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harryspet · 5 months

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bambi eyes (1) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: My first Rafe fic :)

word count: 4.4k

In which Rafe finds a "healthy" outlet for dealing with his daddy issues.

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Rafe finally felt he deserved to be back at Tannyhill. The house had remained empty over the last five years, Sarah wanted little to do with her real family anymore, Rafe made the tough decision to send Wheezie to a boarding school in Georgia and now she was starting college there. Rafe had cleaned up his act and gotten clean, mostly clean, and managed to save Cameron Development from complete ruin.

As soon as the police were off his tail, and he’d brought back some legitimacy to the Cameron name, he could develop the true relationships he needed to become unstoppable. It started with Barry, then gangsters from the mainland, and then Rafe's gained connections with the cartels. He then rebuilt the empire the Camerons once had in the Bahamas and now he owned ten times the amount of properties they used to own there.

He could achieve everything Ward never could have. He could be better a man than his father ever could.

After half a year in Nassau, Rafe was finally back in Kildare, and he had plans to make Tannyhill the ultimate fortress. He had finally acquired the last missing piece of his American dream – you. He eyed you in his rearview mirror, passed out in the backseat of his truck, before parking in front of the huge, white house.

There were already white moving trucks parked nearby, men in black clothing unloading new furniture he’d purchased and “merchandise” he’d acquired from the Caribbean Don he’d been working with. That Don is who he purchased you from, picking you out in a lineup of twenty girls.

The Don clapped his hands together before he said, “Just tell me which ones you would like to have a closer look at. I’ll have them stand and turn for you. If you have something in mind — perhaps a certain skin tone, curviness, hair color, I can make a suggestion.”

Rafe responded that he didn’t have a preference and that he would know you were the one when he saw you.

Looking through one-way glass, Rafe noticed aspects of each girl, including the tiredness behind their eyes and the elegance at which each of them moved their bodies. The Don had each girl stand and spin for him. There was not a single falter or misplaced step until Rafe saw you. When it was time for you to spin, you almost tripped over your own foot. You fixed yourself quickly and fixed your gaze forward however, Rafe noticed your eyes began to wander. It felt like you were looking right at him. Like you could see him.

“One of my favorites,” He said in thick Creole, “She’s quite an angel if you’re looking for someone who’s a little tamer. Good hips, natural hair, the breasts and ass are real too. I’m sure you’ll notice. For you, since you’re a friend, fifteen thousand for the whole night.”

The Don wanted Rafe to become a new investor in his trade and possibly bring girls to Kildare in order to expand his clientele. He wanted to impress Rafe, and let him have a night with one of his well-trained girls, although Rafe was looking to make a final purchase.

He hadn’t had a real conversation with you yet, he was in such a hurry to get back to the States that he had to keep you drugged for the time being. It would be better this way, he convinced himself, since he would be able to have the house ready before you came to. He got out the truck before opening the back door. Although you stirred slightly in your sleep, Rafe knew he wouldn’t wake you as he pulled you across the seat and wrapped you in his arms. Bridal style, he carried you up the patio and through the front doors.

An elaborate security system now kept track of everyone coming and going from the house. He had so much more than his father ever would have, but that also meant he had so much more to lose. He was a different man than the last time he was here. Much more mature. He used to throw meaningless parties so he could appear well-known, favorited by all, and hook up with girls who only cared about getting free drugs from him. This time things would be different.

“Hey, hey, careful with that!” Rafe barked at one of the men carrying a white tea table that he’d spent thousands on. He was attempting and failing to carry it and the two matching chairs that it came with. Rafe should’ve known what quality movers he was getting when he let Barry put his men on the job, “You think I’m paying you to break my shit?”

Rafe carried you up the winding stairs of his childhood home, imagining you feeling like this place was yours, just as much as he did. He thought he’d feel slightly more melancholy, looking at the familiar yellow walls, the elegant chandeliers, and period furnishings. Instead, he felt a weight lifted off of him. Your bedroom was one of the old guest rooms, only a few doors down from the master, and unlocked with his fingerprint.

The large room was freshly painted white, a twin-sized canopy bed was placed on the farthest wall, and Rafe placed you on top of the cloud-like comforter. You were still wearing one of his button-ups and a pair of his briefs that fit you more like shorts, Rafe not having had the time to dress you in the way he actually wanted to.

“Put it over in that corner, carefully,” He spoke to the mover carrying the table, although his eyes were focused on you.

“Mr. Cameron-”

“You’re dismissed. Tell Barry I’m expecting him tonight at nine.”

As the man turned to leave, Rafe quickly followed to shut the door behind him. He took another glance around the room, deciding that the table set was the perfect edition. He could bring you your breakfast there in the morning and, who knows, maybe you’d come to like the expensive tea set he also bought you.

Rafe spent a good amount of time just watching you sleep and obsessively thinking about what might he say to you when you awoke. His anxious thoughts didn’t go away when he stopped doing drugs, they worsened in fact, but you were his new medium to focus on. You were healthy for him.

He spent all the time he had between his meeting with Barry, caring for you, “Daddy’s going to take care of you,” He brought you to the bathtub and gently scrubbed you clean, shaving all the areas he preferred to be hairless, even taking the time to braid your hair so that it was out of your face. He quite liked you like this, like his very own doll, someone he could mold into a perfect Kook princess. Women in the real world often perplexed him, especially women like Sarah, who took the luxuries they were provided for granted.

You’d appreciate everything that Rafe could offer you, he knew that, and you’d be obedient as well. He brought you back to the main room once you were dried, and clean and your skin was moisturized and scented with vanilla. He laid you on the soft carpet in front of your bed and dressed you in a white nightgown and then took his time rolling white knee socks up your leg.

He could take his time, pacing himself, as he ran his fingers over every inch of you. He’d been rock hard ever since he undressed you originally, and he debated whether to take a quick sample of you.

You have plenty of time, Rafe, he reminded himself.

His phone vibrated a short while later after he tucked you back into bed, and he clicked the notification. Video of the driveway appeared on the screen, and Rafe saw Barry climbing from his car, “Daddy will be back very soon,” He spoke although you couldn’t hear, placed a kiss on your forehead although you couldn’t feel it, and shut the door quietly although you wouldn’t wake.

As soon as Rafe opened the front door, Barry was already shouting, “Country Club! How you been, man?” Rafe’s hand was already out to shake his. Truthfully, and sadly, Rafe would consider Barry his oldest friend. “You happy about all the money I’ve been making you?”

“Thrilled,” Rafe spoke sarcastically, leading Barry to his father’s old office. He thought back to the days when he had to creep through this room and steal because Ward didn’t trust him. Now, it was all his, “Speaking of …”

Swiftly, Barry pulled a roll of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and dropped it in Rafe’s hand. Leaning against the oak desk, Rafe began to count, “That’s what I got for the boats. Those cars are going to take a little bit longer to sell.”

“And why’s that?”

“Those cars are classics, man, so I have a little bit of a bidding war going on,” Barry explained.

“I said I wanted them moved quickly,” Rafe sighed. He needed to get rid of as many of his father’s old things as possible if he wanted this place to be really his.

“I’ll get you everything by the end of the week,” Rafe nodded, continuing to flip through the bills, although normally this would be about the time he’d throw a tantrum, “So … heard you got yourself a beautiful girl-”

“Your guys run their mouths.”

“But it’s true?” Barry flashed his gold tooth, “You whipped, Country Club?”

Rafe opened the safe behind the tall bookcases, punched in the code, and safely tucked away the twenty-thousand dollars.

“Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near her anyways.”

Barry scoffs, “That breaks my heart, Rafe. I’m tired of these Pogue girls and the mainland chicks are even worse. In the old days, we used to share. You won’t help a brother out?”

Rafe smirked, “Like you said, that was the old days.”

You felt weighed down by whatever you were lying underneath, your eyelids were so heavy it took you a full minute to blink them open. You moved each limb slowly, trying to get blood flowing through them again. You saw sunlight reflecting off porcelain walls and felt creamy soft blankets enveloping you. You should feel comforted.

Pushing away the blankets holding you down, you pulled yourself up, strong enough to get onto your hands and knees. You stepped off the platform, off the bed, touching your toes against soft carpet but quickly your legs gave out. You whined as your knees hit the ground, surely bruising your skin, and let yourself fall back on your bottom.

Something fell down with you and turning your head slightly you found a teddy bear. You grabbed it by its arm, examining its chestnut fur and the pink bow tied around its neck. What? That was the question forming in your mind. You looked back at the bed you’d fallen out of and your eyes darted around the room. Three doors, a wall with big windows and long curtains, a table with chairs, a toy chest, a tall armoire, and a bookcase. This room did not belong to you, even in your wildest dreams, you’d never been somewhere so nice.

You noticed details in the wallpaper; small pink flowers decorated each wall, and white trim lined all the edges. All the furniture was white as well with elegant designs, and your original thought was that you must be in a castle.

You attempted to stand again and managed to get straight up on your wobbling legs until there was a small click, and the door began to open. You quickly stumbled back before you were sitting back on top of the mattress.

“You’ll go with Mr. Cameron now. To America,” Master said, “And you’ll remember your manners, won’t ya? Don’t want to end up like your friend.”

Mr. Cameron stood in front of you now. You remembered him being tall, but you didn’t remember feeling so small in front of him. With hands holding a tray in front of him, his mouth parted as his blue eyes raked over your figure.

You gripped the comforter tightly as he stepped closer, “You’ll have to take it easy,” He said first, walking over to that small table and placing the tray down, “Let me help you.”

When he came towards you, he held out both of his hands. You felt like you usually did, terrified, but there was always a voice in the back of your head telling you to obey. There would be worse pain than a bruised knee if you didn’t do as Mr. Cameron said. You grabbed ahold of his hands, allowing him to help you up before his hands moved to your hips as he steadied you.

“How do you feel?” He asked, a genuineness in his tone that you weren’t expecting.

Your lips parted and you realized you hadn’t spoken in so long. You also hadn’t had anyone ask you that question in a long, long time, “I’m … okay,” You spoke quietly as he searched your face. He was staring so intently that you grew insecure, turning your eyes away.

“I brought breakfast,” He began to guide you over to the table. You took slow steps, one in front of the other, holding onto him tightly when you felt you might fall. He set you gently down in the chair before taking the seat opposite you. You could see out the windows from this seat, your eyes finding a long dock and the ocean. When he cleared his throat, your eyes snapped back to his, “I’m not much of a cook but there’s a lady who works for me …she makes great pancakes, french toast, anything you could want really.”

You stared down at scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and a pancake with a chocolate chip smiley face and a whipped cream nose. He started to pour you a glass of water, pushing it towards you, “Drink something,” He said, “You’ve been sleeping for a long time.”

You were really thirsty, you realized, and you took the glass he poured for you. When he didn’t pour himself one, a question rose in your mind, “Will this … make me sleep again?”

He immediately shook his head, “No, no. Drink, please.”

You were thankful, welcoming the nourishment. As you devoured the glass of water, he began to cut up the pancake into small pieces. You watched his concentrated face as he meticulously poured the syrup. Your mind didn’t stay on his interesting behavior because you were focused on eating next.

“My name is Rafe,” He said, “But you’ll call me Daddy.”

You paused, your mouth full of pancakes, “Okay? Nod yes if you understand,” He added.

You nodded your head, starting to chew again, and a smile seemed to pull at his lips. That’s what he must like all his girls to call him. “Good, that’s rule number one …This is your room, from now on. I’ll show you around the house after you settle in more. For now, you need permission to leave this room. Yeah?”

Again, you nodded, before swallowing your food. Rafe reached across the table with a napkin, wiping syrup from your chin, “I’m sorry,” You said, feeling embarrassed.

“No need to apologize,” He assured you, “From now on, I’m going to take care of you.”

Take care of you. You weren’t positive about what he meant.

Your hands moved to your lap, “Can I ask … how many girls you take care of?”

His head tilted, and he seemed amused, “Just you, sweet girl.”

“This whole room is just for me?”

“Yes, and this whole house will be just for us,” He answers, “Here, that reminds me. I was going to wait until dinner but . . . I can’t wait.”

You watched as he reached into the pocket of his khaki pants, pulling out a silver necklace with a beautiful, pearl pendant. Still, you found yourself struggling to wrap your head around what was going on. Rafe stood, coming closer in order to put the necklace around your neck. You heard a small click before Rafe pulled his fingers away. Your fingers reach up to feel the pearl, “You’ll always keep this on. Okay?”

You nodded.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll always keep it on … Daddy,” You remembered to add. Something lit up in his eyes, and he took your chin in his hand and tilted it up further.

“Smart girl, Bambi,” He stated, “That’s what I’ll call you.”

You nodded, although you weren’t sure why he picked it for you. It was better than “whore” or “slut” which seemed to be Master’s favorites. Bambi sounded … cute, which certainly wasn’t a way you would describe yourself, “Daddy … why …all of this, uhm, for me?”

