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queenshelby · 1 day

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An Illicit Affair

Part 41: Houses

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

When you arrived at Cillian's apartment later that day, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. You had always been independent and strong -willed, but after your injury, you had felt vulnerable and helpless. Thus, having the man you loved look after you was both terrifying and comforting.

"Are you really sure about this?" you asked softly, looking up at him with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. You couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed by the thought of living with Cillian, even if it was only for a short while.

Cillian nodded, his eyes soft as they met yours. "Yes, I'm sure," he murmured, reaching out to gently push your hair back from your face. "I want to be there for you, to support you and help you through this difficult time," he explained gently, his voice warm and reassuring.

"And, if I'm being completely honest, I've missed having you around. So, if this is what it takes for me to spend more time with you, then I'm all for it," he continued, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You couldn't help but feel your heart flutter at his words. It had been a long time since someone had cared for you in this way and, despite all the challenges that lay ahead, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Cillian's support and understanding.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you looked up at him with a mixture of gratitude and love. You couldn't believe that this man, who had once been your boyfriend's father, was now not only your lover but also your caregiver.

Cillian smiled gently down at you before leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips. "You don't have to thank me," he murmured against your mouth. "I love you , Y/N. I want to be here for you, in every way possible."

***

Over the weeks that followed, Cillian did, indeed, take care of you and you were becoming more self-sufficient by every day that passed.

Your body was healing but, more importantly, so was your heart.

You spent every day with Cillian, watching Netflix and ordering take-out food, or sometimes just reading books, talking, and laughing together.

Cillian was incredibly patient with you and always made sure to make you feel comfortable, never pushing you to do more than you were capable of.

It was a slow and steady recovery - physically and emotionally - but with each passing day, you found yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with Cillian.

As your body mended, you also discovered a newfound vulnerability in yourself that you had never acknowledged before. It was a strange feeling to be so dependant on another person, especially considering that your life before the accident had been one filled with independence and determination.

After a while, you managed to get out of the wheelchair and start using crutches, which allowed you to move around Cillian's apartment with ease.

The physical therapy sessions in London were demanding and left you exhausted but, each passing day, you noticed an improvement in your overall mobility and strength.

The daily sessions were indeed strenuous, but with Cillian by your side, encouraging and cheering you on, it was bearable.

You fell into a comfortable routine, one which became your new normal.

"I want to get rid of these before we are going to the awards. I don't want to be there, in a fancy dress, with crutches," you told Cillian one morning, pointing at your crutches which were lean against the wall near the front door, but he reassured you that it would be fine.

"I know, but you shouldn't push yourself too much babe, alright? Don't worry about it. You will look stunning regardless," he said, brushing a lock of hair out of your face, and you smiled at him gratefully.

"You are getting an Oscar and I want to support you by not looking like an in injured little bird on your arm," you said, trying to laugh it off, but Cillian frowned, his eyes serious.

"I am not getting an Oscar Y/N. I am just nominated," Cillian corrected, positioning his fingers on your cheek to trace the curve of your bone structure.

"Well, I personally think you picking up that little statue is a given, but we shall see," you teased, leaning into his touch.

"Well, I suppose we'll find out soon enough," he said, a hint of nervousness underlying his voice, but that hint of nervousness was not because of the impending academy awards. It was because of the ongoing legal battle against his ex-wife Danielle and the charges that had been brought against her. These were all matters he had shielded you from and you knew literally nothing about how bad things had become.

Cillian was a great actor and pretended that everything was fine whereas, the truth was that, for almost two months now, he not only had to deal with some negative press because of Danielle's actions, but also with strenuous court proceedings and appeals with regards to her care.

Having been admitted to an institution for treatment, it was no surprise that she tried her best to manipulate the situation by using Max against Cillian, reminding him over and over again that his father's actions led her to do what she did.

She wanted you gone from their life after the mess you had created and the fact that you now lived with Cillian angered Danielle greatly. Danielle, however, wasn't the only one who was angered by this. Max, too was angry, but not just for the reasons as his mother was. He believed that, despite his protests, Cillian had chosen to put his relationship with you before his relationship with him.

"You should have ended this once and for all after mum found out and none of this would have happened," Max thus told his father during the last hearing in court just a few days ago, but Cillian remained adamant that you two, as consenting adults, were able to choose what it was you wanted to do in your lives.

"Max, it's not that simple. Your mother has manipulated our marriage for many years and I stayed with her to protect you from, well, shit like this," Cillian said, trying to remain calm while explaining the situation to his son.

Max sneered and shook his head. "Tell yourself whatever you want dad, but all of this is your fault. You had an affair with my fucking girlfriend for crying out loud, and then you're surprised when Mom goes off the deep end?" Max said, disdain evident in his voice. Cillian sighed deeply, running a hand through his short hair. He knew that Max was angry, and rightfully so. But he couldn't let Max believe that Danielle's actions were solely his fault.

"Max, I understand that you're upset. And I'm sorry for that, I truly am. But I didn't force your mother to do anything. She made a series of bad decisions, and now she's paying the price for them," Cillian continued with a heavy heart.

"She certainly is and you still got what you wanted, didn't you?" Max sneered before telling his father that he should end it now at least. He told him to choose between you or him, which left Cillian torn between a rock and a hard place.

"Max, I am not going to break up with Y/N," Cillian declared, his voice firm as he looked upon his son with a mixture of sadness and determination.

"Then I don't want to see you again, dad. You may as well be dead to me," Max replied, his voice filled with anger and resentment. "You chose her over me, over mum, and it's fucked up," Max added, before storming out of the courtroom's foyer following the hearing.

Cillian couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as he watched his son leave, his heart heavy with the weight of the situation.

He knew that Max was angry, and he couldn't blame him. But he also knew that he couldn't just end things with you, not after everything they had been through together.

"He will come around," Dermont said, who had come to most court hearings with his friend for moral support.

"I hope you're right," Cillian murmured, his eyes clouded with worry. Max's rejection cut deep, and Cillian couldn't bear the thought of severing ties with his son permanently. "I can understand why he is angry and upset with me but, fuck, I cannot just end it with Y/N," he told Dermont as they waited for his solicitor who was still inside, talking to Danielle's attorney.

"You aren't with her simply out of pity though, are you?" Dermont asked, his voice carrying a slight hint of concern as he looked at Cillian with a curious gaze.

Cillian looked back at his friend and shook his head firmly. "No man. I actually have feelings for her," Cillian confessed, his voice steady but hesitant. "She's helped me see things differently, opened my eyes to things I never realized about myself. And I really love her," he admitted, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

Dermont nodded, understanding the gravity of Cillian's words. "Then you have to follow your heart mate and give Max some space to come to terms with this," he advised, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder in a comforting gesture.

Cillian nodded, acknowledging Dermont's advice. He knew that Max needed time and space to process everything that had happened, and he was determined to give him just that.

As the days went by, Cillian found himself becoming even more invested in his relationship with you.

Despite the challenges that lay ahead, he was determined to make it work, to support and care for you in every way possible and even though you saw staying with him at his apartment as a temporary solution, Cillian couldn't help but imagine the two of you living together long-term.

He saw it as a chance to start anew, to leave the past behind and build a life together and when, one later afternoon, he came home with a few brochures for houses in a different suburb of London, you became curious.

"Suburbia, huh?" you said with surprise as you looked over the brochures Cillian had set on the coffee table. "Are you looking to move?" you asked, not knowing that Cillian wanted you to move with him.

"Well, I think us staying in the same apartment building as my son isn't the best of ideas right now. I want to give him some space. He deserves that and I was thinking that, maybe, moving out of the city would be a nice change," Cillian explained, a hint of uncertainty in his voice as he looked down at the brochures on the table.

"Don't you have a house in Dublin?" you asked, genuinely surprised. You never thought about Cillian living in the busy city of London, at least not full-time.

He shook his head. "I am going to put it on the market soon. It holds too many bad memories to be honest," Cillian replied with a shrug, a pained expression crossing his face as he took a deep breath. You could sense the pain in his voice, the sadness that lingered behind his words as he recalled all that had transpired in that once happy home.

For a moment, you reached out to take his hand in yours, to reassure him that you were there for him, that you would be there for him through every victory and every loss. "I get it, but I am just surprised, you know," you simply said with a nod, squeezing his hand gently in yours. "So, you want to stay in London then permanently?" you ought to ask , a somewhat expectant smile gracing your features as you regarded Cillian with curiosity. There was a definite hint of hopefulness in your tone, one that you couldn't quite suppress.

Cillian nodded, looking at you with a steady gaze. "Yes. I want to make this work between us, and I know that your life is here, so it would make sense for me to live in London permanently, right?" he explained, a hint of determination in his voice as his eyes never left yours.

"Well, it would, but I don't want you to live here just for me," you murmured sincerely, looking up at him with a concerned expression.

"I intend to build a life here for both of us, Y/N," Cillian replied, a gentle smile spreading across his lips. "It would be our home, a place for us to enjoy together, and, maybe we could even get a dog and, I don't know, have kids or something one day," he continued, his voice strong and steady.

"You want to have kids? And a dog? With me?" you asked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation.

Cillian nodded, a smile on his lips. "Yes, with you, one day, not right now," he said emphatically. "Unless you don't want kids, or a dog, of course," he added, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice. "I mean we could always just get a cat or something," he then stammered , quickly regretting the word choice as he saw the surprised expression on your face.

"A cat!?" you laughed, shaking your head and playfully fluttering your eyelashes at him. "I am, uhm, I am not really a cat person,"

you murmured, still chuckling lightly at how absurd the idea seemed, but Cillian merely raised his brows, a playful grin tugging at the corners of this full lips.

"Well, I can cater to your preferences then, how about that?" he asked, his voice still soft, but now tinged with a slight hint of challenge, one that, if you didn't know him, might have given you the wrong impression.

"Sounds good but, just to let me get this straight, you actually want me to move in with you permanently?" you asked, placing the brochures down on the coffee table as you turned to face Cillian fully.

Cillian nodded, his gaze steady and determined as he looked at you. "Yes , I do want you to move in with me permanently," he said, his voice clear and strong as he took your hands in his. "I know it's a big decision and not one to be taken lightly. But I want you by my side, Y/N. I want to build a life with you," he continued, a hint of vulnerability in his voice as he looked at you with a mixture of love and hope.

You sighed softly, your eyes never leaving Cillian's as you considered his words.

"Okay, but no cats!" you said, laughing as you responded to Cillian's proposal. The idea of sharing a home with him felt both exciting and overwhelming. You had always been fiercely independent, but Cillian had managed to wiggle his way into your heart and life in a way that you couldn't deny. "And I will think about starting a family together one day, but not any time soon. For now, let's just keep practicing making babies, okay?" you winked at Cillian who broke out in a deep laugh.

"Practicing sounds good to me," he smiled back before pulling you into another deep and passionate kiss, a promise of things to come.

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sentientcave · 13 hours

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Heavy Weighs the Crown

Chapter 4 - Left Hand Woman

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Contains: Generic fantasy setting, Princess Reader, No Y/N, Gryphon time, A spot of magic, No one knows how to communicate, I've given up on any semblance of reader neutrality, sorry, Sweetpea is her own woman and you are just along for the ride, Farah is here now! We love Farah

~7.2k words - MDNI

Someone sends a young woman from the staff to help you dress the next morning. She’s shy and mousy-haired, and you have to ask her what her name is twice before she haltingly tells you that it’s Tiphanie. She goes entirely pink when you tell her that you think it’s a very pretty name, and that you hope you’re not pulling her away from anything more important.

“I’ve been tidyin’ your room, highness,” she says turning even pinker. “Or, um, tryin’ to. You leave things so neat there’s been nothin’ for me to be doin’.”

“I’m used to living on my own,” you explain. “I’ve been in charge of keeping my own space tidy for years now.”

“On your own?” Tiphanie asks, aghast. “But your wicked father sold you away to the giants in the mountains so they’d help him in the war, and they kept you in a cage and made you sing to them like a songbird, until Sir Ghost came flyin’ in on his gryphon and rescued you.”

