#without being too dependant on references
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Never Shall We Die (3; final)
«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »»
PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader
PLAYLIST: right here!
pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)
SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool?
The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows.
Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.
GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk
WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k
Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k | Part 3 [final] : 15.8k
@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman
masterlist
WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tags: hoshi loves thighs, corruption kink to the mAX, clit stimulation, oral (f. receiving), breast play, p in v sex (unprotected, 1800s contraception will make you prefer it but pls dont do this irl), making out
[AN]: final part oh my god if youve read the other parts up till now, THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU i hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it, im really proud of this fic and im so happy so many of you have enjoyed it so far. @highvern betaing as always ty for not giving up on me. AS ALWAYS, PLS TELL ME YOUR THOTS IN THE RBS OR THE REPLIES OR SEND ME AN ASK LITERALLY WTV MUAH MUAH HAPPY READING <3
THIS IS THE NICEST PRISON Hoshi has ever been in, which was saying something, because he had been in quite a lot of prisons.
But it was uncomfortable nonetheless, six grown men tied up and shoved into a crouching space to be done with as the men that prowled above pleased.
Hoshi would be lying if he said he hadn’t had to restrain from pushing some of those sorry soldiers into the ice waters beyond the glaciers. He had resisted, the crew had resisted, but just enough to convince them of their unwillingness.
Hoshi had realised early on that there was no possible way of getting aboard Tigress without somehow climbing aboard the King’s boat first. The king wasn’t about to simply hand Hoshi’s ship over, and there was no indication that they'd wait till after nightfall to depart.
Hoshi also knew that the King would refuse to have him die so easily in the waters of the Green Islands, his pride depended on it. He imagines the man drawing up the specifics of the most gruesome execution the Kingdom would ever see. Hoshi was counting on it.
The bounds could’ve been broken out of and the locks somehow picked, but Hoshi also knew that he had to wait. Wait for you to find him first.
“What’s taking her so long?” Jun asks. He’d been the most anxious out of all, the shaking feet and restless moving making it clear.
“The bomb won’t…go off still strapped to her, will it?” Minghao asks and Hoshi isn’t quite sure he wants to know the answer.
“It shouldn’t. Not until she pulls the tab. But…”
“But?” Hoshi whips around. “Why is there a but? You were supposed to make sure there was no but!”
“Big bomb, more boom, less predictable!”
“Are you sure we can’t break out and look for her ourselves?” Mingyu grumbles, the most compromised with his longer limbs folded in uncomfortable positions.
“The minute they know we’re loose they’ll swarm her. There won’t be a way to get to her, not without fighting off every last bastard on this ship. They’ve taken our stuff too, we don’t stand a chance.”
They did, actually, stand a chance. But that was only if they were to break away and head straight for Tigress that was empty and standing right beside this very ship. But they couldn’t. Hoshi couldn’t. Not without taking you with him.
Nobody dares to suggest the easier route, and he doubts it’s just because of what he wants.
But panic was beginning to trickle into Hoshi’s veins anyway, the closed off brig refusing to give him any indication of the time of day.
The sun was only beginning to set when they were taken to the ship, and he knew they were near done for if they didn’t finish what they started before nightfall. He can’t tell how long it’s been, and it eats away at his insides.
Please be okay.
And then he hears it, the sound of a body hitting the floors with a loud thud, a chortle of air before it’s knocked out. He finds himself sitting up straighter, pressing his hands to bars of the prison, trying to peer out the narrow walkway that leads to the doors.
And then you appear in the lamplight, haphazard and ruffled up beyond measure.
The knife in your hand drips with blood, your shirt torn at the arms, your hands bloodied and bruised.
When Hoshi sees your face he almost doesn’t recognise you.
There’s angry blooming marks of red and purple all across your neck and collarbone, your eyes bloodshot and red, watering like you’d been swimming in salt water.
“Who did this?” he asks before anything else, watching you drop to your knees in front of the prison, unanswering as you fumbled with a giant ring of keys in your hand.
You jam each key into the lock, twisting it to no avail. Your hands are shaking.
The crew finally twist out of their loose bonds, Minghao lurching forward immediately, swatting your hands away. He picks out a few skinny pins from his boot, picking the rusty lock. Despite the strange angle, the bars creak open within seconds.
“There’s…There’s ropes hooked onto the ship on the main deck.”
Your voice sounds like you’re speaking through sandpaper, talking while struggling to emerge with the bomb you had.
Hoshi doesn’t know what to do when he crawls out of the space.
He’d had it all figured out in his head, what would happen in every possible outcome. You getting hurt wasn’t in any of his universal conclusions; especially not on this ship. They’d kill his crew, they might even kill the King with themselves, but you were meant to remain unscathed.
“Why–why do you look like that? What happened?” Nothing registers in his head, not even when Jun is pushing him out into the hall.
“Get up to the deck and get out across the lines!” Jun gruffs in his ears. “That bomb’s gonna go off with us still on here.”
He sees the canister that lies in the same prison they had just exited, he sees your mouth moving without sound. All he can think of are the distinct fingerprints around your throat and how it looked like somebody tried to kill you before they tried to kill him.
“Soonyoung,” he hears you say in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for him to snap out of it.
His crew is looking at him expectantly. He looks back at the door and sees the crumpled bodies of the prison guards.
So much for leaving quietly.
The minute Hoshi is out the door of the brig, he finds a chest next to the collapsed, bleeding soldiers. Kicking it open, he can only scoff as he finds the entire crew’s weapons in such close vicinity.
He feels better with his dagger at his hip, along with the rest of his knives that he slips into the loops. Even more so with the rest of his crew armed and ready.
“We know where the deck is.” He swallows, eyeing his crew’s weapons in their ready hands. He knew they’d agreed to ensure the clean sinking of the ship, but the fallen bodies on the floor were an ode to a different route they’d have to take. “Don’t hesitate if someone gets in your way.”
Taking cautious steps to the upper decks, he finds more bodies collapsed onto the floor, bleeding and unconscious. He opts to ask you the details later, wondering how you were able to take down all these guards by yourself.
It isn’t until they reach the stairs that lead to the main deck that he comes across a guard.
Before the witness can raise any alarm, Hoshi’s slamming the butt of his dagger into the side of his head, knocking him clean unconscious as he falls off the side of the short railing.
Clambering up the steps as quietly as possible, he raises a hand behind him to signal his crew to halt, peering into the main deck first.
The sun is still out, but low in the sky as it dips in the sky. There’s a few people on the deck, pacing and moving about in preparation for departure. Angling his gaze, he finds ropes suspended over the edge of the railing, parallel to the water.
He can’t see Tigress, but he knows that’s what the ropes are hooked on to.
“Jun,” he beckons. “How long till the bomb on the other ship goes off?”
The bomb Jun had planted in the first ship they had arrived in should be going off any time now, and Hoshi finds himself needing it to go off now.
Jun barely opened his mouth to reply when the ship shuddered.
For a moment, Hoshi thinks the bomb in the brigs had gone off, but when he finds the clambering of boots to one side of the ship, opposite to where the ropes tied to Tigress, he realises their surrogate ship had given its last gift to the crew.
The rest of the ship would be bounding to the main deck to inspect the noise soon, so he shoots a quick, “Hurry!” behind him before stepping onto the main deck.
The entire deck is occupied with the ship that lies a ways away across the expanse of sea, the beginnings that would soon lead the entire ship to be engulfed in flames. It’s tilting at a dangerous angle.
Hoshi stands as he uses the crew straight towards the ropes that lead to Tigress. Glancing, he finds Mingyu and Chan already hanging on the suspended ropes, making their way towards the empty deck of their ship.
Hoshi keeps his eyes on the occupied men on board, still staring at the lightshow that was their old ship. It isn’t until one of them turns, eyes towards the stairs that lead to the lower decks, that his eyes dart to the unfamiliar men on the deck.
“Fuck,” Hoshi curses, before lunging, grabbing the man by the shoulders and covering his mouth, dragging him wordlessly to the edge before throwing him off the ship and into the icy waters below.
“Go!” he hears you rasp brom behind him, ushering him to the ropes.
The crew is gone, Jun making the last jump to land on the deck. They’re running around, pulling ropes and fastening the sails to push the ship off into open waters as soon as possible.
There’s two ropes that tie the two ships together, and Hoshi ushers you onto one of them, pushing you to suspend yourself before he follows.
“There’s not enough time, go to the other one!” you tell him, pushing him to hold onto the other tattered rope.
Soonyoung eyes your state, “Are you sure you can—”
“Yes! I promise I can, please, before they cut both the ropes.”
So he trusts you, eyes straight ahead to the railing of his ship, gripping the rough, frayed rope to push himself towards the deck. His hands burn, but he finds himself moving ever closer to his final destination.
His hand grabs hold of the wooden railing of his Tigress at long last, pulling himself onto the deck of his beloved ship. Immediately whipping his head to his right, he tries to find you reaching the ship with him. The crew is preoccupied in attempting to get the ship ready for departure, he finds your form nowhere.
When he looks back, the rope he had climbed was gone, leaving gaping space in its absence. He trails the second rope, from the hook that had dug into the railing of Tigress’s wood, trailing it to the naval ship’s deck.
What he sees puts his heart in his throat.
You stand on the deck of your father’s ship, swarmed by now alert guards and soldiers who swarm you, yelling profanities and orders as they watch their prisoners get away right in front of them.
Hoshi watches as you lift your dagger, and cut the last rope that ties you together, free to fall and hit against the hull of his ship.
He calls out your name in what could only be described as a guttural scream.
His crew halts whatever it was they were doing, taking the steps to realise what had just happened.
Hoshi’s boot meets the top of the railing, ready to take the plunge into the water. He’d climb back up the ship and get you out. He doesn’t know what you were thinking, what he was thinking when he left you there, but he’d get you out.
Arms pulling him, he’s yanked back and positively thrown onto the deck.
“What is wrong with you?” Minghao yells, pushing his captain back as he springs up.
“She—”
Your father emerges from the crowd of guards and soldiers that run rampant on the deck, approaching you at the railing of the main deck.
Hoshi sees the hand that remains on his shoulder, the blood that covers the still bleeding wound, the effort it takes him to simply walk.
The bruises on your neck, the wound at his shoulder that looks like it was slashed through by a knife.
And then it clicks in Hoshi’s head, what had truly happened in the hours that you were out of his sight. And all he sees is red.
WITH THE WAY THE words on the pages seem to double, you would’ve thought you were going mad.
You’re a child, barely grown into your own body as you sit in the dimly lit library of the palace, utterly exhausted, wishing to be anywhere but sitting at the wooden desk with your name on it. The moon barely shone through the window, your only source of light the fireplace that burned in the corner and your lamplight.
It was a time where you felt like you could prove yourself, that perhaps, the reason your father refused you his approval was because you were simply not working hard enough. And now, at an hour where you should be fast asleep in your four poster bed, you attempt to understand diplomatic structures and everything that made your country what it was.
It was late, and there was nothing you would’ve liked more than to put your head on the table and rest your eyes for a few tantalising seconds, which you do, right over the book you were reading.
You awoke in the same place, shaken awake by a panicked looking servant, the sun shining through the great windows of the palace library.
It seems your disappearance from your bedchambers had put the entire palace in disarray, not realising the princess was fast asleep behind the giant pile of books other servants had already skimmed past thrice.
Not only were you unable to recite the rankings of the constitutions with the vigour your father required, but you were unable to give him a reason as to why you were absent for both breakfast and morning lessons.
He made the servants kneel in the throne room for hours, and did not fail to tell you that it was all your fault.
And now, in the ice cold of the Green Islands, old and wise enough to know that your father simply needed a reason to despise his heir, you accept the hands around your throat as his final act of terror.
Red faced and arms shaking, your father does not speak to you as he presses down on your windpipe with all his might. Your vision is going dark and splotchy, and you decide, for a moment, to let him have this moment.
He’s too preoccupied in applying his pressure to realise that you’ve raised your right foot enough for your hands to fish out your knife from its place, taking positivity in the handle of your knife that fits in your hand.
Before you can lose consciousness, you raise your arm high, and plunge it directly into his neck.
Howling, he releases you from his hold, both of you dropping to the floor of the ship with a resonating thud. You cough, sputter and hack, cold hands finding your now warm neck.
Your father lays clutching his shoulder as he remains in agony on the floor, and you realise you missed the crucial plunge in your own disarray.
It was good enough, rendering the old man incapable of finding his bearings.
You watch as he writhes on the floor of the quarters that almost became your figurative deathbed, the same hands that wrapped around his own daughter’s throat now clutching the shallow wound that renders him useless.
Standing over him, throwing your own shadow on his body, you feel a surge of power, a rush of adrenaline that shoots straight to your head. Perhaps this was your circulation returning from the deprivation, but you let the feeling imprint in your soul, let your father’s broken figure bring you satisfaction.
You leave him there, writhing in pain, digging your knife under the lock of the quarters, pulling back to break it away from the door. The guards stationed outside do nothing as you leave, and it isn’t until you’ve taken to lower decks that you hear the distinct yell of, “Your Majesty!”
Two more guards, who don’t expect an altercation from their princess, simply buffer as you send your knife plunging into them both. You do it deep this time.
Nobody was innocent, you knew these people as your father’s closest men, and knew that all of them were to remain silent as their King murdered his daughter. And when the remorse doesn’t do that thing where it trickles in after doing a bad thing, you decide you weren’t part of the innocents either.
It’s easier than you would’ve expected to get to the crew in the brig, letting out a sigh of relief as you appreciate the familiarity of people on your side.
And when Hoshi took his place to guide everyone out and into the open space of the main deck, you let your racing mind rest and decide to trust the man in whatever decision he made to lead you all out. And he did, he led himself and his crew right into the ship that was theirs, safe and where they would have the upper hand.
Hoshi didn’t know it when he climbed onto the ropes that lead to his boat that he wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t stayed, hadn’t used your voice of authority to keep the soldiers from attempting to shoot at the escapees, cut the rope while Hoshi remained suspended from it, still only halfway there.
You didn’t look at him when you sliced both ropes before either party could pull back, didn’t register him screaming your name across the void, pretending it wasn’t taking everything out of your strength.
But you couldn’t jump into the water, not now when a dozen of the royal guards remained ready to take the plunge to save their princess as their duty. The same guards that would comply with their king when told the princess was dead for reasons they all knew but were to forget.
The bomb had to go off first, and you had to keep them away from hooking another line to the ship in the meantime. You were operating on a flawed plan and an overenthusiastic crowd of guards that were moments away from shooting a canon straight into the side of the disconnected pirate ship.
The distraction comes in the form of your father parting the crowd of soldiers like the red sea, swatting every soldier that attempts to help his bleeding form for anything it was worth. He approaches you at the railing, and for once, you don’t look at the ground in his presence.
“Bold,” he heaves, the effort in his voice apparent. “Bold of you to think you could slip away.”
“I haven’t tried to slip away, father,” you correct. “I’ve stayed right here, even after you failed to kill me. And I, you.”
“Nobody is going to listen to you, child. Give in. This is the easy way out,” he says.
As if on cue, Jun’s bomb goes off for the second time, but this time the ship shudders with more force. It has your father unbalance and fall, along with multiple other soldier’s stumbling. You grip the railing tight, counting on your father’s need to live.
Despite your horrid throat and the ache in your body, you announce as loud as you can. “The bomb is in the brig, this ship is sinking.”
The fallen king trembles in a rage you had never quite seen before. Any other time of your life, you would’ve wished for the ground to swallow you whole to be the subject of such anger.
Except, in the setting sun, a burning ship in the background, a pirate ship that awaits you, and the ground beneath your feet that was actively sinking into the freezing water; you smile at your doomed King.
“Get to the brig! Secure the lower decks, do not let this ship sink or so help me God!” His voice rings across the deck, spittle blowing from his mouth at the situation.
And just like that, your father gives you the final gift of clearing the main deck out for you, leaving but a few straggling soldiers that are too preoccupied with either the sinking ship or their bleeding sovereign.
Looking back, you find the crew of Tigress standing at the railing, you find Hoshi already half over the edge and send him a slow nod.
Turning back to your father that remains on the floor of the ship that would become his coffin, you utter your next words; for yourself, and the girl that was every second before this, all the way to her first ever memory of sad:
“You’ve taught me to be a ruler fit to be the best for our Kingdom. Consider your death my first act of service for the Crown.”
And then you jumped into the darkening void of the waters below.
The cold feels like every nerve in your body ceased to work.
It was nothing at first, the temperature so intense it had your body numb in the face of shock. And then it grew, to a striking cold, and then a feeling that pricked every inch of your skin like a million needles plunging into your body. It was only getting worse with each passing second, before it was so painful it was hot, going from cold to searing and blistering like you’d plunged into the licks of flames.
Nowhere in your body did you find a rational sense of mind, something to tell you to kick, flail or float. The warped sky was an orange through the green, only more vibrant. Like there were two ships actively burning on the surface of this water.
Hoshi’s face appears behind your closing eyelids, like a mirage or a taunt. Like he was there with you when he wasn’t.
Would he come for you? Would he take the plunge for the girl he held in his arms, promising her something to fill the gap of a companion, right before she killed her own?
You’d given him what he wanted; your father, his worst enemy, dying as he sank slowly into the bottom of the ocean. You’d run your course of use, and if he was as smart as people claimed, he’d leave you to suffer the same fate as your father.
He could find his freedom elsewhere.
And you would find your freedom in the close of your eyes, and the sinking feeling of nothingness.
Except, you feel a hardness against your body, stronger even than the current of the waters. Moving impossibly upwards, you remember opening your eyes to find a leather cord suspended in the float of the water, before you remember nothing.
THE GREEN ISLANDS WERE on fire.
But as unnatural as it seemed, Hoshi had no inclination to register anything but the way the ship in front of him tilts so far out it's already half submerged in the waters. He’d assumed they might have to ready the cannons, but with the way debris and hollowed wood floats in the waters below, they would not need to.
The King was about to be introduced to Davy Jones’ Locker at the hands of his enemy and successor, but Hoshi could not care enough right now to relish in it.
Right now, he stares at the direct circumference of water your body had made contact with and disappeared into, like the world would explode if he lost his place.
“Should I jump as well?” Mingyu asks, already half taking his boots off. However, when the man turns to find his captain gone, he lurches over the railing to find his captain diving into the water through all the debris.
Hoshi lets the momentum of his dive take him as further down as possible, whipping his head around as soon as his eyes open into the abyss. The water ripples and erupts in showers of bubbles as broken pieces of ship come apart to fall into the water. It blurs his vision immensely, any ripple that could be you in the water coming out to be yet another piece of wasted wood.
The deeper he goes, the more the water presses into his ears. He was a good swimmer, good at holding his breath when needed, but even he had limits.
When he cannot see any sign of you, he begins to feel the churning of something skin to panic brew. Panic was never good, not this deep in the water.
Twisting and turning, flailing about in place, moving dangerously closer to the burning ship that continued to drop flaming bits of killing slabs, he finds no sign of you in the water.
Instead, he watches men in uniform sink deeper and deeper in their failed attempts to stay afloat.
All he can think about is if they were losing the battle for air, then so were you, somewhere deeper in the void than he was. He prays that he’s looking aimlessly, that you’ve already somehow made your way to the surface by yourself, and you were safe on the deck.
The beaded bracelet that remained on his wrist, but belonged to you.
“A reason for you to come out of this alive.”
Even without the encasing on his wrist, you had given him more than enough reason to want to come out of this alive, to want to live beyond just for himself and his duty to the crew he’d taken in.
He chose the life of a pirate because it was his only out, and every member of his crew that he recruited in succession, he acted as the hand he had needed so desperately in that awful brothel where his mother despised him and his father, a faceless man of Port Ash.
Amphitrite was not kind, it was a lesson he learned quickly in his first ventures out at sea. So he too, had to learn to be unkind, to survive in the horrid bellies of ships that weren’t his own. And when Tigress came into his life like a vessel of hope, he found a home in her merciful wood, in the ship that he could call his very own.
Hoshi lived as a free man on his ship, with his crew that had become his brothers in ways beyond what the thick of blood could offer. He did not care if he lived or died after that, as long as it was on his ship, in the waters that held no quarter for anyone, but gave him everything that nothing else could give him.
And so when you approached him with a proposal so bizarre yet so apt for a man like him, he could not refuse. It may have been the way he saw himself in you, terrified of the prospects but thirsting for an escape more than the fear that came with it.
Besides, the king was a nuisance that needed to go, and he found himself agreeing to play the hand too complicated for you.
What he did not expect was to end up here, in the depths of the ocean in the most uninhabitable part of the earth, trying to pull you out of the cold, unrelenting sea.
Hoshi realises in that moment that this might ruin him, the possibility of breaking the surface without you.
He decides that if the heavens do not let him find you, he would simply drown in the same waters that gave him purpose, and find peace with the idea that he would lay rest in the same waters as the person who might have given him something more.
Kwon Soonyoung, the deadliest pirate to cleave the seas, was in love with you. A princess, so undeserving of a man like him; a bastard, a rogue, a good for nothing criminal.
And when he spots the all too familiar build of your form, the linen shirt under the corset he had tied for you just hours ago, the dark brown trousers that signified the change he’d brought into your life, he swore to leave everything he’d ever known to thank the skies and seas for bringing him to you.
His burning lungs, screaming and searing for air, grabbing for your suspended arm that looked as defeated as your closed eyes. Tugging you towards him, he wraps his arm around you to press you to him as tight as he could.
Relief. And with the warm sting in his eyes that he doubted was from the salt in the water, he’s sure of everything he’s felt with the feeling of you in his arms.
With the bruising on your neck, the bleeding wound in your father’s shoulder, he finds it within his breaking body to begin kicking upwards.
Every limb, every cell, every hint of life in his body shrieked with its efforts to make him stop. There was no air in his lungs and he’d lost track of time in his search for you, he doesn’t know how long he has.
But if the blots of nothingness in his eyes were anything to go with, he doesn’t presume he has much. In a last ditch effort, he attempts to kick his boots off to weigh him down a little less, holding your dead weight tighter than anything.
He was so close, he could feel the warmth of the upper levels of the water change in its temperature on his skin. The glow was near blinding as the orange refracted on the disrupted surface of the ocean, so close yet so far.
Inch by inch, kick by kick, memory by memory, he does everything left in his drained power to touch the surface.