“You’ll have everything I want you to have. And Daddy wants the best for you, understand?”

“Y-Yes, uhm … thank you.”

“C’mere, let me give you a tour of the room” He gripped underneath your arms, helping you stand. The human closeness, his warmness, wasn’t something you were expecting. You couldn’t fully let your guard down though, you were still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“It’s good to have, uh, a routine,” Rafe explained, before showing you every item in the room. He clearly had been involved in picking everything out which you didn’t expect, “You’ll wake up by eight, make your bed every morning. . . your dirty laundry will go here and all your clothes are in here, if I have something specific picked out for you to wear, I’ll hang it here, you won’t wear any panties when you’re dressing for bed …and here’s the bathroom,” When you saw yourself in the mirror for the first time, your eyes widened in disbelief. Your hair was neatly braided, white bows wrapped at the end of each braid, and the nightgown made you look like . . . a doll. In the mirror, you could see Rafe lean his mouth down to your ear, “Do you like what you see?”

“I look …I think I look pretty, Daddy.”

“You do, sweet girl; that’s why I chose you.”

This was right. Rafe couldn’t have made a better decision choosing you. He had more rules to introduce you to but didn’t want to overwhelm you. He left you to brush your teeth while he took your tray of food back to the kitchen. When he returned, he found you peeking inside the toy chest, letting the top shut a little too loudly after he seemed to frighten you, ‘It’s okay, all these things are for you. I wasn’t exactly sure what you might like.”

He kneeled down with you as you took a look inside. There were quite a lot of stuffed animals, some puzzles, coloring sets, and some dolls. “My, uh, my sister Sarah, she used to love American Girl dolls. Have you ever heard of those?” You shook your head, picking up one that was dressed like an 80’s aerobic instructor, “They have all types of dolls. I should order you one that looks more like you.”

Rafe noticed you perk up at that. “One that looks like me?”

Your reaction made him chuckle, “Yeah, why not? If you want anything at all, you can just ask me,” Rafe could tell you didn’t believe him, although you still nodded in agreement, “I know you can’t be entertained forever by these things, but it’s better for your brain than watching TV all day. And we can watch movies together.”

“That would be nice-” Rafe leaned in to kiss you, his intrusive thought winning after staring at your lips. Rafe was surprised by how gentle it was and how gentle he still wanted to be with you. You were reacting so well to everything, he didn’t want to take the chance of ruining this. When he pulled away, you immediately started to lift your nightgown, attempting to expose yourself to him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Rafe gently grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your dress.

“I thought you wanted me …”

“ I do, I definitely do,” Rafe laughed awkwardly, “Let’s wait a little while longer. I want to undress you myself.”

You nodded eagerly, “But I … I could use my mouth?”

Rafe couldn’t believe someone could sound so innocent even while they were offering to give a blowjob, “Not before I taste you first, sweet girl.” Sexually, Rafe liked to be in complete control. He’d decide when they were ready, what positions, and who tasted who. His mind was starting to wander a little too far. He needed to remain composed for the time being, “For now, I want you to play. I need to work for a few hours, but I will bring you lunch, and we’ll eat together, okay?”

“Okay…thank you, Daddy,” You agreed, and Rafe happily placed a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re welcome, Bambi.”

Rafe tried to concentrate on work, he had a million things to arrange now that he was back in Figure 8, but his eyes would wander to the live footage on his computer screen from Bambi’s bedroom. She spent a while going through the toys he bought for her, and then she neatly made up the bed, before deciding on the American Girl dolls. Next thing Rafe knew, he was in virtual meeting with his Cameron Development team but was actively scrolling through the American Girl doll website in another tab.

Like he promised, Rafe took a break in the middle of the day to each lunch with you. Lana, Tannyhill’s newest household manager, prepared grilled sandwiches. Rafe joined you by the window seat where you had made yourself comfortable with two of the dolls and your teddy bear. You asked about Figure 8, of course, and Rafe gladly gave you the basics.

That night, after dinner was enjoyed, Rafe laid beside you in bed. You chose a book to read together, a chapter book called Bridge to Terebithia, “I have to admit, I’m not much of a reader. But this should be easy enough, right?”

“When you were little, did you always have …this?” You asked, a few pages of reading later, “Books and clothes and seats by the window.”

“I guess I did, yeah,” Rafe answered, “It was not all rainbows and sunshine, though.”

“Your father, was he like Master?”

“Yeah, basically. He was not a good man,” Rafe closed the book, turning his eyes to you “And he’s not your Master anymore, okay? It’s me and you now. Just me and you.”

You tilted your head, nuzzling more into the pillow, “If I’m bad, you won’t send me back?”

“No, not ever,” Rafe said steadfastly.

“You’ll punish me?”

Your words made him pause, and he could sense your worry, “I’m not going to hurt you, not in any real way,” Rafe’s hands found your waist, he gripped the bare skin beneath your nightgown, before his fingers roamed over your bottom, “You know how to be a good girl, right?”

You nodded, staring back, “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Rafe kissed you again, this time deeply and with the purpose of fully tasting you. He squeezed your bottom tight, pulling your front further against him so he could buck his hips against you. The book fell unread and to the wayside as Rafe roamed his hands over you.

He should wait, he told himself. It was only your first day here, but you were all that he had been waiting for. The idea that he could have you anytime, anywhere, and anyway he wanted you excited him more. A moan escaped you, and Rafe knew you were overwhelmed with the sensations, but he liked the idea of you feeling too much. He wanted fear in your eyes, fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him, and then he wanted you to fully surrender to him.

Rafe buried his face in your neck, kissing and sucking until you cried out. Rafe knew you were a good girl because you had obediently gotten into bed for the night without your panties. He wrapped a strong arm around your back, easily flipping you onto your back. Rafe pulled away, breathing heavily, as he looked down at you.

“You okay, sweet girl?” Rafe asked, noticing your eyes were still closed. As you nodded, Rafe said, “Open your eyes for me.”

Rafe parted your legs further, reaching down to feel between your lips. Gently, he stroked up and down, feeling wetness at your entrance, “Tell Daddy how you like it.”

“I . . .” As he dipped a finger inside, your eyes shut again, squeezing tightly. This was a look of pleasure, Rafe noted, “Daddy-ah!”

“I think you want it gentle, hmm,” His index finger moved in and out slowly as his thumb caressed your clit, “I can be gentle, don’t worry.”

Rafe moved painfully slow, watching how every movement of his would change your facial expression. Once you were squeezing around his fingers and soaking the sheets, Rafe pulled down his sweatpants. He pressed his length against your entrance, watching your face as he pushed inside. You took a breath of air, your mouth forming an “o” shape as he slowly eased his way in and out.

He pressed his body closer to you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his back, and he tucked his head beside yours, his breath caressing your ear. He was gentle like he said, but he had to test your limits and see how deep he could go. Your whimpers told him what he needed to know and he felt your nails begin to dig into his back.

“Daddy, d-daddy, daddy,” You moaned his name, sounding a bit delirious as you repeated it over and over.

Rafe rocked harder against you, “Tell me. Say thank you for saving me Daddy.”

“Thank you–” Your voice came out barely above a whisper but Rafe could hear your small voice in his ear, “Thank you for saving me, Daddy.” Your hips writhing beneath him, needing more of him, was the final thing that sent Rafe flying towards the edge of the cliff.

He wanted to focus, to make himself last longer, but he needed you in that moment. His thrusts became shorter, and he sank deeper inside of you as he reached his peak, “Jesus,” Rafe gasped as you squeezed him tightly, your warmness pulsed around him, “Fuck.”

He resisted his desire to stay inside of you forever, pulling out and slumping beside you. Rafe’s eyes were wide, and he found himself staring at the ceiling for a moment to process what happened.

“Was that . . . good?” Your voice brought him back down to reality.

“Perfect, sweet girl,” Rafe took you in his arms, and you cuddled into his chest. Again, he whispered, “Jesus.”

Please let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! Reblog with a comment to be added to my taglist!

Part 2

#dark fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #outer banks #dark!rafe cameron #black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #obx fic #outer banks smut #barry outer banks #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction

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jewish-sideblog · 3 months

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I feel like people have such a limited view of the Shoah as something that killed religious Jews living in Eastern Europe. Certainly, that’s the majority of Jewish deaths from a raw numbers perspective. But that narrow view erases so much suffering.

Imperial Japan was allied to the Nazis, so Jews in East Asia and the Pacific forced to flee or die as Japan expanded their empire. Fascist Spain was sympathetic to the Nazi cause, and it’s not like the Sephardic Jews could easily flee into France after 1940. The Axis powers had colonized Algeria, Iraq, Libya, Morocco, and Tunisia at that point, so North African Mizrahi Jews weren’t spared the horrors. While the US government didn’t directly kill Jews, they denied us refugee status during the Shoah, and they did nothing to prevent the spread of multiple US American fascist parties and white suprematist groups. The Vatican, unofficially allied with Fascist Italy, handed over the names and locations of Jews they had converted to Catholicism decades or centuries prior. Families who didn’t even know they were ethnically Jewish were dragged out of Catholic Churches during Mass and sent to slaughterhouses hundreds of miles away. There were precious few diasporic communities throughout the world where Jews were safe in the 30s and 40s.

The Holocaust spanned entire continents. The Holocaust was global.

Edit 04/02/24: This post wasn’t written about Israel, and you shouldn’t make it about Israel. In either direction. The Shoah should not serve as a justification for the unnecessary abuses of the Palestinian people by the Likud government. Simultaneously, the Shoah was not a “lesson” to be learned by Jews, you cannot make a reasonable comparison between the Shoah and Gaza. This post is not about Israel and Palestine. Do not make it about Israel and Palestine. The deaths of our ancestors are not a tool with which you can make your argument.

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u3pxx · 1 month

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KIM KITSURAGI - “Is that. My kineema.”

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - Something in him is about to break, *big time*.

EMPATHY - And it’s not going to be pretty, do something!

- DRAMA [Formidable] - Everything is fine!

- “Sure is.”

DRAMA [Formidable: Failure] - Surely he’s aware that he’s not the *only* person in the world who owns a Kineema?

YOU - “Is it really *yours*? I mean, plenty of people have their own Kineemas, right? Like working men, government offices, uh, firefighters I guess, maybe even animal control people? Exactly! A million different people who could’ve driven it into the uh…”

DRAMA - Pause, my liege! Ixnay on the Ineemakay!

YOU - “It could even be our *mysterious* joyrider!”

KIM KITSURAGI - Your frenzied babbling falls deaf to the lieutenant's ears. Instead, he approaches the broken vehicle, sunken in the ice. He moves with a caution and gentleness you haven’t seen him display before.

INLAND EMPIRE - It must be cold and lonely down there, in the icy water. Maybe he could sense its sorrow, calling to him…

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] - His hands, which are always stiffly placed behind his back, are trembling.

ENDURANCE - This is the shuffle of a tired, tired man.

HALF LIGHT - He’s going to do something drastic because of you. Oh god, terrible! You’re a terrible liar! You can’t look at this, you just can’t!

VOLITION [Formidable: Success] - It's not *you* who drove his kineema into the sea. You have plenty of faults, but this one is decidedly not yours.

KIM KITSURAGI - He kneels down with his head bowed, casting his face in shadow. He plants a hand on the ice to stabilize himself, squinting to get a better view of the motor carriage. “Detective, it says ‘57’ on it.”

YOU - Sweat drips down your brow, and you feel a terrible headache coming. “Maybe our joyrider has an affinity for that number?”

LOGIC - He's not stupid, he knows that it's not that.

KIM KITSURAGI - “57.”

YOU - “What about 57?”, you brace yourself.

KIM KITSURAGI - “Precinct 57.”

YOU - You wince. “Kim, look-”

KIM KITSURAGI - “When I woke up in the Whirling-in-Rags with no memory of what happened during the days before, I've taken note that something of mine has gone missing.” He grits his teeth. "A very. Important. Something."

He runs his hands over his face, messing his already unkempt hair in the process. Regret creeps up on his features. “God. Fuck. They’re going to fire me over this, they’re not going to hear me out.”

EMPATHY - Desperation settles in the lieutenant's tone. Sadly, you find yourself in agreement, even if you don’t want it to be the truth.

YOU - “People are more valuable than machines, Kim.”

KIM KITSURAGI - “Not people like me.” He rasps.

YOU - “…”

KIM KITSURAGI - Before you can say anything more, you fail to notice the lieutenant carefully walking onto the edge of the ice. He looks over the frigid water, a dizzying blue that mirrors and distorts his exhausted face back to him.

YOU - “Kim?”