Is that how they’ve explained your absence? You unwrap your hair, laughing. “Oh goodness, no. I was living in a town not all that far from here. Out in the country. Not sold off or captured by anyone.”

“Well, then what was sir Ghost gone so long for, if he wasn’t travellin’ through the wastes and fightin’ monsters lookin’ for you?” she asks, blinking at the cloud of tightly curled hair you’ve let down, like she’s not entirely sure if she should be doing something about it. “He’s been gone three years, and then he came back with you— If you’re tryin’ to put on a brave face about it, I understand, highness, but what you’re sayin’ don’t make any sense. You wouldn’t’ve stayed away so long if you was just a few towns away.”

It’s a bit funny that she’s so insistent that it makes more sense that you’d been held captive in the distant mountains than simply living your life peacefully close by, but you have to admit, it’s certainly the more compelling story. “Well, the giants made me keep my own room tidy,” you say, splitting your hair into three segments so you can braid it down your back in one thick plait. “I only had to sit in the birdcage when they were entertaining guests.”

“I knew—” she cuts herself off with a little yelp, catching sight of movement at the window.

You glance over, and it’s just Nox, landed on the balcony, shaking her wings out. “Thank you for your help, Tiphanie,” you say, smiling at her reassuringly. “I should say hello to Nox.”

She nods, wide-eyed, and gives you a wobbly curtsy as you step out to the balcony.

“Hello, my darling,” you croon to Nox, holding your arms out. She presses herself against your chest, making a strange, warbling purr as you scratch behind her tufted ears. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you yesterday, pretty girl.”

If she's offended by your negligence, she doesn’t hold a grudge. She hops backward and gently tugs at one of the loose curls around your face, cawing happily at the way it bounces back into shape when she lets go, wiggling her wings a little playfully.

“Sweetpea, we’re down ‘ere, whenever you’re ready,” Ghost calls up from the courtyard. When you look over the edge, you can see that all four of them are down there, sitting around a table you hadn’t noticed before. “Nox’ll ‘op down with you.”

“One second,” you tell Nox, giving her one last scratch under the chin before you dash back inside for the book Kyle lent you. When you return to the balcony, she kneels down enough that you can climb onto her back carefully, and straightens up once you’re settled in place. Inky black wings spread out on either side of you, and she jumps into the air, headed upwards rather than down like you expected, her strong legs landing lightly and launching off the low roof on the other side of the courtyard, wings catching the wind. Your stomach plummets on her first leap, and you grip the saddle tightly, terror closing your throat tightly against the scream that builds up inside your chest.

Wind rushes in your ears, the sound of your heartbeat the next loudest thing. You take a steadying breath and open your eyes to a picture of the castle, and the city beyond, laid out below you, towers as small as a child’s toy blocks, the river coiled around the eastern bank of the city, glittering like a serpent in the morning light. Nox’s wings are huge fully spread out, and when you twist in the saddle, you see that her back legs are stretched out behind, her big paws tilting one way or the other, adjusting her flight the way a true raven’s tail feathers would. She tips her whole body slightly to the side, starting a slow, circling descent, calling out joyfully, her rough croaks echoing eerily back to you, the sound bouncing off of the stone below. For a moment, it sounds like there’s a whole flock of gryphons, rather than just Nox.

You wonder if she’s lonely, being the only one here.

Nox settles back in the courtyard and sticks her beak in the fountain while you try to dismount. Your legs don’t fully cooperate, and you slide sideways out of the saddle, the returned grasp of gravity unkind and unrelenting. Solid arms catch you before you hit the ground, scooping you out of the air with one arm behind your back and the other under your knees.

“There you are,” John says soothingly. “You want some tea, love?”

You nod, still too frozen to insist on him putting you down. You’re not certain your legs will hold you.

“Nox, you naughty girl, you were just supposed to ‘op down! What if you’d dropped ‘er, eh? You’d be feelin’ pretty sorry about it now, wouldn’t you?” Ghost scolds the gryphon, standing next to her at the fountain, his hands on his hips. She just uses her beak to splash water at him in response, which earns her a pointed finger. “Oi! Don’t you sass me, you daft bird, she wun’t even buckled in.”

Nox deftly snatches the glove off of his hand and launches herself up to the roof, where she settles in on the tiles and pretends to gnaw on the leather, her cat’s eyes wide as saucers, tail twitching back and forth.

Kyle offers you a cup of tea and a smile that's on the shy side. You thank him, realizing a little too late that John has taken his seat with you still in his lap, his arms looped around you securely. “John,” you say sternly, twisting to look at him. “Did we not talk about this?”

“I don’t believe this was on your list of complaints, actually.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your temple, whiskers twitching as he smiles. "Besides, you're trembling. I know I behaved terribly yesterday, but all I want is to take care of you. Are you so afraid that you'll like it?"

"That's not what I'm afraid of. I think people are getting the wrong idea about what my presence here means, and cozying up to you will not help matters." You hold the cup and saucer a little bit apart, so that the rattle of dishes doesn't draw attention to the fact that you really are shaking, and would have spilled all over yourself if the cup was filled all the way up. Not that there would be any disguising the fact from John, the way he wraps around you. "You know that this will only complicate things."

“Did someone say something to you?” John asks.

You take a sip of tea, eyes tracking Ghost as he took the last seat at the table. Typical of them to invite you to a table with only four chairs. “Tiphanie, the girl that was sent to help me this morning? She didn’t say anything outright, but it certainly sounded like she expects that I’ll be staying. And something about me being held captive by giants. And that Ghost was gone for three years? What on earth were you doing all that time?”

Ghost shrugged. “Told you already. Was keepin’ an eye on you.”

“For three years?”

“Started off just droppin’ by, but figured it’d be better to stick around. Was.” He sits back in his chair and folds his hands together. “Din’t ‘ave nothin’ better to be doin’.”

“You did, actually,” John says tiredly. “You were supposed to be the commander of my knights. Had to train Keller up for it instead.”

“An’ ‘e’s a sight better at the job than I’d’ve been,” Ghost replies. “Did you a favour, din’t I?”

“Wouldn’t’ve found Sweetpea without him either,” Kyle points out. “And Alex is much better with people than Ghost has ever been. It probably was for the best.”

You glance at Johnny, uncharacteristically quiet across the the table. He meets your eyes only for a moment, and then looks down at his hands, frowning. You're not sure if this is because of yesterday, or if something else is bothering him. He sneaks another look up, and drops his eyes again immediately when he finds you still watching him.

If it is about yesterday, you're glad that at least one of them has the decency to be ashamed of themselves. Price isn't acting the least bit concerned. His fingers are dug into the top of your thigh firmly, and his thumb keeps tapping a rhythmless pattern against your hip, distracting and wholly inappropriate. Kyle won't quite meet your eyes, but he seems hopeful that you'll let it slide and forgive him if he’s careful to make no further waves.

You'll forgive all three of them from a distance once you go home. You want your life back. You’ll do a better job of seizing that freedom this time— you think you might finally work up the nerve to talk to the blacksmith's tall apprentice, with those coal dark eyes that always soften when he looks at you. You’ve thought him handsome for a long while, despite, or perhaps because of, the scars that ripple over his skin, and now that you know that he hasn't spoken to you because of Ghost's interference, you feel hopeful that he might— Oh. Of course.

It's choking, how tight a leash these men have put on you.

“Was there something that you all needed from me?” you ask stiffly. “Or can I go?”

“You need to eat something, first off,” John says, squeezing your hip lightly. “Then down to the city to have that dress fitted, and to meet with Farah.”

“When I requested a woman to accompany me, I was anticipating a longer stay,” you point out. “I’m sure I’ll be fine without a chaperone for the rest of the day, don’t you?”

“I’d allow that, if you’ll stick close to me.” John’s voice is practically a purr, his lips too close to your ear.

You imagine tossing your cooling tea into his face, which is almost as satisfying as actually doing it would be, and freer from consequence. “I will not.”

He laughs. “Then Farah it is. You’re angry with three of us, and I don’t trust Ghost alone with you.”

“What did I do?” Ghost asked, clearly offended by the notion.

You sigh, and resign yourself to being watched. Even if this Farah person answers to John, you’ll be glad for a few moments away from these unbearably pushy men.

“We can move our little lesson to this afternoon,” Kyle offers, brown eyes hopeful. “And I’d like to join you this morning too. It’s been a while since I popped down to visit Rosie.”

“Why not head there now?” John asks. “Get a visit in, make sure things are in order, and Ghost can bring Sweetpea on Nox in a bit, if she’s up for a proper flight.”

Kyle gets up without objection. “Yes sir. I’ll see you there, Sweetpea.” His eyes linger on yours for a long moment before he turns to go.

You lean forward to set your tea on the table, and push John’s arms away roughly, taking Kyle’s abandoned seat rather than remain in John’s lap for another moment. He smiles serenely when you glare at him from your new perch, as unaffected by your ire as a mountain would be by a single drop of rain.

You regret kissing him. You hate that he’s handsome and smug and insufferable. It frustrates you to end that there’s so much of you that wants to melt under his touch, that there’s a glacial, undeniable give to your resolve. Warmth spreads through you every time he puts his hands on you, every time he gives you that cheeky grin that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

He gives you one of those smiles as he picks up your abandoned tea cup and sips from it, his mouth where yours had been, watching you so that you know it’s no accident. Yet more heat curls in your belly, like the press of his lips against the rim of the cup can still reach you.

Hateful man.

You feel a little better once you’re sitting in Nox’s saddle again, pretending not to notice the way both Johns stare when you shift your dress out of the way and buckle your legs into the waiting straps. And when you wrap yourself extra securely around Ghost, pressing your whole body against his back, it’s certainly not because you want either of them to feel any kind of jealousy.

This time you’re better prepared for the leap skyward, and your stomach doesn’t remain somewhere on the ground below. With Ghost to cling to, you feel safer looking down, even if it does still send a jolt through you.

The world spreads out below, distant and beautiful, like a painting with minute brushstrokes. You can even see a glimpse of green fields beyond the spread of forest, a near glimpse of home. It seems so close from here, but still far out of reach. Nox begins her descent only a moment later, and the glimpse of the far countryside dips out of view again. She didn’t have to climb so high, but you appreciate that she did, that the gryphon is so keen to show you the world from her perspective.

Simon touches the back of your hands, where they’re clasped tight around his middle, thumb running across your knuckles. Your heart aches curiously. You want to pull his mask off and see if you’re right, if he really has been living in your town as Simon the blacksmith’s quiet apprentice, if he’s the owner of the brown eyes that sparked warmth in your belly whenever he looked at you.

Maybe, if he is (and you’re nearly certain of it), he’ll come with you, when you leave once more. You’re afraid to ask such a thing, to test the weight of his oath to protect you against his loyalty to John. And John… Well, that was never going to go anywhere, no matter how much his kiss shook you to the core. There’s no sense mourning a choice you never had. He would find a queen elsewhere, and you would all be happier for it.

Just one more day. You’ll be glad to leave this behind, won’t you? It’s not as though it feels like any kind of homecoming, to return to this cursed place.

There are a few shrieks from the street below as Nox swoops down and lands on the cobblestone, onlookers ducking behind carts and into alleyways, although all of the terrified faces relax somewhat when they recognize you and Ghost, and then fear is replaced with wide-eyed excitement, whispered conversations springing up around you as you lean down to unbuckle your straps. Ghost is faster with his, and hops down to help you with the straps on your other leg while you’re still working on the first.

He lifts you clear of Nox’s saddle, and the closest shop door opens. “Princess!” Kyle’s sister, Rosie, rushes out of the shop and embraces you. She’s as pretty as Kyle is handsome, with a beaming smile that creases her face in just the same way. “Goodness, it’s been years. How have you been?”

“Well,” you say. “Life outside the city has been good to me.”

“I see that. I was so glad to see that you’d gained weight, when Kate sent your measurements. We always worried about you when you were younger. No appetite.” She pulls back and cups your face fondly. “You really are a sight for sore eyes, my lady. It will be good for the people to see you again, to know that you’re well.”