And he does, breaking out hand first into the burning air of the world above, taking the longest gasp of air he ever has in his life. Once he’s sure he knows where he is, he pushes you up further on his chest, your head resting against his collarbone, still unconscious.
“Stay with me, princess,” he pants into your ear, hoping you could hear. “I’ve got you.”
Chan and Mingyu are in the water beside him, pushing him towards the pulley that awaited them.
Mingyu makes an attempt to take your weight of his already struggling captain, but Hoshi finds himself holding on to you tighter, simply urging him to help him back on the deck.
The minute your head hits the wood of the deck, he’s checking your pulse. There’s no regard for the chaos that ensues around Tigress, both him and his crew too preoccupied with the way you were not breathing.
“I–I can’t feel anything,” he stutters his words as Seungkwan places a less panicked hand at your neck, under your nose.
“It’s weak, she’s taken in too much water.”
In an instant, he reaches for his knife at his hip, only to realise it was gone, lost somewhere in his rescue.
“Knife,” he rasps before repeating louder. “Someone give me a knife!”
The minute a hilt is in his hands, he’s pushing you over, to reach the back of your constricting corset, pushing his knife into the complicated sailing knot he’d tied it into before, breaking it free. With both hands, he takes hold of the top of the corset and rips it clean in half.
Turning you back over, he presses his hands over your clothed stomach, pushing into it with all his strength in an attempt to get the water out of your system. He keeps his eyes on your face, and when he sees no sign of you coming round, he feels another set of hands pushing him off.
Seungkwan takes over for his weakened captain, pushing into your stomach harder, attempting to get a break out of you.
“Why isn’t she coming around, what’s going on?” He throws the question aimlessly as he takes your unmoving face in his hands, trembling from everything.
Only a moment later, he hears the glorious sound of you sputtering like something was stuck in your throat, promptly spilling out an ungodly amount of water onto the deck as you retch loudly.
Sitting up from the force, your hands clamp onto the deck as you cough and heave, Hoshi’s hand coming behind you to thump your back hard, pushing you to throw up any remaining seawater from your body.
The sight of your back moving up and down, the audible sound of you taking in air; it was enough for Hoshi to simply lay on the deck and pass out.
You rear your head and look up at him, both of you still breathing heavily.
“You’re okay,” he assures, gulping. He takes your face in hands cupping it very gently as he speaks to you. “Go with Seungkwan, you’re okay, you’re safe.”
Nodding, you let yourself be helped up by the rest of the crew, watching as you’re led to the lower decks of the ship.
“Open your shirt, let me see the wound,” Mingyu says, and Hoshi doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Looking down, he sees his shirt soaked in red, sticking to a wound on the right side of his torso. He didn’t even know where he got it.
It looks like a shallow gash, but enough to leave a scar. He takes it better to have it tended to while he was still high on adrenaline and he couldn’t feel much of the pain.
By the time Mingyu and Minghao are done cleaning him up and Hoshi’s standing upright with wobbly legs, he finds the two burning ships beyond his own mere floating structures of wood that were in slow flame. There’s too much debris, too many bits of everything that bob in the large expanse of water to make out any bodies.
“There’s nobody,” Mingyu tells him. “Most of them were in lower decks when it all went down. Trapped themselves.”
“And…?” he asks in silence.
“He stayed on the deck until it sank,” Minghao informs. “Yelling about how he…about how he should’ve finished her when he had the chance.”
“Horrible king and somehow an even worse father,” Mingyu scoffs. “Made it better to watch him die.”
“He didn’t suffer enough,” Hoshi croaks as the marks on your throat dot his vision.
Just then, floating in the water, illuminated by the final streaks of setting light, Hoshi sees it. A darkened purple cloth right next to the hull.
“That,” he points out. “Get that out of the water.”
The late king’s purple cape laid on the deck of Tigress, darkened with water, but also with his blood.
To the Kingdom, this cape would be the last piece of their King that was gone too soon. But for every person on this ship, it would forever be their spoils of war.
Hoshi makes sure the cape will be dried and stored, ordering his crew to begin their slow journey out of the Green Islands, before he too crumples onto the deck unconscious.
IT WAS A SPECTACLE to see Hoshi in his element.
Something about how he seemed to beam, like this ship was charging him a different kind of energy. It was infectious, the rest of the ship decreasingly sour as they put on musical performances on the main deck while they cleaned the floors.
As relieved as you felt, the tight ball of anxiety refused to leave the pit of your stomach as you grew closer to the Kingdom. Nothing could prepare you for the shitstorm you’d have to deal with the moment you’d step onto the soil off a pirate ship of all things—let alone as Queen.
The first few days following the ship's exit from the Green Islands were difficult, if that was all you had to describe it. You took to your hammock for most of the day, curled up as you pretended to sleep, only waking up when one of the crew would come down to force feed you and to make sure you hadn’t died.
You knew they were doing all this to make you feel better, and somehow it was working. More than halfway through your journey, you began to feel more like yourself, emerging from your cave to visit the deck on times other than the nights.
Even now, as you sit on the floor of the deck with Seungkwan, who hands you an all too familiar stack of parchment, you feel nothing as you take them into your hands. As you read his handwriting scrawled in ink, you appreciate your past self for having the sense to keep them all.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better now,” he says to you. “Had us worried for a while there.”
“Sorry.” You smile weakly. “But thank you for…everything. I don’t think I could ever express how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. All of you.”
“I’d like to think we’ve gone past the status of mere business partners,” Seungkwan chuckles. “Lion befriends the bear? Whatever it is. But know we’d do it again.”
Blinking back the sting of tears and doing your very best to not let the warm feeling in your chest overwhelm you, you place the letters on the floor next to your folded legs. When you look up, Seungkwan's eyes are on your neck.
“They’re taking their time to fade, aren’t they?” you say.
Seungkwan has a hard look in his eye, “I guess you didn’t need your letters to remind you of anything after all.”
Your mind wanders, drifting past how easily this crew could have been forgotten in the unforgiving elements. Perhaps you would have let the man that wrapped his hands around your neck finish his job.
“Was getting captured part of your grand plan?” you ask Seungkwan.
“Hm?” It takes a moment to realise what you may be questioning him about, smiling slightly. “What makes you think we went in with a plan?”
“I thought I asked you to man the wheel?” Hoshi stands above the both of you.
“Not to batten down the hatches,” he side-eyed his captain. “Clear waters ahead, the wheel does not need manning.”
You zone out as they squabble over nothing, not finding the heart to be entertained by their back and forth. Seungkwan either loses or forfeits, because you feel him rise from next to you, only for his captain to take his place.
“What are you thinking about?” Hoshi asks.
“Everything,” you sigh.
“How come Seungkwan gets a thank you for your service and I don’t? Need I remind you who jumped for you and who didn’t?”
Rolling your eyes, you answer him, “Thank you, Captain Hoshi Kwon, I am forever indebted to your service.”
He chuckles in exaggeration, “Oh please, all in a day's work.”
“I mean it.”
“Hm?”
“I never did say thank you. But you did jump for me when you didn’t have to.”
“Who said I didn’t have to?”
“Our deal was done.”
“Of course not,” he scoffs. “Our deal was to get you out when you jumped. I merely honoured that promise!”
“Merely?” you raise a brow. “Was it all merely a matter of conscience?”
His gaze locks with yours. “Don’t ask questions you know the answers for. I would’ve jumped even if you asked me to rope myself to the mast.”
“Please. I have enough blood on my hands and I haven’t even sat on my throne yet.”
“Blood is only on your hands if you tell a soul of what you’ve done,” Hoshi utters. “You’re the only living soul who knows.”
“And you are…?”
“Pirate. Our word means nothing.” Hoshi smiles.
The thought hangs in the air as you take in the man in front of you. He’s changed an era’s worth, yet all the same. His hair is longer, going from his initial shorter crop to curling around his ears, shielding his eyes. It makes him look younger, like a boy with much to live for.
That, and the multitude of notable scars he’s added to his collection, many of which have somehow been because of you. The wound at his torso is doing better, but far to go in its quest to heal.
Hoshi senses something amiss even after his sermon. Breaking his gaze, he turns to look straight ahead at the raised bow of the ship instead.
“Do you know how I got my splendid reputation for being the filthiest pirate on the seas?”
You can only stare, “I have a few guesses.”
He chortles, “Other than my criminal status.”
“Tell me.”
“Unnamed sailors have the odds of a peanut facing its inevitable fate of being crushed under a straggling boot. Pirates don’t see the government as their enemy when they’re own supposed brothers are more likely to jam a cannon in their mouths.”
He lets out a heavy sigh before continuing, “My mistake wasn’t that I was on the losing side in my early days, but more about how I was leaving nothing behind when I was done.”
“How humble,” you hum.
“Dead men tell no tales. When it’s worth it, it might be better to leave a straggler or two to live to tell the tale. A routine stab in the jugular can turn you into somewhat of a myth.”
“Am I a survivor?” you question.
“You may be sovereign on land, but you’re also an unnamed pirate,” he responds, turning back to lock eyes with you. “And you’ve left nobody to tell the tale.”
No one listens to a pirate, and everyone listens to a Queen.
“This isn’t to say there won’t be a legend that follows you.” He quirks a brow as he speaks. “Shows up and claims her father and his entire ship and crew sank at sea, only to befriend his sworn enemies in the aftermath. And then it evolves; she sent a cannon through her fathers ship, he died at the end of his own daughter's sword, she cursed him to captain a crew of the undead for eternity.”
“Have I planted the seeds for yet another ghost story?” It’s difficult to not giggle at the thought, despite how morbid.
“You’ve given yourself substance,” he says, a little stronger than before. His eyes too, wander to your neck and the bruises that refuse to budge. “Beyond just a royal or even a pirate. You did it for your honour as a human being, and that may be braver than anything I have ever conquered.”
In your anxiety ridden, feeble mind, your thoughts had convinced your conscience that everything would be over the minute your father’s heart stopped beating. That it would bring you peace at last.
And it did, especially when it felt like you’d gotten rid of this constant monster under the bed that had followed you far into adulthood. But from the bleeding heart of the creature emerged yet another one of its brethren, and then another and then another.
Smaller albeit, but monsters nonetheless. Problems nonetheless.
Weeks of this, and in one short interaction, Hoshi seemed to have given you the key to turn this monster into a pet.
On instinct, you feel your hand reach up, brushing against the skin of his cheek. It’s an all too familiar setting, seated on the deck of a ship too close for anybody but yours’ comfort. But without the rum and resentment, of course. And how you doubt he’d pull away this time.
Very lightly, you brush your lips against his. It was nothing but to simply feel him again, to feel a semblance of familiarity.
You feel him take your hand that rests on his cheek to place a kiss on your palm, nuzzling his nose into the concave of your hand.
Everything that was to come seemed a little more possible in that very moment.
Even more so when his fingers found the sensitive areas of your coloured throat, when his lips closed against your jaw, only to trail lower and to press into the marks his fingers continue to trail tucked into your neck.
That night, when slipping into your hammock felt like the most unbearable prospect in your near future, it couldn’t possibly be worse than uttering your next question to the man that seems to fix it all.
“Will you stay with me?”
With nothing but the light snores of the rest of the crew and the creaking of the ship, both you and Soonyoung laid in a hammock most definitely not meant for two. Head on his chest, ear pressed against where his heart beats under his scar, it’s bliss.
The feeling of his warm body against yours and the scent of him settling in your lungs, you decide that this was enough. At least for now.
IT WAS DIFFICULT TO give yourself the full list for obvious reasons, but it does seem to help when you tick off all the possible reasons why your patience has run as thin as it has.
Sitting at the decorated seat at the convened court of old men appointed by your father, you briefly wonder if you should finish them off too amidst your flash of anger. The men continue to squabble and babble about the next course of action, slamming their wrinkled hands on the pristine table and sending their own daggers of threats to the other inhabitants of the table.
“If you’d like to send a search party for the King’s body, be my guest,” you finally speak, having had quite enough when the throb in your temple worsens. “But remind me what troops you’ll be sending to the North if your best men will be gone for months attempting to find a body they never will.”
The dispute in the North side of the Kingdom was taking up most of the conversation anyway, and you doubt they’d put customary burial rites over their own glory of victory the North would bring.
“Your Majesty—”
“I would happily jump on the next search ship for my father,” you lie through your teeth. “But I watched him drown in front of my own two eyes, and as the next sovereign I cannot let you waste our resources for something that will both risk our soldier’s lives and have them come back home empty handed.”
Perhaps you had come off slightly more heartless than you intended, so you quickly add, “Please, let my father rest in peace.”
That seems to end the conversation easier than you had expected, but they’re quick to jump to the next issue not long after.
“The court would also like to bring light upon the palace guests.”
Tightening your jaw, you slump against your seat slightly. “What about them?”
They remain silent as their mouthpiece attempts to form the right words for the following question, mostly because you’ve addressed this multiple times beforehand but they continue to sit restless.
“Allow me to help you, Lord Bridge,” you sit up straighter, intending to put this matter to rest. “My guests will remain here for as long as they do, and if you have any more arising issues towards my guests I will only take it as your collective issues towards me.”
In the moment of silence, you continue, “The Kingdom is in a place of instability as we are all well aware. I find it most appalling that you remain fixated on trivial matters of the palace’s domestic code of conduct than you do for the wellbeing of this country!”
Silence yet again as you wait for their forcibly rehearsed chorus of apologies.
“Our greatest apologies, your Majesty.”
The pain in your temples becomes near unbearable as you dismiss the table after that, screeching your chair as you push it back as loud as you possibly can to do nothing but spite the men.
Turning the corner out of the room, you catch the open gates that lead to the paved gardens outside, the sun seeping into the marble floors indoors. Taking an instinctive step towards the gardens, you find most of the crew sprawled onto the grass as they soak in the sun.
Chan and Seungkwan look like they’re wrestling, their laughter ringing throughout the open court while their captain snaps at them to cut it out, only to get roped under one of their headlocks all the same.
There’s a call of your name and a giant wave from Mingyu, who spots you from beyond the flower beds. Still leaning against the gates, you smile and wave back.
Years the halls of the palace had gone, never hearing laughter in its walls. And something about watching them let themselves ruin the petunias and laugh so loud it echoes, heals you just a bit.
Even that night, when you find yourself in your giant four poster bed you’ve slept in since you were a child, this time dozing under the arm of another, you feel the itch of a healing wound somewhere in your heart.
Soonyoung laid with you for every night on the ship since that night, and stayed even here where the space was big enough to host the ghosts of your worries if not distracted.
He had found you on that first night in the palace still awake, haunting the library fireplace with another stack of papers to keep you company.
“Can’t sleep?” he’d asked as he picked up some of your documents.
“Clearly not,” you huff. The papers were mere decorations as you attempted to find an excuse to leave your rooms.
“You realise you won’t be much of an effective monarch if you exhaust yourself to death?”
There was no answer to that, especially when you were absorbing nothing of your new duties. You’d expected to fall asleep on the armrest of the uncomfortable settee whenever it was that you exhausted your brain of thoughts, even then refusing to sleep in that large bed.
He’s awfully persuasive, because as he tucks you into those very sheets, about to leave but not before placing a kiss on your forehead You stop him.
“Stay. Please.”
True as he has always been, he does.
THE CROWN IS HEAVIER than you had expected, even more so when it remains on your head for longer than your previously practised sessions walking around the throne room. The crew was exceptionally good at giving you things to train with, including fraudulent rodent scares to ensure the crown would not topple from your own head the minute you rise from your coronation.
And now, as you finally remove the decorative piece from your head after your actual coronation to replace it with something lighter for the following ball, you find relief in the fact that you’d only ever have to wear the actual thing only a few times in your life.
Everything moves as smoothly as it could, the decorated pirates that saved their Queen from a horrid shipwreck taking up most of the attendees attention as they either question inquisitively or send snarky remarks to the men who are well versed in how to rebut in true informal manner.
The past months had taken up more of your time than you had anticipated, and during the latter half of the still twinkling party, you attempted to spot the person you’ve been trying to corner all night.
Soonyoung stands at the edges of the gathering, empty handed as you watch him reject yet another offer for a drink from the trays that float about. His attire is the most formal you had ever seen, his face scrubbed and hair pushed back for the glorious occasion.
Approaching him from the sidelines, you take hold of his wrists and pull him towards one of the many doors in the ballroom and into a hallway you knew for a fact was rarely ever frequented.
“I feel I haven’t seen you ages,” you say once you’re sure you’re alone.
“Probably best for you to keep busy,” he replies with the smallest smile.
“Have the wrappings on your wound come off?”
Looking at his covered torso, he runs an instinctive hand over where the wound was. “Just a smaller patch now, but it’s nearly there. Disappointed it won’t scar too much.”
“Disappointed?”
“These are my spoils of war, miss princess,” he adds with a smirk, before correcting himself. “Ah, miss queen?”
“Doesn’t have the same ring,” you comment.
“The crown suits you.” His voice is soft and sincere.
Scoffing a little, you answer, “I would hope it did.”
“Although, I do prefer you in trousers and a knife.”
Laughing, you can only agree. Especially in your heavier than yourself dress and jewels. “I think I prefer them too.”
At the mention of your new status, he asks, “Shouldn’t you be milling between your new subjects?”
Keeping your eyes on his face, you wait until he meets your gaze. “I have more important things to attend to.”
He breaks eye contact first, and you can feel the distance grow further. One reach and you could take his hand in yours.
But you don’t.
“I know I’ve been quite busy, but…” you trail off as you attempt to find the words. “Is something the matter? What’s going on?”
With a long sigh, he runs a hand through his kept hair, effectively tousling it a little. “I was going to wait until after the ball to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
He makes no moves to look at you when he utters his next words. “The crew and I will be leaving at dawn tomorrow. We’ve taken up enough of your space and it’s best if we don’t intrude any further.”
It’s like you’ve taken a blow to the chest, the air knocked out of your lungs as you register what he’s just said. “You’re….you’re leaving?”
“I would think we’ve both gotten what we wanted. We had a deal.”
Deal? Why was he mentioning that now?
“Are you going to abandon me too?”
His head snaps up to finally meet your eye, mouth opening closing as words betray him.
“What happened to what you said about gaining you? All of you?” There’s a blatant accusation in your words.
“And you have! We’ll visit. Assuming the state doesn’t want my head on a pike anymore,” he chuckles uncomfortably.
In a moment of desperation, you take his hand in both of yours; his scarred, gnarled hands that tell you even in the dark who’s warmth it is that you feel every night next to you.
“Stay. Stay with me, please,” you plead. “I can’t live in this place alone, I despised it when I was young and I’ll only despise it even more now.”
Soonyoung brings his other hand to clasp over both of your own, eyes closing as you hear him take a somewhat shaky breath. “I’m doing this for the both of us.”
“So am I! I can’t possibly rule a kingdom by myself.”
“I’m sure you’ll find someone—”
“I don’t want someone! I want you!”
He begins to whisper your name, moving his face away to blink rapidly.
“How do you feel about becoming a pirate king? I can never forbid you from the waters, that’s your home, and you will have it.”
He does not look at you, but you know he’s listening more intently than ever before.
“But I ask you as someone who loves you more than I have ever anything else, will you stay and marry me?”
Soonyoung falters as he absorbs the fact that you’ve just proposed to him.
“I—” he stutters. “The court—”
“The court wouldn’t dare to deny me the man that saved my life.”
You squeeze his hand tighter, moving impossibly closer.
“And even if they do, I'm ready to fight for the man who fought for me. So answer me as a man and not a pirate, Kwon Soonyoung, will you marry me?”
Soonyoungs mouth enclosing over your own is all the answer you need as you feel him break free of your hands to let them find your waist instead. Amidst the pile of fabric he pushes himself into you as close as possible, letting your hands guide his head to move against your mouth.
It’s everything, as you grip onto the back of his shoulder, pressing unforgettably into his open mouth. He takes in your bottom lip between his own, sucking before letting go, only to engulf your mouth once again.
“We’ll figure it out,” you whisper against his lips, feeling the nuzzle of his nose against the apple of your cheek, hot tears spilling from your eyes. “I promise, we’ll figure everything out.”
He shushes you when he feels you shudder in his hold, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. “No need to torment your pretty head. Not right now.”
For once, you listen to your pirate captain without a fight, simply feeling the stretch of your lips as he moves down to capture them once more.
The pressure of his hands isn’t nearly as strong as it would’ve felt without the layers upon layers of fabric that cover your form, but standing in this desolate hallway, you swear his fingers might as well be caressing your bare skin underneath.
The thought sends your mind into a dazzling spin, letting go of his mouth with a gasp, suddenly needing to take a step back.
“I have to—I have to go back inside,” you breathe into his slick mouth. “Meet me outside my quarters at midnight.”
As scandalous as it was, you could not deny how alive it made you feel to be like this, meeting in darker corners in the dead of night. But for now, you allow him to fix the bits of your ensemble you could not see. With the bad of his thumb, he blends in the smudges of your rouge, swiping at your lips ever so delicately to ensure he leaves no trace of himself. Tucking the loose strands of hair back behind your ears, and finally, fixing the encrusted crown on your head, a flash of one of the diamond’s gleams reflecting onto his perfect face.
“You’re beautiful.” There’s a dazed look that graces him. “Beyond beautiful.”
With one last innocent press of your smiling mouth onto his, you promise him your midnight.
BY THE TIME IT was finally an appropriate hour for you to excuse yourself for the evening, you were near to exploding entirely.
Whispers of “Are you alright, your Majesty?” plaguing you through your already racing mind. It was beyond difficult to keep the constant shaking of your foot unobvious, however you could not simply up and leave whenever you wanted—at least not yet. The monarch would remain in an unstable authoritative position for quite some time after ascension, and with the unorthodox situation at hand, you assume you’d really have to push yourself if you were to be of any use as sovereign.
But when the time finally came and you were escorted out of the grand ballroom, only mere ticks away from the resounding bells of midnight, you were holding back from breaking into a sprint. Outside your quarters it was empty, but you remain steadfast in your refusal for your ladies in waiting tonight, promising you could dress yourself for bed on your own.
Standing at the double doors of your rooms, still the princess’ quarters as you refuse to move into the Queen’s rooms, you stand waiting. The two guards remain staring straight ahead, and you wait for the clicking of your ladies to go muffled before you ask.
“Has the Captain approached?”
“No, your Majesty.”
You try not to feel disappointed, despite knowing the midnight bells were yet to sound. “If he does, allow him in, please.”