KIM KITSURAGI - Seconds pass as he looks to be contemplating something. Out of nowhere, he casually takes another step where the ice ends and the sea begins. It happens all too quick for the lieutenant to even voice a call for help— if he even wanted to — his body plunging into the cold water before your eyes.

YOU - “KIM!!!!”

uhhh bonus stuff? sorry i have swap au brainworms pfttt

(im not sure what skills kim has at the moment so rn he only has narration as his inner monologue ok whoops, i would like to keep harry as the guy who thinks in dialogue trees so im still figuring it out pfttt)

also, this was done bc i wanted to expand on these old scribbles of mine, just like an idea, i just think that he'd be having an even worse time wheezes

#disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #harry du bois #den's disco swap #disco elysium role swap #HI nobody look at the fact that. i am a novice writer at best DFGHJFGH #i had idea for some comic dialogue but it ended up being this instead whoops. i mean i could still draw this as a comic #anyways. i was like. trying to reverse engineer my idea of how kim can change into his bomber jacket instead of his uniform.#which. i dont think you can do with just simple convincing bc that thing is fused to him in spirit so there has to be like a good reason wh #oh it gets ruined! how? it gets like wet or smth! how'd that happened? he threw himself into the sea #also isnt it fitting that my memory problems is making me not remember the things that happen in disco elysium very well wheezes #so whoops if the characterization is a lil off lmaoooooo #but i have been trying to figure out how i want harry to be in this swap au #i dont think he's as well as he wants you to believe he is. and just the image of him pushing this 'youre allowed to be in denial about +#this' to kim about the kineema was so vivid in my head and idk if that tracks but hell. its in there now dfghdjfg #starry don't look #sunnysidedraws #sunnysidedisco

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the-90s-music-colosseum · 5 months

Text

Quarterfinals, Match 2

expand to see all propaganda received! (wall of text warning oh my god this is a severe cautionary message)

Lauryn Hill:

"she paved the way and was hot as fuck the whole time"

"Girl c'mon. Look at her. You're gonna try and tell me that isn't the most beautiful and attractive person alive? Okay. You're lying but okay."

"if u freaks don't give ms. lauryn hill the respect she deserves..."

"actually one of the prettiest women ever I'm such a lesbian for her. like irl I'm already a lesbian but she is helping"

Damon Albarn:

"Don’t think Damon should be here? Why don’t you get your head checked by a jumbo jet? Maybe you’ll feel heavy metal and calm down."

"If Damon is in the “some guy” category, he’s the heavenly and heartbreaking version. Damon is the sort of significant stranger I’d see on the train out of Colchester but could never speak to, just a face seen in passing yet too radiant to be real. I’d fall in love for an hour and carry the ache for a month."

"Damon sets the standard for me. I think he’s the most fascinating man alive. What I find attractive in Damon is not just his gorgeous bone structure and boyish charm, but how wholly he’s committed himself to music. Damon is an artist who walked the walk: in one of his roughest years with some of his rawest songwriting, he said he was no longer excited by anything except the creative process. He was disillusioned with the celebrity of it all, with his relationships suffering for it, and only wanted to make art: nothing more, nothing less. He would go on to compose film scores, write operas and stage musicals, produce other artists’ records, form collectives to fulfill his passion for world music, and create some of the most globally successful music of his career in a completely innovative format that placed him as the phantom behind the characters. Whenever one band takes a break, he makes a solo record or puts together a supergroup to stay busy. He’s uniquely collaborative and still writes personal letters inviting artists to record with him, and yet can function as a one-man show, acting as a multi-instrumentalist, a singer-songwriter and a producer. He’s been a constant voice of bringing British music to the world *and* bringing world music into Britain. Sure, he’s won Brit Awards and a Grammy among others, but he also has a Guinness World Record and was named an Officer of the British Empire for his services to music; his long work with Africa Express earned him respect even from peers who’d previously dismissed him, and his commitment to support his Malian collaborators in the face of violence earned him the title of Local King in Mali. There is so much talent in the world, but there is truly no one else with a career that looks like Damon Albarn’s. Damon is far more than just a prettyboy to look nice on a magazine cover, but looks are the ultimate point of this tournament, so make no mistake: he was terribly, terribly pretty. You watch him performing in the 90s, you sift through photoshoots and interviews and documentaries, and it feels *cruel* how beautiful he was. If his talent was god-given, so was his face. To put a bow on this thesis: I don’t know if Gorillaz and Damon’s musical universe would be the experimental, globe-trotting, boundary-pushing community affair it is if Blur hadn’t become such a central figure in Britpop and if Damon had not been made such a media spectacle, and I don’t know if Damon would have been that spectacle if he wasn’t so ungodly pretty. The domino effect is that Damon’s cherubic face launched a thousand multimedia art school projects for decades to come."

"I wish I was basically any bloke in the 90s so I could tongue Damon Albarn down. Damon will see a man and ask “is anyone gonna kiss that?” and not wait for a response."

"I have a pillow with his face on it. I sleep with it every night 😊"

"“I’m more homosexual than Brett Anderson, always have been. As far as bisexuality goes, I’ve had a taste of that particular fruit, or have been tasted you might say…” is just the rawest most Shakespearean statement ever"

"he is the ultimate Pretty Boy ™. his glorious golden locks, his electric blue eyes. he is if Princess Diana was a Britpop Dude. he is the Regina George of Britpop. he is if Aphrodite took male form. Zeus would come down to earth to fuck him if he knew. he is a caffeinated orange cat let loose. he is deranged. he is unhinged. you never know what will come out of his mouth. he had sexual tension with every single man who knew him. he pulled justine fucking frischmann. his aura knows no bounds. he is a siren. he is a weird guy. but being so gorgeous stunning ethereal didn't stop him from also being one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation"

"THE MAIN BLUR"

"literally where do i even begin. i could write entire essays on this man. a good place to start would be the beetlebum music video, i suppose. i'll never forget the first time i watched that music video. something in me changed, my brain chemistry was altered, my life was never the same, i view the world a lot differently now. and a lot of the viewing i'm doing is of pictures of damon albarn's face because of boy do i have a lot of those saved. every time i try to look for a photo of something on my phone i can't find it because there's so much damon. okay that's maybe an exaggeration but this man has the most unfathomable beauty ever. his eyes? HIS EYES. god dammit i love his eyes i want to stare at them until the end of time like nothing else exists. i'm so normal about this man (lying) and while i'm usually very shameless about my interests i'm actually incredibly glad this propaganda is anonymous because otherwise. yeah. but the world deserves to see damon albarn's beauty and also hear his fantastic voice because what the fuck. his voice is literally the most gorgeous sound ever produced like bro sounds like that and expects me not to fall in love? i want this man to sing his silly songs and talk absolute nonsense to me until the sun eventually blows out and the world ends. cmon damon girlies let's demolish this tournament i know there are a lot of you."

"He’s beautiful. He’s a little rat. He’s a sweetheart. He’s a dickhead. He’s a musical genius. He’s a dumb bitch. He’s a jock. He’s a weirdo. He’s real. He’s an illusion. He’s everything. He’s just Damon."

"DAMON DAMON DAMON where do I begin oh jeez I've hyperfixated on this man for a solid 4 years and still going strong. Damon makes me wish that British people are real. That says A LOT. This man created a whole ass ANIMATED BAND WITH A SHIT TON OF LORE as a SIDE HUSTLE??? Not to mention, what other man has collaborated with Stevie Nicks, MF DOOM, Del the Funky Homosapien, Snoop Dogg, AND Beck?! People, we're literally in the presence of a god. And he's STILL GOING. Anyways, TL;DR, damon is so so so neat and cool and he should definitely win this competition. Thank you."

"Okay 90s Damon is The Perfect Boy yes yes, but the people who parrot the Daily Mail and say "he's ugly now" will never understand. I would still suck every drop from him on his deathbed."

"Vote for whoever you want to. But Damon is so pretty."

"i did not spend hours admiring this beautiful man's face on pinterest just to see him lose."

"Damon Albarn just brings me joy. When I'm watching him perform, following along as the camera lingers on and adores his pretty face, I get butterflies like I'm 15 again. It's nice to still feel that totally unguarded giddiness sometimes."

"God let the intrusive thoughts win making Damon. What if he's a beautiful blond twink with eyes like saucers and dick to his knees, he reads Herman Hesse and plays footie and is insufferable about both, he'll be the most prolific musician of his generation and write operas and seminal albums in 5 different genres and also he's gonna be the dumbest bitch alive? He'll also be kinda bi, but only kinda. And send."

"when i found out about his existence, my life was changed forever. i wish i could use him like the hannah montana boot milk pillow and chuck him at the wall so he makes a loud thud"

"Think of the drama and anon fights it'll cause if Damon wins it all! And think of how quiet it'll get after Damon's out. You'll miss him when he's gone, like memories of a noisy house years after it's grown silent. Choose Damon, and keep the messy train chugging."

"Even the Gallagher brothers have the hots for him."

"Kiss kiss I love him also you can't vote for any of the Seattle men they're literally copy and paste it's not fair. We need Brit representation"

"I want to take care of him, I want to provide for him. I need to gauge his baby blue puppy dog orbs out to I can clean them with wood varnish, paint shades of Pantone 320 C in his eyes, spray eau de parfume by dior in them and sew it back into his eyes like that scene in Toy Story 2."

"Seeing as simply filling the page with ‘Damon’ written 10000000 times isn’t going to cut it 😅 may I admit/submit: I DO have him tattooed on my being (no descriptive, is this anon?); he’s inspired somewhat unhinged late night/early morning fandom conversations in which I’ve served as ‘parish’ priest hearing confessions from all manner of folk about what they’d like to do to him/receive from him; sadly I lost an essay where I detailed why the letters that make up his name suit him so well, and described him as the hot caramel sauce to Graham’s cool vanilla ice cream. He’s a faerie princess with a nose that makes people weep and a voice that feels like the warmest home and he gives amazing hugs. He loves trains and chickens and his tuxedo cat. He’s annoying and sweet and somewhat unhinged and his music saves people and all this is on top of that fantastic dick. He’s a dream yet very real and we’re fucking blessed to be on earth at the same time as him, amen"

"Damon Albarn was a beautiful, beautiful boy. The world saw that, regardless of if every individual reading this has the same taste in men; it felt like a truth of the universe at the time. They don't make celebrities that angelic in face and erratic in personality anymore."

"I need to touch his eyebrows, nose and prostate just one time JUST ONE TIME COME ON"

#most attractive 90s musician #poll #polls #lauryn hill #fugees #damon albarn #blur #90s music #tournament

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jaeyunverse · 6 days

Text

the fake dating pact

pairing(s): park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre(s): fluff, suggestive, fake dating, enemies to lovers, rich kid au, cruise au

wc: 1.6k

warning(s): profanity, making out, implications to sex (no smut)

inspired by: dil dhadakne do

summary: in which ridiculous circumstances lead to a fake dating contract pact being struck between park sunghoon and you.

note: i’m ngl i thought i’d reposted this fic but i’m not able to find it so here we go LOL the sunghoon brainrot’s been hitting real hard lately

masterlist

There was a slight chance Sunghoon and you had crossed the boundaries you’d set when you first drew up your fake dating contract.

Okay, agreement would be a more accurate word choice since the document wasn’t legally binding, but the two of you took its contents very seriously. Together, you’d come up with a few mutually acceptable ground rules:

no kissing unless absolutely necessary

non-sexual acts of intimacy are acceptable in order to maintain the facade

keep arguments to a minimum no matter how insufferable the other person is being

no bed-sharing under any circumstances

no falling for park sunghoon even though he is the epitome of sexiness

The last condition was total bullshit, but you didn’t have it in you to make him get rid of it. Your mom had already done an excellent job at pissing you off; the last thing you wanted to do was get into it with Sunghoon.

One may wonder what caused the two of you to make this pact. Simply put, both your families desperately wanted to set you up with people you had no interest in dating.

(Not that you wanted to seek a romantic relationship with Sunghoon either, but we’ll get into that later.)

Lee Saerom had organised a cruise across the Mediterranean Sea on the occasion of her parents’ 30th wedding anniversary. Normally, your family wouldn’t have come within 10 feet of the Park family, but you were both good friends of the Lees and neither of you wanted to give the other the satisfaction of avoiding the trip.

Now that all the powerful and influential families of Seoul were gathered in the same place for a celebration spanning over a few weeks, your parents thought it would be a good idea to find you an ideal suitor who would help their company expand.

Word spread that you were seeing Lee Heeseung, the younger son of the Lees and heir apparent to their empire. The rumour was entirely false, but you had to admit it was a genius move on your parents’ part. Not only did it become harder for Heeseung and you to deny the allegations, but it made the Lees consider a future with your family’s business.

As if you weren’t in a shitload of mess already, the entire thing had somehow turned into a competition with the Parks beginning their own efforts to set Sunghoon up with Ning Yizhou.