Her enthusiasm surprises you. You had always rather liked Rosie, when she worked at the castle, but you hadn’t expected a greeting like this, after so long. “I hadn’t realized— I mean, my father—”

Rosie laughs, the movement of her head making the pile of coily curls on top of her head bounce slightly. “Did you think we counted you party to your father’s crimes? No, princess. You’ve always been loved. There isn’t a soul in this city, perhaps not even in the whole of the country, who isn’t glad to know you’re safe and hale.”

Your heart twists. You had expected indifference, that no one would care one way or the other if you were here or gone. You hadn’t even considered that the people would be disappointed that you aren’t planning to stay. It’s one thing, to say you wish to leave to Price, but another to say so to Rosie, and a heavy thought indeed, knowing you’ll make a speech over it tomorrow.

“Come on, in we go,” Ghost says firmly, motioning for you and Rosie to get inside. “Keep a look out, hey Nox?” The Gryphon makes a low, gurgling sound in response and sits on her haunches beside the door.

There's a prickle of magic in the air, but perhaps it's just Kyle, the energy that crackles around him wherever he goes. He stands next to a dress form with a beautiful dark green gown hanging off of it. It's off the shoulder, with pearly beads and clusters of embroidered leaves and flowers in a pale cream colour all around the neckline and the cuffs of the sleeves, giving way to beautiful lace. You think that maybe the colour difference is too stark— You would have chosen a more subtle accent— but you politely say nothing of it. Perhaps this is what's fashionable these days. You certainly won't ask Rosie to make a serious alteration like that with less than a day of lead time. You only have to wear the dress for a few hours anyway.

Rosie and one of her assistants shoo Kyle away, and start taking the dress off the form. Ghost joins Kyle on a bench on the other side of the room, his bulky frame taking up most of the available space. Another assistant ushers you into another room and begins helping you take off your dress and settle a few extra layers of petticoats over the ones you're already wearing.

The shop bell rings, and you hear Nox make a churring sound. "Hello," a woman says, her pretty, accented voice carrying through the space without growing too loud, like she naturally knows how to command attention. "Sir Garrick, Sir Ghost. Good to see you."

"Always good to see you, Farah," Kyle says pleasantly. “It’s been too long.”

“Hardly. We never see each other when times are good, Garrick.”

“Times are good now,” Kyle replies.

“Hm.”

You twist to look behind you, thinking about going back into the other room to introduce yourself, and Rosie accidentally stabs you with a pin. “Hold still, my lady,” she chides. “We’ll just be another moment.”

Farah pushes past the curtain and stalks into the room. She’s small, even shorter than you are, but she has a hunter’s lean to her stride, and a sword strapped to her back. She’s dressed practically, leather pauldron on her left arm pieced together with her bracer with a jack chain, nearly balanced on the other arm, but without the heavier pauldron, to keep her sword arm freer. Her leather breastplate is scarred from battle, but well-maintained, and a small hand-crossbow that glitters with magic hangs from her thick belt, along with a knife and a quiver of bolts. Her hair is braided back from her strong-boned face, and although her expression is serious, thick brows drawn into straight, unimpressed lines, her dark eyes have a curious glint in them. “Princess,” she says as you turn, earning yourself another pin-prick. “I am Farah Karim. I’ve been told you have need of me.”

“John insists that I’m not safe without a sword-wielding escort,” you say wryly. “I disagree, but his knights will hardly let me out of their sight as it is.”

“Could be assassins lurking about, my lady,” Rosie says, warm brown eyes wide and worried. “We would hate to lose you so quickly, after just getting you back.”

You glance at Farah, and spot the slightest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You see what I’m dealing with?” you ask. “Everyone thinks I’m in terrible danger.”

“The danger likely comes tonight. With their envoy.”

You tip your head to the side. “No love for our neighbours, Commander?”

Farah huffs, crossing her arms and widening her stance reflexively. “No. My father’s lands are close to the border. I’ve seen the worst of them. While you were locked away in the palace, I saw villages burned, people slaughtered, foul magics leeching life from the very soil. You would be wise to be wary.”

“I suppose it’s naivete to think the peace can last.”

“No. It is hopeful. But you must project strength, or they will see that hope as weakness. Your cousin has given them leverage to oust John. So it falls to you to correct the course. We cannot fight another war amongst ourselves, or the wolves will be at our throats.” The challenge in her eyes is immistakable. Her perspective is valuable, and she offers it without pretense, as both warning an a test. Are you willing to listen? Or are you like so many others of your station, in your country and without, that only hear what they wish to hear?

“You don’t see minding me as beneath you?” you ask. “You lead a company of soldiers.”

Her lips curl into a smile. “My fighters are in good hands. Besides, I’m curious about you, princess. We might have been friends, had our paths not diverged. Perhaps we still can be.”

“I’d like that,” you admit.

Farah walks back out to speak with Ghost and Kyle while Rosie finishes marking adjustments. When you’re finally freed from the dress and get dressed again, Kyle and Ghost are both gone, and Farah is inspecting some spools of ribbon idly.

"I sent them home," she explains. "I suspect Ghost will be nearby and watching, but Gaz has gone back to his tower. He says he will be there all afternoon if you still wish to learn magic tricks from him." She wiggles her fingers vaguely, eyes creased with a smile.

"I think I should. It can't hurt to try."

"No. And it will give me a chance to go over castle wards and security."

Nodding, you bid farewell to Rosie and her assistants, and step out onto the street with Farah by your side. Nox is still waiting outside, basking in a block of sunshine. She stirs, getting up and stretching like a house cat, her feather-tufted tail lashing lazily behind her. You smile when Nox settles into her stride behind you and Farah, sticking her beak over your shoulder. You hook your fingers over the smooth black beak. “Just us girls, hey Nox?” you croon.

She churrs in response.

“The beast likes you,” Farah says approvingly. “Gryphons tend to be disagreeable, unless they’re hand-reared. Nox has famously bitten more than a few fingers.”

“Yours too?” you ask.

Farah laughs, shaking her head. “I know how to keep my hands to myself.”

“At least someone around here does,” you grouse.

“Price?” she asks, raising her thick brows. “Do you want me to speak with him?”

“I don’t think there’s much point. This will all be over soon enough.”

Farah frowns at that, her dark eyes studying you sidelong. “It doesn’t give him the right, no matter who he is to you. If he cannot behave, I will gladly remove a finger or two to remind him.”

“Really? I thought you were one of John’s people.”

“He may be the king, but I am not one of his sworn knights, nor am I a member of the army. He cannot command me, he can only ask if he wants something done,” Farah says, and there’s something in her tone that tells you that she’s had to remind John of this fact more than once. “If I am to be loyal to anyone in court, it will be you, and you alone.”

“Just like that?”

“I have a good feeling about you, princess. I think your people need you, and you will need allies of your own.”

Your stomach twists again. You’re beginning to doubt your resolution to leave. Maybe you really are needed here. Maybe you bring something vital that’s been missing for too long. Maybe things aren’t going as well as you had thought— You have to admit, your perspective is still limited, for all that you were living among ordinary citizens all this time. Your town is a prosperous one, along a good trade route, too far from any borders to face any significant dangers. There has been little strife, no awful storms, no disasters. This can’t be the case for the whole kingdom.

Maybe you should stay a few extra days, and go through the accounts and reports from the last few years, at least. If there’s something that’s been missed, you might have better eyes to find it. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing, to stay on just a few days more. Especially once you’d made your speech and no one was labouring under the idea that you’d be staying forever. It would be easier to speak to people if you really were no longer a princess.

On to better things, as John had said.

Maybe there’s a place here for you. Not as a queen, but an advisor. Something to speak to John about later, perhaps. You’re sure he’d be happy for an excuse to keep you close.

But then again, maybe not. It’s a bitter thought, but his interest in you is very likely just based in your lineage, your claim to the throne. He has no need to keep you close once you’ve pledged your support to him. Better to send you away, lest you rescind that support when you have a large enough disagreement.

John is nothing if not pragmatic. You’ll be no use to him by the end of the day tomorrow.

And that’s good. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To go home, to be left alone, to take upon yourself a destiny of your own, that has nothing to do with where you’re from, and everything to do with where you’re going next?

“How did you become a mercenary?” you ask. Better to think about something other than yourself before you drive yourself mad with what-ifs and maybes.

“My father arranged a marriage for me, and I wanted to be a knight, like my brother Hadir was in training to be. It was an argument. In the end, I saw only two paths. I could do what was expected, but I knew even as a girl that would not be tolerable. I was too proud of my skills, eager to fight and defend people that needed me. So I took the second path, and left my home. I started off as a sell-sword, mostly caravan work until Hadir left his knight-master to come work with me, and the two of us started making a name.” She gives you a wry smile. “My parents were none too pleased with Hadir either. But they still speak to him.”

“You don’t talk to them at all?”

“Once in a while they send me a letter to remind me that the man who wished to marry me still hasn’t found another. That he’s still open to the match.” She rolls her eyes. “I think if he hasn’t been able to find a wife in all this time, there’s a reason for it.”

You laugh lightly. She has a good point.

By the time the two of you meander back to the palace, you do feel like you’re fast friends. Farah has a way of opening up without having to say much at all, her dark, pretty eyes sincere. Maybe it's something shared between you, not words exchanged, but who you both expected to become, how you both were raised to be something you wanted no part of. Farah is bolder than you, decisive and candle-quick, and you are a slow trickle of water, always taking the path of least resistance, but somehow you were both born of the same stuff. You understand each other.

Nox flies off when you reach the castle gates, and Farah and you split at the foot of Gaz's tower, her off to meet with the knight commander, and you to see if there's anything that you can learn. The book that Gaz had lent to you had been easy reading, especially with the annotations in his neat, scratchy writing, and the first two chapters had been more reminder of what you already knew. The third was about disrupting and dispelling magic, which seemed like it would be a useful place to start your lessons. Even if you expect that greater magics will be beyond your grasp, you can protect yourself by disrupting spells used against you.

By the time you reach the workshop door, you’re a bit warm and out of breath, the countless spiraling steps more effort than you’d like to admit, especially after a walk through the city. Why Kyle liked it was apparent just from looking at him, but you have a softer physique, and you’ve become quite unused to stairs over the years away from the castle. There are very few buildings taller than two stories back in town. You halt outside the door to catch your breath, glancing out the narrow window, through the slight warping of uneven glass panes.

“Isna right, Gaz, and even ye know it!” Soap’s heated voice seeps through the door. Kyle’s response is too low to make out, but Soap’s next words are clear. “She deserves better! Been nothin’ but kind to us.”

“She’ll get over it, Soap. You know it’s for the best.”

“The best for himself, sure, but I dinnae ken if it’s best for her.”

You sigh, torn between the impulse to eavesdrop and knowing that it’s wrong to do so. It’s not difficult to surmise that they’re talking about you. It would explain the look on Johnny’s face this morning and the feeling that things are not quite right that has been worrying at you all day. Perhaps John does intend to make you stay on in some capacity, to prop up his rule, which would be contrary to everything you’ve said you want. It wouldn’t be all that difficult to get the truth of the matter out of Soap later however— He seems uncomfortable with any level of duplicity.

The knock on the door silences the low, indecipherable sound of Kyle’s response. You rub your knuckles idly as the door opens, the tingle of magic clinging to your skin like cobwebs.

“Hello, Sweetpea.” Kyle greets you with a big smile. “I’m glad you decided to come up. Did you get through the reading I gave you?” He throws a look over his shoulder at Soap that cleary says go away.

“I did. I read through the first three chapters— I was wondering if we could focus on dispelling magic? I’m familiar enough with the bare basics, and if I’m only going to have time for one lesson, this seems like a good place to focus.” You reach out to brush Soap’s shoulder as he moves past you. “Can we talk later?”

“Of course, bonnie,” Soap says. “I’m always at yer service.”

“If you go find Farah, she might appreciate any insights you have on castle security. I think she went to speak with the knight commander.”