Opening the double doors, you half wish you had let your ladies help you out of the god awful dress, tight and loose in all the wrong places. The jewels are thrown haphazardly on your vanity, needing the heavyweight of them off of your body.
Perhaps months of little to no bedazzling had rendered you incapable of wearing anything mildly less comfortable than linen and leather, but you suppose you’d slip back into the habit just as easily as you slipped out of it. Your nightgown feels like heaven on your tired, tired body, and the dimly lit interior of your bedchamber is only encouraging you to slip under your covers and fall deep into sleep.
That was one thing about the ship you doubt you’d ever miss.
Three rapt knocks outside of the heavy double doors have you sitting rapt at attention, hastily making your way to the door from your vanity. Pressing the front of your nightgown down, you open the door slightly and poke your head out.
Soonyoung stands at the door, nervous of all things, still clad in his full suit. You smile as you let him in, closing the door to turn the lock.
“Your guards mortify me.”
“Oh? So they’re doing their job right?” You walk up to him and grasp onto his lapels, pulling him down to meet the lips you’ve missed so much despite only being hours apart. “Why? Has this big bad pirate found his match in the palace guards of all places?”
“Hmm,” he’s humming against your lips. “I could take them both.”
Giggling like you were in love, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close.
“I hope you weren’t bothered too much,” you say. “The aristocracy seem to have being a pain in the ass written in their birthrights.”
“I think they were too scared to approach, probably thought I’d start swearing and snatching the pearls right off their necks. Some of them were bearable, asked me how long my sword was.”
It’s difficult to not laugh at that, “Well?”
He raises his brows unceremoniously, “Won’t you like to know?”
Taking the opportunity while you giggled uncontrollably at the situation, he goes back placing never ending kisses to your mouth. Sighing involuntarily, you melt into him once again, infinitely more relaxed than in the hallway.
Soonyoung’s eyelashes brush against yours in a whisper of their own, only reminding you how close you were to him in the moment. His kisses go from soft and fleeting to something with a little more vigour. The warmth of his mouth goes back to overtaking the lower half of your face, sucking and licking into your mouth like his life depended on it.
If your mind was reeling when his hands were merely ghosts of pressure over your heavy dress, the feeling of his palms and fingers so distinct over your nightgown, the only thing separating you two, is enough to have your knees begin to buckle.
From your waist, they move to your back, before caressing back to the sides of your waist, thumb running in circles. Gentle handfuls of your flesh, bunching and letting go of the material of your nightgown. Very soon, his mouth leaves yours and instead moves to your jaw, the air in the room letting you feel the wetness that he leaves behind as a passionate trail.
He soon reaches the junction of your jaw and neck, leaving a particularly long suck in the area that has a gasp leaving your mouth. Remaining in that area, you feel the pleasant graze of his tongue on your skin, only making you tilt your head farther out to let him carry out his loving.
Your mind wanders back to the hands that grope you in ways that would defame you, the unseemly palms that have you needing to feel him all the same.
With grazing hands, you slip your fingers underneath his jacket, pushing it off one shoulder. He understands the message, flicking it off of his frame before loosening his cravat and throwing it somewhere behind him.
Unlatching from your neck, he comes round to face you to find your face the epitome of disconnected and dazed.
“Can you wait for me on the bed, my love?”
“But—” The thought of him being even an inch away was most aggravating, but he cuts you off before you can refute.
“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Soonyoung rests his forehead against your own, taking your hands in his. “I’m right here. I just need to take this awful suit off.”
Your face must have been peculiar because he’s immediately jumping, panicked. “Uh—do you not want me to, we don’t have to, I just thought—”
“No!” you yelp, wide eyed. “I, um, I’ll wait. On the bed, I mean.”
He lets you walk over to the giant four poster bed, pushing the flow of your gown down when you realise how high it had ridden, cheeks burning scarlet at the thought of exposing so much.
Hearing ruffles from behind you, you cannot bring yourself to look back at him, already extremely lightheaded and afraid that the sight might make you faint altogether.
Perhaps you were experiencing a delayed case of sea legs, because it’s more difficult than usual to make yourself comfortable on the soft beddings. You make a futile attempt at slowing your breathing.
By the time Soonyoung is done, meeting you in the middle, you keep your eyes on his face as he’s immediately climbing over to kiss you softly. Hand on the back of your head, he guides you to lay flat, adjacent to the headboard so you’re laying on the breadth of the bed.
He handles you like you were made of glass, and it only makes the strange ache between your legs increasingly present and uncomfortable.
Noting a cool feeling on the base of your throat, you open your eyes and catch the leather cord that dangles from his neck, the letter opener charm that’s attached to the end of it connecting you two as your lips part. Just beyond, through the dip of his collarbones and the valley to his chest, you catch the scar that curls above his heart. Even lower, you find the smaller wrappings of his scarring wound.
You trace over the edges of the new addition, shaking hands as you try your best to not brush over the wound.
On the other side, Soonyoung has his hands on shin as his body hovers over you between your legs. Curling around, he caresses the skin of your bare calf, drifting to the back of your knees. He takes the opportunity to lift your leg, urging you to wrap it around his waist.
The action has gravity doing what it does best, the hem of your nightgown dropping to bunch over the junction of your leg, your entire thigh exposed for the air.
Soonyoung takes no time to let his hands wander higher, taking light handfuls of the flesh of thighs, dragging his grip further and further up.
“Nearly tipped the ship over when I saw you in those fucking trousers,” he says, eyes closed as he drags his mouth over the inner part of your thigh.
The sound that leaves your mouth is breathy, mind preoccupied with how quickly he was making his way towards the apex of your thighs. He’s using his mouth like he used it on your own lips, nipping at the flesh before biting down hard.
“Soonyoung!”
Tongue running over the patch, he sucks on the area to sooth the bite. It’s taking everything out of you to not twitch uncontrollably in his hold, the heat in your core reaching temperatures you’ve never experienced.
Unlatching himself from your thigh, Soonyoung rears his head slightly. The sight has your head rolling back, mind drifting to the face of the man who’d visited you in your dreams, the same man that had now made home between your legs.
Before you realise it, the bunched hem of your nightgown is flown upwards entirely, fluttering as the fabric lands on your stomach.
Your heat is bare underneath, evident with the way Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the now fully exposed part of you. Your chest continues to rise and fall as you lift your head to look at him, eyes half closed and mind muddled.
“What…What’re you doing?”
Soonyoung looks like you’ve disturbed him from a trance, snapping up to look at you as you ask him your question.
It hardly registers in his mind. What was he doing? Was it not obvious—
Ah.
If the mere sight of your bare thighs weren’t enough for him to release his load onto the sheets untouched, your unawareness might just end up doing it for him.
Of course you didn’t know why he was at eye level with your cunt; women from this world were not supposed to know.
The buzz in his mind renders him useless for a few moments as his vision blurs, the pain in his lower region unbearable. The thought of him being the first person to do this to you, to pleasure you like this; he wasn’t sure if he’d make it till the end of the night alive.
Screwing his eyes shut, his palms full of your thighs, he drops his head and counts to ten.
“Will you let me show you how a Queen is meant to be worshipped?”
Wet mouthed and unhinged eyes, your arousal was doing nothing but multiplying at the sight of him.
“Do you trust me?” he asks. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”
It takes you less than a moment to nod your head, eyes locked with his.
Bringing a hand closer, he dips one finger into the beginnings of your hole. Bringing some of the glisten onto his fingers. Your lips are parted and he brings a second finger to gather your arousal, rubbing over your entrance ever so slowly.
The motion makes you let out a heavy exhale, gripping onto the bunched fabric at your stomach till your knuckles turn white.
With little warning, you feel his fingertips push and drag upwards, right over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Immediately, he’s rubbing your arousal all over the area, rubbing your clit in rhythmic circles with both fingers.
You can’t stop it when you throw your head back and let out a slight whimper, relishing in the feeling that overtakes every last sense and capability, anticipating the next surge of pleasure that courses through your entire body like you've been struck by a bolt of something.
Vision obscured, you loll your head to the side when you feel his fingers retract, confused.
All you catch is the outstretched nature of his tongue, and how it lands directly where his fingers were.
You let out the loudest moan yet, back arching off the bed as he licks a forceful drag up your cunt before moving back down your clit, circling your hole with the tip of his tongue, right before repeating. He flicks your nub right where he’s found you twitch the most, back and forth as your hips begin to fail at your suppressed stutters, his hands needing to pin you down onto the sheets to continue.
He becomes more generous, laying his tongue flat now as he massages your nub so good. Your thighs are closing around his ears and he does nothing to stop you, nearly suffocating between them. Hips going from their stutters to a grind, you find your hands flying to his hair, grip tighter than you thought you’d come down with. It doesn’t help that he’s now taken a finger to circle your entrance while his lips suck on your clit.
“Soonyoung.” It’s all you can say, throat incapable of forcing anything but his name, the burn behind your eyes only making it harder to not say it louder.
When he pushes the finger in, it has you letting out a moan, the foreign feeling against your walls only forcing them to clamp onto his digit. Gradually, you feel his pace quicken as he slides his finger in and out of your hole, his mouth still doing beautiful things to your cunt.
It doesn’t take long for him to shove in another finger, stretching your hole as you let out a constant string of noises through the pleasure, ever-building as every passing moment only scrambles your brain further.
And then you feel him groan, a vibration throbbing through your system.
It’s suddenly all too much, and before you can tell him what’s going on, you’re rendered incapable. You don’t know where your limbs fly, but all you feel is white hot and overwhelming to an unbelievable degree.
“Oh–ungh—” Your body is telling Soonyoung all he needs to know as he only pushes into your pussy even further, letting you ride out your high as you claw at him in every way possible.
Inevitably, the feeling subsides and you realise you’ve been reduced to sobs, tears streaking the sides of your face. Laying flat with your head still on the sheets, you stare at the ceiling of your four poster, trying to remember where you were.
Barely noticing the man that now hover above you, you hear him whisper. “Are you alright?”
Nodding weakly, you don’t even try to lift a finger in the remaining aftermath.
“I need words, my love.”
Swallowing thickly, you give him a breathy, “Yes.”
The lower half of his face glistens in the light like unorthodox diamonds, and all you can think about is how you need him closer to you.
You make an attempt with your nightgown, your trembling arms, still coursing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.
Soonyoung decides to help, hands pushing your spine into an arch as he pulls the slip up and over your head, now entirely bare in front of him.
You watch as instead of throwing the fabric away, he brings it to his mouth to wipe the slick off, tainting the gown with your essence.
Mouth over yours in a salty kiss, you pull him into you as close as humanly possible, needing to feel his heat, his weight, his scent as close as possible. His mouth reaches your throat again, lips brushing over the expanse as he places open mouthed kisses over the nearly faded marks.
His hands are lingering once again as they ghost the sides of your breasts, thumbs coming close to your nipples before retracting in a caress. He takes them in handfuls as he goes back to busy your lips with his own, massaging the mounds with a pressure just enough to have you reeling.
Flicking your nipple lightly, he goes back to circle the bud with thumb again. Making himself further familiar, his fingers begin to pinch and pull at them, pressing down to get a noise out of you, one that you sound as you breathe into his mouth.
Trailing over your stomach, he pushes himself off of you. On his knees, he takes the distance as his chance to look at you in your entirety for the first time. Your fucked out expression and your lack of words is doing nothing but fueling him, your loud breaths somehow more sinful than anything he could ever do to you.
In one swift motion, he’s slipping his arms beneath you, pulling you up so he can lay you against the headboards and pillows. You barely register what’s happening, having given yourself up to him long before.
Grabbing one of the millions of cushions on the bed, he swings one over. Using no strength of your own, he lifts your hips and places it down beneath you, effectively propping you up.
And then he’s meeting you at eye level, hands cupping your face. “I need you to listen to me, darling.”
He waits for confirmation, of which you can only nod, still seeing mild stars. “Do you want to stop?”
It's a visceral reaction; the violent shaking of your head, the hand that flies to his bicep. “N–no!”
You pause as he grips onto your upper arms tight, right as you continue. “I just—a moment. Don’t stop, please.”
Leaning down, he places a long kiss on the corner of your mouth before moving his head to fit into the crook of your neck. He nuzzles his nose against the skin below your ear.
“I’m right here,” he whispers. “For as long as you want me.”
His kisses go from desperate to something with a little more intent, pressing his lips into your neck consistently. Oh so gently, it begins to feel like a draught. He turns into calm just as he could become chaos, bringing you down from the after effects of his own actions.
The hum that leaves you is unthinking, fingers remaining deep in the roots of his hair. Your own nose is pressed against his hair, his scent mixed with sweat infiltrating your nostrils. It fills your head with a pleasant buzz, one that you feel force a pull at the corners of your mouth.
“I meant it when I said it,” you murmur into his hair. “I don’t want anyone but you.”
Raising his head, he meets your eye, smiling slightly. “I believe you. Forgive me for making you believe I was trying to leave you.”
“You weren’t?”
He presses his lips into a line, exhaling as he drops his chin to his chest. “I’ve needed to be selfish my whole life just to survive. Leaving…I wasn’t sure how I would’ve gotten on that boat in the morning without taking you with me somehow.”
Moving back to look at you, you realise very quickly there’s more to the mere glassy look in his eye. “For once, I wished to be anything but a pirate, to be anywhere but near the sea. Not when you wouldn’t be there with me.”
Taking one of his beautifully decorated hands to your mouth, you kiss the soft of his palm. “You’ve done more than anyone ever has to protect me.”
You laugh against his hand, “This is my turf, captain. Let me protect you… protect us.”
Something injects you with a dose of bold, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his raised shoulders. “But…I believe we were in the middle of something. I’d hate to ruin the mood.”
The smirk that graces his lips is immediate, pushing you back down onto the sheets as you let a laugh escape you.
And then you feel something warm graze your bottom lip, pointed in the way it pushes inwards. He’s brought the glinting letter opener charm up to your lips, the trinket pinched between his fingers as he continues to keep it on your mouth. He kisses you deep as the metal remains between you two, your hands run across the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple as he props himself between you.
“I love you,” he cuts between the kiss to groan, the charm dropping from between your mouths to your chest.
“I love you, mmh—” His fingers have found your clit mid confession, rubbing quickly as he attempts to get you all hot and withered again.
Your legs raise on instinct, back arching as he rubs you mercilessly, the pressure building quicker than it had before.
“I–I think—” you start to tell him, and it seems it’s all he needs to remove his fingers entirely.
“Soonyoung!” you yelp, landing on the bed with a thud.
Looking down, you find his hands wrapped around the length between his own legs, and you realise this was your first time seeing it. Past the white-oozing slit, his tip is a painful looking red. If his hands weren’t already pumping and he hadn’t already lined himself up to your hole, you would’ve taken him into your own palms, done exactly with your mouth that he’d done with his own.
But you can’t find it within yourself to stop him when you feel the initial push of his bulbous tip against your hole, the stretch causing you to drop your mouth open.
“Fuck,” you hear him curse, and when you look up you find his own eyes screwed shut. His hands grip the plush of the pillow beside your head as tight as ever, face askew like he was holding himself back from combusting entirely.
Slowly, you feel the stretch turn into something akin to a burn, a sting in the back of your eyes. You let him push himself into you at his own pace, the never ending battle between your mind and your refrained hips ever present as you attempt to keep them at bay.
He keeps his pelvis flush against yours ince he’s sheathed himself inside you entirely. BOth of your pants fill the thick air of the room, the throb of your walls around his shaft leaving a tremble in his forearm despite your forsake.
Hand somewhere above your head, you feel Soonyoung pull out ever so slightly before pushing back in. Just like this, in shallow thrusts, he pumps himself in an out of your walls in a slow pattern.
It begins with a simmering tremble of pleasure that prolongs as he drags his cock in and out, and then in and out, and then—
Your eyes fly open when you feel his hips slam against yours with a resounding sound, fingers gripping his arm as he does it again, your moans penetrating the air. Before you know it, he’s hiked your legs up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking as he goes back to snapping his hips into you.
“Oh, Soonyoung.”
Your nails are digging into his bicep like it was the only thing tying you to this earth, the only thing keeping you from passing out entirely. He’s taken up a brutal pace, pistoning into your clamped walls with a vigour unmatched.
All Soonyoung can hear is the stretch of your moans and groans directly in his ear, the obscene squelch of both of your fluids mixing at your middles. Your hands have migrated to his back, clawing at the skin like you’ve been utterly possessed.
He can’t seem to mind, not when they’ll simply become reopening wounds every time he’ll have you like this, all to himself and no one else. He wonders vaguely if your guards outside can hear the way you’re losing yourself in him just as he is in you, wonders if it appalls them that a filthy pirate gets to have their Queen in his arms as her vindictive pleasure.
One hand rubbing over your slick clit, he pulls back to sit on his heels, the angle allowing him to keep ever part of you occupied, his spare hand coming up to toy with the pillow of your breast.
It’s all too much, for the both of you as your collective noises become increasingly frequent and high pitched.
And then he’s pushed you over the edge, the shake of your thighs electrifying as you nearly scream out in the bliss of your high. Hands moving every which way to find a grip as you let the feeling crash into you over and over again.
“Oh, that’s so good, so good, oh my goodness.”
You’re still in the middle of your climax when Soonyoung can’t take it anymore, letting himself release his load inside of you like a mark. It’s a mess of force and pleasure as the both of you lose sight of your strengths and weaknesses, the feeling of his hot cum shooting into your walls only prolonging your orgasm even further.
He continues to thrust, continues to play with your nub, continues to flick at your nipples despite the orgasm subsiding. It’s all suddenly too much all at once, the sharp jerk of your body and your voice asking him to stop.
“Soon—Soonyoung, it’s too much.”
Hands coming to a halt and his thrusts slowing, you feel him ease himself out of you.
It’s a sight Soonyoung doubts he could ever forget even if he tried, your still pulsating walls doing everything but keeping the milky white of his load inside you, globs of the liquid spilling out as you shudder near lifeless on the bed. His hands grope at the inside of your thighs, pulling your lips apart to take in the mess he’s made.
He can’t help himself when he pushes two fingers into your hole, feeding his cum back into your hole right where it belongs.
You’ve only barely started to come round when he meets you at eye level, plopping next to you on the bed.
“Hi,” he grins.
“Hi,” you breathe back, hands coming up to touch his face.
He lets you breathe for a few moments as he finds himself getting off the bed to find your tainted nightgown, moving back to you to spread your legs and wipe you clean as best as he could.
You find it within yourself to allow him to pull you into a sitting position, a cup of water from the nightstand pressing against your tired mouth.
“Come on, just one,” he urges as you slump against his chest.
You take a few sips as he coaxes you into drinking the full cup and half of the second helping.
He gives up as he holds you against his chest, brushing his fingers through your tangled hair to push past your face.
“Are you alright?” he asks you. Your eyes are closed when he leans down to place a peck on the apple of your cheek.
“Mhm,” you muffle. “Want to sleep.
“I’d let you, but…”
“Soonyoung, I can’t go again,” you whine.
He chuckles, “I meant to ask where we could find some sugar around here. You barely ate anything at the ball.”
“The kitchens?” you answer with a floating question mark.
Soonyoung can’t help it when he squeezes you so tight it has you complaining loudly, not being able to sustain the love just in the tiny expanse of his heart.
“Come on, let’s get you some cake before both our hearts give out.”
BUNDLED UP IN WARMER clothes, the only thing the palace walls hear is the tiny whispers and giggles of you and your lover as you make your way to the kitchens.
It’s empty at this time of night, the dying embers of the fireplace the only source of light. Soonyoung uses every last bit of his thievery to manage to find a basket of dough balls, the syrup more readily available at the table in the centre.
The tingling in your brain can’t seem to decipher the overwhelming happiness that floods you from the ends of your hair to the tips of your toes. Especially when you call out his name amidst his shuffling, your heart can’t take the grin on his face as he hurries to join on the floor in front of the fireplace.
Arm looped through his own and your head on his shoulder, you decide you’d be quite okay dying like this.
The dough balls are cold and the syrup is probably a little too sweet, but you can’t possibly complain when it warms you just the same.
“I’ve despised my name my entire life,” Soonyoung starts in the silence, picking at the insides of his treat. “Some old merchant sailor was giving his ship away in exchange that the taker would take care of it. He’d built his Tigress from the first board to the last sail, but the years had made their mark. It was practically falling apart when I took it off his hands.”
He pushes the remaining bit of the pastry into his mouth, muffled as he continues, “He had a strange name, said it was given to him by his crew when they realised he was born without a name. Hoshi. I liked it well enough so I kept it.”
“Soonyoung—”
“That one. I wanted to replace the name I loathed, the one my own mother gave me.” You watch as his throat bobs as he swallows. “Ash is my birthplace, my mother worked in the brothels where I was born only because she couldn’t get rid of me.”
Taking one of the hands that wrap around his arm, he brings your fingers to your mouth, kissing the tips of each one. “I despised that name, until I heard it from your lips.”
“Soonyoung.” It felt right on your tongue, like you were destined to say his name.
“Yes, my love?” He smiles softly.
“I love you.”
“I love you more,” he says as he kisses you again. “Thank you for keeping my name, thank you for giving it life.”
You take the opportunity to grab one of the syrup soaked dough balls from the basket and stuff them into his mouth. “Enough, don’t tell me all this luxury’s made you soft.”
It was a jab but a lighthearted one in any case, you loved to see this side of him and you doubt you would ever get enough of seeing him like this. Vulnerable with his softer smiles and squinted eyes.
Bringing one of your digits to your mouth, you suck the remaining syrup off your fingers.
Soonyoung is quick to take notice as he takes your hand and brings your fingers up to his mouth, running his tongue over the pads of your fingers to take in the remaining sugar left on your fingers.
He keeps his eyes locked onto yours as he sucks on the tips of your fingers, making sure every last hint of sweetness is gone.
And then he’s kissing you, tongue in your mouth as he moves against your lips slowly.
Breaking apart, you whisper, “As much as I’d love to, the bakers will be coming in any minute now.”
Soonyoung’s grin is dangerous, and you find out why the minute you feel his arms loop around your waist and under your thighs, lifting you clean off the floor of the kitchens.
You squeal before you can help it, his lips finding home in your neck as you laugh as loud as your chest would allow.
You could get used to this. And you will.
THE SERVANTS CARRYING THE giant stack of plates nearly topple over when you sprint past them, yelling a loud apology over your shoulder as you do nothing but hasten your pace.