The minor problem was that Heeseung and Yizhou were in love with each other, and neither of them had the courage to tell everyone the truth. They were both too afraid of disappointing their parents and bringing disgrace to their families.

You supposed it was a good thing Sunghoon and you had no such qualms. So, before things could escalate any further, the four of you got together and decided to put an end to this idiocy.

On the third night of the cruise, Sunghoon and you announced your relationship. Holding his hand and giving him lovey-dovey eyes felt ridiculous, but you would rather stomach fake dating him than see a wedge form between Heeseung and Yizhou.

Needless to say, everyone was shocked.

Yizhou even pretended to faint while Heeseung started sobbing hysterically. You couldn’t believe he actually pulled out a tear stick and applied it to the underside of his eyes when no one was looking. You wondered if he’d purchased it for this specific reason when you’d explored Turkey earlier that day.

Overall, it was a pretty convincing act.

The Lees and Nings were furious, but you weren’t particularly worried. In fact, you didn’t even care. Your parents had it coming their way the moment they dragged you into their scheming and plotting.

It took a few days for everyone to calm down and for the festivities to resume, but things pretty much went back to normal. Sunghoon and you both got tongue-lashings from your families, but they didn’t make you two break up.

Your reputations were already in the gutter; forcing you to end your relationship after all that had conspired would have been the cherry on top of your disaster of a cake.

The pre-decided course of action was to fake date Sunghoon till the cruise ended. Once you returned to your daily lives and enough time had passed, you would cook up a reason to break up.

It didn’t take long for your original plan to go to shit. As it turned out, spending a week pretending to love the bane of your existence had proved to be quite the opportunity to really get to know him.

Ever since you were a kid, you’d heard your parents say a lot of terrible things about the Parks. You’d been instructed to stay far away from Sunghoon. An impressionable and susceptible child such as yourself had obeyed every order they gave you.

You’d literally been hard-wired to despise and assume the worst of Sunghoon.

The wall of hatred you’d built between the two of you began coming down brick by brick once you learnt the kind of man he was. He was honourable and good and down-to-earth.

Of course, he was a dickhead to you for the same reason you were a bitch to him, but the asshole side of him was more endearing than annoying now.

His snarky replies no longer seemed to bite, and there was always an underlying film of adoration accompanying them.

Perhaps, he’d grown to care for you just as you had for him.

You certainly hoped that was the case, since regularly making out with someone who couldn’t be bothered with you wasn’t exactly your dream.

To this day, you had no idea how you’d ended up grabbing the collar of his shirt and crashing your mouth against his.

Maybe it was because he kept reminding you that you’d lost a bet to him and you wanted to shut him up, or maybe it was because he hadn’t bothered to button up his shirt and his abs were on full display, the ocean wind ruffling his messy hair.

Nonetheless, something seemed to snap in him when you made the move. He responded to your kiss immediately and pinned you against a wall. Thankfully, it was almost midnight and there was no one to witness your less than decent makeout session on the deck.

The next ten minutes consisted of his hands travelling under your loose shirt, fingers grazing the cold skin of your abdomen. Soon, your shirt was discarded, and your legs were wrapped around his waist.

Sunghoon hadn’t bothered stopping even when you ran out of breath. Instead, he’d taken the opportunity to leave bruises on your jaw and neck. The warm feeling of his tongue soothing the spots where he’d nipped at your skin with his teeth had caused you to experience a burning need for desire that went further than the second base.

The amount of reaction he’d gotten out of you was embarrassing. Never had you been unraveled by anyone so effortlessly. He had to muffle the whimpers that slipped past your lips as a result of his ministrations.

If it weren’t for the fact that you were making out in the open and were at the risk of being walked in on, things would have escalated. By the time you parted, Sunghoon’s lips were swollen, his face was flushed and he was breathing hard.

His eyes were hooded and dark, and he was gazing at you with an intensity that made you shiver.

Taking that as your cue to leave, you pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek, fetched your shirt from the ground and hurried away.

You didn’t even know why you thought things would go back to normal the next day.

One look at him, and your legs turned to jelly. You happily obliged when he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and whisked you away from everyone else.

Soon enough, you’d breached almost all the conditions in your fake dating pact.

You spent most of your nights together—be it hooking up, lying in the comfort of each other’s arms or just talking till slumber claimed you. Never in your life had you imagined being at ease around Sunghoon.

Everything else faded away when you were with him. He made you feel yourself. He made you feel whole.

“Hey,” you murmured while you were both swimming in the pool one night, the stars shining brightly in the sky. His eyes were closed and his neck was tilted up, the back of his head resting on the decking behind. “Can I ask you something?”

Sunghoon hummed and opened his eyes, turning his attention to you. “Yeah.”

“I know we have a plan,” you continued, doing your best to ignore the droplets clinging to his skin, “and I know that we’re supposed to stop pretending after this cruise ends tomorrow, but have you ever thought about making this—” you pointed at him, and then at yourself— “real.”

He laughed softly and shook his head in amusement. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m not joking—”

“Every single day,” he interrupted you. Wading his way through the water to close the distance between your bodies, he repeated, “I have thought about making you mine every goddamn day.”

He cupped your cheeks and rested his forehead against yours. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, Y/N,” he whispered.

Taking a shuddering breath, you closed your eyes and felt him press his lips to yours.

The kiss was slow and passionate, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. It expressed what couldn’t be said using words, and you realised just how much you’d grown to admire and care for this man.

It physically pained you to consider the possibility of a life without him.

“Sunghoon,” you mumbled against his mouth. “I would say I love you too but I don’t wanna breach the contract.”

He chuckled and ran his tongue along your bottom lip, even going as far as to suck on it. “I thought you broke the last rule days ago.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across your face. You opened your lids and shifted to get a better look at his expression.

Sunghoon’s eyes were shining with happiness, and you thought you could gaze into them forever. You thought you could witness the grin on his face and hear his honeyed laugh without ever getting tired. You thought you could stand ground against anything life threw at you if you had him by your side.

You knew you could love him and be loved by him for as long as your soul wandered through the worlds.

“I love you too.”

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prettyfastcars · 1 month

Text

hiding all of our sins | Mob!Lewis

Summary: Your father had a lot of enemies, and naturally after his death those enemies began pestering and threatening you. When your own home began to feel unsafe, you turned to Lewis for help. Lewis – your late father’s best friend and the only person in the world that you could trust. Lewis promises to take care of you, and reassures you that you’re safe with him. He seems like a perfect knight in shining armour, but he’s not exactly a saint… is he? Perhaps his chivalry masks an ulterior motive.

Themes: mob!lewis, smut, fluff, praise kink, slight angst, mentions of death and violence, age gap (reader is in her early twenties), explicit language

You always waited by the door for him.

Lewis had been gone for quite some days this time. Usually his work trips are short, but he’d been gone for more than a week. You tried not to think about how miserable you’d been without him here.

You sighed just thinking about how you spent your days all alone, with only the housekeeping staff around, in the big house. You weren’t complaining though, you were grateful for it. For everything Lewis gave you. The security, the warmth, a home where you weren’t paranoid all the time.

You were grateful for Lewis. Sometimes you wondered what would’ve happened to you if he hadn’t offered a helping hand when he did.

Lewis came into your life after your father’s passing. But your father always spoke of him. They were childhood best friends. They grew up together, and later on became powerful, rich, and Machiavellian rulers together as well. But Lewis moved away in order to expand his empire even more and never visited.

He and your father kept in touch though.

Your family was small, it was just you and your father. And he had kept you sheltered your entire life. So when time came to leave home and move for uni, it was hard on both of you. You’d never been out in the ‘normal’ world before, you were always homeschooled and your friends were always other homeschooled kids – whose parents were friends with your father. So your circle was small as well.

And your father worried too much about you not being safe at home anymore. And unfortunately, he seemed to have worried himself to death. Because barely a year into uni, you received a call from home telling you that your father had passed due to a sudden heart failure.

Your whole world came crumbling down then. You would’ve been buried beneath the rubbles as well had Lewis not offered you his helping hand at the right time.

At your father’s funeral, that was the first time you’d met Lewis in real life. All this time he’d only ever been a voice on the phone. But he was there for you now.

He was there for you all throughout the funeral, took care of the planning and everything. He stood with you and held your hand at the cemetery even after everyone was gone. Lewis was somehow always where you needed him to be. Right beside you.

After your dad, it was up to you to handle all the businesses and what not. And you weren’t well equipped to do that. Plus, some people – rivals – saw it as an opportunity to scare you, hoping you’d offer them everything, give it all up and run. Some chose to appoint you as their new target, in place of your father: sending you threatening notes which always found their way into your car, your home, by the pool, everywhere. They also began poaching your staff, employees, even some of your guards.

And your home didn’t feel safe anymore. You couldn’t sleep at night, hadn’t been able to for days because you were constantly worried about your safety. Every little sound, every little creak made you panic, made you think that someone was in your home and were about to hurt you.

That’s when you turned to Lewis.

And he was ever so kind to help. Within a day or two you had packed your whole life and moved in with Lewis, in his luxurious home.

At first you thought it’d be awkward living with him. After all, you had never met him your whole life. He was much older than you, wiser too. And he was always calm, always knew what to do and what to say. He intimidated you at first. But then you got past the cold exterior, and he quickly became the warmest presence in your life. Comforting. Safe.

And you wouldn’t lie, you had a silly crush on him. How could you not? He was handsome, and beyond charming. He had the most gentle voice, and the most addicting laughter. He had ink all over his smooth skin, and his hugs were soothing even though he had hard muscles all over. And he had the kind of smile that could make your knees weak.

You were lost in thoughts of him, so much that you didn’t even realise the front door was opening up to reveal the man himself stepping into the house.

“Lewis!” You squealed, running into his waiting, open arms.

He laughed as he caught you, wrapping his big arms around you and holding you so close like he’d never let go. You buried your face into the cool material of his suit and breathed in his signature scent. Dark and powerful.

“I’ve missed you too, princess.” He murmured against your skin as he kissed your forehead.

“You’ve been gone for too long this time.” You whined against his warm neck, feeling the cold pearls of his necklace brushing against your mouth. You gave them a soft kiss without him noticing. Something about him always made you behave like a spoiled little princess, always wanting more of his time and attention, always whining and complaining.

“I’m sorry,” He cupped your face so you’d look at him, “But I’m here now. Okay?”

You nodded quickly, then smiled at him like he was all that mattered in the world. “Come, let’s eat.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him further into his home, towards the dining room. “I asked the chef to let me make dinner tonight.”

“You did?” He let you drag him all the way to the dining room.

The pride in his voice made you bloom. “I did! All by myself.”

When he finally saw the dining table, he turned to face you with a gentle smirk. With his braids tied at the back like this, he looked younger than he was. “I love how extra you are, princess.”

You led him to his chair and said, “I’m not extra, I just like using the fancy stuff.”

He reached out and grabbed your wrist before you could turn around. Bringing your hand up to his soft mouth, kissing it and then he murmured, “Well, you laying the table with the fancy stuff is very much appreciated, princess.”

You smiled at him again before you took your seat. He sat at the head of the enormous table, and you to his right. He asked you about how your week without him went while he poured wine into two glasses. He listened to your whining and complaining with a soft smile on his pretty face while you both ate.

You asked him about his work and as usual, he gave you the briefest of details. When you pried some more he always told you that he would rather keep you as far away from that life as possible – like your father did.

And then, of course, the mention and memory of your late father always put a pout on your lips and a frown on your face. Lewis hated it. So he reached for your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I hate seeing you upset, princess.” He said, rubbing his thumb across your skin. Caressing it in a way that made you relax immediately.

You let out a sigh. “I just wish he would’ve taught me how this world works.” You said, your tone full of regret. “Maybe I could’ve handled things on my own after he was gone, instead of piling all my troubles on top of you.”

“Hey,” He said, rather sternly. “Look at me.” When you finally looked up from your plate, Lewis gave your hand another reassuring squeeze. “Your father wanted to keep you away from the dangers of this life. And I intend to keep you safe as well. As for handling things on his or your behalf, well it’s an honour.”

You smiled at Lewis. A softer smile. There were instances like this one where all you wanted to do was climb onto his lap, wrap your arms around him and never let him go. “Thank you, Lewis.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, princess.” He wanted to get rid of that sombre look on your face, so he suggested, “Now, how about we have a movie night?”

Your face lit up immediately. “Okay, I’ll go get changed and make us snacks.” You spoke as you got up.

Lewis got up as well, saying he’d meet you downstairs in the living room after a quick shower.

—

You rushed to your room and got changed into your most comfiest PJs, before almost running to the pantry in the kitchen to find the best snacks. You gathered your goods in the living room and waited for a few minutes, but Lewis didn’t come.

