as her ego grew. She already knew that she was the prettiest, but listening to Elvis say it made her feel a type of way. She looked into his eyes as he looked at hers.

They chatted and flirted. They sat in a corner together, out of sight. She was all over him. Her hand caressed his exposed chest as she sat on his thighs. He played with her blonde hair as his other hand held his drink. He was lost in her beauty. Her alluring eyes looked deeply into his. She was like a magnet to him. She moved closer to him until her lips landed on his. Elvis's free hand moved down her back and onto her hips. Their tongues danced toughether. Elvis's hands gripped her thigh tightly, which sent shock waves through her body. She needed him desperately.

Without warning, Elvis picked her up as she wrapped her legs around his hips. He brought her into a room. It was a bedroom. He placed her onto the master bed. Her long hair spralled out over the red satin covers. Elvis hovered on top of her perfect body. He placed kissed over her neck and collar bone. A cascading smile formed on her ruby-red lips that were smudged with lipstick. He reached his hands down to the bottom of her dress and hiked it up to her hips. He aggressively pulled down her black thong and threw it on the red carpet. The cold air rushed to her cleavidge. He quickly unbuckeld his belt and his trousers until his hard was exposed. Suddenly, he began to thrust into her like she was his object of affection. His toy. But she was living every bit of it. Loud moans escaped her mouth as the Vegas city lights reflected off Elvis's sweaty face. His hair bounced up and down. She pulled his head down into her face. She kissed him like there was no tomorrow.

They sat in the bed cuddling. She was glued onto him like he was a teddy bear. His hands stroked her long hair as her eyes fluttered shut.

She woke up to the morning sunrays on her face. Her blonde, messy hair spralled out on the pillow as the covers ruffled over her body. His southern drawl opened her eyes.

"Mornin' baby."

He said as he stared at her pretty face. She smiled at him before getting up and hugging his bare chest. She looked up into his eyes as the light shot diamonds from them. He smiled down at her before he pulled away.

"Your things are already packed. When you've done waking up and dressing, Jerry will take you home."

He said as he looked down at her. Her face dropped as her heart shattered like fragile glass.

"W-what?"

"Oh, I said tha-"

"I know what you said stupid! I just want to know why?

She said with a bitchy tone.

"Why what?"

Elvis asked as his brows furrowed.

"Why you are sending a pretty girl like ME home?!"

She snapped.

"Oh, it was just a one night stand darli-"

He stopped his sentence when he noticed the flood of tears escaping her puppy eyes. He pulled her into a hug.

"Whoa, I didn't mean it like that, honey."

He said as he patted her head with his big hand.

"You can't just invite a girl like me to your bedroom and not ask her on a date."

Elvis giggled slightly as he pulled away.

"No ma'am, I have work."

He said as he trailed off to his closet. Anger and fury filled her heart as she grunted. She quickly grabbed her suitcase.

"We will see about that."

She whispered to herself as she aggressively walked out of the door and slammed it shut. She didn't even bother to get dressed. She was still in her pidgamas. Elvis just shook his head as he continued to get dressed.

Her house

She stood in front of her tall mirror that was studded with diamonds and decorated with pictures of herself. Just her. She smiled menacingly as her hands traced along her body, which was gift wrapped in a baby blue tight dress that ended at her sun-kissed thighs. It was bordered with glittery white diamonds that shimmered like pixy dust. It hugged her perfect figure like it was bound to be hers. It looked as if stars played in her luscious blonde curls that draped over her shoulders and back. A baby blue ribbon sat in her hair. Her foxy eyeliner accessorised her alluring look. Her cherry red lips, her diamond blue eyes, her button nose, everything was so perfect. She slipped on her white high heels smoothly before blowing a kiss at her pretty reflection. She walked out of her house door and onto the street. The afternoon sun shot golden rays at her ethereal face. She crossed her slim legs and her arms as she waited. Soon a taxi pulled up in front of her. She disappeared into the vehicle.

Soon, she arrived at Elvis's show. Just because Elvis turned her down wasn't going to stop her from getting what she wanted. She ran straight to the only free front row seat and eagerly waited for her man to be illuminated by the white stage lights. She was pulled out of her lustfull haze when the crowd roared as he walked on stage. Girls ran straight to the edge of the stage and screamed his name. Elvis bent down to kiss each and every one of them. She felt a sudden heat rise in her as her breath quickened. Her brows furrowed, and her fist bawled. She swallowed down her salty tears. How could he kiss more girls when he has kissed Aria? She quickly stood up. She raced towards the front of the stage, pushing past the girls, even nocking some over.

"Watch where you're going bitch!"

A female voice shouted behind her. She stopped in her tracks. All she could hear was white noise. She slowly turned around to look at the female who had said it. Of course, it was a grown woman.

"Who the fuck do you think you are talking to?! At your big age!"

Aria shouted as she pointed her finger in the woman's direction. The woman was quick to speak.

"Watch your goddamn mouth. You child!"

Aria's eyes widened at her comment. She instantly snapped back like venom.

"I know you're not talking with your wrinkles. Ya old hag. Oh, and I recommend that you try a weightloss programme. Mabey, then you would get a ring on that fat ass finger!!"

The woman was too stunned to speak. She looked as if her world was crushed by Aria's bitter words. Aria just fake smiled and flicked her hair before making her way to the front of the stage.

She barged past many other girls before her hands landed on the cold, shiny stage. She waited until Elvis looked at her. A smile cascaded upon her smug face as she waved at him. He smiled awkwardly before carrying on with his jaw-dropping performance. Aria needed him and she needed him urgently.

She ran backstage, ignoring the multiple people that shouted for her to get out. She walked around until she saw glimpse of bright stage lights shining through a door. She carefully walked towards it. Her highheels that clicked on the hard floor were gradually silenced as the sound of the crowd screaming like animals invaded her ears. She poked her head into the opening that the lights were coming from. A large conniving grin rose upon her face. She saw Elvis performing on stage, it was a side veiw as she was backstage. His jawline was so strong and his side profile was so sexy. She could just stand and look at him all night if she could. In her vision, pink and red love hearts floated around Elvis like orbs as romantic flowers surrounded him like a field of romance. Her delusional imagination was cut short when she heard a lot of footsteps quickly growing closer to her.

"Where is that goddamn girl!?"

A male voice shouted. She whipped her head around to see a glimpse of men running in her direction. She instantly kicked off her heels and ran like she never ran before, full speed on the stage. She ran into the white noise. The stage lights blinded her as the crowd deafened her. This didn't stop her. She ran up to Elvis and jumped on him like an animal. Elvis's arms wrapped around her to make sure that she wouldn't fall. She placed a million kisses on his face as he was still processing everything. Aria felt a few pairs of hands wrap around her small body as they pryed her from Elvis with ease. She kicked and shouted for them to let her go. She was crazy. They dragged her backstage, and before she knew it, she was dumped onto the cold street, her heels thrown next to her. She sat on the damp street as she looked at the entrance door that she was previously pushed out of. Her teeth grinded, and her fists clenched. She grunted and grabbed her heels before getting up and storming off like the spoilt bratt she was. This was the first time that she didn't get her way. Her world was crushed into a pink powder.