The paper in your hands is clutched tight in your fists as you run to where your carriage awaits, near yelling at the driver to make it to the docks before the streets would be full of the early morning merchants and bakers, slowing the gallops of the decorated horses.
The town is waking as your carriage races past, the beginnings of the new day making itself known as the sun peers through the gaps of the houses. You’re incapable of sitting still, your heels tapping against the floors of your cabin incessantly as the docks grow nearer and nearer.
And then you see it, the rush of dock handlers that see the royal carriage slow to a stop in front of the boardwalk. You slam the door open before any of the tens could do it for you, breaking into a sprint as you find the distinct flag of the royal crest wave high on the other end of the docks.
You had already seen Soonyoung off in the dark of the night as he made his way to the ship that was near ready to depart as you slide to stop in front of the anchored ship.
There was nothing sane about what you were doing, the chortles and shocked noises of sailors and merchants deaf to ears as you finally spot him near the prow.
His eyes meet yours and he has to do a double take.
Panting and needing to hold onto your knees for support, you peer up as you watch him run towards the ramp that leads down to the docks to see you, to ask why you were here when he’d kissed you goodbye mere hours ago.
By the time he meets you at the wobbly boardwalk, you’ve somewhat recovered.
“Are you alright?” he asks you as soon as you’re within earshot, hands grasping onto your upper arms in evident concern.
“I had to tell you, this came in right after you left.” You brandish the paper clutched into your fist, smoothing it over as the light catches the red stamp at the bottom.
It takes him less than a minute to realise what it said, eyes blinking rapidly and mouth gaping like a fish. “They…They said yes?”
“They said yes,” you repeat, nodding furiously as you break into a smile. “We can get married, Soonyoung, they said yes.”
His arms are crushing you before you know it, wrapped around you so tight as he buries his face into your neck, repeating it like a mantra, “They said yes…”
By the time you part, he keeps his arms around you, still embracing you in front of the entire port. You take hold of his face bringing it closer to you.
“Three months, and then you come home,” you breathe. “And I get to marry you, in front of everyone.”
Soonyoung lets his lips meet your own in a chaste kiss as he corrects you, “I get to marry you in front of everyone.”
There’s a thud of something nearby, and you look up to find the crew of the Tigress hanging over the railings of the newly appointed naval ship that looked suspiciously like a pirate’s.
“He can’t come back home, if he doesn’t leave!” Seungkwan yells over cupped hands.
You’d like to send him an affectionate gesture involving your middle finger, but choose to save him in front of the crowded port.
“You’ll miss me, Seungkwan, just you wait,” you send him a pointed glare that he simply scoffs at.
He might miss you, but you’ll definitely miss the lot of them when you return to a significantly emptier palace.
“Don’t let the royal snobs walk over you, you’re a better sailor anyway,” you tell Soonyoung. “Not that I needed to tell you, anyway.”
“I promise on our future wedding to be a complete menace.” He grins at the declaration as you admire him in the morning light.
One last time, you memorise the dips and hills of his features, pressing your final kiss into his lips as the voices telling him to hurry it up grow louder.
He blows you a kiss from the railings as the anchor is hoisted, and you send him one right back.
As your carriage trudges its path back to the palace, at a pace more acceptable for both the stamina of the horses and the integrity of the structure, your eyes remain glued to the shrinking ship that fades into the distant horizon.
There’s a pang in your chest, one that brings a tear to your eyes. It’s all very dramatic, the way the melancholy makes a home in your heart. An inkling tells you how you’ll probably become quite used to the feeling, learn to greet it like a friend.
For now you enter the lighter palace, and take your place on the chair in your study and find solace in the ideas your mind brings.
That no matter how long Soonyoung will remain far from you, he will always come back home to you.
Always.
[AN]: ty for joining my babies on their journey, i cannot thank you all enough for reading all 48fuckingK words of this i love you guys truly!!! thank you for all the reblogs and comments on the other parts, it makes me genuinely so happy to see you guys enjoy this universe that i've built. I read every single comment and know i appreciate all of it so so much <3
#svthub#hoshi fluff#hoshi smut#hoshi angst#hoshi fic#hoshi imagines#hoshi x reader#hoshi#soonyoung smut#soonyoung fluff#soonyoung scenarios#soonyoung imagines#soonyoung x reader#seventeen#soonyoung#seventeen flluff#seventeen smut#seventeen angst#seventeen fic recs#svt#svt smut#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt scenarios#svt x reader#em.writes
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Maybe
Rook Hunt x Fem! Reader
TW: Implied sexual themes, implied gore, blood, injuries, stalker-ish behavior from Rook Hunt, obsessive themes, worshipping of reader. Reader is implied to be gender neutral but some parts refer to them in a more "feminine" manner.
Note: Read at your own risk
Rook was a lot of things but he was not a sadist, he never found pleasure in another's pain- he was not so cruel. Bullshit. Because when it came to you, even the most ghastly wound became a fine piece of art. When you came into the question, Rook took being a hunter quite seriously. After all, would he really be one, if he didn't somewhat enjoy how you writhed in pain?
It was wrong. Rook knew it was wrong yet the pleasure he felt seeing your poor, frail form, all dependent on him- it was enough for him to forget all his morals.
Maybe it was that look of despair in your eyes, or it might have been how you desperately clutched onto his shirt. The way your eyes were wet with tears, heavy breaths leaving your lips as you felt the rip in your flesh.
How could he deny helping this broken beauty? After all, Rook Hunt would never deny a damsel in distress of her knight in shining armor.
The way protests left your mind, how your arms clutched around his neck as he picked you up. He saw it all.
It was beautiful- the lack of defiance, the docility, the obedience. The usual you would make a snarky comment, tell him to "fuck off", and of course he loved that version of you too. Yet, this frail, broken you was so deliciously compliant that he couldn't help but relish in it.
Don't get it wrong, it wasn't exactly your pain that he loved- but your dependence on him. The way you had no choice but to give up and let him take care of you. Wasn't it perfect? He got to care for you and you didn't even have to worry your pretty little head. You could be at peace while he guarded your precious body, so reminiscent of a temple.
It was his dream to serve you, to take care of you, to be in your presence without the mask you put up for others. It was his dream to see the real you, and right now, he got the chance to see a glimpse of it. He had the opportunity to see how you handled pain. Upon witnessing it, he couldn't deny that he wanted to see more.
He was sickening.
The way he had access to your room, the way you trusted him in this moment- it sent the blood rushing to his face.
It felt so right to carry you, to hold you, to embrace you- so endearing you were as you wet his shirt with your warm tears.
You said nothing, only weeped. You were scared, so frightened of the monster in front of you. Yet, you had no choice but to let him in, after all, your injuries were severe and he said he knew how to treat them. And he did treat them, letting his hands wander alongside.
His eyes were locked with the purple of your bruises, so reminiscent of fresh violets. How your crimson blood stained his clothes, the scent of iron engulfing him in a frenzy.
He loved it.
It wasn't as though he was only enjoying the view, no, he would never be so cruel. Still, he relished in the sight for as long as he could before wrapping your wounds in bandages. The feeling of being able to patch you up, bring you back to shape- as one would to a marionette- made him feel as though he was your god. It was this exact devotion he craved, though it may have been a trick his mind played on him for the looks you sent him were everything but welcoming.
He observed you, how you reacted to the burn of medicine seeping into your skin, the way you winced as he caressed your bruises. It brought such a perverse smile on his flushed face.
He was addicted to it.
No, Rook wasn't a sadist but at times the hunter within him just couldn't help but relish in the sickening sight of his beloved fawn. You were beautiful in all forms, yet one of his favorites was when you left yourself in his care, so dependent on him.
He loved you no matter how broken you could be.
He knew he was disgusting, revolting even but the way you called out his name, gruelling in pain was enough to feed his delusions that you didn't mind. How he wished he had snapped a couple photos of you, or maybe even drawn portrait as you lay in bed, so meekly.
He was twisted.
No, Rook was not a sadist, he did not enjoy another's pain but if that pain belonged to you, then even even something so vile could be beautiful. That pain, suffering- it belonged to you so of course he loved it so. It might have been perverse of him, vile, or even cruel but no matter what it was, once it belonged to you it would be the most beautiful of all.
How could he not find it beautiful?
Your body was coiled up, whimpering in such a delightful manner. Your eyes were half-lidded as you wept and your crimson blood seeped through the pristine bandages he'd covered you in. No matter how he perceived you, in that moment, your pain was the most heavenly vision of all.
Nevertheless, it did torment him to see you all bruised and broken- that was why he whispered sweet nothings in your ears, words that were incoherent in the moment. That was why he cradled you in his arms as you struggled to leave- he chose to ignore that. That was why he treated you as one would a lover, his hands crossing boundaries as you fainted.
How sinful you must have felt.
No, Rook was not a sadist- but upon witnessing your agony, he felt nothing but pure bliss. No, Rook did not love this version you because of the pain you felt- he loved it because of how dependent you were on him. No, Rook wasn't cruel, he wasn't twisted either- you were just too heavenly.
Maybe Rook was a sadist.
Note: If you enjoyed this, please interact with this post and reblog! Thank you! Any kind gestures are greatly appreciated!
Note 2: I love how Rook's character is a great source for dark material yet he can also be written in a more sweet manner. (I love this man with all my heart)
#x reader#gn reader#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#twst fanfic#imagine#twst imagines#rook hunt#rook hunt x reader#dark#yandere imagines#obsessive love#obsessive thoughts#brownblob
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Mermaid Headcannons
Just a few headcannons on mermaid culture for Ocean Deep for anyone curious.
*If a mermaid/merman wishes to court another then they usually do things to show their worth. Example being bringing back big game like a seal or shark to prove they can provide food or gifts of polished shells or jewelry to show off wealth. Sometimes they'll even spare with a love interests' family member to show off strength.
* The type of courting habits depends on the type of mer or water creature they are. For example:
Seal mers, or selkies as they're called, will offer their potential partner an opportunity to touch their seal skin while in human form as a sign of trust and interest.
Shark mers will often show off scars and bring back large prey to present to a potential mate to show how fiercely they can protect.
Crustacean mers will offer dances being crab/lobster/etc mers.
Sea dragons might offer a piece of their treasure hoard or recite poetry or knowledge.
However the most common signs of courting is offering valuable resources/objects. But again it varies from water creature to mer.
*Mers don't really have a concept of monogamy or polygamy. Some just prefer one life partner while others sometimes have multiple partners. It's not uncommon for them to have more than one partner. To them it's really just normal.
*It's more common for the women to take the last name of the males but again this isn't always the case.
*Pods are usually categorized by two: Family Pods and Neutral Pods.
FAMILY PODS: Usually the most common and very big varying on the mers. These are usually made up of just family members. Usually a pair of parents and their partners, and their children. Sometimes a family pod will be very big with grandparents, along with uncles and aunts and the main partners' siblings but it's less common.
-There is always one leader in every family pod, usually it's the father of the children. They are in charge of leading the pod and have the final say on things.
-The children are referred to as guppies or pups.
-Ever heard of sharks having a nursery for their pups? Well mers have a nursery for their children too. It's usually hidden and guarded to avoid predators or hostile mers.
-Usually a mer doesn't leave on their own until they're anywhere about sixteen to twenty years old.
NEUTRAL PODS: These are just pods made up of three or more random mers. Sometimes it's a trio or more of romantic partners but most commonly it's just a group of random mers. Neutral Pods can be made up of family members but more often than not it's just random mers who decided they liked each other enough to hunt together, partners without children, or they're made up of mers who just decided to hunt together as they live in the same area.
*If you encounter a neutral pod made up of romantic partners it'll be very easy to tell who's the leader of said partners. The leader will be decorated in the most jewelry. Usually this jewelry is made of home made seashells and stolen trinkets. However if they're in contact with a lot of valuables like gold, jewels, etc then they will have most of it decorating their body however they will also adore their partners in said jewelry as a form of wealthy status and it's sort of like their version of a wedding ring.
*The main leader of said partners is usually the one that gives out the jewelry or gifts amongst his or her partners.
*a neutral pod isn't considered a family pod unless made up of family members or if a neutral pod of partners has children.
*Mers of highly territorial. Not that an area can't be shared by multiple mers but usually a lone mer or pod has a specific amount of territory they own over.
*Because of their highly territorial nature, male mers will often be covered in scars from fights over territory, fights over a mate, or fights over treasure. LOTS of times fights between them often result in scars, severe injuries, and even death.
*Physical grooming like combing each other's hair, helping to remove loose scales, or just physical touch in general is seen as an intimate act on the same level of a romantic kiss on the cheek so usually it's only reserved for romantic partners or family members.
*Mermaids mate for life like swans do. Unless the other partners/partner dies then they won't really take on another partner.
*THIS is why humans must be very careful when interacting with mermaids/men of any kind. If you do encounter one the following rules Must be kept in mind.
If you encounter one of these fantastic creatures be sure to mention a present partner casually. Even if you do not have a significant other, the mere mentions of a partner will detour most interest from yourself.
2. Keep your interactions platonic. You must never insinuate romantic interest to one. Even the slightest hint of possible interest will make them pursue.
3. Avoid talking about romance or future goals outside of mentioning your partner. Never mention children to them.
4. Keep your distance. Allowing touch is a huge sign of trust and interest of physical contact. Keep as physical far away as possible if you can and do not allow contact to be initiated.
5. Absolutely above all else NEVER accept gifts. Gifts are usually only given out as a proposal of interest. If accepted then consider yourself doomed because any outside romantic interest will result in retaliation and usually does not end well.
Mers who're able to keep a human partner are usually seen in higher regard as not everyone can keep one. This is why steps must be taken to ensure the human doesn't end up in hot water.
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(you'll whisper, serpent tongue) Chapter 6 scene
There it is again, that hot writhing thing in Satoru’s chest.
Nah mate don’t make me feel that hot writhing thing in my chest as well _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_
I… I just want to draw a thousand-year-old Yuuji smile, okay? And honestly, there are so many drawable(?) scenes in this last chapter, but I need to be aware of my limits and thus smiling Yuuji it is. I never draw a genuine thousand-year-old Yuuji smile in the previous post and I hope this time I deliver! God knows I struggle with drawing genuine expressions, among other things ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
And uh… you do not see any continuity error in the artstyle. I totally do not forget how I used to draw the boys or use the screentone or something heh-
Anyway, source time!
Fic Title: (you’ll whisper, serpent tongue) what you fear you have become
Author: @voxofthevoid
Status: Completed! Chapter 6 is the last chapter! And it’s good! :D
This is an NSFW fic, so do read the tags before diving in!
I’m a bit disappointed it took me almost 2 weeks to finally read the last, busy weeks upon busy weeks. I’m actually still in my busy week but shhh we don’t talk about it. But I finally read it on Friday, and I got my dose of bittersweet goodness, and I ignore my drawing plans because I can. I just gotta draw this. Giving the last chapter a fanart just feels appropriate.
Ah, I’m really happy I stumbled upon this fic back then QwQ
#yuu's art#jjk-fic-fanart#jjk-ship#jjk ship#五悠#goyuu#goyu#5u#gojou x yuuji#gojo x yuji#I took the liberty of putting Gojou in a casual outfit he found in the shelter#uh fashion is not my thing#I just search “jjk promotional art” and wing my way from there#Honestly I love the fact Gojou often wore non-revealing clothes#muscles are still really difficult for me to draw lol#and also I just love to draw non-revealing clothes#especially the ones in the baggy category#it's enough for Yuuji to be the shirtless one here#one day I will be confident enough to draw buff people#without being too dependant on references#one day
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I was on the wikipedia page for phobias just for fun but just discovered theres an actual word for a fear of being touched.. 🥹
#haphephobia.... and they list guts from berserk under pop culture references 😢😢😭😭 thats my guy....#not gonna lie i teared up a bit i didnt realise it 'counted' as an actual phobia#i find it really difficult to talk abt but i have a complicated relationship w touch/physical contact (likely trauma babeyy)#and while i do crave it a lot i also have a very physical reflexive fear response especially if its intentional + i dont expect it#which can sometimes even get triggered just being in proximity to ppl bc like. even the possibility sets me on fucking edge#it would be nice to be as physically affectionate as i naturally want to be without dealing w my fight/flight/freeze but alas#its weird bc there are some random situations where it doesnt get triggered at all but its so unpredictable every time#and varies wildly person to person for seemingly no reason. there r strangers im innately more comfortable with but also friends ive known#for years and will never be comfortable around. i think part of that depends on how strongly the other person communicates and whether-#i feel as if theyre demonstrably able to respect boundaries not just mine but their own too + understand theyre not always fixed#ideally i need to have had this conversation with them so i Know they understand. which is rly difficult i find it so hard to admit#and i have a complicated mental block where i need the other person to naturally bring it up which very very rarely ever happens#idk just an atmosphere of safety yknow. i think its intentional touch that specifically makes me panic bc im usually fine w like-#bustling crowds or even expected social rules like handshakes at interviews. bc its not like they're Trying To Touch Me its just rote idk#hopefully eventually ill reach a place where im able to unpack it and reduce its severity bc man sometimes its fucking heartbreaking to me#bc i do genuinely really like physical contact im an incredibly physical person its my main way of interacting w the world#and the way having to force myself to avoid it meshes w my rsd too augh.... its a clusterfuck#even just having one person im completely comfortable with. maaaaan.#almost makes me miss my ex. at least i was mostly cool around them#god its sucked lately ive been having weird vivid dreams related to it. but whatever its so far down my list of problems to prioritize#and at least i dont get it w my familys dog so i can cuddle her :^) i miss her i cant wait to see her next month :D#anywayyyy thats enough im so tired goodnight every1...#.diaries
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Iron Man (1968) #48
#originally Tony justified keeping his heart problems a secret with that#he thought that people would make the connection between the Iron Man and the chestplate that powered his heart#when he finally collapses in a public place from a heart attack he’s able to play it as his heart is too weak for him to be Iron Man#which is based in the truth that the strain of being Iron Man would be a lot on Tony’s heart and could kill him#but that’s secretly mitigated by how the suit helps power Tony’s heart#and he also had Happy fly around in the suit while he was in the hospital to help sell it#but after that point Tony still consistently worked to downplay his heart issues and keep when they presented a problem a secret#which is attributed here to that he didn’t want to be so publicly vulnerable and be pitied#and instead wanting to project an image of control#I remember a previous story where Tony thought that if he was so publicly disabled then he would be forced to stop being Iron Man#and would be taken care of and stuck in bed and become that vulnerable person who’s dependent on other people#so it was necessary for him to minimize his heart condition so that he wouldn’t be stopped from living the life he wanted#the character puts a lot more weight on the limitations that other people would put on him if they knew how precarious his situation was#and disregards what would seem to be sensible limitations based on his heart condition#he does what he wants without considering his heart problems except for when he’s using them to justify why he can’t live a normal life#which generally is used to refer to having a serious girlfriend or wife#marvel#tony stark#my posts#comic panels
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I always avoided using references, but couldn't point out what exactly made me avoid it. I have finally realized that due to being unfortunate enough to be surrounded by people boldly claiming "real artists draw everything from imagination without any references" [now i know it's bullshit] in my early years of artistic journey, I developed fear of being too dependent on references and fear of being completely unable to draw anything good without "copying". Any ideas how to overcome that fear?
It's not something I hear at all in professional spaces. We've straight up traced weird angles of our arms before. I use lots of references. You will naturally get better at drawing intuitively with the more references you use since we learn by example. I draw intuitively much more accurately than I did many years ago, but I still use references because my idea of a polished drawing is a moving goalpost.
Jason Rainville is one of the best of the best, paints MTG cards and he often posts his references. You can see how closely they mirror the final image:
If you want to get good at art, you have to look at things and that's all it boils down to. Those who say it's bad to use references are either 1) never getting good at art, or 2) are insecure and are posturing in front of other artists. Hope this helps!
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Non-offensive Historical terms for Black people in historical fiction
@pleasespellchimerical asked:
So writing historical fiction, with a white POV character. I'm not sure how to address race in the narration. I do have a Black main character, and I feel like it'd feel out of place to have the narrator refer to her as 'Black', that being a more modern term. Not sure how to do this without dipping into common historical terms that are considered racist today. Thoughts on how to handle this delicately, not pull readers out of the narrative? (fwiw, the POV character has a lot of respect for the Black character. The narration should show this)
There are non-offensive terms you can use, even in historical fiction. We can absolutely refer to Black people without slurs, and if slurs is all one can come up with, it’s time to go back to the drawing board. I cannot say which terms are best for your piece without knowing the time period, but hopefully the list below helps.
Historical terms to use for Black people (non-offensive)
African American documented as early as 1782 (documented in an ad in the Pennsylvania Journal). Note the identity isn’t accurate for non-American Black people.
African could refer to African people or “from 1722 as ‘of or pertaining to black Americans.’”
The place of origin could also be used. For example, “a Nigerian woman”
Africo-American documented as early as 1788.
People of Color documented as early as 1796 (with specific contexts, usually mixed people)
Afro American documented as early as 1817, 1831 (depending on source)
Black American documented as early as 1831
Black was used in Old English to refer to dark-skinned people. Black was not capitalized until recent years, so “She was a young black woman.” would make sense to say, though “She was a young Black woman.” is the better standard today, although not universally adopted. I personally prefer it capitalized.
Moor was used as early as the late 1400s for North African people, but had a somewhat flexible use where anyone visibly Black / Of African descent or the Afro Diaspora might be referred to or assumed as a Moor. Note, it has other meanings too, such as referring to Muslim people, but that doesn’t mean the person using it is going by the dictionary definition. Not really the way to go today, but okay in a historical setting (in my opinion).
Biracial (1860s), mixed race (1872), multiracial (1903) and multicultural (1940s) are also terms to refer to people of two or more races.
Occupation + description. Throughout history, many people have been referred to as their occupation. For example, the Carpenter, The Baker, the Blacksmith. Here’s an example of how you might go about using occupation and traits to identify a Black character in history. Here’s an example I came up with on the fly.
“You should go by Jerry’s. He’s the best blacksmith this town’s ever seen. Ya know, the real tall, dark-skinned, curly haired fellow. Family’s come here from Liberia.”
Offensive and less-sensitive terms for Black people
Blacks was used in plural more, but this is generally offensive today (Even writing it gives me **Thee ick*)
Colored was mostly used post-civil war until the mid 20th century, when it became unacceptable. This is not to be conflated with the South African Coloured ethnic group.