“Aye, could be helpful there. Go’ a nose for these things.” He taps his nose, his grin tinged with relief that you don’t seem angry with him for yesterday. “We’ll talk later, then.”

You step into the workshop and he steps out, and Kyle closes the door between you. “Dispelling magic could be a good place to start… How are you at sensing magic? If you have a natural affinity for it we can breeze past the first half of the lesson.” He takes your hand and gently pulls you over to the circle of iridescent stone.

“I think I might— I get this prickle when there’s magic around. I can’t say I always notice it, but I haven’t always thought to pay attention.” You sit on the ground inside the circle, noticing the way the buzz of the workshop fades away once you’re fully inside it. “I’ve been paying more attention here. More magic to notice, I suppose.”

“And a new environment.” Kyle says. “It’s easy to get used to the ambient magic in familiar spaces. You’ll get more attuned to the castle the longer you stay.”

“I hope so. I get all tingly whenever we’re in a room together,” you say, laughing lightly.

He settles down across from you, close enough that his knees nearly touch yours. “You sure that’s just the magic?” he asks, flashing his pretty smile at you. “It could be something else.”

“Could it?” You give him a smile in return, but yours is sharp around the edges, reminding him to mind himself. You’ve gotten a little weary of the flirting— It’s more John’s fault than it is his, admittedly, but you’re just tired of all the attention. You don’t want to flirt, even if he is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, and even if you really do like him plenty. You just want to learn a bit of magic, and it would be nice if he could focus. “Or do you think that maybe being handsome has skewed your perspective to think that every young man and woman you meet is attracted to you?”

“Could be that,” he agrees, unperturbed. “But no matter. Lets get to work.”

He runs through some breathing exercises, half-familiar ones that you remember the old wizard making you do for hours on end. Luckily Gaz seems satisfied with your control, and moves on quickly.

He asks you to keep your eyes closed while he sketches runes in the air, asking you to identify them. “It will help you sense when someone is sending a spell your way, or using magic in your vicinity,” he explains. “Knowing what’s going on is the first step to knowing how to dispel it.”

The first rune feels warm, and tastes oddly of smoke. “Fire,” you say easily. Kyle hums with approval, and sketches a new one. It’s cool, and drips down your spine. “Water?”

“Good. This one should be a bit trickier.”

It’s not. You’re familiar with light spells, you come across them more often than almost anything else. “Light.”

He runs through a few more. Earth, ice, moon, sun, shadow, music, metal, lock, key. All components of spells, and not spells on their own, each one leaving impressions on your skin, tastes on your tongue. Kyle seems more and more impressed as he works through his list, and you’re both laughing before long, enjoying a lesson that feels more like a game. “You have a knack for this. Figures the old wizard couldn’t see your talent— I had to fight him to get him to take me seriously too.” He clicks his tongue thoughtfully. “Let’s see… We can try an actual spell now. You can open your eyes, if you like.”

You open your eyes to look at him, pleased that he thinks you’re doing well. He smiles so prettily at you that at first you don’t notice the way magic curls around you, sliding up your neck like warm hands. You’re too distracted by the way Kyle smells, cedar and spice and ink and paper, the little scar just below his cheekbone, his wide hazel eyes fringed by thick lashes, the soft curve of his lips… You’ve always thought him handsome of course, you have eyes after all, but you’ve never wanted to kiss him so badly before.

It’s a charm spell. Something harmless for you to practice shredding apart. It makes sense for him to throw something innocuous at you, but he’s misjudged how much you already like him, and the charm is throwing you well past friendly suggestibility to wanting so badly that your hands tremble.

Knowing what it is, it’s easy to see how to unravel it, but you don’t really care to. It gives you an excuse to do something you want to do anyway. You pitch onto your knees and lean forward, bracing your hands on his thighs. His sweet, forest brown eyes widen with surprise, and he catches your face between his pretty, long-fingered hands, holding you back before you can kiss him.

“Wait,” he says quickly, his voice a quiet, anxious rasp. “It’s a charm spell, Sweetpea, I didn’t mean— You don’t really want to kiss me.” His fingers curl around your neck, like he’s fighting every instinct in him to hold you away and not draw you closer.

“Yes I do,” you say. “I just want to blame it on the spell.”

“Prove it,” he says.

It’s as simple as pulling a loose thread from knitting, unraveling magic that tastes sweet as fine white sugar on your tongue. Your cheeks burn, embarrassment settling in your stomach heavily. You should probably still be angry with him, you shouldn’t be thinking about how plush his mouth looks, or about how his pretty eyes fix on yours intently, the fire that he hides so neatly behind his quick-wit and natural charm rising to the surface. But you don’t move, and neither does he.

“We probably shouldn’t,” you say softly.

“Probably not,” he agrees.

And still, neither one of you tries to move away. He wets his lips, his gaze settling on your mouth. You swallow nervously. “Kyle—”

“Hells,” he says, angling his head slightly and closing the distance, slow enough that you could pull away, but quickly enough that he won’t lose his nerve halfway. His mouth is as soft as you anticipated, lips sliding over yours slow and sweet.

You move closer, and Kyle shifts his legs to either side of your knees to give you enough room, hands sliding down to your waist. You hum against his mouth, wrapping your arms around his solid shoulders. He kisses you for a long while before his tongue slips between your lips. He licks into your mouth, moaning, and the sound is just as pretty as he is, sending honey-sweet arousal through your veins to pool deep in your belly.

It would be easy to kiss Kyle forever— He makes no demands, keeps his hands on your waist or curled around your back, toying with, but making no attempt to undo, the buttons that march up your spine. He feels safe, and you know that he won’t push you for more, the way John would. Kyle keeps himself in check, holds himself back. It makes you all the more ready to melt for him.

It’s several long moments before he pulls back, lips swollen and eyes hot and hazy like a summer afternoon. “Princess,” he murmurs, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw. “I need to tell you something.”

There’s a soft chime from his desk, and John’s voice speaks into the workroom, as clear as if he were right there with you both. Kyle freezes, a hound caught with his nose somewhere it shouldn’t have been, hands tightening on your hips.

“Gaz? Is Sweetpea still with you?”

Kyle clears his throat. He looks at you so guiltily, you almost feel like you’re the one that’s done something wrong. “Um. Yes sir.”

“Good. The Lyudireki ambassador is here, and Kate too, if you’d like to speak with her before you join us, Sweetpea. I believe she’s gone to your room to wait for you.”John’s voice sounds amused. It makes Kyle nervous, if his grip is anything to go by. “Gaz, I’d like you to find Soap, and bring him to the green parlour. He can be a wolf, if he likes. It’s up to him.”

“Yes sir. We’ll be down in a minute.” The chime sounds a second time, and Kyle relaxes slightly. “Old man has terrible timing. Come on, Sweetpea. We’d better get to it.”

He stands and pulls you up along with him. "You didn't do anything wrong," you remind him gently. "I kissed you."

"No, I kissed you, Sweetpea. And it's my fault you wanted to. You wouldn't have if I hadn't charmed you." He sighed. "Price is going to—"

"Kyle, I can kiss anyone I want," you say stiffly. You resent the implication that a Price owns you, that he has any say in who you kiss or what you do.

"Well. I suppose so," he says doubtfully. "But we should go. You'll want to speak with Kate, yeah?"

Your stomach churns slightly. Kate has been notably absent for all this time, conveniently unavailable to explain. She knew. She knew everything, and didn't give you so much as a heads up. "Yes. I have some questions I'd like answered."

"Don't be too hard on her," Kyle said. "John didn't give her a choice."

"Everyone always has choices, Kyle. She should have told me what was going on."

"Would you have done things differently if she had?"

"What could be done differently? I'm not the foolish little girl everyone seems to think I am. I understand my position in all this better than anyone."

Kyle seems to have to response to that. He’s quiet all the way down the stairs, lost in his thoughts. You let him stay there.

It would be nice if everyone wasn't too afraid of what John might do or say to be honest with you. Although you do know that loyalty like he demands from his men isn't born from fear alone, or your father would never have been deposed. There’s love there too, and real trust.

Kyle leaves you at your door with a lingering kiss. You try not to blame him for the way his eyes dart down the hall before he does so, even if it makes you want to shove him away. You offer him a small smile instead, and step into your room.

Thanks for your patience everyone! I know it took me a hot minute to get this chapter out, but we're back, baby! And we're kissing Kyle about it.

Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 -

Divider by CafeKitsune - Flower Divider by Saradika-Graphics

#Cave writing #Heavy Weighs the Crown #Cod mw fanfiction #fantasy au #OC: Sweetpea #x reader #Poly 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #Farah baby I'm so glad you made it kick your boots off and stay a while #It's getting pretty obvious what's going on here but sadly Sweetpea believes in the good in others #So she hasn't fully clocked it herself yet #These chapters keep getting longer and longer fr

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imagine-silk · 2 days

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I hope you are doing okay. I would really like a rather simple Idea of the Yan Fallout 4 boys whose obsession confesses that they have a crush... on someone else. But that someone else has no Idea.

》Ah, I see you crave violence.

【Codsworth】 "You can do so much better."

As much as he has no desire to date you he sees how great you are and you deserve someone just as lovely, maybe even more. Who you've picked is subpar. Oh, they can make you laugh? Do higher your standards, please. For his non-existent heart.

【Danse】 "What do they have that I don't?"

In his heart he gets it; he is a broken man who isn't even human. But this was the last bit of sanity he could take. You try to explain yourself, whether it be the other person never spat at a ghoul or simply has their life together. He knows he can't change the past and he doesn't want you to leave him. Against his better judgement he goes to that person and fights them. He wins too.

【Deacon】 "How could that happen?!"

Deacon would consider himself lucky man, and he was very lucky you told him while you were on an investigation. This person lived quite comfortably and had a very stable life. Imagine everyone's surprise when someone found a letter on him saying he was going to let the raiders into Diamond City because no one would suspect him to be up to no good. Who told the guard? Don't worry about it.

【Hancock】 "Here's how this is going to go."

The second they set foot in Good Neighbor they are dragged into his office. He talks to them with thinly veiled threats and tells them to back off. When they say 'no' and stand their ground he says, "Whoa, you see that Glory?" with his hands up. She then proceeds to say she did, that they had a gun pointed at him. When they still don't back down and try to deescalate he has her shoot him. Even though everyone in Good Neighbor knows what happens the official story is that they pulled a weapon on the mayor and Glory had to save him. No one betrays that story.

【MacCready】 "Who?"

He plays dumb and asks you to tell him who they are. And you had no reason to think he had any ill intentions. Afterwards he brushes it off with a, 'good luck with that' kind of dismissal. However, now that he knows their name, where they live, and where they work, he kills them from long distance. No one can point the finger his way because he never knew the person.

【Nick】

♤If Platonic "When do I get to meet them?"

He's gonna do an impromptu 'If you want to date my daughter' kind of dinner with them. The entire time he's watching them with great interest, making threats in just the right way to be completely permissible. If and when you excuse yourself for a moment he fully tells them they have on shot to play this out and if they get it wrong no one will find their body. Don't be surprised if they dump you the next day.

♡If Romantic "Stay away from them."

He didn't mean to say it but after he did he had to roll with it. His silver tongue got him in and out of a lot of places so it's not hard to craft a story about how the person in question exhibits strange behaviors, enough that he needed to look into it. Just to make sure his story goes unchecked he pays them a little 'visit' and tells them to never speak to you. Ever.

【Preston】 "Really? That's great!"

He immediately supports you in your endeavor but later when you go to sleep he finds that person. He takes them out of earshot of the town and kills them, throwing their body into the river after. In the morning they are nowhere to be found and you're heartbroken. It's okay, Preston will help you look for them. He'll be right next to you.

【X6-88】 "I see."

He wants to tell you you're too good for them but that would be a waste of time. No, he needs to be smarter than that. Excusing himself and then finding them dead would be too suspicious. He was by your side the entire day and still they suddenly collapsed. They died in your arms. Say what you will about that strange tragedy, you can never say you suspected him.