So you walked back up, down the corridor and all the way to his room. You knocked twice before entering, then heard the shower going. You almost turned around to leave but then you caught the scent of his body wash – invigorating, appealing, earthy, and incredibly masculine. Somehow that made you stay.

And instead of walking out of his bedroom, you threw yourself onto his comfy bed. You stretched and rolled around lazily like a sleepy kitten who’s found the most perfect sunlit spot. So there you stayed, mindlessly scrolling through your phone and eventually drowned out the sound of Lewis’ shower.

A few minutes passed and you didn’t even realise that the shower had been turned off. The sound of the bathroom door knob turning made you freeze, and a second later Lewis was standing in front of you with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” He said, standing there in front of the bed with a playful smile on his face. You remained speechless. He added, “I noticed some of your stuff in my bathroom. Care to explain?”

Your brain barely even registered the words that came out of his mouth because you were mesmerised by the sight of him. The water drops sliding down his abs, the tattooed skin glistening, and that damn towel wrapped so low, so carelessly. Your heart pounded.

Lewis took a few steps forward, coming to a stop at the end of his king size canopy bed. He braced a muscular arm against one of the posts, “I also noticed some of your things on my bedside. And now that I think about it, there was also a ‘you’ size dent in my bed when I walked in.” He had that same boyish, playful smirk. “Did you nap in here, princess?”

You finally peeled your eyes away from that deliciously distracting nautical compass tattoo in the middle of his chest, and stared into his dark brown eyes while his previous questions finally registered in your brain. The moment they did, you groaned and hid your face into a nearby pillow.

Lewis laughed as he came to the side of the bed, reaching out to tickle you until you faced him again while laughing hysterically. “I’m sorry, okay?” You tried to run, but he grabbed you by the ankle and dragged you back, and ended up pinning you to his bed. “I’m sorry.” You repeated, giggling and now unable to hide.

He pinned your wrists on either side of your head, leaning over you as he spoke. “I didn’t ask for an apology. You can do whatever you want in this house,” He smirked. “I asked for an explanation. Now, did you sleep in here while I was gone?” He prayed you didn’t look down, otherwise you’d see the huge bulge forming behind the towel.

The thought of you in here? On his bed? Sleeping peacefully while he was away dealing with work? It made him puff up with how much he liked it.

You groaned again, and tried to escape but he threatened to tickle you until you were breathless again so you finally confessed, “Okay fine, I slept here the whole time you were away.” You sounded a little embarrassed as you said so.

“You did?”

You nodded, looking up sheepishly at him. “It helps.” You said. You couldn’t get over how good he looked above you.

Lewis frowned. “Sleeping in my bed helps? With what?”

You whined in embarrassment, then said, “You know, the funny feeling.”

“What funny feeling, princess?”

Instead of talking, you twisted your hand free from his grasp and held his hand while you guided it over to where you wanted. You urged his hand to cup you in between your legs. Lewis sucked in a sudden breath as he did, cupping you through the satin shorts of your PJs.

“Right here?” He questioned with a deeper, raspier voice, looking up to meet your eyes. He found you with parted lips and a hazy look in your eyes. You nodded at his question. “And you get this often?”

“Only when I think of you.”

His fingers gave you an experimental squeeze, pressing into your clothed flesh. And you gasped at the foreign but welcomed feeling.

“Well then, I better see what this is about.”

You watched how he let go of your wrists, grabbed the waistband of your shorts and slowly dragged them down your legs. He threw them behind him somewhere before placing his warm, rough and tattooed hands on your thighs, spreading them.

You gasped as he slid a gentle finger up and down your slit through your thin underwear. You watched his tattooed finger moving slowly in between your shaking thighs, and when you looked up you found him staring down at you with nothing but hunger in his eyes.

“Please.” You murmured.

Lewis smirked. It felt like a warning for the coming danger. “And this funny feeling… how did it go away, princess?”

You whimpered both under his touch and at his question.

When you didn’t respond, he leaned down and mumbled as he kissed along your exposed throat. “Answer me.”

You whimpered at the tone of voice he used, which made you grind against his finger instinctively. “I… I took care of it.”

“How?” He kissed his way up to your chin, biting your skin playfully and making your back arch off the bed. “Hmm?” He sounded almost stern again. “Show me how you did it.”

He pulled away then, his finger no longer touching your skin as he stood on the side of the bed. You looked down and that towel around his waist was ready to come undone at any moment. And that made you clench your thighs tighter together.

“Show you?”

“Mhmm,” He nodded. “I wanna see.”

The look in his eyes gave you a strange rush. Like a boost of confidence. So you held his stare as you took the rest of your clothes off, dropping them carelessly on the bed before you grabbed the nearest pillow and straddled it.

You watched how his breathing deepened, even when he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against one of the bed posts. Like he wanted a show.

So you gave him one. You humped his pillow right in front of him until you were a moaning, whimpering mess. Your fingers naturally found their way to your breasts, fondling and toying with them as you moved your hips, grinding on the pillow.

You were carried away by the satisfying feeling in between your thighs. Your eyes were closed the whole time, so you didn’t see him as he moved closer. You only realised he was indeed close to you again when you felt his hand wrap around your throat, preventing you from moving.

You opened your eyes and found Lewis’ face mere inches away from yours. You were breathing heavily, and he looked like he was barely able to hold back.

“So this is what you did while I was gone?”

You nodded.

“And did you think of me when you came? Each time?” His voice was almost unrecognisable. Deep. Dangerous.

You nodded again.

Lewis frowned like he was in pain. “Oh princess…” He whispered, leaning in just enough so that when he spoke, his lips brushed against your parted ones. “Now, can you do what you did to the pillow but on my face?” He asked, so casually that it took you a moment to process his words.

“What?”

He smirked again, “You heard me. Come sit on my face.”

You barely had time to be coy. He was already moving into the position he wanted, with you holding onto the headboard and kneeling on the bed while his face found its way in between your thighs.

You’d never been this intimate with anyone before, and Lewis sensed your brief hesitation. But then he kissed your inner thighs as you hovered above him and he said, “It’s okay, princess. It’s just me. I’m dying to see what you taste like.” His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place as he urged you to lower yourself down to his waiting mouth. He lifted his head up just a little to give your pussy a soft kiss. “This belongs to me, don’t keep it from me. Now sit.”

You whimpered as you did. And he was ready for it, his eager mouth latched onto your clit and he worked his mouth like his life depended on it. Sucking and licking and shoving his tongue past your wet folds, occasionally moving his head side to side.

You moaned out loud, throwing your head back as your hands held onto the headboard for support. His tongue worked wonders against your sensitive clit, making you feel all tingly and warm as you dripped all over his mouth.

“You taste so fucking good, princess…” he murmured against your wetness as you gently rolled your hips against his face, smearing your arousal all over his lips and chin, grinding against his tongue like you did the pillow. His teeth grazed your swollen, sensitive clit until he had you moaning loudly against him.

Your hips moved against his face as he licked each and every drop of what you gave him.

“Fuck, princess.” He groaned, closing his eyes and humming loudly at your taste. He adored the sounds you made above him. He even forgot that he was himself throbbing with need because he was determined to make you come. He’d dreamt of this, of having your thighs wrapped around his head and to taste you and make you come all over his tongue. “Come for me, baby.” He whispered.

You were so close even he could feel it. Your thighs clenched around his head even harder. His hands rubbed up and down your skin, caressing you as he tasted you leisurely like he had all the time in the world.

You looked down at one point and found him with his eyes closed, enjoying himself, happy to be there and that did it. You came with a loud cry, grinding harder against his tongue. You were shaking, trying to calm down after that mind bending orgasm, and before you knew it Lewis was behind you.

Kneeling behind you with his legs outside of yours, that damn towel discarded, his warm chest pressing into your back. His arms wrapped around you and his mouth kissed your neck from behind.

“You taste like heaven, princess.” He mumbled into your ear, his hand drifting down your body to tease your clit again while his other hand wrapped around your throat. “I’m gonna fuck this delicious little pussy now, okay?”

You nodded quickly, whimpering as his fingers spread you open for him while he pushed into you again from behind. “Fuck…” You moaned quietly.

There was nothing gentle about him this time. Unlike earlier, he was now wild, and passionate, moving in and out of you, fucking you like there’s no tomorrow. “That’s a good girl,” He murmured when he noted that you pushed back against him, meeting each one of his thrusts. “That’s it, princess…”

He tightened his grip around your throat as he sped up into you, growling right in your ear and telling you that you belonged to him, “You’re all mine now. All mine.”

You were a moaning mess, holding onto the headboard to keep yourself upright while he pounded into you from behind. His braid had come undone from the ponytail they were in and now tickled your skin as he brushed his warm mouth against your skin.

“No need for the pillow now, baby, you hear me? You can just walk in here and take whatever you want from me,” He gripped your hips and slammed in and out of you, grunting in the process. “Anything you want, you can have it. My hands, my tongue, my cock… it’s all yours, princess.”

The pleasure became too much to handle, and you felt a familiar pressure forming in between your hips. His tight grip on your body would surely leave a bruise, but Lewis didn’t care.

“Do you even have an idea of how obsessed I am with you?” He released your throat and placed his hand on your abdomen, pressing down on your front so he can feel himself inside you with each thrust. His fingers rubbing your clit quickened then. “You feel me deep inside you, baby?”

You nodded, moaning and gasping in pleasure.

“This is how I’m gonna keep you now, always full of me,” He growled, teasing your earlobe while he pounded into your mercilessly.

You whined loudly when both his hands gripped your waist, pulling you into him harshly each time, speeding up until you came all over his cock. It didn’t take him long to come after that, buried deep inside you and filling you up like he’d always dreamt of doing.

You were shivering after he was done with you, whimpering and sore as he pulled both of you down on the bed, pulling you closer to him. He snuggled you until you stopped trembling.

“Did I hurt you, princess?” He asked, kissing your face.

“No,” You murmured. Then shyly added, “Can we do that again?”

Lewis laughed, wrapping you tightly in his arms as you wrapped around him like a koala bear. “Anytime, baby.”

And there you were finally, in his arms.

This wasn’t quite how he had planned it in his head. Lewis had grown envious of his childhood friend. The initial plan was to get rid of your father, earn your trust enough until you handed everything – the properties, the money, the trained guards, all of it – to him, and the final part of the plan was to get rid of you.

Making your father’s death seem natural was easy. But that last part of his plan never happened. It almost did, but then he saw you that day at the cemetery, looking sad, teary-eyed and so, so beautiful.

Things changed then. He still took everything, but didn’t get rid of you. He couldn’t. He was obsessed, and he needed you closer, wanted you living with him and so he found a way to make your family home seem unsafe.

Planting those notes was too easy.

And next thing he knew, you were begging him for help. So he took you in, and kept you. Obedient and needy for him. His princess, now forever. His sins, all of it hidden perfectly.

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton au #lewis hamilton smut #mob!lewis #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 fanfic

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skzdarlings · 2 months

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omg that sounds so fun!!!! (Sorry if this was quick I have your post notifs on) imma jump on this early!!! can we get “do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” W changbin? 😩😩😩

summary: you are in love with the son of your family's greatest enemy. he sneaks into your room one night after a party.

pairing: seo changbin/reader content info: petite!reader. mentions of past body insecurities. romeo-and-juliet style love affair. sneaking around. gun play that is somehow more romantic than kinky but still kinda kinky. explicit sexual content. word count: 2900 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

You catch his eye across the room.

There are a hundred people between you, bustling in their designer gowns and glittering in their jewels. The hotel ballroom is an incandescent chamber of silver light. The sun has long since set but the party plays on in its excessive splendour, never tiring of itself.

You are tired of it. The glamour of this lifestyle has turned more tedious than not. At the centre of all this majesty is money, and everyone in this room prioritizes their wealth and capital above everything else. They have fought and slandered and killed each other and they will do it all again, but they throw their galas nonetheless. Places to celebrate themselves and their so-called achievements, to flaunt their successes in self-congratulation. Everyone laughs and dances, spinning around the ballroom, sipping their champagne.

You smile and demur, pretending you are having a good time. You sit with your family and only interact with their trusted allies or those who would be.

He is vehemently not included in that.

Seo Changbin.

He is across the room with his family, your family’s greatest enemy. Your father and his father are titans of business and the family rivalry spans generations. It started with your great-grandparents and you are destined to uphold it. You will marry an appropriate man of standing, someone who will expand the empire, someone whose allyship is worthwhile in both the monetary and social strata. You will have children and raise them to take your place, to inherit your name and all the blood and money that comes with it.

Those same expectations are on your enemy. You hold gazes across the sparkling sea of people. You look away first.

You are coerced onto the dance floor by one of your father’s chosen men. You join that sparkling sea. It is always bizarre to brush elbows with these people, knowing very well they would not hesitate to put a bullet in your head under any other circumstance. You catch the sight of a few discreet weapons as you are twirled around the dance floor. Ostensibly, weapons are not allowed inside the gala as fighting is prohibited, but these people always take their precautions.