Negro/Negroes were also used as early as the 1550s. Capitalization became common in the early 20th century. I'm sure you know it is offensive today, though, admittedly, was not generally seen as such until around the 1960s, when Black replaced it. It does have its contexts, such as the trope “The Magical Negro” but going around using the term or calling someone that today is a lot different.
Mulatto referred to mixed people, generally Black and white, and is offensive today.
The N-word, in all its forms, is explicitly a slur, and there is absolutely no need to use it, especially in a casual manner, in your story. We’ve written about handling the N-word and alluding to it “if need be” but there are other ways to show racism and tension without dropping the word willy-nilly.
Deciding what to use, a modern perspective
I’m in favor of authors relying on the less offensive, more acceptable terms. Particularly, authors outside of the race. Seldom use the offensive terms except from actual direct quotes.
You do not have to use those offensive terms or could at least avoid using them in excess. I know quite famous stories do, but that doesn’t mean we have to so eagerly go that route today. Honestly, from teachers to school, and fellow non-Black students, it’s the modern day glee that people seem to get when they “get a chance to say it” that makes it worse and also makes me not want to give people the chance.
It goes back to historical accuracy only counting the most for an “authentic experience” when it means being able to use offensive terms or exclude BIPOC from stories. We’ve got to ask ourselves why we want to plaster certain words everywhere for the sake of accuracy when there are other just as accurate, acceptable words to use that hurt less people.
Disclaimer: Opinions may vary on these matters. But just because someone from the group cosigns something by stating they’re not offended by it, doesn’t mean a whole lot of others are okay with it and their perspectives are now invalid! Also, of course, how one handles the use of these words as a Black person has a different connotation and freedom on how they use them.
~Mod Colette
The colonial context
Since no country was mentioned, I’m going to add a bit about the vocabulary surrounding Black people during slavery, especially in the Caribbean. Although, Colette adds, if your Black characters are slaves, this begs the question why we always gotta be slaves.
At the time, there were words used to describe people based on the percentage of Black blood they had. Those are words you may find during your searches but I advise you not to use them. As you will realize if you dive a bit into this system, it looks like a classifying table. At the time, people were trying to lighten their descent and those words were used for some as a sort of rank. Louisiana being French for a time, those expressions were also seen there until the end of the 19th century.
The fractions I use were the number of Black ancestors someone had to have to be called accordingly.
Short-list here :
½ : mûlatre or mulatto
¼ or ⅛ : quarteron or métis (depending on the island, I’m thinking about Saint-Domingue, Martinique and Guadeloupe)
1/16 : mamelouk
¾ : griffe or capre
⅞ : sacatra
In Saint-Domingue, it could go down to 1/64, where people were considered sang-mêlé (mixed blood for literal translation, but “HP and the Half-Blood Prince” is translated “HP et le Prince de Sang-Mêlé” in French, so I guess this is another translation possibility).
-Lydie
Use the 3rd person narrative to your advantage
If you are intent on illustrating historical changes in terminology consider something as simple as showing the contrast between using “black” for first person character narration, but “Black” for 3rd person narrator omniscient.
-Marika
Add a disclaimer
I liked how this was addressed in the new American Girl books
it’s set in Harlem in the 1920’s and there’s a paragraph at the beginning that says “this book uses the common language of the time period and it’s not appropriate to use now”
-SK
More reading:
NYT: Use of ‘African-American’ Dates to Nation’s Early Days
The Etymology dictionary - great resource for historical fiction
Wikipedia: Person of Color
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HEADKANONS MK1 - "HOW WOULD THEY REACT TO THE PREGNANT READER?"
A/N: an anon asked me for Bi Han's reaction to a pregnant Reader, but then I decided to play several MK men soon, I'll answer all requests too, thanks for the asks and support <3
TW: pregnancy, afab anatomy, paternity mentioned, used "father/mother" to refer to the reader, mention of smut, fluff.
✧ BI HAN ✧
It really depends on what kind of relationship you two have. You can have a "friendship with benefits" with Bi Han, where you look for each other just to have sex, then you end up accidentally getting pregnant and go look for him - obviously afraid, after all, he is Bi Han. So he asks you to meet him in the forest, the same meeting place where you made love in passionate encounters, with Bi Han fucking you hard, whispering how good you were for him, how good your beautiful pussy was on his dick, it was the only moment that the grand master was vulnerable. You saw him in the distance, with his arms crossed and a serious expression on his face as he waited for you to say something so important that made him miss an entire day of liu kuei training. After telling him, he would be surprised for a few minutes, and say: "-Are you sure it's my son?" -Bi Han said with a little too much seriousness in his voice, even aggression while you felt a little offended, but you would say yes, making Bi Han look at the sky, a smile could be seen slightly on his lips as he went at your direction by kneeling in front of your belly and nodding your head. "-I think we will be good parents, our child will have all the honor and power Lin Kuei." -The ice ninja stood up as he held your hand, he would be a good father, even if he was rude at times, he will take care of your pregnancy - and maybe he will want more children in the future with you - he would officially ask you to be his boyfriend/girlfriend or marriage, after all, he needs a partner by his side, especially you who are carrying his offspring.
✧ KUAI LIANG ✧
The two of you also had a friendship with benefits, always together in the lonely early mornings that Kuai would look for you for pleasure and affection, but unlike his brother, Kuai would treat you as if the two of you were already dating, giving you gifts or even forgetting and saying that You were his boyfriend/girlfriend. Over time he started to stay even more at your house, always having sex in every possible place - and often without a condom - so soon your period was late, you felt sick and took a pregnancy test, confirming your suspicions. That night Liang and you had sex again, while you sat next to him on the mattress on the floor with the pregnancy test under the pillow, obviously you were scared, as you saw Kuai look at you worried. "-Is there a problem sweetheart?" -He said, caressing your naked and sweaty waist, after sex, while you sighed and took out the small pregnancy test, with the positive sign, showing it to him without saying anything. Kuai would remain silent for a few minutes, looking at the test in hand while he finally smiled slightly, looking at you fondly. "-Was that it (Y/N)? Why were you afraid to tell me? I'm literally in love with you, it's not just sex for me, I really love you. And we're together for everything, especially this." -Kuai Liang said smiling, hugging you right away, while stroking your hair. "-You will look beautiful as a father/mother, with a huge belly, carrying our child, our family will start now, you and me."
✧ SYZOTH ✧
He's going to faint, no joke, but it's from happiness. Regardless of your relationship, he will be over the moon. Syzoth always wanted a family again, he lost one so he knows the pain and loneliness it is, being alone in the world and without hope, he found you and you started small meetings, sometimes sex, sometimes just watching a movie together or just talking - or sometimes all together, it depends on the mood of the two of you on the day - And this will last for many days, months or even years, he always wanted a title, but you never wanted to put labels on what you two had, what you left He was upset to be honest, but he continued with your conformist carnal encounters while trying to settle for sexual chemistry. But that didn't last long with a fight between the two of you for exactly that reason, you didn't want a relationship but he did, leading to the two of you not seeing each other for two weeks and in the meantime, you discovered you were pregnant, becoming desperate and looking for Syzoth immediately. He was shocked, paralyzed, he was breathing heavily and then passed out seconds later, but he woke up quickly. "-Am I going to be a father??? Am I really going to be a father again?" -Syzoth spoke with a happy smile, taking your shoulders, as he pulled you into a hug, jumping with joy, shedding a few tears in the process, he quickly knelt down, looking at your belly, and placing a kiss over the fabric of your blouse. "-I already love you my child, me and (Y/N) will love you very much." -He stood up, wiping away his tears while looking at you with affection. "-Do you agree to make things official between the two of us (Y/N)? And raise our child? I promise to do everything to protect you, as the father/mother of my son."
✧ REIKO ✧
The two of you were the classic: enemies to lovers, always fighting with each other to stand out more for General Shao Khan or even falling to the punch - without losing the friendship, just a friendly spar, where Reiko and you left bleeding - But there was always sexual tension between the two of you, it was obvious to anyone who saw you, and one day, it became real, with you and Reiko taking a shower after a mission together in the same bathroom and with him teasing you and you teasing back, when you saw it, you had been sitting on Reiko's dick for two hours while he moaned loudly echoing through the box, the sex was incredible and you liked this concept of hating each other and competing in front of everyone, but meeting every night - even though the competitions also applied in the bedroom, with the two of you challenging each other with who was going to cum faster... Reiko always lost - but soon the two of you became more intimate, more passionate, starting to do it without a condom, because Reiko loves make a good creampie in your pussy - after a few weeks, you realized that you were sick and more unwell for training, making him also worry, so you went to an exo terra healer, proving that you were expecting Reiko's child . You didn't know how to tell him, but you didn't have to, he followed you and heard everything, waiting for you outside with your arms crossed and a slight smile on your face. "-Well, I think we're going to be parents now, right? And this child is going to be very dear to me (Y/N), you can trust me." -Reiko spoke sincerely, while placing a hand on your shoulder, kissing you on the forehead. "-And we both know that this child will be like me, he will be born strong like me and-" -He spoke but you soon disagreed, leading the two of you to walk hand in hand while talking/arguing amicably with whoever your son was going to look like.
✧ SHANG TSUNG ✧
He was never a sentimental man, but you were the only person who got to see a softer side of Shang, he was still arrogant but less selfish when it came to you. The two of you met in his castle, where he studied various spells every night and liked to show off to you, at first it was just a friendship, but Shang fell in love with you which led you to have sex on his table, with first time showing you a soft side, as he thrust his hips into you, moaning loudly as he bit your neck. This became a routine, mainly sitting on Shang's lap with his entire dick in your pussy, while he studied some spells, letting you enjoy the pleasure. He's different from everyone else on the list, he knows you're pregnant before you can even open your mouth to tell him. You ran into his castle with tears in your eyes, ready to tell him, but he smiled at you with his back turned, it wasn't a forced or sarcastic smile, it was something soft, something real. "-Oh really? I already knew my cute little voodoo doll, have you already chosen a name? How about something big? After all, this child is mine." -He spoke with his chin raised and genuinely happy, as he called you closer, putting you on his lap and quickly kissing you, caressing your cheek. "-I will take care of you two, you as the father/mother of my child, and this child... I really want you by my side (Y/N)."
©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023
#yanderestarangel#afab reader#mortal kombat#tw smut#mortal kombat fandom#mk reiko#reiko x reader#shang tsung#shang tsung x reader#bi han x reader#bi han headcanons#bi han#kuai liang x reader#kuai liang#syzoth x reader#syzoth x you#syzoth#mortal kombat fanfiction#reptile mortal kombat#reiko mk1#bi han mk#bi han sub zero#kuai liang headcanons#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat smut#yanderestarangelheadcanons#sub zero mk1#mk1#kuai liang mk1#mk x reader
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book accuracy does NOT indicate over all quality in a given adaptation fr fr!! being a good adaptation =/= being a good thing in its own right and vice versa. i love the conversation about adaptational changes and authorial intent etc etc but things can be good in their own right separate from the media they are adapting from, even with those convos being taken into context!!! and some changes are for the better.
#hate to say it. the book and its references/adaptions in the adaption are relevant sure. they can enrich the experience ofc......#but like. something can be good without being book accurate. it can have its own things to say and its own goals and accomplishments...#like yes i like to see accurate adaptations but hoooo myy g-d.....#adaptations that aren't even really adaptions can be good too.#myevilposts#an adaptation doesn't have to be 1:1 to be good. some adaptational changes are also just necessary btw all things depending.
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if you’re considering gender affirming care go through planned parenthood. i shit you not they do not make you go through all the bullshit (hopefully not but may be depending where you are) the only things i had to wait for with them were a wait list (a week) and for the pharmacy to fill (took so long my doc at PP just gave me what they had in stock because they care).
again take care and have extra precaution in areas that are more conservative, but if you travel to your nearest city you should be safer.
i did not need a note from my psychiatrist, instead they sat me with a social worker to ask some questions. it ended up not at all being about if i’m “trans enough” but just how i’m feeling, my experience, allergies and medical history. then they sent me to the doctor who reviewed and assessed health risks and gave me informed consent.
i was then trained by a member of staff to administer my own injections, and was given a choice between every method of testosterone (if i went with the gel, there would be a six hour period after applying each week i can’t touch my cats and they are absolute WHORES who love snuggles and i didn’t want them to transition too, so if that’s important to you, take it into consideration)
it was so much easier than going through a GP, who tended to shrug off everything i said, and wanted to take as much time as possible while i’m suffering with dysphoria. i fully reccommend going through planned parenthood because it is discreet, has options for payment with and without insurance, and will absolutely refer to you with the correct pronouns and name every. time.
and this is not an ad. i’m just sitting here before my third dose feeling thankful.
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I see people getting confused about what "male" and "female" means for non-human animals (and plants), because it is not at all the same thing as the way it's used for humans, because there are too many variations across many different animals. (I won't even touch on how weird it is for plants.) So to break this down:
Sex: The gametes an animal produces (female for the big gametes, or ova; male for the small gametes, or sperm; monoecious/hermaphrodite for both; asexual for neither). When referring to non-human animals, literally the only thing this means.
Gonads: The organs that make the gametes (ovaries for ova, testes for sperm). Sponges can make gametes without gonads, so gonads are not required for having a sex.
Genitals: A dizzying array of parts that can be used to transfer gametes between individuals. Some males have claspers for opening. Spiders have "penises" in their "hands." Female bark lice have siphons for sucking the sperm out of males. And the vast, vast majority of animals have no genitals at all, because they live in the ocean and just spray their gametes into the open water. Because this varies so much and can even be lacking entirely, it is also not the same thing as sex.
Genotype: What's genetically encoded in an animal. In some, like humans, there's an XX/XY chromosomal system to determine whether an organism makes sperm or ova. In birds, it's ZZ/ZW (that is, two of the same chromosome for males). In wasps, ants and bees, it's haplodiploid, where males have only one set of all chromosomes (the females, like almost all other animals, have two). In some animals, it's not related to genes at all--in crocodilians, sex is determined by the temperature the eggs are incubated at! So, genotype is not the same thing as sex.
Phenotype: The physical expression of an organism--the body. Up to you whether you're including gonads and genitals with that. This can vary depending on sex, to make it more likely animals producing different gametes will be able to identify each other. In some animals, there is absolutely no difference in phenotype between sexes at all. So, this is also not the same thing as sex.
Sex-Linked Behavior: Again, not even present in a lot of animals--or if it is, usually limited only to courtship and mating, because most animals aren't social. Also not the same thing as sex.
Gender: A complicated system that varies dramatically across cultures and is specific to human beings, and tied very closely to human language. Some cultures have only two genders. Some have three, four, or more. What an individual thinks of gender can vary irrespective of culture. It ties in with all the previous things in so many overlapping, intricately linked ways I could not go into them here. This can also be considered "sex," but not at all in the sense that we use it to refer to animals. Likewise, animals cannot be considered to have gender, because they lack the specific human language and culture that gender arises from.
Tl;dr: Please stop using "sex" the same way for both humans and animals. The human definition makes no sense for non-human animals because they get so weird, and it's just plain rude to refer to humans in the animal sense.
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BREAK FROM HEAVEN | Adam x fem!angel!Reader
FIRST PART
plot. Adam, the First Man and Heaven rockstar, invited you to his concert's after-party. Soon, you find yourself making out with him in a nightclub, and the night won't stop here.
word count. 2.1k
tags. smut, Adam being Adam, rockstar!Adam, partying, nightclubs, smoking, making out, hooking up, one night stands, p in v sex, premature ejaculation, asking out, humour, soft dom!Adam
TW! SMUT AHEAD, minors DNI, 18+
a/n. one of the scenes in this fic is obviously a reference to The Wolf Of Wall Street (I love it in a "funny well made irreverent movie" way not in a "alpha sigma grindset" way)
God works in mysterious ways, they say. But nothing is more mysterious to you than the way you ended up in this situation. Making out in a nightclub with Adam, the First Man.
Straddling him on a couch, arms around his neck, lips and tongues busy in a slow dance. One of his hands is placed on your exposed waist and the other is shoved inside the back pocket of your jeans, as he gives your ass sporadic squeezes. Electronic music booms in your eardrums, so loud that you can’t even hear your own thoughts, just the wet sounds of your kisses. Suddenly, Adam pulls away from your lips. You blink a few times, then he leans in, and whispers something in your ear that only you two and hear. As if this night couldn’t get any crazier.
After attending his concert, Adam invited you to join the exclusive after party. You two chatted, discussed music and bands with Adam insisting on your taste being questionable as you made your way towards the night club. There, he proposed you to move your conversations to the dance floor, where you swayed to the beats of electronic music. What a hypocrite he is, you thought. Always blabbering about what is real music and what’s not, and then dancing and enjoying meaningless bass booms. Adam offered you and all his band mates drinks, made you company outside the club for a cigarette break, then took your hand to guide yourselves in the crowd back inside. Oh he was obviously flirting.
“Didn’t take you for a party girl” he playfully said to you.
And then, he placed his hands on your waist as you two started swinging side to side on the floor. Your cheeks caught fire. You knew that he was flirting with you. But then why did you feel your knees melt like butter under his golden irises, so penetrating even in the semi-darkness of the club?Adam is one of your superiors, you shouldn’t even think about flirting back. But oh, fuck it.
“Are you calling me a pain in the ass?” you smirked.
Adam chuckled and pulled you closer, brushing the question off and keeping on dancing. When you said you wanted to take a break, he followed you to one of the reserved tables of the club, sitting next to you. As you and the First Man kept talking, suddenly you found yourself snuggled on his side, his arm around your shoulders, one hand on your thighs and your lips dangerously close to his. And then, all of a sudden, with the audacity typical of an egocentric jerk like him, Adam asked you.
“Wanna make out?”
And, without a word, you just did. You nonchalantly shrugged, and leaned in to welcome his lips. And now here you are, sloppily making out with Adam, as if your entire lives depended on it. Adam tasted so bad, but in a good way. Cigarettes and alcohol, the typical party flavor. He couldn’t keep his hands on himself, letting them roam over your body lasciviously. You, yourself, couldn’t stay still as you found yourself occasionally grinding against his lap. Then, after stopping to catch hair, Adam’s lips got close to your ear.
“Wanna go somewhere more private, sweetie?”
—
You and Adam tumble inside his bedroom, smacking of lips reverberating through the room along with your suffocated giggles. Adam, mouth still interlocked with yours, shuts the door close with a firm kick.
“Oh shit-“ Adam stutters between kisses “you’re too-much”
You go “pff” at his statement, making sure to never miss the chance to kiss him so messily. As you and Adam make your way towards the bed, you realize that you don’t want to question your decisions anymore. You’re enjoying this, a lot. Even if he’s literally the First Man, his authority doesn’t matter to you anymore because you just prefer being carried away.
Dropping on the edge of the bed, Adam looks up at your figure standing in front of him, running his hands up and down your waist.
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll never have a reason to listen to The Smiths again” he says, a smirk radiating lust from a kilometer.
Oh, you’re gonna have fun. You raise an eyebrow, pretending to be confused.
“Fucking me? Who said I’ll have sex with you” you inquire.
Adam’s mouth falls open, his hands sliding down from your waist to your hips, and then his touch leaving your skin. You try your best not to burst out laughing.
“Bitch, why would I invite you to my place for? Playing chess? We’re eating each other’s faces!” he protests.
“We could just make out”
“But- what the”
There’s no way you actually managed to make Adam shut the fuck up. You literally left him with no words, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, in search of something to say.
You chuckle, leaning towards him “While I think about it, and I’ll reeeally have to, I’ll go to the bathroom. Can you wait for me?”
Adam frowns “Whatever bi-…ugh I mean yeah okay, first door to your right”
As you disappear in the corridor connecting his bedroom and the bathroom, Adam is left all alone and guessing. He, somehow, had a way with women, and if things escalated to the point where one of them was in his room, sex was always took for granted. Except when Lute crashes to his place to eat junk food and watch TV. But making out in a club with a girl, moving things all the way to his bed, and then second-guessing the idea of having sex? For Adam, the situation is new and desperate. Also considering how much he's thirsting over you, and how rock hard his dick is inside his pants. So, Adam resorts to the only thing left to do.
Praying.
In a hurry, Adam falls down on his knees and joins his hands. He looks up, his golden eyes pleading.
“Hey God, it’s me, Adam, your favorite! I know I’ve been slacking off a bit lately but I’m still your number one creation, am I right? I promise I’ll pay you a visit first chance I get, you know I’ve been pretty busy with concerts and everything. But in the meantime, I’m begging you please, let me fuck this woman!”
As soon as Adam hears the bathroom door unlocking, he frantically gets up, facing the wall. And then, the second he turns around, a wheeze accidentally escapes his mouth. He officially lost the ability to talk a second time.
Because here you are, leaning on the doorframe. Naked. Except for your high socks. A calm smile is extended on your face, as Adam can’t do nothing but stare at you completely dumbfounded. Maybe God heard, after all.
“So? Changed your mind?” you coo, teasingly.
Adam finally manages to recollect his thoughts and put himself together.
“Holy fuckin’ shit balls, no!”
In the end, of course Adam fucked your brains out.
For eleven seconds!
Plunged inside you between your thighs, Adam gives a few more convulsive thrusts, along with strangled moans of release. His wings twitch and his glowing halo flickers. Damn if he cums loudly.
“Fuck, holy fuck I’m…I” he pants, looking down at your stiffened frame with mortified eyes.
“Did you cum?” you ask, frowning in confusion of what just happened.
“Yeah…did you?”
You shake your head “No…”
How was that man put on Earth with the purpose of having sex and yet didn’t have a clue? Sighing, Adam rolls off of you, lying on his back. He looks down at you, and you reciprocate his gaze.
“I can get hard again though” Adam says.
As you give him a small, reassuring smile, Adam brings his hand under the sheets and starts stroking himself, in an attempt to pump his dick up again. Quite the mission, considering that he came a lot. But he persists, squeezing his eyes shut and scrunching his face in concentration as he emits choked groans of fatigue.
"Ngrh..."
“Adam, don’t worry there’s no need to-oh shit” you eyes widen when you look down.
Adam is getting hard again. With what seems like a biblical effort, but he’s actually managing to pull it off. And there it is, the original dick in all its glory, back again after a previous, proficient orgasm. Adam turns towards you with a smirk, and wiggles his eyebrows.