#ask and you shall receive #fallout 4 #fallout imagines #fallout x reader #gender neutral reader #companions react #codsworth #paladin danse #deacon fo4 #fallout hancock #maccready #nick valentine #preston garvey #x6 88

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atzfilm · 7 hours

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— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [seven.five.]

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

— pairing; ot8 (general); 2.03k

— chapter warnings; death, death mentions, murder mentions

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)

FIC WARNINGS: murder, manipulation, blood, blood drinking, torture references, dark magic, kidnapping. this series is very dark, if you're uncomfortable with the subjects listed do not read. warnings will change but be listed in each chapter. there is no tag list for this series.

“Negotiating without your spark behind you is brave, Hongjoong. Many would rather have some semblance of power behind them when they speak,” the Seelie speaks, leaning against the stone pillar.

“Why would I be afraid of your kind in my land?” Hongjoong merely states, arms resting against the small of his back. His gaze flickers to the Seelie’s partner, a dry laugh escaping him. “I desired for a conversation alone, Yeonjun. How hard is that to follow?”

“I am not stupid. You have already killed Beomgyu, no? Why would I enter this putrid realm myself?” His words are filled with venom, eyes narrowing as he looks down at the Unseelie leader. Fearsome gazes do nothing to Hongjoong, only satiating his desire for negative emotions. So Hongjoong smiles, head tilted.

“We have yet to fortify our treaty. Deaths are increasing on both sides - my home territory needs to be moved soon. I cannot have Seelie interrupting while we enter another realm of rowan trees.”

“Afraid?"

“Merely bothered.”

“A bothersome act wouldn’t call for a meeting between us, Unseelie,” he glances back, waving off his partner. The man disappears, leaving the two leaders alone. “You have yet to atone for killing one of my own.”

“I will not allow you to take out any of my spark, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun laughs, his head thrown back to the skies. “I am not a buffoon, Hongjoong. My offer is a small price to pay for what you’ve done to my spark. Give up the human in exchange, and I vow to not interfere with Unseelie unless provoked.”

Hongjoong’s brows furrow, “You want the pet? Why?” His chest aches suddenly, but Hongjoong holds back his expression. What the hell was that?

Yeonjun’s smile only widens. “An Unseelie kills humans, Hongjoong. You wouldn’t have it around if it was not important to you.”

“If she is important to me, why do you think I’d give her up on a whim?”

“This discussion between us is not on a whim. It is either the human, or one of your spark’s lives. Make the decision. And soon, Hongjoong,” Yeonjun steps back, mist left in his wake.

He can feel that same ache again. He was not sure what exactly it was, the strange feeling scratching at his heart. He ignored it at first, pushing through the hallways, determined to finish his duties here so he could go back to his spark.

But then it grew painful.

Hongjoong stumbles as he crosses a threshold, gasping for breath. His fingernails grow, digging into the wooden slabs. Blood spills from his lips, splattering against the floor. The feeling is unlike anything he's experienced, but his body knows. He cannot tell who it is at first, his mind whirling. Until a part of him begins to tear at itself, ripping his heart from the inside out.

San.

“No.” He pushes past the pain, the phantom of a gaping hole in his chest. He hasn't been gone that long, how could this happen? Why isn't Hongjoong there now? His speech is stuttered as he stands, the air swirling in front of him. His incantation is slurred but he manages after a few seconds of struggle. The cloud flickers in and out of existence. He steps through just as it appears, body shifting into the garden of his home.

He does not see much at first.

His eyes flick up to the porch, a massive gap presenting itself to him. Glass shards are scattered across the wood. He thinks for a moment that he arrived in the aftermath, until shouting surrounds him. His steps are quick, hand out in front of him as he rips the doors from its hinges with quick incantations. The first thing he sees is Yunho and Yeosang in the midst of a fight with witchlings.

Little time passes between him watching the fight and tearing the witchlings apart, limbs dropping to the floor violently, blood splattering against his cheeks. The remaining creatures disappear from sight, leaving the solemn echoes of the hallway. Yeosang struggles to his feet, pushing past Hongjoong and falling to his knees in front of San. The wound on his body has not healed in the slightest, limp in Yeosang's arms. Hongjoong can barely stand as he looks at the sight, but he must. He looks around, entering your room.

Glass is scattered across the floor. The same scene he saw from the ground, the hold the size of the creatures, looking back at him. Wind rushes into the room as he makes his way forward. You're nowhere to be found and after a brief headcount, neither is Wooyoung. He cannot feel the loss of him, so he presumes that he is taken along with you. He runs his bloodied fingers through his hair, thoughts elsewhere.

Grief is not something he can let himself process now. He has to save Wooyoung. He has lost one, he cannot lose him too. Hands dig into his shoulder and turn him around. His eyes move up. Mingi's cold gaze on him. His eyes are vacant, mind elsewhere. Waiting for a command from his leader. Hongjoong’s lip trembles as he tries to speak, lids shutting. He cannot grieve for him right now. They rely on him, rely on his strength to pull them through. To save who he has left. He takes only a couple of seconds to pull himself together, sadness swallowed momentarily.

“Do you know where they came from? If the kumiho had something to do with it?” He asks Mingi.

“I–”

“Is that all you can say?” Seonghwa enters the room. Tears stain his cheeks, moist, tired eyes meeting his. He can feel the exhaustion through their spark’s connection, the feeling forcing Hongjoong to stagger ever so slightly. “San is dead, and that's all you can say?”

“I cannot afford to let myself grieve, Seonghwa. I have to save Wooyoung –”

“San… he…” Seonghwa rubs his face. “He sacrificed everything, everything to be with us. He turned against his own kind, forced himself to feast on tortured souls. He gave us his all, his life, and all you can say now is that you cannot grieve? Not even for a moment? Yeosang can barely hold himself together in there, your spark is hurt, and you cannot afford mere seconds to acknowledge the dead body?”

Hongjoong cannot respond. He cannot let himself wallow in sorrow. Not when there is so much to do. He dismisses Mingi with a small nod, letting him leave the room. Seonghwa's anger only grows at the silence, stepping forward. His fist grips Hongjoong’s shirt, knuckles digging into his chest.

“You are selfish, and you are pitiful. I am amazed that San even wanted to be with us when he saw you.”

Hongjoong reaches up, his fingers brushing against Seonghwa's chin. Seonghwa allows him to cup his cheek, grip loosening on his shirt. “You can say what you need to say to me after, Seonghwa. Would you like me to sink into my grief or help find Wooyoung?”

Seonghwa pushes his hand away, his anger only rises. “All you’ve ever done is care for Wooyoung and no one else. Even in death we are not enough for you, never the first thing on your mind.”

“Enough,” Yunho enters the room, glancing between them. His clothing is soaked in gore and blood, footwear sliding against the wooden slacks barely holding the floor together. Wounds cover his body, slowly healing. Mingi shadows him, gaze turned back to Yeosang’s grieving, hunched over figure only a few strides away. Jongho sits next to him, hand resting on his trembling shoulder. “We’ve lost so much already, we cannot lose each other and ourselves too.”

Hongjoong could have stopped the conversation long ago and demanded that Seonghwa stand down. Any other Unseelie leader would have barely acknowledged the death at all – likely twisting their face in disgust and burning the remains without thinking twice. It is what he has been taught, what has been passed down to him. But right now he cannot. He cannot just send San away without giving the others some time to accept what has happened. Give himself time to accept the cold, empty look in his eyes.

“How did this happen?” Hongjoong asks again, this time to no one in particular.

Seonghwa leaves with a flicker, Yunho and Mingi left alone with their leader. “We cannot say. Jongho mentioned something about pixies watching on the edge of the forest, but they wouldn’t summon these creatures. Seelie are incapable of controlling these beasts, especially when we just manifested the shield when we came back. No other majik should be able to penetrate the barrier. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“You think they attacked because I was not here?” Hongjoong looks behind Yunho, blood staining the floor in pools. “Would they have attacked even if I were?”

“It’s doubtful. A spark without its leader is greatly weakened in comparison to when they are here. They might have noticed you were absent and took that chance to attack. Taking y/n away makes sense since she is valuable, removing San–”

They can see how it pains Yunho, his lids tightening as he closes them. He takes a breath, before continuing.

“Removing San makes sense since he is powerful, but I just cannot wrap my head around taking Wooyoung. What purpose does it have – he is not even your second or third. He means much to us, sure, but in retrospect, his position in our spark is not as important.”

“Cruel words,” Mingi mumbles.

“Wooyoung knows how much he is cared for, he’d likely laugh,” Yunho says. “Still, my point remains.”

“Wooyoung is cared for,” Mingi speaks again. “He is important to us. The kumiho cares for him, and Hongjoong cares for him. The leader of all Unseelie favors one in particular. He is a weakness. They, whomever it is that has taken them, must know what they mean to us. They know what we’d do to have them back. It is strategic, Yunho.”

“Can you two give me a moment?” Hongjoong interrupts their speaking. “I agree with everything you are saying, but I need time. Not much, but just...”

“Understood,” Yunho nods. His fingers seek Mingi’s, theirs wrapping easily around each other. Before they leave, though, Yunho turns around. “Shall we do something with San?”

Hongjoong takes a slow breath. “Place him in our memorial chambers once Yeosang is … Do not light the flame yet and do not allow anyone else to. I need a moment to think.”

“Alright.”

They leave him in the room. Hongjoong whispers a spell into his palms, misting himself into his chambers. He locks the door behind him, taking slow steps into the room. It’s as he has left it, papers skewed about, books piled upon one another. The sinking feeling lets itself manifest in his chest, slowly rising up his torso. He slumps into his bed, the smell of rotting flesh enveloping him as he trembles.

He lost San.

It should not have been possible for any being, including Lilith's creatures, to break the barrier. It is what he has set up and has worked for centuries. Nothing should have been able to come in. To kill. Hongjoong could barely look at San’s body, the cold shell of what he once was. You would think that him being an Unseelie would have him used to seeing the dead. He killed his own spark leader, and that affected him less than seeing his mated gone. His teeth dig into his lips, breaking skin as he holds back his own wretched sobs. He lifts himself up from his sheets, gripping the wooden desk as he stands, looking over his work.

His eyes move to the side, caged spellbooks behind metal bars. His finger drags across his bloodied lip before pressing into the rounded button. Wooyoung would be able to protect the both of you himself momentarily. Losing this chance now would only make him lose San. The rusted bars creak open. He reaches for the one book he swore that he’d never use, flipping through the crusted pages until he lands on the spell he needs.

Necromancy.

#fic: wonderwall #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #san x reader #jongho x reader #wooyoung x reader #ot8 x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez angst

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Royal Flowers Chapter 12

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pairing: anakin skywalker x f!reader

series summary: A long, long, time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a certain Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker meets you, the current Queen of Naboo and adopted cousin of Padme Amidala, and is tasked with protecting you by pretending to marry you. As a spy, you’ve infiltrated the Separatist ranks and are close to finding out the mastermind behind all of it. The fate of the galaxy is in your hands.

warnings: minors dni. masturbation scene (m), but other than that nothing too spicy.

a/n: come get y'alls juice. also i can't find the gif i was using of anakin so just like. remember what he looks like i guess. he's pretty if that helps

When you wake up, you feel like you’ve swallowed a stone. You remember everything— every excruciating detail, each moment that his skin was pressed against yours. You try your best to recollect everything that was said yesterday, but it feels fruitless. Your mind has already rewritten each word ten times, translating and shifting and switching until the meaning is entirely different. Did Anakin say “I need you” or “I need this”? If he had said “you”, did he mean anything by it, or were you the first person that he could trust with this? The only? Something strange and all-too familiar crawls out from your stomach.

Guilt. You’re not even sure if Anakin wanted you the way you wanted him, and the words he first spoke to you scream themselves loudly in your head. I love Padme, and I’ll love her til I die. You were just a means to an end, and you’re sure that you should have known that as you took pleasure from his touch on your body. You’re no stranger to desire, to the heat of another’s body, but it’s never been someone you’ve wanted as much as Anakin.