Your dance partner spins you. You twirl as per the dance, then stumble to a halt because Changbin is standing there. He is dancing with someone too, has them spun out the opposite way. You stand in the middle of the ballroom looking at each other, faces equally stoic.

He is dressed in all black, austere and intimidating. His black hair falls in a sweep across his forehead, just this side of too-long so it obscures his eyes if he tilts his head a certain way. He is always so meticulously hidden in public, nothing but a walking shadow. He is a dark reflection of his family and their grim reputation.

But his jovial laughter is in your mind, his witty quips, his jokester nature. He is devastatingly charming and endlessly humorous.

You would never know just looking at him. Changbin is not the tallest man in the room but he more than compensates with his bulk and power. Pretty much anyone would be big next to you, but you know what your hand looks like when laid against his, how all encompassing the breadth of his big arms feel when they wrap around you.

He does not touch you. He looks. He smirks, like he knows your heart is racing. Then he spins away. Your partner pulls you back.

The dance continues.

You say you are sick and leave the party early. You are escorted back to the house with your usual security flank, sitting in the backseat of your limo with a guard on either side of you. They wear bulletproof gear under their uniform, matching pale blue in the family’s colours, and wearing bulky glasses to shield their eyes. They are all armed to teeth, wearing their holsters and belts. They dwarf you almost comically. They do not speak to you.

When you reach the house, you go straight to your bedrooms. You have three rooms to yourself, each lonely space spilling into the next. You dress in your closet, leaving the gown pooled in a silk mess on the floor. You discard your jewelry and amble to your main room in a satin nightdress and robe.

You almost miss it, the sound so faint, but you swear a gentle knocking comes from your balcony doors. They are still sealed shut. Security did not notice anything remiss upon arrival, but there is a blind spot in the security camera on your balcony. There are no cameras inside your room for privacy purposes. But no one would know that unless you told them.

And you have only told one person.

You approach the balcony doors, wary. You peer into the night, eyes roving the grand expanse of the brightly lit garden and swimming pool. Wind rustles through the leaves of the trees and a security guard is finishing his round.

You step onto your balcony slowly. The security guard can only see you when you lean over. He waves at you before leaving the yard, continuing the rest of his patrol elsewhere. You watch him go.

The world is quiet as it ever is. You can hear the buzz of the pool lights and the tinkling of your wind chimes, little else. You lean against your balcony railing and look over the yard. You weigh the luxury of the estate against its cost. Not for the first time, you ruminate on how it is absolutely not worth it.

You sigh and turn. Then you freeze at what, who, you find.

You mistake him for a security guard for half a second, which nearly gives you a heart attack because they are never on your balcony. But he is just wearing one of their uniforms. You are not sure when he stole it, tonight or previously.

Seo Changbin stands there in the blue uniform shirt and gun holster, winking at you behind bulky glasses. He is pressed against the wall in the solitary blind spot, nodding his head to your balcony door. If you open it a little wider, he can sneak in undetected.

Like he has done a dozen times before.

You feign nonchalance for the camera, humming to yourself as you step into your bedroom. You push your door open all the way, positioning yourself in distracting view of the lens while he sneaks inside. Then you follow and slam the door shut. You both take a curtain and draw them together, meeting in the middle.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say. It is not what you want to say. You want to say, thank god you are here. I missed you so much. But that is an utterly foolish proclamation. You know better. You have always known better.

But the son of your family’s greatest enemy is standing in your bedroom anyway. He looks at you, at where you clutch your robe, at where you wet your lips. He removes the glasses and tosses them aside, as if to study you more closely.

“I shouldn’t,” he says. You cannot tell if it is an agreement or a question.

“No, you shouldn’t,” you say. You take a step back, because every second in his proximity only compels you closer. It is surer than a planet caught in a gravitational pull, threatened to be shattered by the sheer cosmic power of the star holding it in orbit.

He steps with you. When you take another step, he follows. Back and back and back. He feels big in this space. Even though your room is massive, his presence shadows your little world. When your back hits the wall and he looms in front of you, he is all you can see. Nothing else exists beyond him.

“Changbin, we shouldn’t be doing this,” you say, though you know it is useless to protest your liaison with any logic, because this is a matter of the heart and not mind. That rebellious heart of yours beats faster. “If anyone found you here… we’d both be in so much trouble.”

“I won’t let them hurt you,” he says. He speaks with such easy confidence, like it is a matter of fact and not hope. He says it so certainly that you almost believe him.

“You can’t promise that,” you say.

“Yah, shame on you,” he teases. “You know I always keep my word.”

It is true. Though Changbin has a formidable reputation, it has little basis in actuality. He is a man of strong moral principle. He does not like the fighting and brawling and warring. He does not hurt innocent people, nor does he put civilians at risk for the sake of a stupid business.

And he has treated you with more loving respect than anyone else in your life.

Of course you surrender to him, again and again, sighing now as you lean against the wall and release your robe. It falls open and reveals your little nightdress. His gaze dives down your body, igniting sparks inside you. You were once insecure about your appearance, taking to heart your mother’s admonishments, that you were scrawny and gaunt, nothing but a burden as they struggled to find a match for you.

It is no struggle for Changbin. He curses even though he has seen you a dozen times. He holds your hips, then runs his strong hands up your body so you shiver all over. He cups the back of your head and draws you close, like he intends to kiss you. You are ready for it, eyelids heavy and lips parting.

With his other hand, he reaches for his chest holster. You blink as he slowly draws the gun, as he brings it closer to you. It feels like your whole body turns to liquid heat, heart thundering as he rests the barrel so delicately against your temple.

“See, baby,” he says, “if they find us, they’ll blame me. What was a little thing like you supposed to do, ah? Fight me?”

You are breathing harder, already so hot with anticipation. You gasp when he tugs you closer still, the gun still tapping your temple.

His lips are so close to yours, they almost touch.

“Poor baby,” he says. “She’s so good to her family. It’s not her fault Seo Changbin climbed in her window and fucked her in her little nightdress.” He moves the gun, making your breath catch again. The barrel touches your lips then moves down, down. It brushes a sensitive nipple, then moves lower still. The cool metal brushes your inner thigh under your nightdress and your knees starting shaking, a delicious heat twisting in your belly. “Tsk, tsk,” he says. “No panties. Maybe it’s not my fault completely.”

“We really shouldn’t do this,” you say, but it is still not what you want to say. I want you, I need you, so so badly.

He smiles and lifts the gun again, all the way up to your mouth where he taps your lips.

“Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” he asks.

It is so funny; Changbin is holding a gun to your lips but you feel more safe than dancing among those people at the party. You trust him so completely, so irrevocably, that you do not feel truly threatened for even a moment. There is something so liberating and joyous in allowing your body to go completely lax, in forgetting all your many grievances for the short but blissful time you have with him. Your heart is so full you could burst.

You kiss the tip of the gun, then smile.

“Well,” you say. “What are you waiting for?”

He tosses the gun onto the bed so he can hold you with both hands when he kisses you. You moan against his lips. His searching hands are careful where he touches you, squeezing and loving. He cups the small curve of your breast in his palm, rubs there until electric desire shoots to every extremity.

You shrug your robe off and he wastes no time gathering you into his arms. He holds you so securely, picking you up with no effort at all. Then you are pressed against the wall with him pressed against you.

“Yes, yes,” you say, gasping, as he kisses down your neck. He hikes you higher, catching you effortlessly, guiding your legs around him as he kisses down to your breasts. He wraps his lips around a nipple through your dress, making you clench your thighs around him, which makes him giggle like the maniacal tease he is.

“You like that,” he says, and tugs your dress down to get his mouth on you properly. He is so good with his tongue. You feel a little giddy, thinking to yourself that it is his true weapon. Fast, precise, teasing you and working you until you are tugging at his head and grinding against him.

“I need you,” you say, breathlessly, “Changbin, Changbin—”

You seldom take your time, given the danger of the situation. With the house empty and both your families occupied, you have time tonight to go a little slower, but you simply cannot wait. You are both accustomed to instant satisfaction when together. Your body feels wrong without him inside it. You need him like a breath of air.

“Please,” you say.

You do not have to beg much. He fiddles with his belt and his zip, then he repositions you. You cover your mouth to catch your squeal when he pushes inside you. He moans into your neck to stifle his own sounds.

“Baby, so good for me,” he murmurs, sounding intoxicated from the silky feel of you, wrapped around him so completely.

You know the feeling. You are incapable of forming sentences, clinging to him desperately as he fucks you steadily against the wall. He holds you with just one arm, the other palm planted flat to the wall, near your head. You clutch his big bicep while your other hand sinks in the hair at his nape. You fuck until he is close, when he carries you to the bed and lays you out.

You lean forward and take him in your mouth, sucking him down until he comes. He bites his wrist to keep his volume down.

You wipe your lips, smiling. Then you sprawl back on the bed, nightdress turned to little more than a sash around your middle. You slide it off completely. Even though he just came, he is already looking you with hungry eyes. He puts a knee on the bed, evidently ready to pounce.

You pick up the gun and point it at him, quirking a playful eyebrow. He blinks at you, surprised, then smiles as well.

“Baby,” he says. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” you reply.

It just makes him laugh. The sound makes your heart gush with sentiment. He looks so handsome and sweet, hair pushed back, a light sheen of sweat on his neck. He is still mostly dressed, tucked back into his pants, but they are open and slung low, his shirt all untucked.

He gazes at you with deep, dark eyes, nothing but affection on his face. He plays your game and strips his shirt off, then he crawls across the bed until he is close enough for you to rest the barrel of the gun against his temple.

“Go on,” you say, nodding.

Truly, his tongue is the greater weapon. The gun does not stand a chance, falling out of your hand, forgotten, as he descends between your legs. You feather his hair through your fingers, then dig into his scalp, riding the motion of his mouth as he licks and sucks and kisses you down there. You come with a shivering sigh, your legs shaking.

He lifts his head and wiggles his eyebrows. “Good?” he asks, to which you can only nod. “Ha-ha,” he says, lightly slapping your thigh. “Of course it was. It’s me.”

You laugh, shaking your head and playfully rolling your eyes.

“You are incorrigible,” you say.

He climbs up your body and kisses you on the lips, tasting of you. It makes you whimper, delighted.

“I think you meant to say incredible,” he teases. “That’s okay, I understood you anyway.”

“I’m sure you did,” you say. Because there is a great deal of truth in that statement. You and him are on opposite sides of this ridiculous feud, but you are in exactly the same place. No one understands you better than him.

That understanding is written all over his face. He smiles tenderly, cupping your cheek in his hand. His next kiss is the definition of romance itself, sweet and long, enough to make you swoon.

“How much time do you think we have?” you ask.

“Not much,” he answers, then kisses you again. “Don’t think about it now. It’s okay, baby. I got you.”

“I know,” you say. You wrap your arms around each other and hold tight, kissing again while you can. The truth is, neither of you is in any position to dictate your fate. But he kisses you like that does not matter, with no past and no tomorrow on the horizon. You take control of this moment and consider it a happy ending for as long as you can.

#seo changbin x reader #changbin x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #changbin x you #changbin smut #seo changbin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x you #valentinesdaystories #anonymous request

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padawan-historian · 8 months

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If you are talking about the human tragedy and climate disaster impacting Hawai’i ONLY in relation to tourism or your (postponed) vacation plans . . . therein lies the problem.

Hawai'i is not an "eat, pray, love" trip nor is she a cultural theme park.

Hawai’i is a collection of communities with deep indigenous roots and ancestral identities (many queer + colorful) that American + European colonizers once attempted to eradicate.

In the present day, empire-builders and colorblind colonizers are attempting to gentrify and commodify these ancestral spaces, not to benefit the indigenous, diaspora, and immigrant folks (folx) who steward and preserve those waterways and lands, but to protect the interests and properties of billionaires on vacation

Afronaut Note: This is not a discussion about policing language or shaming folks in your neighborhood who are sharing vacation pictures or lamenting their travel plans. This is about expanding our horizons to center decolonized, ancestral, and communal spaces. Imagine if after the Japanese tsunami (2011) or Hurricane Katrina (2005), people shared vacation pictures and complained about having to cancel their graduation trips.

Original post from @seedingsovereignty

——

"Our culture has to be the core of our mana." Dr. Haunani-Kay Trask (1949 – 2021)⁠

A leader of the Hawaiian sovereignty movement & a fearless leader.⁠

Her memory is needed during these times. ⁠

Support the People of Hawai’i

#we are not americans #indigenous rights #Flowers for Hawai’i #our world #ecosystem of white supremacy #slow growth activism #our history is your history

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4izawas · 19 days

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╰─▸ ❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄! ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐋. 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “More…?” he whispers quietly, clinging to you desperately, and you look down at him with a raised eyebrow while your lips quirk up into a smile.