“They don’t call me dickmaster for nothing” he says, before eagerly getting on top of you again.
The urge of asking him if that nickname was self-proclaimed is high, but you don’t have time for that. You find yourself giggling as Adam attacks your neck with his lips, you feel him smirking against it. He slides back inside of you. The filling sensation causes your nails to leave trails of red marks along his back, right between the base of his golden wings. Pleasure invades every inch of your body as Adam slowly gets to the right spot, grazing it lightly at first before speeding up the pace.
“Mh, you don’t realize how fucking hot you were when you came back, all naked for me” Adam whispers, managing to keep up the pace.
You try to talk, but the moans escaping your mouth impede it. You wanna talk back to his cocky, arrogant self, but you’re too overwhelmed by your own pleasure and the sound of skin against skin reverberating through the room as Adam snaps his hips against yours.
“Adam, please don’t stop” you whine, your face scrunching in pleasure as your legs clench desperately around his lower back.
Adam chuckles, the grin on his face devilish. You don’t want to boost his already titanic ego, but it’s hard not to praise him when he’s fucking you so good. One of his hands runs up your stomach, reaching for one of your tits. He fondles it as his pace fastens, the bedsprings creaking and your moans even more desperate. The obscene sensations are evident even on Adam’s face. His shit-eating grin disappeared, replaced with an overwhelmed, flushed face. His mouth is open, gasping for air as a series of disconnected moans flow out of his lips. You didn't even realize that his hands had moved from your breasts to your own hands, interlocking them firmly over your head.
For a second, you and Adam also lock eyes. His pupils are dilated so dangerously, completely lost in the moment. But you're sure that yours are the same. Ugh, why did he have to be so fine?
As you feel your climax approaching, your wings inadvertently wrap around your naked bodies. With a flap, Adam's golden ones do the same, encapsulating your both as you get close to your climax.
"Told I would fuck-ah oh shit yes- I would fuck your bad music taste out of your body" Adam stutters, sending you a mischievous grin as his thrust become more erratic.
You smirk back "But I'm not finished yet-ohh oh holy fuck no I take it back I'm coming"
And with your withdrawn statement, you reach your orgasm, your sex clenching around his dick as it twitches inside of you.
"Aw, cumming already? Can't take the original dick? Well, I can go all night long babe, cause- oh holy shit no I'm coming again too, forget it!"
For a second time that night, Adam sloppily comes inside of you, announcing it with a twitch of his wings and flickers of his halo. He loudly groans in the crook of your neck as you try to steady your breath.
After Adam finishes, he collapses next to you.
"You um...you did cum now did you?"
"Yeah I definitely did"
"Awesomeee"
You give yourselves a couple of minutes to come down your high, pleasure still lingering on your body as you two pant out of exhaustion.
Adam runs a hand through his hair "Shit, that was good"
You felt good, that's what he was thinking. But admitting it would be too much for him. You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead, and nod.
"I think we agree on this one" you sigh.
Adam slides an arm behind your back, pulling you close to his naked chest as you lay your head on it. His heart is still trying to pump enough blood to soothe him. You close your eyes, relaxed.
"Still wanna listen to your sad Brit rock music?" he asks.
"Oh sure, wanna listen to it now to improve after sex? The Cure or-"
"Hell no!"
You chuckle, and Adam twists on his side to face you. His hand reaches your lower back and starts rubbing circles against your skin with the tip of his fingers, in the gap between your wings.
"Are you free tomorrow for dinner, sweet tits? I know a place that makes the best ribs" he says, smiling down at you intently.
Your eyes widen, surprised.
"Inviting me to dinner is not really a groupie thing, y'know?"
"Who said you're a groupie"
"You said it, last week when you invited me to the concert"
"Yeaaah, right. Maybe you are. You still can spare me some time for dinner".
Your hand extends to touch the strands of hair falling on his forehead. What an asshole, you think.
"I'm not but sure, tomorrow for dinner then"
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel adam#adam x reader#adam hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfiction#vivziepop#adam#writers on tumblr#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel adam x reader#adam x you#smut#hazbin adam#adam hazbin x reader#adam hazbin#hazbin adam x reader#Spotify
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okay I watched good omens s2 yesterday with my partner, and I was genuinely very surprised -- I think if you've grown up through superwholock/merlin/the 100/teen wolf type shows where (with the exception periodically of doctor who) you kind of had to make up the good show that something could have been in your head, that colours a lot of your viewing, and to be honest I thought season 1 of good omens was a fine little piece, honoured the book while modernising it somewhat, it was a nice, fun, low stakes time, with a couple of things I might have wanted a tad different but nothing overall awful.
so I was seeing all this meta and gifsets and discussion, while I was waiting to give s2 a watch with my partner and thought "ah, people have made up the good show in their heads again" not that I assumed s2 was going to be a bad show, but that people were taking extra deep plunges into possibilities, the way fandom does, and that was fine. I knew there was a big ol kiss, I had a sense of some kind of argument at the end, and that it was setting up a s3
I also knew that mainstream reviews were calling it (politely) self-indulgent and dependent on whether or not you enjoy david tennant and michael sheen having a good time for just under 6 hours
all in all, expectations of a somewhat mainstream show without too much to think about, a nice, fun low stakes time, moving on...
(EDIT: AND THEN I WROTE A LOT OF WORDS SO YOU CAN IMAGINE THAT MY REACTION WAS QUITE DIFFERENT)
as it turns out it seems these things that were being written on tumblr were discussing the actual text of the show and not things you could extrapolate if you squinted and tilted your head a little to the left as I'm so used to doing, so in fact there is much to think about!
and my first thought was "this is like when you read early discworld books that ask a question like a joke, only to find that over time the answer to that question becomes very serious (and also can be funny at times of course)." how terry pratchett would pick and pick at tropes and notions and social ideas and go "oh now hold on, this seems strange..." starting way back when he thought it was odd that women warriors always seemed to be dressed in metal bikinis and then realising he hadn't done a good enough job of subverting the trope, simply by depicting it and calling it a bit silly
why do goblins always get treated as the villains? what's with this divine succession of kings business? where are the female dwarfs? who do we treat as disposable?
good omens season one went: "haha what if heaven and hell were intensely incapable, bureaucratic, corrupt, and uncaring of the work they did, and we took an angel and a demon and had them actually care? wouldn't that be... a bit silly?" (and it was)
good omens season two went: "what are the consequences for caring when the people who have power over you are incapable, bureaucratic, corrupt, and uncaring? what are the forces that supersede systems built on fear, ignorance, and violent conformity? can people change and break out of/challenge/break down these structures by caring?"
and this was set up with a neat little sleight of hand (to reference aziraphale's switch-and-bait in the episode with the nazi zombies), because the majority of season 2 does feel a bit indulgent: hey, remember those two wacky angel-and-demon characters? watch some more wacky things they did through the ages, watch them take a sojourn through 1827 Edinburgh and do a magic show during the Blitz, and... stop the death of Job's and Sitis' children (actually maybe that whole segment ought to have been what they call "A Clue")
see them try to figure out a kooky mystery, all the while setting up a cute little same-gender romance on their street. watch as everything points towards a happy ending that's all about the two of them realising what they've been to one another all these thousands and thousands (and thousands and thousands) of years- but hold on. lest we forget - and the show has made this point over and over - there are powerful people who control them, who hurt them, and who plan on hurting others, throughout the whole season, and as it turns out they know what they've been to one another for far far longer, and know how to pull their strings...
season 2 then, has to show us these things, not because they're indulgent (well, maybe occasionally, but the apology dance is still important), but because in order to make the ending a tragedy, we first need to understand, properly, the impact that they have had on each other. we need to understand that Aziraphale relied heavily on Crowley to be his moral compass and leaned on black-and-white thinking in order to deal with things, because if it's all grey then where does he fit and what has it all meant and heaven has to be the good guys, even as Job's and Sitis' children are ordered to be killed, it's all he ever had...
and Crowley was always an anchor, needed to trust that Aziraphale was different, needed to bend to every whim that Aziraphale has, because otherwise what's his worth in all this? After having been already deemed worthless by the heaven that Aziraphale needs to believe in?
and that, simplistically described, is the narrative that we're seeing in s2, and alongside that the ways that the changes they have upon each other are noticed, and monitored, and placed under suspicion, and finally... broken up, not by the clumsy, brute force that's been attempted over and over again, but by a promise to return into a violent, controlling system and to "make it better from within"
and all of this is wrapped up in two queer relationships + a third queered-within-the-text relationship that creates the inverse of how it ends for Aziraphale and Crowley (so far). queer love -- whatever shape that has -- is explicitly the shape of non-conformity within this narrative, including within the symbolism of angel-and-demon love of Gabriel and Beelzebub, which in the context of the systems created is considered queer (and one can argue till the cats come home about casting cis actors, about angel-and-demon notions of gender/romance/sexuality, but the "queerness" comes from building something non-conforming to the systems they exist in), and enforced by the explicitly our-world-definition-of queer romance that Nina and Maggie have going on (which, while less high stakes, still contains the background controlling relationship that Nina initially is in)
all of this to say, that I disagree that s2 meanders, or that plotlines happen for the sake of showcasing Aziraphale and Crowley without purpose, or that characters get sidelined (I'd say it sets up a whole host of interesting characters to further get into actually), or that it's strictly mainstream easy-access narrative that's just an excuse for the main creators and actors to get back together.
the love is the point, and this show takes its time to show the love (and the unequal boundary-setting, and the fact that one of them has an undiscussed tragic backstory, and the desperation to belong again, and the fear instilled by oppressive systems, and and and), so that we understand why those last 15 minutes happen the way that they do
it's sleight of hand, and like all good magic, you don't notice until it's happened
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Oracle!Reader Part 22
Masterlist - Part 1, Part 21, Part 23
Warnings: Sagau Imposter au reader with lots of gore and stuff. Minors are warned but not prohibited.
“What a shrewd mortal you are.” The snake hisses as she travels down Baizhu’s arm to face you better. The V-shaped tongue does little to hide the ivory fangs hidden in her maw.
“I appreciate the compliment, but I suggest you reserve your judgment for the main topics of our discussion.”
“Arrogant too, I see!” An amused scoff leaves Changsheng at your bold words, all while Baizhu’s smile remains unchanging. After shutting the door behind him, he keeps his arm perched for Changsheng before sitting on the small stool near the bed.
“It seems you’re feeling much better now than last night. Are you experiencing any pain or discomfort?”
“None at all.” You lie politely. Getting tied down here any longer than the decided discharge time would be a hassle.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Baizhu trails off to write something down on the paper he’s holding as Changsheng decides to start the discussion. Despite her small body, she speaks with the same pride the Adepti held.
“We are already well aware of your body’s abnormalities. But in order for us to get a proper grasp of the scar tissue culture, you’ll need to answer some personal questions.”
Smiling without a hint of unease, you respond as you sit up to face them. “Seems you’re quite interested in me. Or should I say suspicious?”
A swift denial is what you expect. Maybe a truthful answer showcasing her confidence could happen too.
“Does a human who would rather hide their face, rather than accept the consequences of being bare, have any right to question my curiosity?”
Snakes are known to be sly for a reason. Baizhu’s slight upturned eyes at Changsheng’s words only solidify that belief further.
“I guess it was a dumb question.” You shrug, the subtle jab rolling off you with ease. “I am quite popular, I strongly doubt that you've had a patient quite like me.”
Your teeth are bared in a grin at Changsheng, fully aware of what the display means to the animal.
She merely hmph’s at you before turning her head to the side as Baizhu cuts in amicably.
“Depending on what I discover in this sample, your words may be true Y/N. Why not first explain how you are the Creator’s oracle?”
Lips pursing as your eyes travel to the side of the room, your finger taps rhythmically on your chin. Wondering, contemplating on how you should answer.
At your silence, Changsheng’s eyes narrow as if she's frowning, while Baizhu’s smile turns almost sympathetic.
“I wouldn't pry into this matter as your physician, but as being an adventurer is your official occupation, I felt the need to question this Oracle one. Quite a few jobs connected to The Creator tend to manifest some otherwise unseen conditions.”
If one looked at it on the surface, they would see a concerned doctor looking to take all situations in accouint. But all you see is an ill person investigating a promising lead.
Baizhu’s quest for immortality was always closely connected to the Adepti, and you just had to be outed by a disciple of one.
“It's not like that child was the only one to refer to you as such. Why would an Oracle even hide such basic information from trusted acolytes like ourselves?”
Changsheng’s tone is scathing, and her question is sarcastic. The hot and cold of the pair’s demeanor and words were easy to recognize.
The kind of tactic they were trying to pull on you was the classic ‘good cop, bad cop’ schtick.
Baizhu’s honeyed words were to coax the information from someone nervous and fearful, while Changsheng’s harshness was meant to pressure and intimidate someone into spilling.
Something this dubious in a medical setting shouldn't exist. At least not yet, anyway. Most medical malpractice from eras in the past were born from discrimination, religious propaganda and general inexperience of the human anatomy and physiology.
It sure as hell shouldn't work on any sane adult, let alone from someone like Baizhu who is widely trusted but also suspected.
But then you think back on the kind of people that exist in Teyvat. The strange practices seen as normal, the terrifying yet mesmerizing creatures that roam, and your cult…
Yeah, more than one person must have bent to their will. While you doubt it was done with any bad intention. The fact of the matter is that Baizhu could have removed your mask, but clearly didn't. It still wasn't right.
Then again, why should you care? As long as you keep yourself in check to not reveal any more than necessary, then you were satisfied with that.
No need to play hero in a world that can't see past someone's physical features. The heart you once had that urged you to try and change to become a better person has already been burned away.
“Well, this is classified information, but I do have approval to explain my unique circumstances in these kinds of cases.”
Your smile is sheepish as you tilt your head and avoid their matching piercing gaze. As if you caved into their words and finally came clean.
“I suppose you can say that being an adventurer is my day job, as my true mission is to uncover the truths behind cult members and acolytes alike on their devotion to the Holy One.”
Baizhu’s smile widens, just a smidge at your words. Changsheng is not nearly as impressed and hisses out her first question.
“And how does that justify the matching scars along your body to the Almighty?”
Just how did Changsheng get to say such brutal questions without being frowned upon? Probably because she's a talking snake.
Many adults in this world probably find it unimaginable and fear her, thinking she's on the level of an Adepti. Others may view her as almost unreal and much like a doll to be played with, downplaying her words and sharp intellect like a child.
You just find her as surreal as a dream; Almost detached in a way from the sheer absurdity of a talking snake. It's only thanks to your knowledge from when you were a player that you can see her for herself.
Smiling, you reply to her question with a carefully constructed answer. Admittedly, this question was always one you were afraid of encountering.
“This body belongs to The Creator, and The Creator alone. When I was first summoned by the Almighty and commanded of my mission, they desired to mark me in a way that no one could deny as a connection to them. I chose to be scarred in the same fashion as them.”
A wide smile, almost manic in nature, stretches across your mouth. Calloused fingers intertwined before covering your lips as if to coyly hide.
“And what better way is there? A subtle yet bold imprinting of the Creator’s hold over me. A way to experience the suffering our poor God must have gone through to be branded like that.”
Words spoken colorfully are nearly purred before you're left with uncontrollable giggles. You finally calm down with a dreamy sigh as you look at the contracted partners.
Baizhu and Changsheng are silent throughout your whole act. The only movement made was them sharing a glance.
And there is only one emotion you can see bloom so vividly in their exchanged eyes.
Discomfort.
---------------
It's safe to say that neither of them asked any more questions about the matter. Changsheng basically fled the room to “bask in the sun on the windowsill in the hall rather than stay with a human like that.”
You don't take any offense to it. In fact, you're overjoyed that your act worked. The only way to stop them from coming to the natural question of: “Does this mean their face is also like the Creator’s?” was to stop them from wanting to think on that train of thought.
It's exactly why you've been so careful to not let your body be so exposed. At least in regard to your torso, as scars on limbs are much easier to disregard.
Acting as a fanatic really was one of the best and easiest ways to throw off suspicion. No one really tries to dig for anything from a crazy person. After all, they have no sensible rhyme or reason to their actions.
It, of course, came with its own risks. Doing it too much will make people think that you’re actually insane rather than just unstable and will never trust you. And even the act itself can only work in certain situations with the right people, or else everything will fall apart.
That’s why you only use it when you see no other choice like now. Both Baizhu and Changsheng are under confidentiality agreements to not speak about you as a patient and considering the normal behavior for believers, your actions shouldn’t be too taboo.
Just a tad bit surprising.
The feather-light tap on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts as you look at the ever-present smile on the doctor. Baizhu sits back down on the stool once he’s sure he has your attention before speaking.
“Since you’ve explained more than enough about your background, we can move on to taking a culture sample of the scar tissue.” Your eyes roam the room for any tools needed for the procedure, and furrow when you fail to find any.
“At least that’s what I would say if I didn’t take it during the initial treatment.” If Baizhu wasn’t such a good doctor, you would ask if his license was revoked yet. This sure as hell doesn’t sound legal.
Annoyance must have been clear on your face as Baizhu leans a little closer to respond calmly. “I can assure you that this is very normal and practiced by many physicians. I just felt the need to tell you, as we agreed to you receiving a form of compensation.”
His eyes slither down your body to linger on where he must have taken the sample. “It would have been a hassle for us both if I waited till now to take it. I would have had to cut your skin after it healed so nicely, meaning you would be at risk for an infection.”
Baizhu may not be acting as obviously as a fanatic as you were earlier, but he was making you wildly uncomfortable. It’s a struggle to keep your body from tensing up under his growing gaze.
“So what did you choose as compensation? Last time we spoke about this, I don’t believe you had a set answer yet.”
With your mind reorienting back to how you can gain from this situation, you request your choice confidently.
“I want the strongest knock-out drug or sedation or whatever other name it goes by that you have. Something that can’t be obtained over the counter. Something that borders on being illegal.”
Was it strange to request this? It seems so, judging by Baizhu’s smile dropping as his eyebrows pinch together in what could be confused as worry.
But it’s a necessity to you.
Yelan and Shenhe couldn’t be dealt with due to the strength imbalance. That would take months, if not years, for you to get to a level where you can fight them one on one without using every means possible to win. Other acolytes exist that were even better than them, some that weren’t even human.
As the environment and tools in your disposal were much different and limited compared to when you were on Earth, you needed something more on the trap side. Having that weird, almost instant knowledge of weapons, elemental energy and rare bursts of power was the most you could ask for in combat. But it would be best to avoid combat if you can.
This drug would be the perfect way to.
“There are plenty of sleeping aids available over the counter. Why not choose from them rather than get a prescription for one from me?”
Baizhu is more than well aware of why you are requesting this, as he specifically addresses it as a mere ‘sleeping aid’. Whether he’s worried about you or for you doesn’t matter.
“I’m not questioning and probing for more answers as to how my tissue sample is so connected to your research. So you shouldn’t be trying to question mine, either.”
His whole face seems to light up at your swift and defensive response. “You have nothing to worry about, my dear.”
A smooth chuckle leaves him as he leans down to whisper into your ear from where you sit on the bed. “I’ll get you exactly what you desire and with any luck, my research will make leaps and bounds of progress.”
Goosebumps are raised across your skin as he stands back up straight. The square-framed glasses almost hiding the slitted golden eyes that try to devour you glint from the sunlight streaming in.
Baizhu leaves and you can finally breathe.
—----------------------
Time passes by slowly and with little options to cure your boredom, you find yourself engrossed in deciding which of Teyvat’s many delicacies you want to try. Last time you cooked on Beidou’s ship, the cooking laws followed the same logic as it did when you played the game.
It was one of the few perks you had from being the Creator. You had to make it count.
Even if it was just to distract yourself from overthinking the upcoming meeting with Ningguang.
It’s the wind’s echoing of the footsteps gradually getting louder that pull you out of the screen and back into the present. With a satisfying stretch, you sit up properly and yell a “Come in!” when a knock rings out.
Different shades of blue hair can be seen entering as Xingqiu strolls in with Chongyun behind him.
You greet them first with a toothy smile and lazy wave. “It's been a while since we last saw each other. Glad to see you both made it back here safely.”
Tension immediately leaves Xingqiu’s shoulders at your words, as Chongyun moves past him to take a hold of your shoulders.
“How could you be so reckless?!” His hair is slicked back, giving you a clear view of his pinched brows and lips bitten raw.
“The Adepti aren't beings to mess with, you could have really died!” Did he think the Adepti were responsible for your injuries? It would be the only logical conclusion, since Yelan chasing you was definitely a secret operation and Shenhe was just by chance.
“I shouldn't have let the confusing mess sweep me along, making me blindly listen to you. Maybe then you wouldn't have gotten this seriously hurt.”
He's hot, you blandly take note as his fingers dig into the clothing. It even seeped through your clothing, but you can't bring yourself to push him off.
Not when he's trying to hide how they shake as if he's the one shivering in a snowstorm.
“Why did you push us to leave with the victims? You and Xingqiu are eloquent enough to have convinced them to let you come back with us! How could you push us away?!”
… Was he trying to blame you? Briefly looking away from the frosty yet heated gaze of Chongyun, you glance at Xingqiu. His head is turned away, and he makes no effort to stop or step in.
“If you just let us help you rather than pushing us away, everything could have been avoided!” What the hell? “I should have just ran back when we were still close enough. Then you wouldn't have been so severely hurt.”
The constant whiplash of Chongyun’s words and emotions confused you. Grabbing his hands, you pry him off and pushed him away.
“I don't understand what you're trying to tell me. Okay, maybe better choices could have been made, but what's the point in dwelling on them now?” There's an annoyed bite to your tone that slips out.
Like gasoline to a fire, Chongyun explodes on you.
“What's the point?! The point is that you nearly died due to something that could have been prevented if we just thought a little harder! What if you died? What would you do then? Nothing! Because it'd be too late!”
His face is red as he yells, and his words feel like a forgotten consciousness crawling back to you. Infesting you with the long forgotten fear of what death had in store for you.
“So what?! That's for me to deal with, not you! If I die then, I die and if I live, then I live.” There's an ugly smile on your face that twists into a snarl. “You don't need to feel responsible for what happened, okay? So don't try to berate me and stew on what is already done.”
Jitters run through Chongyun’s body as he breathes loudly and takes a step forward-Only to get stopped by Xingqiu grabbing his arm.
“Stop it Chongyun. That's enough, your yang spirit is out of control and making you hotheaded.”