And at the same time, you understand fully that it wasn’t just you. What you and Anakin have is bigger than just what happened last night; it’s been working up for months, an ocean of desire eroding your reasons to resist until you caved, gave into the sweetness of his mouth on yours, sweeter and softer than you could have ever imagined. The way that fell in the force of his desperation to something all-consuming, something that carved away a piece of your soul and kept it in the confines of the night, sacrificed at the altar of your memory. Your self-indulgence feels rotting, pushing unease into your throat and you can no longer lay here with your tattered dress cocooning your body. No matter what it is, you’ve never been faithful to the driving force within you. It’s a foreign feeling, one that you don’t like. You never thought that doing what you wanted would inspire such guilt.

You push yourself out of bed, turning to look over your shoulder at Anakin’s peaceful form, allowing yourself another moment of indulgence as your heart weeps. Your movement has shifted the blanket away from his shoulders, and as quietly as you can, you reach over to adjust it back over his shoulders. Your heart’s corruption rules you for only a moment longer when your hand skates over his jaw. Not quite touching him, no; you can’t allow that in the bright clarity of the morning. It was just sex, you remind yourself. Then you’re gone, swept away in the mirrors and meticulousness of your morning routine.

The peace allows you to sit with your thoughts for a moment longer— to remember your purpose, to remember your role in a story that is so much greater than the microcosm of you and Anakin. You’re here because you’re the queen of Naboo, and you have a responsibility to your people. For just a moment longer, you loathe what has become of your life. All you are now is a vessel for the needs of others, and it hurts to know that you’ll have to give and give until there is nothing left of you, until you can fade into nothingness with no one having truly known you, and yet having been so largely involved in the universe’s fate. You swallow your bitterness, resting your chin on your hand as you stare at the mirror before you, steam clouding the surface. The reflection that looks back at you feels otherworldly, a woman that you’re not sure you’ve ever been and yet one that you know you must be. Your face crafts a perfect smile, the hollowness within invisible to even you. Don’t forget your role, your reflection whispers at you.

Your fingers drum against the surface of the counters as you collect yourself, carefully calculating every diplomatic advantage. Naboo is economically powerful at this time, putting you at a position where you can safeguard from famine with the right connections. Lothal, you should corner the representatives of Lothal. They’re just a backwater, in essence; a backwater planet that you’re positive you can strike the right deals with. Agricultural aid in exchange for a hefty deal, put them in a good position with the economic boost Naboo could get.

Your mind starts to wander as you get dressed. You feel a sense of clarity that’s been absent from you for some time— your guilt sharpens itself into a weapon, holding you at its blade to force you to think deeper, think clearer. Why hadn’t the Separatists told you of their plan? Why did you need to find out from elsewhere? All paths lead to one singular conclusion; they want to get rid of you. It makes total sense, doesn’t it? Install a puppet ruler to get away with whatever you want, and at the right moment, cut the strings. They’d step into the void of power, gaining total control of the planet and thus, giving the Separatists a new stronghold.

But at the same time, you understand the injustice caused by the Republic to many. Its neglect of many systems is not unknown to you, you’re not so foolish to think this is a one sided coin. By pushing the Separatists into a coerced acceptance of the Republic’s governance with militant force, the galaxy is only further polarized by loss. Perhaps… Perhaps the only solution is to allow self-determination. That may not filter out the splinter sections of Separatists, but at least it would be a start.

All you know now is nothingness. You don’t know the solution, but you suppose it doesn’t matter; not if you’re going to end up dead at the end of this all. And doesn’t it make sense? For them to kill you now, blame it on something else and drive Anakin into further madness and desperation? The ultimate form of control. Even if you live, you are leverage against the most powerful weapon in the galaxy. You hate thinking of Anakin like that, but it’s true; even you, removed as you are from the Jedi Order, understand that he is the chosen one.

Your fated doom lingers on your being, shadowlike, but you won’t let this keep you here. For however long you’re in this life, you’ll serve your purpose as best you can. You push the thoughts of your inevitable self sacrifice into action, an agenda spinning into order: you’ll talk to the Lothal representatives, strike up a deal. You’ll have food shipped to Naboo’s moon, allowing safe transport of the food to Naboo so that it doesn’t get blown up on arrival. It feels more like bandaids than a solution, but you’ll figure it out. A solution, that’s something that you’ll have to talk to Padme about. The way you see it, she’s the galaxy’s out— under her leadership, she could bring clarity, a new direction. Which means if you’re aware, so is Palpatine. Or Sidious. You don’t know what to call him now, really.

She’s in danger. But maybe she always was.

~~~

When Anakin wakes up, the only thing he feels is hunger. Clawing out from inside of him, stretching and breaking from his skin; a beast that he had buried, now awakened, that only desires you. He feels it eating at his skin, a certain kind of pain that he almost delights in as he thinks of last night. The hedonistic indulgence of giving in, Dionysian in its call, had only served to fuel his thirst, not quench it. And you’re not here, why aren’t you here?

He thinks back to every moment from last night. Had he pushed you too far? He hadn’t meant to, he hopes he didn’t, but the pain was messing with his head. He couldn’t think clearly with his entirety ripping at the seams. Anakin wants to make it better, wants to kneel at your side and take your hand like it’s a lifeline, but that option isn’t his to take. He doesn’t belong there. Anakin is the Chosen One— something that he would have understood in another lifetime, but now it’s just a label with constraints that he’ll never understand. He can’t have you, and yet… now that he’s given in to the Dark Side, things are different. It’s not quite the same story that he was used to. Now, he’s constantly fighting himself. He wants to pursue you openly, fully, yet he can’t. Why can’t he? Because of some arbitrary rules? But those rules are the ones that have dictated his entire way of thinking. He doesn’t want to give it up so soon. He swings between two extremes, a pendulum of moral inconsistency, hearing the voice of the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan, Shmi, encouraging him to let go of his hunger; Sidious, to feed it.

Anakin knows he has to look past what he wants right now. You’re counting on him for something bigger, and he knows that he needs to figure out what exactly would happen if he exposed Sidious. It’s something you’ve brought to his life: the rationality that he was always expected to have. As a spy, though, you’ve shown him that the guns-blazing approach sometimes will not work, that he has to take his time, collect his information. How deep is the Chancellor’s control? What is the endgame, if he’s already the Chancellor? None of it makes sense to him.

Long, slender limbs are forced out of bed as Anakin stretches, gritting his teeth at the thought of having to face the day. He winces slightly at the sticky feel of sweat on his skin. He needs to wash up, he realizes, and the quick jump to why he has to wash up has his face flushed. He grips himself tightly, eager for some relief from the aching in his cock as he thinks of you. You, with your warm body, your eager responsiveness to his touch, the taste of you on his tongue. Anakin wrenches his hand away in shame, feeling much like a dog panting for a bone as he salivates over you. He mourns the fact that he didn’t take his time and get you fully naked, rather than tearing the clothes from your body, as he pulls his own garments fully off. He wants to give you a better experience, he realizes; he wants to worship your body with his hands, then his tongue, spend hours with his head buried between your thighs as you grind on his face in pursuit of pleasure. Anakin wants more than the quickness that came from sinking to the hilt into your heat brought the night prior— no, he wants the aching, the throbbing in his loins as he makes you see stars.

Cool water pelting across his back isn’t enough to deter his fixation on all the filth he hopes to cause to you. Anakin’s cock still stands at half mast, and it doesn’t take much thinking for him to wrap his fist around it, fucking his tight grip as moans escape. His metal hand claws at the wall as his flesh unites in a perfect pursuit of pleasure. He wants you to hear this, fantasizes about you walking through the bathroom door, sinking to your knees, and sucking the soul out of him. He’d grab your tits, squeeze them, play with them. Anakin doesn’t think he could fuck your pretty face, wants to treat you far too gently for that to happen but he thinks of your hands under his, guiding you to stroke him just how he likes it. It doesn’t take long after that for him to cum, sticky pearls collecting on the bathroom tiling before it washes away.

Anakin gets dressed in an afterglow that’s still focused on you, imagining what it would like to get ready with you. He’s never really done that, has he? Not like this, not in the morning, not with this gentle sweetness blooming in his chest. But his blood turns to ice when he catches his eyes in the mirror, flashing that shade of yellow that he knows to be true to the Sith.

He needs to find Palpatine.

~~~

Anakin finds Palpatine after an assembly, towering over the rush of senators that flow past him. He locks eyes with Palpatine easily, the deceptively meek-statured man smiling at Anakin from where he waits at the doorway. Anakin feels sick at the mere sight, swallowing down his bitter fury to walk towards him. Padme had told him about a myth, a mere story, really, from Naboo; a legend that detailed a king who had put his trust in a bastard son, defending him against any opposition, but finding his life cut short at the end of that very son’s blade. And you, Brutus? He’d said. Anakin feels that way when he looks at Palpatine: that painful, bitter betrayal. It wasn’t fair. But nobody said it ever would be.

“Master,” Anakin calls him quietly. A false name, one that should only have ever belonged to Obi-Wan, or Qui Gonn. Palpatine is nothing to him, a snake laid in wait only to strike at his most vulnerable. “You said you’d help me save my wife.” The din of the crowd is loud enough to diminish the volume of his words, but not the urgency. Palpatine, however, just smiles in response.

“Anakin,” Palpatine says, clasping two hands behind his back. From this angle, he almost looks paternal, like the perfect replacement for an empty slot that Anakin’s had for so long in his life. “I see the concern you have for her. Of course, it is natural. But…”

“But what?”

“I fear you’re simply not strong enough yet. Not ready, you see.”

“Tell me how to be strong enough, then.” Anakin isn’t fooled by his own rationality. He knows that he can pretend this is somehow linked to his infiltration, but he knows it’s his own indulgence in you that drives him. He wants to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

“It’ll cost you,” Palpatine says, walking into an empty sideroom. One that’s often used for business discussions, Anakin recognizes. From in front of him, Palpatine tugs his hood on, and by the time he turns back to Anakin, the physical change is apparent. Instantaneous. The lines on his face are deeper-set, the glow in his eyes inhumane. Sharp, piercing, they see right through him. For a moment, Anakin is fearful that his own treachery will be uncovered. But his fear of losing you drives him further, lets him keep going. Anakin thinks he understands the cost when he sees this.

But he’s wrong.

“Every single member of the Jedi Order are what stands in the way of your realization, your… enlightenment. All the Jedi, padawan or master, including your friend Obi-Wan. They are a threat to the Republic, to peace in the galaxy.”

Anakin feels his heart fall. And he thinks of Obi-Wan, of the warmth of his hug, the crinkle of his eyes when he smiles. The pride, however restrained it may have been, would make his face glow whenever Anakin defeated him in sparring, or when he would laugh at Anakin’s struggles with Ahsoka, telling him they mirrored his own experiences. Sidious was wrong. Obi-Wan wasn’t just his friend, he was greater than that— he was like a brother, like a father, like a part of Anakin that he hadn’t realized had been so significant until he had every single belief he had of right, wrong, of morality itself, put into question. Killing Obi-Wan would be akin to losing the only arm he had left. He isn’t clouded by lust, by love, to even think of the idea.

But then…

He thinks of you. The nightmares of your breath leaving your body, the warmth leaving your physical form. Of the beauty of your laughter, the way you fit his soul so perfectly, pushing him, challenging him and everything he thought he knew. And you did it so sweet, so addictive, making him something else. Making him something that he recognized in himself only once before.

Only when he loved Padme.

And this side of him, the only part of him that Darth Vader hadn’t killed in order to exist, wants nothing more to listen to Sidious. To watch his brother, his Jedi master, die at the end of his saber. It would be fitting, wouldn’t it? The very man he created would bring forth his doom. He’d make it painless, he promises. He wouldn’t dream of bringing him pain. All he wants… is to save you.

It’s not as though the Jedi Order is indestructible, either. Nor is it without its flaws. He’s seen countless villages ravaged by the battle between the Separatists and the Republic. Anakin knows the Jedi are not innocent in the crime of staining the ground they fight for with innocent blood.