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: hazbin hotel | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: lucifer morningstar/f!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 2.57k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem reader, dom reader, dom fem reader, sub lucifer, bottom lucifer, manipulative reader ( i have awoken an obsession in writing them i’m afraid ), reader is longtime friends with alastor, mentions of alastor, reader is ‘the seamstress’ overlord, lucifer crawls across the floor like once? maybe twice, oral ( fem receiving ), begging, brief master kink, whining, some degradation, praise kink, lucifer is 100% being a Good Boy, leg humping, self-inflicted overstimulation, and he WHIMPERS, crying, lucifer’s just a needy lil guy tbh.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: i have fallen into a rabbit hole </3 | 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃!— @mrskreideprinz. @p-ersus. @herohibiscus. @vampcubus.

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

Breathy whines and whimpers echo through the dimly lit room, the flickering flame of candles catching on the deep red wine in the glass you’re holding with your non-dominant hand. The other is currently being lavished with needy, borderline worshipful kisses, your wrist tightly gripped by the man you’d had wrapped around your pinkie finger for the last five or so years. After being abandoned by his beloved wife and his sweet little daughter, he had been a mess — a mess a long-standing overlord like yourself had been quick to clean up and turn into something else, something more. Playing the concerned friend with ‘hidden feelings’ had been more than easy ( whether or not those falsified feelings had festered into something real was for you to know, and for you to know only ), and you’d had him eating out of your hand faster than even you had expected. After only two years he’d removed Lilith’s ring, and a month after that he’d begged for yours, which of course you’d accepted. You’d helped run the kingdom in his name ever since while he lavished you with attention and tended to his silly little hobbies. Your empire had expanded from a simple series of shops in every Ring that clothed the upper class to a behind-the-scenes Queen of the nation; typically you’d have celebrated with your oldest friend, but he’d disappeared after a tie-up with the Media Demon, and you’d not heard from or of him since. Briefly you’d worried he’d succumbed to his injuries, but then waved them away; little could injure Alastor, and no mobilized television screen would be able to kill him. Once he needed your services as his only tailor again he’d return, and you could demand and receive answers from him then. Until that time, your time was split between all of Hell, the whims of Rosie, and of course the dim-witted desperate King you called your own.

Alastor would be proud, if not envious, of the web you’d weaved across Pride, if you did say so yourself.

With one leg you push Lucifer away, planting the ball of one of your feet against his bare chest and making him fall back onto his calves, kneeling before you just as he belonged. He whines at the loss of skin contact when you withdraw your foot, but you ignore him, pondering; honestly he’d been far too easy to shape, so much so that it was almost disappointing at first, but his resolve and desperation to please had been more than entertaining. Every moment he kept by your side made your power grow, and considering the abandonment issues that ran rampant like poison beneath his skin, eating away at his brain and filling him with anxiety, that meant you were never alone for more than a few hours. If you weren’t steadily growing stronger, you’d have questioned if the clinginess were at all worth it.

“Please — Please, let me… Please…” The soft whimpers from the floor in front of you catch your attention instantly, and you gaze down at the mess of a man before you. His hair — typically so well-managed — hangs messily over his eyes, and his wings flare out behind him, the massive feathered limbs twitching every now and then as he holds himself back from touching you without permission; the kissing had been reward enough for the necklace he’d surprised you with at breakfast, even if he wanted more. To get more, he had to earn it.

“Do you know any words other than ‘please’?” you ask, amused by the sight of the puddle of an angel before you as well as his vastly shrunken vocabulary. He’s on his knees before you, eyes wanting and voice thick as he begs, and it does nothing but feed the raging warmth in your lower abdomen. In control though you may be, the King of Hell would get what he wanted before the night was through; after all, how could you deny someone who was being such a good boy?

“I know whatever words you want me to say,” he promises in a whine, “What do you want me to say? To ask? I’ll do it, I promise.” You know he will; when has he ever not done what you ask? Never.

“You’ll be good?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as you sip your wine, and he whimpers and nods, hands fisting and unfisting around nothing as he continues fighting the urges to grip at you like a drowning man clings to a life preserver. You fight off the urge to laugh; he was just so pathetic, you couldn’t help but feel fond of him. There was just something about sorry men on their knees that did it for you every time, and the King of Hell was no exception.

“S-So good,” he moans shakily, his pupils dilating as you crook a finger in his direction as the smallest invitation. He crawls on all fours closer to you before leaning his head against the warm skin of the inside of your thigh, nuzzling against you before hiding his eyes against it. “I will, I — I…” Fuck, he couldn’t even think — exactly how you liked him. His breathing is picking up, getting heavier than before — he’s getting all worked up, and you haven’t even properly touched him yet.

You cross your legs tightly, displacing him, and a questioning noise falls from his lips. “Mmm… Ask me for permission,” you purr, and you watch his pupils slowly dilate and his eyes fill with a fresh surge of want.

“F-Fuck, okay — C-Can I? Please, can I?” he asks, a pleading tone in his voice that has you clenching around nothing.

“Can you what?” you ask, turning to study your fingernails lazily after taking your last drink of wine, putting the glass on the table next to where you were sitting. He lets out a noise of complaint, demanding your attention be put back on him, and you acquiesce easily; you could certainly give in to one or two of his requests, wordless or otherwise, considering he’d be begging to bury himself in your cunt before the night was out.

He trembles, barely holding himself back from descending upon you like a starved man would a meal. “Can I touch you? I want to taste you, wanna make you feel good, please—“

You narrow your eyes and fight off the smile making the corners of your lips twitch; you can’t smile yet, it would ruin all the fun. “Who are you asking, Lucifer?”

“Fuck. Fuck. Master, I’m-!” he whimpers, and you raise an eyebrow in silence, watching as he bites down hard on his bottom lip before asking, “Please, Master, can I lick your pussy?”

Your heartbeat quickens. “Hmmm…” you squint slowly at him, as if pondering the thought for the sole sake of teasing him, and he plants a gentle kiss on the inside of your knee before looking up at you, asking silently for the permission he felt he needed.

“Please?” he begs again, and you smile finally, watching the way his ruby eyes light up with barely-contained excitement.

“It’s alright with me,” you purr softly, uncrossing and spreading your legs for him. He lunges forward, curling his forearms under the backs of your thighs and burying his face in your cunt immediately. He’s sloppy as he eats you out, drooling from the taste and excitement, and you sigh happily as you relax into the couch cushions. The man was ever-so-talented with his tongue, you’d discovered years ago, and his favorite hobby was to lie between your legs as often and long as you would let him — and oh, would you let him. All he wanted to do was please you, to ensure your comfort and make sure you never wanted to leave him, and a while your pity for him turned into a soft fondness that urged you to acquiesce to some of his more romanticized fancies, which was why the two of you had had a lovely dinner tonight before you’d led him by his red tie to your shared bedroom.

“Fuck,” you groan, letting your head fall back at the same time as you close your eyes and bury your free hand in his feather-soft hair, drawing him deeper into your core and coaxing a moan from him at the sensation of his hair being pulled a little. “That’s it, sweet boy — more tongue, just a little more… What a good boy you are…”

Your hips roll up into his learned tongue at the same time that you catch your own bottom lip between your teeth and grab at one of your breasts lazily, kneading it in time with each swirl of his tongue against you. A shaky string of words into your cunt that you faintly recognize as whiny pleas for you to love him and stay with him forever only stimulate you more, the vibrations making your hips jump up. A small bump against your leg goes ignored the first time, as well as the second, but the third catches your attention and you open your eyes and look down to see him grinding against your leg like a dog. Bullying him crosses your mind, and you are nothing but a slave to your own whims in the bedroom, so you do.

“What a pathetic fucking man!” you laugh, startling him out of his focus on your cunt and cumming against your leg, and he blinks up at you with wide eyes. He never stops lapping at your cunt, and you scoff meanly. “Humping my leg like some mutt, how unfitting of a king. You’re so desperate to get off that you can’t even wait for the opportunity to use my cunt like a real man — but at least you’re good with your tongue, aren’t you?”

Lucifer whines out a moan into you as he nods an affirmative, and you laugh again, this time more breathily. “You like that, don’t you?” you ask mockingly, tugging at his messy hair just enough for it to sting a little. He whimpers into your core, looking up at you through tear-filled eyes. “The mockery, the harsh words, me being mean — and the praise. Can’t make up your mind on what you want more can you?” A shrill whine is your only response as he nips at your swollen clit, and your hips buck up into his face as you moan, “Mmm, you just want to get cunt-drunk, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh!” he agrees, thrusting hard against you and lapping up every drop of slick you had to offer him. He was talented when it came to slipping back and forth between focusing on smothering your clit with attention and dipping his tongue into your wanting hole, and it took all your inner strength not to lose face and wrap your thighs around his head.

“Please,” he says, voice slurred with desire, “Please, more — Love more, let me have more, I want more-!”

“More?” you ask mockingly, clenching around nothing as his long tongue circles your clit, and he moans into you desperately enough that the vibrations nearly force a whimper of your own from you lips. “G-Go ahead and ride my leg,” you say shakily, grinning down at him patronizingly as he immediately starts grinding down on you hard. “And cum whenever you want — after all, you’re just my dumb little pussy-whipped pretty boy~”

He lets out a shrill cry, thrusting against your leg hard as he bites and sucks at your cunt and cums all over your calf, moaning and crying with tears running down his face. Shrill cries fall from your lips as you stop bothering to hold them back; he was already getting sloppy in the ways you liked him best, him hearing you call out for him would only further your shared desire.

“What do we say?” you ask, keening as he sucks at you greedily, and he lets out a stilted cry of his own.

“Thank you!” he gasps, continuing to roll his cock against you and hiccuping through tears at the overstimulation he’s forcing upon himself as smaller spurts of cum rush from his cock and coat your skin. “Thank you, thank you, thank you..!”

“Good boy,” you murmur, moving your hand from his hair to gently caress his face, and he lets out a shaky sob as he nuzzles into your hand. You lay your head back, content to doze as he comes down from his own particular high while clinging to you.

“Love you,” he whispers quietly, and you hum softly back at him in response, wordlessly sharing the feeling. “So much. So, so much, more than anyone…” You let him babble mindlessly, knowing how fond he was of doing so, and listen in silence while watching him with a deep fondness sparkling in your eyes. After about a half hour or so he slows his chatter to a stop, beginning to play with your fingers and nibble at his lips, clearly wanting something.

“What is it, Lucifer?” you ask lazily, petting his head gently, and he lets out wordless whine that makes you raise an eyebrow. “Well?”

He’s quiet for a moment, for some reason unsure of himself, before he finally voices his desire. “More…?” he whispers quietly, clinging to you desperately, and you look down at him smugly while your lips quirk up into a smile.

“More?” you ask mockingly, then scoff and cross your legs, cutting him off from what he desired most, a surprised unintentional chirp falling from his lips. “Mmm, I don’t know if you deserve it…” And so begin the waterworks.

Lucifer bursts into tears, overstimulated and wanting and needy, all while being denied of the only thing he wants. He was a man lost in a vast desert and you were the small spring he stumbled upon after days — after tasting you the first time all those years ago, once in a night was never enough. You’re just being mean to bully him like you always do now, and he knows it.

Your cum glistens on his lips and chin, and his tongue darts out to lick it up without thinking, sending a surge of heat rushing through your core. “But — But I was good!” he argues shakily through his tears, “Please, I just want — want to make you feel good, ‘nd I wanna feel good too…”

You gaze down at him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and biting down on it harshly to ground yourself; God, he’s fucking cute. So needy and desperate, his face coated in your cum…

You smile and spread your legs again, fighting off the urge to laugh at the way his feathers fluff up and he starts trembling in excitement. He’s always been an insatiable little thing, and you should have known better than to start to doze off after he’d achieved just his first orgasm — besides, you can handle him! This was your King after all, and you know him like you know your own mind. What’s a half dozen or more orgasms before the night is out? You could always sleep past noon if you really wanted, and it wasn’t as if he’d be leaving you anytime soon.

“Then go ahead, Your Majesty,” you purr softly, watching the way his pupils nearly swallow up his irises entirely at the rumble in your voice. “I’m all yours.”

#lucifer morningstar x reader #sub!lucifer morningstar x reader #sub lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne x reader #sub!lucifer magne x reader #sub lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #sub!lucifer morningstar x you #sub lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer magne x you #sub!lucifer magne x you #sub lucifer magne x you #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x you

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 4 months

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Need me a Thomas Shelby with “you fell asleep in my arms. it was kind of adorable.” thank you and cg for 100 followers!!