“But they-”
“Enough.” Xingqiu’s voice is firm as his grip visibly tightens around the joint. “Cool off inside the room or outside. It's your choice.”
Chongyun glares at Xingqiu before ripping his hand away and stomping to the corner. It's only with the distance that you can see how his fingers tremble worse than an addict.
The popsicle he pulls out is shoved into his throat as sweat visibly sticks to his skin and his haggard breathing becomes visible.
Maybe you should feel sympathetic, but all you can hear is his anger and accusations in your ears.
“Y/N…” Xingqiu’s voice calls out, and you finally get to see his face and take note of the slight red rim around his eyes.
He's been crying, you realize, and what makes it worse is how uncomfortable you feel at the sight.
“Chongyun was definitely in the wrong for getting so mad and starting the fight with you.” He glances over at the Cryo user, who refuses to look at either of you.
You can spot faint bite marks dotting his fingernails.
“But it's not completely his fault either. He-We’ve been worried ever since we arrived at Liyue and never found you. We tried to-”
“That still doesn't make sense. Just why get so worked up over me missing a few days. I'm an adult, I'll be fine. Hell, I am fine!”
You're agitated and on edge, but for the life of you, you can't tell why. A small part of you, the sensible part of your brain, is already whispering that you're going too far, but you shut it down.
“Why even get mad at me about this? Why not the Adepti?!” Xingqiu’s silent stare at you is like needles prickling your skin.
The annoyance, frustration and confusion are what you cling to at this moment.
“Is it because they're firm believers of the Creator? Is it because you can't trust me as an Oracle?! Or is it because-”
“IT’S BECAUSE WE CARE!” Chongyun bellows out from his spot, whipping around to face you once more.
He takes long strides to you and reaches out his hands to touch you, to grab you-
But stops abruptly at your poorly hidden flinch. His expression morphs into something less fiery, with more hesitancy in his actions.
You let his hands awkwardly rest once again on your shoulders. But instead of the heat you experienced before, his fingers are cool but not cold.
“We were worried because we care about you.” Chongyun doesn't look the same as before. You decide to blame his hairstyle for that.
“I'm sorry for getting so worked up.” He starts slowly, his grip loosening with each word he utters. “I took the anger I had against myself on you, and I'm sorry for that.”
It's foreign to have them worry over your safety. To truly get this emotional over the thought of you dying.
But when you think back to your words and how you reacted in this whole argument, embarrassment creeps in.
“I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have snapped so easily and accused you guys of strange things.”
Yun Jin’s betrayal may have bothered you more than you realized. Not that you were unfamiliar with betrayal, but you didn't expect that a traditionally ‘good’ character would be so quick to sway.
The more you think about it, the more shame you feel.
“While I'm glad you both have made up for the high stress argument, I'm afraid we have more serious matters to discuss.”
Xingqiu’s words alert you both back into the present as he smoothly separates you from Chongyun.
“Ah, that's right, I almost forgot…” Chongyun mumbles to himself, only making you more confused on what the issue was.
“I'm not sure how, but the Qixing knew that you were the main party responsible for saving the kidnapped victims even before you arrived here in this state.”
What?
The surprise must have been clear on your face as Xingqiu repeated his words and explained with more detail.
“Ganyu did arrive and focus the spotlight on her, but the Qixing immediately poked holes in it. The most adamant was the Yuheng.”
How would your incident with the Geovishap hatchling make Keqing believe you would save the children and not be the one to kidnap them?
The guild wouldn't disclose that information. It was literally stated on the contract Khan signed due to the seriousness of the commission. The breech in the confidentiality contract would be enough to warrant a lawsuit or legal action, they wouldn't risk it.
Did you talk to any guards about the case when searching for information? Anyone notable enough to report to Keqing?
It was no use, you couldn't remember all the details due to how long it's been since then.
“We thought that maybe you had already talked to her, so we brushed it off, but it got worse when we tried to go find you.”
Xingqiu gestures animatedly as he speaks. “Not only were there almost double the guards around the main entrances and exits, but I noticed at least four guards following me in the days leading up to your appearance.”
“We were repeatedly stopped from leaving and even when we tried leaving through unconventional ways, they still found us.” Chongyun finishes as he recounts the events.
“Only once were we able to leave the city in the dead of night, and it was the Yuheng herself that stopped us. She said that since we brought the victims back, she had reason to keep us in the city until further notice.”
Xingqiu scowls as he remembers the memory before cursing. “One hell of a convenient ass excuse.”
Chongyun finishes their story as he opens the curtain slightly and gestures to you to look out with him.
“This morning we both received letters saying we were free to leave now. It was just a few minutes later that we heard about you being brought here. And what do we see when we came to visit the first time?”
Following Chongyun’s line of sight, your breath catches at the sight of a Millelith guard hiding in a shaded area under a golden leaf tree.
“There’s even more in buildings and outside the window view.” Xingqiu adds as he takes the other side beside you.
Knuckles clutching the window sill tightly, you forcibly breathe in and out. Thoughts of just how long they've been watching you, what they could have done, and what they could have seen whirls around your brain.
All those Crystalflies, weasel thieves and the conversations you exchanged were now at risk of being exposed. With your heart thumping painfully loud in your chest, you wonder: What could they have already reported?
What was all your work in keeping out of the Qixing’s sight for? Ganyu didn't have much power, Keqing is set against you, Yun Jin betrayed you, Beidou’s gone and Ningguang already tried to off you with Yelan.
What did you possibly have left?
The two hands that lay on you startle but also ground you back to the present. Smooth skin and icy fingers draw your eyes to switch between the two vision holders.
“It'll be okay, Y/N. If they truly wanted to kill you, then they wouldn't have let you rest easily here.”
“It's true, Ningguang once poisoned the water supply that specifically went to certain patients in a different clinic.”
And now you feel like shit again. It's not like you could trust Baizhu-you weren't even completely sure whether he intentionally hid the existence of the guards!
At your visible dampened mood, Chongyun lightly kicks Xingqiu’s shin, who only hisses at the pain before retaliating.
Watching them childishly fight like this is fun, a simple and small pleasure that you savor after all the bad news and confusing mysteries.
That's right. You weren't alone. Not totally, at least.
It was painful to think about how your plan to avoid and leisurely please the Qixing failed, but it wasn't all over. Xingqiu and Chongyun thoroughly proved themselves on whose side they were on.
And if push came to shove, you could agree to marry Zhongli and let him deal with your problems.
“Don't worry too much, you two.” At your sudden but cryptic words, both of them stop and look at you.
Smiling serenely despite the turbulence your heart was suffering through, you give a vague explanation.
“I already have a scheduled meeting with Ningguang. I'll either be praised by the masses as the oracle I am, or show up in a casket at the Wangsheng’s Funeral Parlor.”
Ending it with a sneaky grin, you press a finger to your lips. “I'm aiming for the third option of getting minor recognition before hitchhiking to Mondstadt.”
Rewriting this crap since TUMBLR KICKED ME OUT. I copy the ending that I wrote and only one word of it actually saved for me to paste. I wanna strangle this website.
But anyway, got back from vacation, slept, unpacked and finished setting up everything properly after my editor finished. Just rechecked and turns out Tumblr also removed all the italics and bold which I had to re-add, how NICE
I did manage to get a whole nice length chapter finished while I was away but I'm saving that for later as school is starting. I wanna have it there and post it in a while when I'm swamped while trying to get my school in order.
So. Looking. Forward. To. It. :)
I finished reading a few previous chapters to keep everything on track and wow. Y/N used to be so happy and hopeful lol. I would ask what happened but I’M what happened. It was still really fun to reread the adventure with Ayato.
Perhaps it wasn’t obvious but Baizhu didn’t completely fall for the fanatic act. Changsheng trust her own judgement too much to look past the surface unless the person is visibly mysterious or pulling away. That’s why Baizhu could act the way he does despite the initial discomfort he felt (which was not faked)
Taglist: Open as always!
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#whisp's amateur work#genshin sagau#genshin impact#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#yandere sagau#yandere x reader#yandere xingqiu#yandere chongyun#yandere baizhu#yandere changsheng#yandere#genshin impact sagau#sagau#sagau oracle au#done editing 2.0#Nothing is really changed#just refined#at least the updated taglist saved on my master draft...
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Chemtrails Over the Yacht Club Collection
18+ | Toto Wolff x reader, age gap, smut operator, clear daddy issues (this fic is inspired by Lana del Rey, duh), and yacht culture.
Summary: Toto Wolff is a name often mentioned at the Yacht Club, where you work after classes. For some reason, you have always pictured him as an old crank like the usual members, not this foxy man who arrives at the reception making your knees quiver.
The entire staff goes frenetic as he, one of the Club's most important clients, chooses to spend his spring break there without previous notice. You pray to the Gods that you don't cross lines with him since your entire livehood depends on this job, and you really want to graduate college.
Author's note: This was supposed to be a one-shot but was way too long, so I split it into two chapters. I hope you enjoy them. By the way, this version of Toto has questionable morals.
< Previous chapter | Masterlist >
2 - Breaking up slowly
As Mr. Holst's gateway yacht trip reaches an end, you follow protocol and deliver Toto the guest's satisfaction survey before docking in the Club's harbor.
It's supposed to be confidential and private for the guest. Still, Toto reads you the questions and tells you his answer as he writes them, evaluating you while you sit on his lap in his cabin armchair.
"Any complaints or suggestions, please elaborate," he reads you. "Yes. Y/N's skirts should have been shorter. They don't do justice to that ass," he jokes as you blush, still in awe of him.
He squeezes your ass cheek and gives you a hard slap leaving a red mark, instantly turning you on.
"Fuck me, daddy" you beg him against his lips, already placing you on top of him.
Your clothes hit the ground.
You aren't sure if the waves are rocking the hull that hard or if it's Toto's powerful thrust as he fucks you relentlessly, firm grip on your hips, fingertips pressuring on your skin.
-
The guests enjoy the yacht's amenities till the last minute before docking in the harbor of the Yacht Club.
The crew and you are all but busy, going everywhere, attending to guests, and running safety checks and protocols.
You attend to Toto's daily demands as he peacefully sunbathes before going to his cabin to change outfits. His tan skin makes him look even more handsome.
You overheard him telling the person on the other end of the call that he was going to a meeting downtown.
He'll be gone the entire day and the whole of your shift. At least a bit of a break for you!
These past few days have been a dream but tiresome.
As the sailing master safely and perfectly anchors the yacht in the harbor, the guests start to descend the ship. A small committee of girls with beverages and canapes welcomes them.
The only people remaining onboard the ship's deck are Toto and you; he wanted to go last.
As you two casually talk, he pulls out an envelope from the insides of his blue blazer and offers it with his hand for you to grab it.
"Sorry, what is this?!" you ask, looking at the rectangular yellow envelope.
"It's a brick of money, isn't it?" you think.
"Your tip," he confirms your thoughts.
"But that is excessive. No way I'm accepting it."
"Do so," he sounds authoritarian as usual. "'It's going to help you with that fine."
"Oh, hey, listen, I will make it, don't worry about it."
"Y/N," he sounds serious, his eyes looking straight at you. He is a very kind and sweet person on the inside. Still, on the outside, he is always cold, stony-looking, demanding, and impossibly hot. "Take it," he enunciates, his controlling trait displaying.
You have noticed, just by being by his side all these days, the pull and effect he has on people and still holds on to you. He is someone you want to impress, to win his approval and have his attention.
"What do you think this is "Pretty Woman"? Calm down, Richard Gere!" you dare to joke to change the mood a bit.
"Aren't you too young to know that reference?" he still answers sternly.
"I live with the rom-com connoisseur, aka my aunt." you smile brightly at him.
Toto has avoided stepping onto personal life terrains, wanting to remain far apart.
"Last time I offer it, take it. You need it. Besides, it's not like you are going to buy a Kelly bag with it; it's for your tuition."
"A what?!" you think. "Wait! How does he know that? I don't remember mentioning that to him."
"Thank you, but I prefer to maintain our relationship non-monetarian." you stand your ground.
"Our relationship?" Toto thinks.
He places the envelope back into his inside pocket as he said he would and steps off without looking back at you, moving along with his day.
-
"Welcome back to land," Chloé greets you the next day as you clip your radio on your belt in the staff locker room. You're getting ready for another shift before hugging her.
"I'm impressed! I must admit. You almost, ALMOST, achieved it! You got a really good-rate review on the satisfaction chart from Mr. Wolff, something I've never seen before." Then, she makes a dramatic pause.
Only if she knew...
Before continuing: "But not so with Mr. Elrod. He placed a formal complaint since, according to him, your incident with him was life-threatening."
"OH COME ON! He barely swoll!" You look annoyed and want to smash the locker with your fist.
"I know, I checked. Still, I'm really proud of you! But Raphaël called you to his office, so please go there now."
-
Oh God, you hate going up there!
You arm yourself with patience while climbing the swirling stairs to the upper floor of the management wing of the building, where the big names' offices are.
He makes you wait for a long time. The fucker knows the long wait it's going to delay your chores and make you leave work late. Until his assistant informs you from her chair at the front desk that you can go in.
You open the large glass door into the Assistant General Manager's office with a speech already prepared in your mind in case of the worst.
Raphaël is leaning back on his enormous executive leather chair and massive desk that screams small dick energy, looking sternly at you.
Raphaël is a very posh, solemn, and wealthy fucker who is besties with Mr. Holst and his entire family and extended family, a textbook social climber.
A very uptight asshole. Raphaël chose to dislike you from the moment you set foot at the Club; he tries to get you fired at any given chance.
Most of the girls who work there are beautiful and come from an obvious upper class; most are daughters, nieces, or granddaughters of...
The Yacht Club is where the rich teach their kids a lesson on the value of work or use it as a perfect excuse to kick them out of the house for a few hours.
Usually, they get hired because daddy made a call, and you are none of that.
"Ah, good morning," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I see you're still here. I'm surprised you didn't quit on the spot after that dangerous incident."
You take a deep breath and try to keep your cool. "Good morning, Raphaël. I'm still here because I'm committed to doing my job to the best of my ability and finding a solution to the problem rather than blaming myself."
Raphaël snorts. "You're the one who caused the problem, sweetheart. You're always causing problems. You're a liability to this company."
You feel angry at his words, but you keep your composure. "I understand you're upset, but I'm trying my best."
Raphaël swings a bit in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "You're just a silly girl who doesn't know how to do her job. You're lucky I'm even giving you a final and last chance to prove yourself."
You feel a lump form in your throat. "I understand you don't think highly of me, but I'm trying to do my best; I have learned fast and proved myself worthy."
Raphaël laughs a cold, cruel sound. "You're just not cut out for this job, sweetheart. We are the best and need the best on our team."
"I...I don't know what to say," you stutter.
Raphaël leans forward, his eyes glinting with triumph. "Just thank Ava, sweetie, for changing Holst's mind. You're on thin ice, one more mistake, and you're gone. You can leave now," he dismisses you.
-
"Thank you, I owe you one, I guess," you whisper to Ava for saving your ass as you cross paths with her in the beautiful and perfectly maintained gardens.
"You were kind to me," she says in the same tone as usual, not as friendlier as you would have liked. "I trust you keep our conversation from that day private."
"Pinky promise," you offer her your pinky. She looks at you with an "ugh" expression, rolls her eyes, and walks away. A couple of steps further, she turns to smile at you.
Now you two are best friends for life in your head! IJBOL.
-
The following two weeks are a swirl of moans as Toto, and you can't keep your hands off each other.
You fuck everywhere private and remote enough, where there are no security cameras.
You can't have enough of his dick and his body. You are so infatuated with him.
Every time he calls in you at his villa, you end up fucking; it doesn't matter how hard you both try to fight the urge to do so.
He has had you against the door, his bedframe, or the room's vanity, on top of the piano and even in the jacuzzi. The sex drive of that fit man is spectacular, and you are young enough to keep its pace.
You have never been so sexually active and free in your life, learning and experiencing many things for the first time. Toto makes the best teacher and lover you have ever had.
By this point, you lost count of how many times you have moaned his name, called him daddy, or the number of times he has made you cum and beg for more.
-
Your aunt and close friends start to notice your glow. Lately, you look radiant and happy.
She is intrigued to know the reason behind it as you two go to the mall on Sunday.
"FINE. I WILL TELL YOU! I'm dating the most gorgeous, wise, handsome, accomplished, hot guy, AND HE IS SO INTO ME! Can you believe it?!"
"Oh, I can. My niece is great! And where did you meet this adonis, and most importantly, does he have an older brother?"
"He is an older brother!" you want to say but don't.
She doesn't need to know every single detail, not yet. You want to keep it a surprise for when you take Toto home.
"He has a sister," you answer.
"Ah! And what else can you tell me?"
"Well, he is from Austria! I plan to invite him over to have dinner at the apartment so you can meet and ask him all the questions you want. What do you think?"
The look she gives you! You had never taken a single boy to the house. This must be serious, then.
"Has he tasted your cooking yet?" she wonders before answering.
You shake your head.
"Well, if he survives it, then it's true love!" you two laugh as your aunt jokes and links her arm with yours before adding: "Please invite him for dinner. I'd love to meet him, but you know what! Better buy lasagna. We want this to work, right?!"
-
You love to text Toto sweet and touchy messages throughout the day that hint at how he makes you feel, how much he means to you, and how great it is to be with him.
You are in love.
Yet, you try not to suffocate him or embarrass yourself, still being nervous around him, still wanting his approval.
Toto still intimidates you. Being the powerful and dominant man he is.
You can't believe you snatched him! Lucky girl!
But in your mind, fuck! Wedding bells are already chirping, and future children's name-searching is already happening.
-
The Yacht Club has a museum/memorabilia section that almost no one visits. It's located far away from the lobby and main guest areas, and for obvious reasons, it has many security cameras.
But next to it, further down the hallway, there's a blind spot on the CCTV system, right in the space of the door to an old phone room.
In this room, the original antic magneto wall set telephone is still mounted on the wall, along with a stern wood chair where people used to chat in private.
You ask Toto to meet you there after he texts you he hasn't seen you today.
Also, you want to inform him that you are going on a "two-day leave" plus the weekend, so you will be away from him for four days.
You don't want to send him mixed signals, and you're getting paranoid that he might think you're running away.
And since you don't want to miss him, maybe he could join you if he wants and feels like it. You know, couple life outside the Club.
A hand-in-hand walk through Monaco's streets sounds nice; a cute date with wine and kisses sounds more than good.
-
When he closes the door behind him, the place looks ridiculously smaller.
You immediately stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping your arms around him as you greet him.
You share small, soft kisses for a while.
He sadly tells you he can't join you on your break.
Since he extended his stay, Toto has things scheduled on his agenda that he is supposed to be doing in his office in London.
"But I'm going to miss you, daddy," you pout and give him the biggest Bambi-begging eyes.
"Not even that it's going to work. Try it with my assistant. Thanks for trying tho."
"Where can I meet her?"
He laughs before pulling you into a more intense kiss.
"Should we say goodbye to each other?" he says against your lips, caressing your neck.
"It is crazy how four days felt like nothing before you; now that I have you in my life, it's an eternity."
He holds you closer, pulling you by the waist.
"Then let's make it count enough to stay in each other minds for those days."
"You are permanently on my mind," you confess, burying your face in his shoulder, all red, and not even being able to look at him while feeling the expensive material of his jacket brushing your skin.
Then, your mouth finds his, kissing him hungrily. You push your tongue into his mouth, tangling with his, your hands sliding up the hard planes of his chest, then drifting over his shoulders to find the hem of his shirt.
Your fingers feel his warm skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through him as you trace the contours of his muscles.
The smell of your perfume, jasmine, and vanilla intoxicates him. This scent will remind him of this moment as he passionately claims your mouth.
Slowly, you undress each other, savoring the anticipation. As hands wander over defined abs, curves, and dips, caresses become bold strokes.
The pads of your fingers move lower, exploring the ridges of his abdomen. With a smoldering look, you glance up at Toto, a wicked smile on your lips.
Heat spreads through him as you press yourself against his groin and your bare breasts against his chest. He can feel your heart pounding.
With a soft, playful jerk, you touch his growing excitement. "Eager, daddy?" you ask.
He nods.
You waste no time, and you get down to your knees as you take him into your mouth as he is sitting in the chair. Your warm, wet tongue swirls around him, your head bobbing gently as you work him in and out of your mouth.
His fingers find their way into your soft, silken hair, gripping it gently, urging you on.
His pleasure moans grow as you work your magic, your tongue and lips exploring him for a while.
Slowly, you move up till your lips brush the shell of his ear.
He commands you. "Ride me, now."
You shift your weight, adjusting your position to better align with Toto's cock, and you sink onto him, your pussy fitting itself around his cock like a glove; you feel a jolt of pleasure.
He fills you completely, and you allow yourself a moment to take in the intensity of that feeling, skin against skin.
Your hips begin to sway, moving gently to the rhythm of your shared breathing. With each undulation, the chair beneath you becomes part of the dance.
Toto's hands, which had been resting at his sides, now find their way to your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he feels you move against him.
Your breath is warm and soft against his neck as your bodies rock with each movement. You feel your core tighten, your pleasure growing in intensity.
The control Toto wields over the rhythm, and you is intoxicating. Your breathing quickens.
"Faster," he orders you; you moan, obedient and needy. He wants you full force.
You feel the intensity of your coupling, the friction becoming almost unbearable.
You throw your head back mid powerful and intense bounces and cry out, desperate for release.
His hands move to grip your thighs, his fingers applying pressure into your soft flesh as he guides your hips up and down to meet now his intense thrusts, Toto's bucking his hips up now, and your full breasts bounce against his sculpted chest.
Your lips meet in a passionate kiss; tongues entwine at a pace as hungry as the one below your waists.
You tangle your hands in Toto's hair, tugging it gently to urge him for more as you clench your sex around him, drawing out an animalistic groan from deep within him.
"Fuck, yes, Y/N," Toto growls through gritted teeth. He slams his balls into your pussy again and again, driving you both closer to the edge.
Your bodies are all slick with sweat as you shudder atop Toto, releasing a visceral moan with an orgasm radiating from your core and rippling through every nerve in your body, dripping all over his shaft and thighs.
He growls low in his throat, a raw, primal sound that reverberates through the room as he surrenders to his own release.
-
Every day away, you text him, exchanging photos and moments from both days.
You can't keep away from him.