Anakin himself, he hadn’t felt free until he was with you. For the first time in his life, away from the Order, away from the dictation of what was wrong, what was right, how to think, eat, dress, breathe, he had a choice now. And you let him have that choice. Wouldn’t it be wrong to pull away? Wouldn’t it be wrong to let you fall, when you had done so much for him?

He loves you. He had told Padme, what feels to him a lifetime ago, that love is what drives a Jedi, to hold compassion that is rooted in none other than love. His loyalty is with you, not Sidious— his religion, his worship, with you also. This is what’s good, what’s right. This is what the Force wants him to do. Anakin understands now, doesn’t he? His whole life, he’s been pulled towards this. Towards you, to love you, to keep you safe.

No matter the cost.

~~~

Lothal’s representatives are easy to find after the general assembly. You don’t know what it is, exactly, but they look lost, like they’re playing a game that they hardly know the rules to. You approach them with poise and grace, your head held high as you zero in on them.

“It’s an honor to be in your presence, your grace,” One of them stammers out. He’s handsome, you think, but not nearly as much as Anakin. Comparing the two is like comparing a candle to the brightness of a sun, anyways. You smile gently, unfazed as you tilt your head in acknowledgement of their greeting.

“As it is for me to be in yours, representatives of Lothal.”

“Denon, milady. I am the senior-most representative of our planet. I assume you do not stop by purely for the purpose of making our acquaintance,” Denon replies. Senior-most. You almost want to laugh at the declaration. He seems boyish still, the innocence in his eyes betraying his youth. You flick your eyes around, assessing your audience quickly before you offer your arm to Denon.

“Not here,” you murmur, strolling arm-in-arm to the nearest room. You’re quick to step away from him once the doors are shut, taking a seat at a table as he mirrors you awkwardly. You’ve done your research, you have no reason to feel nervous, and yet your hands still tremble before you lay them flat on the table.

“Denon, I’ve done my research. The financial sector of Lothal has expressed its frustration at the insufficient funding of the planet— simply put, your planet is not… prosperous. I do not need to explain the subsequent effect of this: how this insufficiency results in a multitude of disasters. The workers on your planet work diligently, and yet the imports to the planet are, by-and-large, inaccessible. Why? I believe, Denon, that your planet’s work is undervalued, understated, and Naboo has a simple answer to your question.”

You sigh quietly, a crafted noise, meant to draw their attention in further. They’re watching you attentively, they know you’re their saving grace and Maker, they’re ready to take it.

Good.

“Naboo will outbid your current agricultural contracts in order to be the primary recipient of your crop. I offer billions of units to your planet, with few caveats; Naboo will maintain anonymity until the length of our contract is finished, and the delivery will be to our moons, not to our direct ports. In the meantime, this will leave fewer supply for the remainder of your contracts. It’s simple economics; your supply will diminish, but the demand will remain the same. I offer nothing but a fair compensation for the labor of your peoples, and a promise that my actions will drive others to do much of the same.”

Denon looks at you, looks to his fellow representatives, then to you again. Then he blinks, opens his mouth as though he wishes to say something, and closes it again.

“Any questions?” You ask, drumming your hands on the table. You need them to take this, but you can’t show how desperate you are. They might be naive, but anyone knows desperation is a flaw to be exploited, even representatives from an outskirts-planet like Lothal. You still hold power, and that will not be mistaken.

“Why? Why now?” One man pipes up from next to Denon.

“Naboo wishes to establish strong diplomantic ties with supporters, like Lothal. This is as much a political move as it is economic, Representative.”

“We’ll take it,” Denon says. He seems starstruck, like it’s too good to be true. Denon stands from the table and offers his hand to you, which you take as you stand up.

“Brilliant. I’ll draft up the terms and have my Ministers send the plans to you.”

“Milady, your offer is most gracious. If there’s anything we can do…”

“I’ll let you know, Representative Denon. Thank you.” Denon drops to a bow, kissing the back of your hand as you hold back your discomfort. You’ve never really been great with all of this pageantry, but you’ll put up with it well enough.

But timing is not on your side. The door swings open to reveal Anakin, whose face betrays his rage as he sees your hand in Denon’s.

“What business do you have with my wife?” He demands callously, striding closer to Denon as his emotions escape his control. You’re careful to watch him, seeing the glint of yellow in his eyes as he sizes up Denon, ready for a fight.

“My love, we were—”

“I did not ask you. I asked the man who dared to touch my wife,” Anakin seethes. You scoff at his arrogance, grabbing his chin to tear his gaze away from Denon.

“Representative Denon, you may take your leave. I will continue my communications with the planet of Lothal at a later time.” You keep your eyes locked on Anakin, watching his form visibly relax as they shuffle out of the room awkwardly. It only angers you further.

As the door shuts, Anakin reaches his hand to your wrist, calling your name softly.

“No. That was unacceptable, Anakin. That might have been acceptable with Padme, but certainly not with me. Do not forget our arrangement, General Skywalker,” you bite out. You see hurt flash in his eyes as you refer to him by his title, but you’re infuriated, and Anakin is the reason why. “Don’t ever barge into my diplomatic meetings and question me or anyone else what our intentions are. We are nothing other than allies to each other, Skywalker, do not let a night of passion delude you.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Anakin asks. You’re unable to look at him, so you allow yourself to let go of his chin, but he keeps his hand on your wrist. “Answer me. Is that all I am to you?”

Anakin’s heart is in his throat. No. He’s seen this before, he knows how it plays out, and he isn’t the victor. In any scenario, he loses you. He can’t lose you. He’s given up so much for you, hasn’t he? Why would you abandon him? You couldn’t. He’s sure you’re bluffing, but there’s still that dryness in his mouth, that dizziness as he looks at you.

Please, let him be more to you.

“That’s all we are to one another,” you whisper.

Anakin lets go of your hand.

#my writing #distortionbobble's fics #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #reader insert #anakin x reader #star wars fic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin #angst #anakin skywalker fanfic #royal flowers #royal flowers series

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Siren Song 🧜🏽‍♀️🧜🏾‍♀️🧜🏿‍♀️ (Zoro x Sanji x Black!Mermaid!Reader 18+ One Shot)

🌊 🐚🌊 🐚🌊 🐚🌊 🐚🌊 🐚🌊 🐚🌊

Pairing: Zoro Roronoa x Sanji Vinsmoke x Black!Fem!Reader (Strangers to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which the siren song that you sing in hopes of finding someone to free you from your curse attracts more than one mate when two of the most notorious and wanted pirates come to search your cave after a shipwreck.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Strangers to Lovers; Mermaid!Reader; Black-coded!Reader; Interspecies Sex (kinda); Hypnotism; Seduction/Coercion; Dubcon (but enthusiastic consent is later given); Dom!Zoro & Sanji; sub!Reader; Threesome; Mutual Oral (Giving & Receiving; Sloppy Cunnilingus + Analingus; Anal Play/Fingering; Double Deepthroat; Facefucking; Cock Drunk; Reader Cums 2x; Unprotected Vaginal & Anal Sex; Double Penetration; Creampie; Analpie; Happy Ending

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic (except for Snowbeard). However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I had meant to post this in October for spooky season, but that month just wasn’t making time for me lmaoo. Work has been whooping my whole ass. So I decided to post it now for MerMay! I hope y’all like it! -Jazz

🌊 🐚🌊 🐚🌊 🐚🌊 🐚🌊 🐚🌊 🐚🌊

Another lonesome night among the ocean waves. ‘What a fucking curse indeed,’ you think to yourself, solemnly sighing.

You sit on a flat-surfaced rock, perfect for perching, connected to a series of rocks that lead up to a jagged, rocky mountainside where your cave lies. The soft waves, darkened by night and crystalized by the full, bright moon suspended in the sky, crash against the sandy shore leading into the deep, dark, cavernous cave you call your home.

What you wouldn’t give to have a real house with a real, fluffy bed and kitchen. For the past year, you’ve been eating nothing but fish, seaweed, and crabs, which are all good when cooked over a fire, but damn, you wouldn’t mind a bowl of steaming ramen or sashimi. Not to mention a hot shower.

All of which are not available when you’re a mermaid.

Or a mer-person. Whatever you’d like to call it. Either way, you have a fin instead of legs. It’s a quite beautiful fin–a gorgeous shade of turquoise with shimmering scales that look like diamonds in the sun and moonlight. You also have gills on the side of your ribcage, scales that run up and down your arms, and a seashell bra that you made yourself to hold your breasts up.

Otherwise, you’d just be topless. It has been your only attire for a year now.

You don’t even know what your legs look like anymore. Are they the same as they were a year ago? Could you even walk anymore? You’ve been swimming for so long that you’re not sure you’ll even know how to move your legs once this curse breaks…if it ever breaks.

You’ve been trying for so, so long. The only way to do so is to attract a mate from among the sea with your siren song and lure them to you where you’d proceed to persuade them to give you ultimate pleasure.

Or, bluntly speaking, in order to break the curse, you have to sing a song to attract a man and have him fuck you until you cum.

Then, and only then, will the curse be broken and you’d have your legs back. At least that was what the creepy sea witch told you when you went rummaging around in her shit. God, you wish you could turn back time and redo that entire night. That was the night your entire life changed for the worse.

A year ago, you weren’t a half-human half-fish. A year ago, you were a beautiful, strong, curious human woman who sailed across the Grand Blue in search of adventure. You had no family or friends, so why not just explore the world?

You had been sailing for only a couple months when you stumbled across a strange seaside cave. You had parked your boat near the mountainside before grabbing your sword and exploring the many trinkets and curious creatures of the deep inside the cave.

When you first stumbled across the treasure chest sitting on a lone rock there, you knew you shouldn’t have touched it. But temptation and curiosity got the best of you. So you took your sword and cracked it open by wiggling the blade’s tip around in the padlock.

The chest cracked open instantly, revealing various, glittering stones that could have definitely bought you a bigger boat and a sack of food. You snatched it up and prepared to leave with it…only for your legs to give out on you completely.

With a squeak, you tripped and fell onto the sandy ground, the chest falling with you and spilling all of its goodies. “Da fuck?” you whispered, confused. You looked back at your legs and feet, wondering what’s gotten into them, only to find that they have been replaced with a slippery, flopping tail fin. You screamed, your horror echoing throughout the cave.

“Be quiet, bitch!” a raspy voice ordered. Immediately, your lips stuck together like they were made of glue and no matter how hard you tried to move them apart, nothing worked. You still screamed but your voice was muffled. Quickly, you grabbed your sword from the sand and turned to look behind you at the owner of the disembodied voice.

A woman stood there, dressed in black rags that hung down to her cracked feet and blackened toenails. Her fingers were boney, long, and ringed, her skin an ashen gray color. Hair like seaweed hung in her face where you caught the glitter of many piercings and two coal-black eyes that pierced down at you from where you helplessly lay on the sand.

“Stupid girl,” she snarled, walking right by you with her skirts in her hands. “You should’ve known better than to have come here snooping about. Don’t you know that this is the sea witch’s turf?”

She kneeled down before you, stinking of dead fish and something rotten. You covered your nose at the stench, making her cackle. “Not impressed by me?” she asked, grinning at you with blackened teeth. “Well, I’m not impressed by you either. You’re just another stupid human coming to steal my shit.”

She began to pick up each of her stones, muttering to herself about how dumb mortals are and how they’re only driven by greed. You began to wiggle around, trying to make it to the cave’s exit, but your tail only provided you some movement. Other than that, you were completely stagnant.

Once the witch got her treasure chest together, she stared down at you as if she just realized you were there and were nothing more than a pestering fly. “Ah,” she cackled. “You’re probably wondering about the tail, hm?”

‘You think, bitch?’ you wanted to scream at her. Instead, you just glared daggers up at her and pointed your sword at her. She barely flinched.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “You can’t do anything to me, little girl. I could make that sword a snake or a fucking balloon animal if I wanted to.” She smirked down at you deviously. “But I think turning your legs into a useless tail suffices. That’s what you get for entering my domain.”