Thank you so much for this request my love! I'm so sorry it's so long coming. Again, I'm studying for the bar and it is crazy with the holidays! Also, I hope you like this! Tommy is not my typical bread and butter but I wanted to give people the option! Sending all my love to you angel! - Mo

100 Follower Celebration: No Man Works Alone

Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader, fluff

When you got connected to the middle Shelby boy, you were warned that life would never be the same. You assumed as much, knowing that their business went much farther than horse racing. You were up to the task. You had been in the Shelby orbit for years, you saw what it all took, and when Tommy made his intentions known to you, you were willing to step up and do your part in expanding the empire.

Polly joked that you were made for this life with the way that you so seamlessly came in. While the Shelby company were encroaching into higher society and government facades, they needed a pretty face to butter up old money hands. When the boys were running liquor and snow and violence, you ran sweet words and high teas with women whose husbands had deep and ancient pockets. Even before Thomas met with potential partners, they were already inclined to agree since you were just so kind and elegant looking. Surely a woman like you would never be with someone not reputable right?

But it wasn’t just the business you managed to soothe and nurture. You also added a salve to the Shelby familial wounds. Some wounds required more care than others. Some would never heal completely, but petty arguments could be solved and begin the groundwork for a more harmonious union. You had stepped in more than once to facilitate peace agreements between the Shelby siblings more than once, “Do it for the children yeah? They deserve to be able to see their cousins and aunts and uncles freely. Shelby’s need each other. And it’s Christmas for God’s sake!”

And no good deed goes unpunished it seems. Due to your expert people skills and kind face, you were put in charge of a Christmas gala for all the biggest names in the city. A dual purpose to flaunt the power of the Shelby family, and to raise funds for a women’s shelter to be built. In the same week you were planning to host Christmas dinner and Christmas morning in the home for the entire Shelby family. Everyone was coming and it was to be a beautiful affair. It’s would be wonderful save for the sheer amount of people to take care of. You had spent the day running around, only to continue into the evening, taking care of your and Tommy’s children; putting them to bed and giving them each some attention in the absence of their father.

By the time you had finished your tasks for the day, it was late, and Tommy still wasn’t finished with the ledgers and accounts. He looked exhausted, the puffiness of his eyes evident in from under his glasses. Sleeves rolled up and shirt open the quiet desire for sleep was coming off him in waves. You wrap your soft satin robe tighter around you as you gently sit next to Tommy. Without looking up from his work he says to you in a gravely voice, "You should be in bed, it's late love."

You shake your head, though you feel as though invisible fingers are dragging your eyelids down, "Mm not tired."

Tommy chuckles as he hears you attempt to stifle a yawn. He takes off his glasses to look at your faltering face. "You're not eh? You sure?"

You lean back on the comfortably expensive sofa Tommy had set up shop on, stretching out the ache in your back, "Perhaps a little. But I don't like not sleeping next to you. If you're up, I'm up. We're a team yeah?"

Tommy smiles, enamored by your insistence. It was one of the things that drew him to you the first time he saw you. Your quiet defiance. You intent to keep people together and not leave anyone behind. It was only a small fractal of how sweet and tender your heart was. Tommy leaned over to gently kiss your temple, "Alright then. If you insist Commander. I'll be done soon enough I promise."

With another poorly hidden yawn you say, "Take your time darling. I brought reading."

Just as Tommy predicted, within 15 minutes you were out like a light. Back when you all were children, it was a running joke that you would be running and playing as hard as you could one minute, and fall dead asleep on any surface the next minute. It never changed. As Tommy chuckled and picked the book off your face where it fell, he was reminded of you as a young girl. Though there were a few more marks and lines on your face now, you had the whispers of your youth still on your face. Your daughter with Tommy slept the same exact way. Mouth open slightly. Arms raised above your head. Utterly at peace. Tommy was tempted to wake you to tease you, but knew you would punish yourself for 'falling asleep on the job'. He opted to finish his paperwork instead, working diligently and quietly so as not to disturb you. Soon enough he was done and put everything away in his desk to pick up tomorrow. Pressing gentle kisses to your face, he whispers against you, "Darling, wake up. Let's go to bed eh? Get you more comfortable."

You jolted awake, nearly knocking Tommy over, "Oh God... what time is it? Are the kids ok?"

Tommy chuckled deeply, pulling you up by the arms, "No no darling. Kids are alright. You fell asleep next to me. It was a bit adorable really. You look exactly like Matilde in her crib. "

You throw yourself back down, "Oh God I fell asleep while you were working! That is not what I wanted to do! I wanted to keep you company!"

Tommy laid himself over you, pushing your arms away from your embarrassed face, "You did keep me company. Perfect company. You needed to sleep. You've been running around. Being the best mother and wife. Being the best coordinator. Being the best aunt and sister in law. Hard work my love. C'mon. Let's get to bed yeah?"

You let him kiss you and take you to bed. Sleep took you both sweetly and quickly. And in the morning you would start it all over again. Waking to your children jumping on top of you with joy, and another list of things to attend to. But as long as Tommy was next to you. It would all be worth it.

#peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x you #100 follower celebration

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tarjapearce · 10 months

Text

Iridiscent

PirateAU! Miguel x Mermaid! Reader

Thanks to @sarapaprikas-blog for the idea ❤️✨. Been loving to experience with different AU'S lately ✨. Hope you like!

Warnings: Mild angst and historical figure mentions, implied mysticism ~

Prologue ✨

Pt. 2

As far as history was told, the sea had been the biggest grave in the world. Countless men, nations and civilizations perished under the might of the ever infinite sea. Not many dared to venture, after all, the stories of countless ships sunk under behemoth waves reached through all dry land known.

But that didn't stop the greatest empires to expand and colonize newly discovered lands thanks to years of observation. Many thought of the sea a living being, a being that could be tamed or at least controlled enough to small civilizations to be born in lands people only dreamed of.

However, as the sea earned it's title of a living creature, the mysticism around it grew. Many believed the sea was a she, and bringing a woman on board only made her jealous. A common belief among outcasts and pirates. Something that was debunked as the golden age of piracy advanced.

But even so, the word spread around was that the sea favored female pirates better than men. Lagertha, Mary Read, Anne Bonnie, Zheng Shi, Grace O'Malley, to name a few of the most iconic pirates that against all, conquered, navigated, commanded and plundered at their contempt.

Many believed that they had done a pact with the devil himself, but others strongly believed that there were creatures below that left no trace once the women settled for a target. Mermaids.

Creatures often described as the beauty of death itself embodied. Beautiful women luring men to their inevitable deaths. Something, that some men longed for, and feared by others. The rumor was that if you caught a mermaid alive, the creature was bound to grant you a wish.

But for Miguel, they were nothing but myths and lies. A once young and naive self had ventured in the sea to find one, so he could cure his daughter once the land medics had abandoned all hope. And so he did, once his little girl had closed her twinkling innocent eyes, full of dreams, forever.

He was a changed man after that. He didn't allow his men to talk about such nonsensical things in his ship, Reina Gabriela, and poor of the man that was caught red handed. Reason had gotten him where he was, a feared outlaw among the Spaniards and English folk alike. Not by his overall intimidating looks, but the ruthless and cunning of his attacks.

The Red Eyed Demon, they called him.

------

Miguel had settled the route towards an island that promised a proper restock of his resources. He would let his men unwind, he'd probably spend the night away with a well prepared courtesan. The type of woman that knew how to entertain him beyond the physical ways, once they were on land.

By sunset, he would be landing. The island itself wasn't a problem, the inhabitants of it were. At least for him, full of highly superstitious people, that were always showering him in foul smelling concoctions, lung itching fumes and heavy charms of protection to "cleanse the spirit of anything that could drag you and your ship down".

Isla del Sol, or Sunny Island as many called it, was like a secret hideway-paradise for Pirates that stopped by to rest. Opposite from what the Spaniards and English believed, the Island was run under the command of a council of five.

A retired English commander that did better as a pirate than a law enforcer named Edward, A Spaniard pirate well versed in the arts of administration named Xavier, A jamaican man which eloquence only rivaled the Queen's erudites themselves named Toussaint, An asian woman trained in the arts of killing and weaponry named Sheng Hyun, and a white haired chaman whose wisdom was often seeked by the rest.

So far the island had worked and thrived under their command. They had even asked Miguel to join them, because of his strategic and cunning mind. But of course, he refused. A man like him wasn't easily bound to bureaucratics, even though, ironically he had strict rules in his ship.

His men were loyal, after all, Miguel took proper care of his crew. Well fed, healthy, well armed, and now, well rested. Reina Gabriela approached the docks and soon the men worked. Some put the extended sails away, others put the weaponry in their place, others cleaned and so on. Everyone had a role aboard, and Miguel made sure for them to accomplish it.

He threw a small pouch of gold to a nearby man to watch over his ship as he was out. The island felt like another city, but difference was, that inside land there were no guards, no laws that didn't benefit them. And if anyone caused a ruckus, Sheng Hyun was sent to deal with it, personally.

His men scattered around, except for the quarter master, the cook, weaponry master, Navy Engineer and doctor. They discussed briefly the upgrades for the ship, new dishes to the menu, and new places to get weapons, medicines and sturdier woods from. He dismissed them once everyone had their list, then he was alone.

His feet took him nearby the merchants as they exposed their goods to everyone passing by. Guards uniforms, royal weapons and wax seals perfect for an unsuspecting ruse, medicines, a new type of powder that was a bit more waterproof, Chinese explosives, sedating darts, portraits of naked royal women, some gemstones, and of course, luck charms and talismans.

He scoffed as his eyes rolled at the various trinkets. He had to admit that whoever came with these ideas had found a gold mine that relied in people's blind faith, probably would shake their hand if he ever knew who it was. One trinket stood out from the rest.

It was an iridescent pearl, a quarter size of his palm, along some black and pearly scales protuding ontop. There was no chain around it to be worn, the merchant noticed him staring at the trinket and smiled.

"Good if y'wanna catch a mermaid. They love shiny things."

Miguel looked at him with an eyebrow quirked and a skeptical look.

"You seem confident enough to sell these... crafts."

"Ah, another nonbeliever. Tis'fine mate. I've dealt with so many like you before. Mostly of the non believing part roots from something denied to you in the past. Am'i'rite?"

Miguel's jaw clenched softly at the boldness of the man. He looked like the typical merchant with shady business on the side.

"Leave this man alone, Joseph." The chaman of the council spoke behind Miguel as she took the pearl in her old, wrinkled hands.

"Come" He motioned Miguel to follow. Despite being a highly spiritual woman, the council's chaman did not pressure him into believing, but rather spoke to him sometimes in riddles. Riddles that he grew tired of eventually. He followed.

"A surprise to find you watching these sort of trinkets, Miguel."

"Hard to not when they get stranger and colorful each time I come here."

The elder lady hooked her arm on his as she supported on Miguel, that secured her as he walked next to her.

"I'd be grateful if you wouldn't speak about anything mystic tonight."

"Wasn't my intention, boy. But I must say, you've got quite the eye for these things. It's a real pearl, if you wish to sell it."

Miguel kept walking, being led by the chaman.

"Or I could gift it to a mermaid" Miguel chuckled and the lady looked at him with curious eyes.

"Well, to do such thing, you'd have to find one first."

"I won't, cause they're not real."

The chaman smiled smugly at him.

"What would you do if your homeland got infested with rotting bodies, blood and so many other unpleasant things continuously?"

"I'd look for a new home." he humored, but the lady only nodded in approval.

"And what kind of home you'd look for?"

"One that wasn't near the cities or civilization. Probably a secret manantial or even a virgin island"

The lady smiled

"Congratulations, Miguel. You now have the first lead into finding a mermaid."

"You can't expect me to believe such things."

"No lo espero, pero sé que tu curiosidad por dichas criaturas ha aumentado. ¿Qué es lo deseas tener?" (I don't, but I know for sure that your curiosity for such creatures have peaked your interest. What is it you long for?)

Miguel looked down at the lady, wistfully and she rubbed his arm comfortingly. Like a grandma would.

"My dear. Mystical creatures can only do so much, Miguel. Sadly, bringing back the dead isn't something they can do."

"No sabes de lo que hablas. No me conoces" (You don't know what you are talking about. You don't know me)

He seethed the last words as his grip abandoned the lady. His body tensed when the chaman reached out again to take his large hand.

"Loss is part of our lives, Miguel" Her wrinkled hands put the pearl in his hand, hers covered his warmly, pushing the trinket further in his hands, "And we all move on eventually. Life is full of wonders, and who knows, maybe what you find ahead in your path is exactly what you need"

He nearly growled as another riddle was added to the list.

"Te dije que te dejaras de-" (Thought I told you to quit the-)

His mouth gaped slightly, the lady was gone. He was left alone with the pearl in his hand, "Acertijos..." (Riddles...) he sighed and stared at the pearl, to then tuck it back on his pocket.

What was he longed for?

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #pirate au #mermaid au #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #female rader

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