-
Upon your return, you attend and cheer for Toto, who is participating in the regatta rally.
The sound of seagulls surrounds you, as does the smell of salt water and fresh coffee wafts from the food and beverage stalls, enticing the crowd on the quayside.
As the starting gun fires, a fleet of sleek, high-tech sailboats burst into action, their crews navigating the intricate course set out on the water.
The crowd cheers and chants as the boats round each mark, their helmsmen and women trimming their sails to maximize speed.
As the regatta approaches its climax, the top boats are neck and neck, and Toto and his crew are straining every muscle to gain that precious extra yard.
The tension is palpable as his boat crosses the finish line, and he and his crew leap into celebration as they win the rally.
Meanwhile, champagne corks pop on the quayside, and glasses get raised in a toast to the winners.
The air is filled with conversation as the member's friends and families mingle, congratulating each other on a thrilling day under their giant sun umbrellas and comfy outdoor chairs.
Meanwhile, you remained sitting on the pier under the sun with your crew coworkers by your side, waiting for your guests to return and watching the action unfold on the waters.
All of you girls, legs hanging, white sneakers almost touching the waters beneath you, dress in blue shorts and white polos with the Club's logo patch on the left.
After a while, the sun and the wood surface start to irritate your face and ass, respectively.
You smile brightly at Toto when you spot him reaching closer in the boat, locking eyes with him.
His shirt is all wet, and what is beneath it is showing. You fight the urge to run your hand all over his chest when you reach him after the trophy ceremony.
-
As you finish setting Toto's regatta equipment back inside the shed in his villa's garden view deck, Léo approaches you, thinking you are alone.
Staring at your bend over the body, eyes on your ass. An excellent view.
Toto watches this from inside. He stepped inside to go shower.
"Y/N!" you turn without flinching, familiar with the voice and happy to hear it.
"Léo! Hi!"
"I missed you, cutie," he says to you, even if you are a girl. Then he welcomes you with a tight hug, pulling you off the ground.
Toto wants to see how the scene unfolds, still without making himself be noticed.
Why is that guy standing that close to you? Doesn't he know personal space?
He watches you two chat, you looking all happy and smiley, telling Léo all about your past days while his eyes burn on you.
Toto catches desire in them, so when Léo places a hand on the shed and around you, Toto steps in.
"Kid," he calls for you. "My drink," he reminds you what he asked you to do next.
"Oh! Yes, sir!" You quickly move to serve Toto's drink. Léo gives him a "those manners!" look, and they share a quick exchange.
At that moment, Toto glimpses at his cook uniform in bright daylight and tells him, "I didn't ask for any food." This is a subtle hint to better leave.
When Toto moves to stand right behind you, you can almost feel his knee in the back of your thigh.
Léo proceeds to leave, sending him a silent fuck you with his eyes.
"Bye, gorgeous! See you around, my girl." Léo addresses you but holds his gaze at Toto as he walks away, looking back.
"Okay..." you think, watching them interact.
-
"Let's go, kid," he orders you.
"Where?!" you ask as he drags you by the arm, a firm grip on your forearm as he pulls you along.
"Move," he instructs.
-
Minutes later, the sun warms Toto's back as he expertly maneuvers his jet ski on the waters. Going extremely fast as you hold tight to his body, the jet ski roaring beneath you, surging forward as water sprays behind you.
The salty ocean breeze whips through his dark hair and yours.
A desolate yet inviting small beach appears in the distance as a coast unfolds. Toto gestures to you to the sandy expanse, "There."
You glance at the beach in question and raise your delicate eyebrows. "You brought us here? Why?"
"I have something to make clear." It's all he answers, in a harsh voice, before reaching land.
-
The waves lap gently against the fine white sands of the isolated coastline. You take a moment to enjoy the sounds of the ocean and the serenity of nature surrounding you.
Your skin and Toto's glisten with sweat, seawater, and sunscreen.
His gaze roams over your body, relishing the breathtaking view. He licks his lips, unable to resist himself any longer.
His eyes are so intense on you that he almost looks angry. Toto's expression dangerously morphs into a lust-filled one.
He leans closer to claim your mouth in a rough, passionate kiss. Parting your lips brusquely, allowing himself to explore and taste your sweetness with his tongue while holding your neck with a stern grip.
His hands move to press your slick body firmly.
Toto then powerfully lifts you from the ground and takes you further into the beach, finally pushing you to the sand and rolling on top of you, feeling your breasts crush against his chest.
He pulls your legs open and places them around his waist, roughly handling you, nails pressing into your skin, and he sighs in pleasure, feeling your warmth pressed against his.
He moves to remove your clothes roughly and quickly, almost tearing your polo shirt; within seconds, you are both naked. "Beautiful," Toto whispers, voice dangerous.
Your eyes flare with desire and curiosity as he has never handled you this rough.
With no hesitation or warning, he pulls his rock-hard length inside you, making you gasp at the sudden move. Toto's voice rasp in your ear, "Only I can fill you up."
You nod eagerly, biting your lower lip.
"Say it," he demands.
"Yes, daddy. Only you can fill me," you whisper, your voice thick with arousal.
Those words send Toto's self-control over the ledge.
He slides into you frenetically, your pussy taking his hard hits with thunderous moist claps. He is fucking you so harshly in such a powerful rhythm you can barely take him.
You bury your nails in the sand surrounding you, grasping. "Daddy!" you moan so loud.
"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," Toto growls, biting down on the curve of your neck.
His thrusts are desperate and animal, and every muscle in his body is rocking. You arch your back, moaning nonstop as Toto keeps hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, relentlessly.
"Daddy! Please," you gasp for air. You can barely take it anymore. "Daddy! I can't." his balls deep thrust keep going. A massive moan escapes your lips.
"Be a nice girl, take this dick good." He commands.
"I-, I-, Daddy, please." Your fingers dig into his shoulders, urging him to let you catch your breath.
"You are only mine to have." Toto's mouth claims yours, swallowing your moans.
"This pussy is all yours!" you are barely able to say, shaking violently under his strong jabs.
"Again," his dick slams you harder.
"I'm only yours!" you scream in an orgasm, breathing real loud.
"Again," he slams you with his dick again.
Your whimpers grow louder.
"I'm yours, daddy!"
The feeling of his raw masculinity taking you over, dominating you entirely, sends ripples of need through your core.
Each drive of his hips is a powerful claim, a branding that declares you his.
"Good girl, now it's clear." He kisses your lips softly and licks them, running his wet tongue all over them.
With one final thrust, he buries himself as deep inside you, feeling you clench and pulse around him as you cry out.
Toto's body shudders with the force of his release. You stay there, panting and covered in sweat and sand as the waves crash upon the shore, matching the rhythm of your breathing.
Toto stays inside you, wanting to remain close for a little longer. He places soft and sweet kisses all over your face, now tenderly caressing you. His soft touch is all over you.
He collapses in exhaustion next to your side. The two of you are naked with your backs to the sand and facing the sky, feeling the sun's warm rays on your skin.
You can't help but smile as you look over at Toto, lying beside you with his muscular chest heaving up and down.
"We're quite a mess," you chuckle, gesturing to the sand and fluids that cover your bodies.
Toto laughs, "Nothing that a quick rinse can't fix."
He watches you stand up, brush the sand off your ass, and sprint towards the ocean.
Toto follows you, admiring your naked figure and the way your ass moves as you stride.
You dip your toes into the water, squealing as a wave crashes over your feet. Toto comes up behind you, planning to plunge you into the water, so you playfully run from him.
He catches and kisses you before lifting you in his arms and bringing you inside the water with him.
He admires your ability to be open-minded, fun, and fearless in pursuing new experiences, especially those involving him.
-
A call bell coming from Toto's living room makes you speed there. Your chores today were so fucking tedious; by this point, you have like four good hours inside the china's closet.
As soon as you enter, he informs you, "Kid, I need my things packed by 2 p.m."
"You are leaving?!!" That sounded more desperate than you expected.
"I need to fly to sign papers in my London office. I will return on Thursday, just in time for Holst's Casablanca-themed birthday party."
Oh, yeah, next week is going to be crazy. A fucking colossal gala it's going to take place at the Club's gardens.
-
When the elevator doors to Toto's office slide open, a burst of energy and femininity floods the room as the most stunning woman enters.
Toto's office is on the top floor of a sleek, modern skyscraper, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an unobstructed panorama of the bustling London's metropolis.
Her impossible curves seem to have been crafted by the gods themselves.
Her long, dark, sleek hair cascades down her back, framing her heart-shaped face and highlighting her stunning eyes.
With her full lips in a deep shade of red, she moves with a confident stride, her high heels clicking on the floor as she makes her way to Toto's desk.
Her toned and shapely legs seem to go on forever. She is supermodel tall, and the way she moves her hips is enough to weaken any man in the knees.
Irina sits in one of the expensive designer chairs in front of Toto's trendy clear glass desk. Her fitted dress hugs her curves in all the right places.
Her shoulders are bare, and the gentle swell of her breasts seems to strain against the fabric.
Her hands are long and elegant, and she has a massive diamond ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.
As she leans back in the chair, her hair bounces against her shoulders, releasing a faint scent of perfume.
Looking busy behind his desk, Toto can't help but look up from his papers, his eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of surprise and admiration.
-
Toto's iPhone buzzes on his desk surface as Irina moves to get comfy on the expensive velvet sofa by the wall after a good chat and a successful exchange on Irina's part.
Reminding Toto of his responsibilities in life.
He picks it up to open your chat.
"Since it's our first month anniversary and you are away. I had more time to prepare a gift for you." you text Toto.
He watches a photo loading on your conversation.
A photo of a completely naked you arrive, standing back to the camera behind a see-through light fabric curtain that looks like and is the one in his bedroom at his villa.
Your shoulders, back, and ass are on full display, your silhouette looking delicious to him; you are posing with your arms up, both placed on your head, and your hair is in a bun.
No face, just body, in a contrast of light.
Toto feels like jerking off to that photo when a second one arrives.
It's a close-up photo of your breast; you are laying on his bed in the villa, again with light fabric on top of your tits, nipples hard, looking ready for him to bite them: no face or more body below your waist on this one.
"What a masterpiece," he replies. "But who took them? It's that my villa? How did you manage?"
"A dear friend of mine takes boudoir photos. I lied to Chloé and told her the photographer came for a photo session appointment with the guests I'm serving during your leave."
"An that dear friend is?" instantly possesive.
"Anne, a girl friend from college, she is an art major," you quickly reply.
"They should hang them in a museum."
You feel so proud of yourself for making him react like that. God, you miss him.
"Hey, kid, you are home?" he looks at his Rolex, running calculous.
"Yes"
"Do me a favor then."
"Sure!"
"Touch yourself till you cum, and moan my name loud." you get wet, reading the text.
"Would you do the same, daddy?"
"Yes."
-
Irina wonders who makes him smile like that.
-
As you prepare everything at Toto's villa for his return, along with Chloé, you dare to ask her a question and discuss a topic you have been dreading for so long.
"Does Mr. Wolff have a leave date?" you gain the courage.
"He already overextended his stay, which is rare, as rare as him showing up unexpectedly as he did. Mr. Wolff is one of those people who schedules everything in advance and always informs us months before, so something must have happened." She reaches out to you to help you place the fresh sheets on his bed.
"So, no date?" you ask again.
"You grew tired of him already?" Chloé looks straight at you.
"OH. NO, NO. I'm just curious," you quickly add, waving your hands.
"No date, child"
Is he staying for you? You wonder in your head.
-
You two have never talked about your future.
Toto leaving without you has become your biggest fear in life, like ever.
-
The night is fully set over the sea, and the Club's grounds are set by the strumming of a Moroccan guitar, which sets the tone for the true extravaganza about to happen.
You see Ava fixing Mr. Holst's bowtie as he prepares for his grand entrance.
The Club's gardens transformed into a Moroccan oasis, and the towering palm trees were now adorned with twinkling fairy lights.
The crowd erupts into applause as Mr. Holst enters, resplendent in a tailored white suit and sunglasses, à la Rick Blaine, escorted by a troupe of really hot and barely dressed female dancers, who performed a mesmerizing choreographed routine to the iconic tunes of "As Time Goes By."
The tables are set with fine china and crystal glassware, adorned with candles and a sumptuous spread of Moroccan delicacies, including tagines, couscous, and fragrant pastries.
The aroma of exotic spices wafts through the air.
Meanwhile, at the bar where you are currently working, the mixologists are shaking (not stirring) up signature cocktails inspired by the classic film's iconic characters. The "Ilsa," a refreshing blend of gin, lemon, and mint, is a particular hit among the guests.
The place is packed with wealthy people from around the globe, all friends of Mr. Holst and his wife, and the bar is the busiest spot.
You are so busy that you haven't even had a chance to look for Toto. He must be somewhere looking all handsome in a classic tuxedo! Gosh, you die to see him and kiss him.
Then, Mr. Holst takes center stage once more, surrounded by his wife and children. With a heartfelt speech, he starts the party.
-
As midnight approaches, a massive three-tier cake held by two big guys enters in the old style, and everyone sings Happy Birthday to Mr. Holst as fireworks light up the night sky!
The crowd cheers and oohs as sparks rain down upon them.
Then, you have your first break of the night. Some of your coworkers at recess get dinner, light a cigar, or just sit down in the crew's hidden section. It's been crazy!
You use the opportunity to text Toto: "Hi, my love. Where are you? I want to see your handsomeness in a tux. Daddy, I miss you so much."
-
As a tipsy Toto is laughing and drinking with Holst and his wife when the couple reaches the table where he is, Irina picks up his phone, buzzing on the table.
She reads the text you sent him and chunks of your conversation.
"Who the fuck is "Kid"?!"
She then starts looking at the photos you shared, fuming, especially when she finds the ones from the boudoir photo session you took for Toto.
Oh, no, baby! Her wedding with Toto is happening, yes or yes, and she will not allow you to interfere!
Toto will not slip away from her! Not now, she got him back at the palm of her hand and into his senses!
It worked wonders to give him that bit of a break after he got cold feet and had second thoughts about committing himself to her.
No one touches what is hers, and she is about to teach you a lesson!
Now that she knows your face, it is just a matter of time before she finds you there.
Apparently, you work here.
-
You are navigating through the crowded party, surrounded by the thumping music and the hums of conversations because your boss asked you to move to attend a special guests table.
As you walk there, you feel a pair of eyes burning into your skin. The hottest woman you have ever seen is staring intensely at you.
It turns out to be the table where Raphaël parents are. So, to your misfortune, he is also around, adding an extra stress layer to your night as he behaves demanding and pays attention to your every action.
-
As the night progresses, you feel unsure if you are being paranoid or that woman has been watching you for a long time, her gaze flicking from a phone to you again.
Mr. Holst greets you, and you congratulate him on his birthday; he sits to chat with Raphaël's elderly mom.
The hot woman suddenly swoops in, her long legs striding across the room to you.
Her eyes flash with anger as she grabs your arm, her nails digging into your skin. "You think you're so special, don't you?" she hisses, her voice low and venomous, taking you completely by surprise.
You try to shake her off, not knowing what the fuck is happening! But she's too strong.
She pulls you closer, her face inches from yours. "You're nothing but a foolish little fling to Toto," she sneers really loud for everyone at the table to hear.
You start to feel all eyes on you as she causes a scene.
"This means nothing to him! You are just an entertainment." she continues.
You feel a surge of embarrassment as you realize what's happening.
Toto looks at you two, his eyes wide with surprise, but he doesn't intervene. Your bosses are standing nearby, their faces frozen in shock.
Irina shows you the stunning diamond ring on her hand and holds it up for everyone to see.
The table you attend falls silent, and all eyes are on you. Humiliation hits you as you realize the scope of what's happening.
"You think you can just waltz in here and steal my man? Toto is marrying me," she says again, her voice dripping angrily. "Me! Stay the fuck away!"
Irina flings back into the crowd, her words echoing in your mind.
You feel tears stinging in your eyes as you turn to flee the party.
"Don't even bother to come back. You are fired." Raphaël addresses you, firing you in the spot, catching you preparing to leave, his gaze burning with triumph and victory.
The sounds of laughter and music fade into the distance as you stumble into the night air, your heart heavy with sorrow.
Léo and Chloé look astonished as they watch you leave after witnessing the show Irina put on.
Your heels are hitting the floor faster, and the trail of your fitted gorgeous gala dress sways behind you.
You know that you will never be able to show your face at this place again and that no one will ever look at you in the same way after this.
God, you are so mad at Toto and even more heartbroken!
-
A loud knock comes at the door; maybe your aunt left work early. "Coming!" you look like a mess with swollen eyes from all the crying and feeling like shit and heartbroken, destroyed, dusted, you name it.
Toto's tall figure greets you when you open the door.
"How yo-?!" you look at him, eyes filling with anger and tears again.
"Ava," he interrupts you. "She got your address and sent me in a car here."
He reads your intention to close the door to his face and stops it firmly with his muscular arm.
Toto invites himself into your apartment. Standing beside the worn-out cupboard, he looks out of place, especially in that expensive tuxedo.
Gosh, he looks so dreamy, fuck him!
"Irina was completely wrong. You are not entertainment; what happened with us was real; you are important to me, more than you imagine." He goes straight to the point, not wasting time making things clear.
You feel a couple of tears run down your eyes. Lots of emotions for just one night.
He reaches closer to wipe them with his fingers. "I shouldn't have allowed Irina to talk to you that way and embarrassed you. Please forgive me. For all. We were on a time off when I met you."
"Irina? You thought that was his sister. You heard Holst asking him about her at brunch, along with his mom," You stupid girl!
"I called off the engagement for good." He looks straight at you and closes the steps between you.
"You did?!" and you die to add the "for me," but you contain.
"Do you still want me?" he asks, leaning closer to your lips, his breath brushing your mouth.
"Yes," a beg escapes your lips.
-
Toto is there to apologize for the hurt he caused. He wants to reach for you, to hold you close, but he doesn't know where to begin. So, instead, he does the only thing that feels right at that moment.
His lips find yours in a tender kiss, at first gentle but exploring, as if trying to find his way home.
You respond with a soft sigh, and your hands roam over his back, muscles reacting to your gentle touch.
Your mouths open to each other in a deep, consuming kiss, tongues darting and twisting, exploring every spot of the other's mouth.
Before any of you knows what is going on, you stumble your way towards the bed, Toto's hands finding the hem of your short nightgown, pulling it up and over your head, revealing your naked body.
The sight of your bare skin is enough to take his breath away.
Toto's fingers trace the curves of your breasts, thumbs flicking at your stiffening nipples as you gasp and arch into his touch.
God, you always feel so good.
"Fuck," he mutters, bending his head to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. The taste of your nipple is intoxicating, and he moans in pleasure as his lips close around you.
Toto's mouth works its magic on each flick of his tongue and grazes of his teeth; you get wetter, your arousal building up.
Then his fingers find your folds, slick with need, and he spreads you open, fingering that pussy he very much loves.
He groans at the contact, his cock throbbing in response. He needs to be inside you. He needs to lose himself in you.
Clothes go out of the way.
Toto looks up at you, asking for consent, and with one swift motion, he enters you, his cock sliding into your wet, welcoming heat. You gasp as he fills you, your body adjusting to his size.
He doesn't move yet. He gives you time to get used to him. His eyes never leave yours as he waits, his breath hot against your skin. The anticipation is unbearable, and you rock your hips against him, urging him to move.
Toto growls, low and deep in his throat, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. The force of his thrust pushes your body down against the bed, and you cry out as pleasure shoots through you.
The feel of Toto inside you, filling and completing you, is unlike anything.
Toto's thrusts become harder, more urgent, driving into you with a force that had you moaning out his name over and over again, lost in the pleasure of the moment.
The sound of your sweat-slicked bodies slapping against each other, the wetness that escapes with each thrust, fills the small room.
Your breasts bounce with every move. You are so close to the edge, your orgasm building deep within you. Toto feels your inner walls begin to flutter around his cock, the sensation driving him wild.
"Fuck, Toto!" you cry out, clutching at the sheets as your body trembles with pleasure under his thrust.
He repeats the motion over and over again, your body shaking beneath him, your moans desperate. Toto feels your body tighten around him and your inner walls milking his cock.
With a final, frantic thrust, Toto lets himself go. He cums hard, filling you with his release.
As you both come down from your high, Toto collapses onto you, his body panting and slick with sweat.
You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both catch your breath.
Toto presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips brushing against your skin.
"Toto, I... I..." you try to build the courage to say.
"Yes?" His voice is husky but caring.
"I- I love you." You are all red, looking down, unable to face him.
He pulls your chin up tenderly with his finger before kissing your lips.
Before you dare to confess: "I never loved someone this much, I... I want a life with you and you to be my future. Could, you, I don't know, think about it, maybe, you know, you could... take me... with you to London, it sounds good."
A trail of kisses comes your way. "I will think about it, but let's sleep first. It's almost 4 a.m." he rubs his eyes and wraps you around his body.
"Yeah, I'm exhausted too; a lot happened." You kind of laugh and move to enjoy the view of his naked body, caressing him till he falls asleep, and you, too.
-
As sunlight creeps into your small room, you wake up disoriented. It's a hot day, and the AC is off.
"Toto?" you call his name; his body is not next to you, and you hear sounds from the kitchen.
"Is he making you breakfast? How sweet!"
You get on your feet and quickly pull some clothes on. You don't want to miss that moment for your life.
You pull the slightly already open door of your room to be greeted by an unexpected scene.
Surprisingly, your aunt is there, cooking breakfast for your mom. You look around the apartment, confused.
"Surprise!" your mom lets out from one of the chairs on the small round table. "Oh, it's only me, honey!" your mom informs you, thinking you are looking around to spot her family. As usual, believing life revolves around her.
"Are only just you two in here?" you ask.
"Ahm, yes..." your aunt says, holding the pan. "Well, no, if you count the ghost that lives here, the one who likes to throw my flowerpots."
"It's a cat!" you add before walking fast back to your room. Then you look at the clock, fuck! It's almost 1 p.m.; it's not breakfast time. It's lunchtime!
You pick up your phone, no new texts or calls from Toto; maybe he is dealing with shit after what happened. It's too bad you cannot go back to the Club.
What is that?!
You notice a folded piece of paper on the nightstand. You feel the fine paper on your fingertips as you open it:
"I'm sorry to do this to you, kid, but I can't."
And just like that, he exits your life.
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