You began to scream at her through your closed lips, trying to talk. She rolled her black eyes at you and sighed, snapping her fingers. Your lips loosened and you could finally speak: “What the fuck did you do?!” you angrily hollered. “Give me back my legs now! How am I supposed to move around with this?” You pointed at the tail.

“Beats me,” the witch passively answered. “You should’ve thought about that before you came here. Now you’ll have no choice but to lay in the bed you made and embrace your curse.”

You froze at the last word, your stomach flipping. “Wait…did you say that I’m…cursed?” You practically whispered the last word. The witch just stared at you, her lips curled into a wicked smirk.

You began to beg, desperate to have your body back. “Please, miss,” you pleaded, tears springing into your eyes. “You have to turn me back. I’m sorry for coming into your home and trying to steal your shit, I swear! I-I was just exploring and–“

“Save it.” The witch put up a hand, silencing you. “There is nothing you can do to sway me now. This curse is to teach you to beware of places you shouldn’t go near.”

You stared down in horror at your tail, wondering how the fuck you got here. “What am I supposed to do now?” you sobbed. “You can’t just leave me like this! There has to be something I can do if you can’t!”

The witch’s smirk faded, her eyes steely. Finally, she sighed. “There is one thing,” she said and you listened intently, desperate to do anything to free yourself from this curse. “You must sing a song,” she explained, “but not just any song. This tune is designed to lure males across the waters to you, wherever you are.”

She then closed her eyes and began to sing the words in a cracked, broken voice:

“Where the river meets the sea, and the Grand Blue stretches,

I call to the night and hope my sweet voice beckons

The love of a man, strong, sweet, and true

In hopes that my yearning will meet and embrace you.

My loneliness calls and my need is taking toll

On my body, my mind, my heart, and my soul.

I wish for a love that will free me from my chains,

And help me find the light in the darkness again.”

“What happens after I’ve lured a man to me?” you carefully asked once her song ended.

You felt as if you just had gotten high and were hallucinating when the witch answered you: “When they come to you, they must take your body as it is and give you ultimate pleasure until you both reach the point of no return. Then, and only then, will the curse be broken and your legs will be given back to you.”

You blinked up at her, wondering if she was serious. “So you’re telling me that if I sing a song and I get a guy to fuck me, I’ll get my legs back?” you raged. “Are you fuckin’ for real right now?”

The witch smiled at you, ever the bitch. “You asked and I answered,” she said. “So if you want your legs back, I suggest you start warming up those vocal cords. Good luck, bitch.”

Then, in a cloud of smoke and the sound of a menacing cackle, she was gone along with her treasure chest, leaving you wiggling and squirming around in the dark with your new limb.

After crying out for the witch for over an hour, you finally took your sword, sheathed it, and dragged yourself to the mouth of the cave before plummeting into the ocean. You were shocked at how well you could breathe underwater as well as swim. Your tail adapted immediately which made it easier to explore the ocean floor. It didn’t take long for you to find the cave you now call your new home.

Since that fateful night, you’ve sat on the same rock and sang the same song. No ships yet. And certainly, no dick that could help lift this stupid curse.

But you won’t give up yet. So just like every dark night, you close your eyes and sing the siren song that the witch taught you all that time ago:

“Where the river meets the sea, and the Grand Blue stretches,

I call to the night and hope my sweet voice beckons

The love of a man, strong, sweet, and true

In hopes that my yearning will meet and embrace you.

My loneliness calls and my need is taking toll

On my body, my mind, my heart, and my soul.

I wish for a love that will free me from my chains,

And help me find the light in the darkness again.”

You stare out in the distance for the sight of a ship penetrating the fog among the ocean. Something. A sign of life. Nothing comes. No one is coming for you. After all this time, you’d think you’d understand that.

The tears that drip down your cheeks are fast and fat, plopping into the water that your fin dips in. You sob into your hands, anguish and anger overtaking you. You should’ve known to have never gone into that cave.

Now your entire life is destined to this: singing a stupid song in hopes that a man will come to you and cum in you. Maybe you had died that night in the witch’s cave and are in some watery version of Hell.

After drying your eyes, you slide down the rock and swim through the calm waters back to your cave filled with items from the human world that you’ve collected over time. They are all that reminded you of the life that is now foreign to you. You then drag yourself to a small bed of seaweed and close your eyes, letting the waves and quiet night lull you to sleep.

When you awaken, it isn’t that long later. Actually, you only have a fifteen-minute nap when you are suddenly awakened by voices. You shoot up from your seaweed bed and squint through the darkness of the furthest reaches of the cave. The parts you haven’t explored in the year you’ve been here. You have no idea what is back there, but nothing has bothered you in the time you’ve occupied this space…until now.

The voices grow from harsh whispers in the dark to loud, clear words that echo along the walls. You quickly reach for your sword and hide behind a nearby rock, listening intently on their conversation:

“Move quicker, Mosshead! Nami and Robin are waiting for me back on the ship and I refuse to make them wait any longer!” This voice is deep, undeniably male, and tinged with a slight accent. Maybe French?

The other voice belonging to another male says something under his breath that sounds like Japanese. “You already made ‘em dinner, you simp. They’re not worried about what you do. Now be quiet before I make you.” This voice is much deeper than the other one and raspy.

Though different, both voices are undeniably and incredibly attractive. Sexy, even. They make something stir in your tummy that you thought was long gone.

“Are you sure even this is the right cave?” the French-accented man asks. “Knowing your sense of direction, we could be walking right into the belly of the beast or something.”

“My sense of direction is just fine!” the deep-voiced man growls. The French man just chuckles. “And yes, it is the right cave. This is the exact place that ship got wrecked a couple months ago. You know, the one Snowbeard’s crew was on?”

Snowbeard. You haven’t heard that name in ages, not since he crashed into your cave anyway. You had just been chilling on a rock when his pirate chip ventured on you, blocking out the sun. The next thing you knew, you were fighting off his big, hulking self, his crew, and the nets they tried to use to capture you.

“Take her alive, boys!” the old, white-bearded pirate ordered, grinning greedily at you. “She’ll be worth more if I get her while she’s breathin’!”

You had fortunately escaped thanks to your quick swimming, but didn’t count on them following you. When you dove under the water near your cave, Snowbeard made a miscalculation and crashed into the side of your cave. No one died though––the captain and his crew had managed to retreat on inflatable boats as the old pirate screamed and proclaimed his revenge on you.

“Stupid bitch!” he angrily shouted, shaking his fists at the blue sky above. “I’ll get her. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll find that mermaid and take her myself, whether she’s alive or dead.”

That scared you half to death to say the least. Since then, you’ve been wary to come out in daylight and Snowbeard’s things have been left to sink to the bottom of the sea or rust in your cave.

“Sooo why are we in here again?” the French man asks. The sound of footsteps draws nearer, coaxing you farther behind the rock. “To look for some loot and take it back to the ship,” the deep-voiced man replies. “Well, for me, at least. You seem to be more interested in that stupid ass song you heard.”

“And that you heard too!” the French man yelps. "Don’t deny it! You wouldn’t be here with me if you didn’t.” You nearly stop breathing. Song? They heard your song? Could they possibly be here for…you?

The deep-voiced man clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and you picture him rolling his eyes. “Whatever. I’m more concerned about all that coin that was rumored to be somewhere in here from the shipwreck.”

You can hear him getting closer, the thud of boots unmistakeable. You clutched your sword tighter, angling it in a way that you’ll be able to thrust and stab if they come near you.

Your eyes flit to the cave wall, seeing their shadows flit in the moonlight. They’re getting closer. They’ll find you.

The French man hums indifferently to himself. “Didn’t that song sound…I don’t know…sad to you?” He asks. "And that voice…”

He pauses, sighing wistfully to himself. “It was so, so beautiful, yet so broken. It was filled with such yearning and need and oh, shit!” His adoring rambling is cut short when he happens upon your rock and gets nothing but a sword in his face.

You can now see that his face matches his attractive voice: a square jaw, plump lips, and a green eye that matches his cropped hair and the pants he wears on those thick thighs; pectorals that push against his cotton shirt where you can see a peek of his chiseled abs and tan skin; big, beefy arms and hands that clench at his sides where his swords are.

His partner is just as alluring. He is taller, skinnier, and shorter than the big, buff swordsman…and also more classier dressed. He wears a suit with slacks that cover his long legs and has blond hair that hangs slightly in front of his face, covering one of his grayish-blue eyes. He is just as handsome with a goatee and a cigarette hanging from between his kissable lips. One of his twirly eyebrows raises in surprise at the sight of you.

Meanwhile, the swordsman chooses violence immediately. “What the fuck?” he bellows, immediately reaching for his sword strapped to his hip, but the blonde French man stops him. “Wait, wait!” he shouts. “Don’t touch her!”

The green-haired swordsman glares at him confusedly. “And what? Let her get us with that big ass sword?”

You continue to clutch the sword out, prepared to fight if necessary despite your tail. “Get back,” you growl. “Both of you stay away from me!” You switch between both of them, baring your teeth as if that will make them beware you even more than the sword in their faces.

The blonde pushes the swordsman’s hand down and backs him away from you. “Okay, okay,” he soothingly says. “We’re staying away, not touching you or being threatening in any type of way. We’re sorry we startled you, miss. I-Is this your cave?” He looks around your home, admiring the trinkets.

“Yes,” you snap. “And you two need to leave now if you know what’s good for you.” The swordsman rolls his emerald eye at you. “Relax, lady,” he growls. “We’re just here to check out this cave for shipwreck stuff. We have no interest in you or your…is that a fucking tail?”

You realize they are both now gawking straight at your tail, their eyes trailing over its scales and the fin that flaps about. You squeak in fear, hiding it behind the rock.

“Why…you’re a mermaid!” the blonde gasps, his eyes turning into literal hearts. “What a beauty you have! But, of course, such a beautiful creature deserves one.” He gives you a dashing smile, putting on the charm. “What is your name, may I ask?”

You weigh your options for a moment, deciding whether or not to tell them your name or anything about you. But they don’t seem too threatening, even the swordsman despite his scowl. “Y/N,” you answer.

The blonde bows to you, comically so. “Lovely to meet you, Y/N. I’m Sanji Vinsmoke and this green-headed bitch behind me is–“

“Zoro,” the swordsman rasps. “Roronoa.”

Your ears perk in recognition at the sounds of their names. “From the Strawhats? Monkey D. Luffy’s crew?”

The duo share glances, Sanji looking happier than Zoro that you know who they are. “I know you. You’re part of the most notorious pirate crew in the world. I’ve heard of what you’ve done for others. You…help people.”

You say this last part to yourself as your head travels farther from your body, recounting all of the stories you’ve heard about the Strawhats. For the past several years, you’ve heard of their doings, helping others from across the sea. You’ve always been so impressed in them, admiring their work and their adventures. Now that you’re here meeting two members, you realize just what can be done to help you…hopefully.

“Well, we’ve traveled a bit and have helped a few enslaved villages,” Sanji chuckles, fixing his tie. He peers down at you, his brows knitted in concern. “Are you in need of some sort of assistance, sweet lady? How can we help?”

Zoro elbows him hard, glaring at him and his pain. “Are you nuts?” he growls. “We barely even know her!” Sanji recovers quickly and elbows Zoro back. “Exactly! So maybe this way, we can get to know her!”

Zoro grimaces at the blonde. “Why? So you can get your dick wet? You can’t even do that on the ship with Nami and Robin.”

Sanji’s face suddenly goes redder than a tomato and you nearly see steam coming out of his ears. “Why, you fucking–”

“The song,” you interrupt them. The duo stop their arguing and stare at you cluelessly. “You heard my song.” The realization clears the fog over their faces. Zoro blinks at you, his face in a permanent scowl. “Wait…that was you? You sang that?”

You slowly nod at him, your heart thundering in your chest. So both of them did hear it! That can only mean…

“I told you it was real, you bloke!” Sanji guffaws, slapping his knee. “You thought I was crazy, but–”

“You heard me,” you interrupt him. You’re breathless, feeling winded as the realization hits you: your help is here. Finally. “You came. Then that means…you’re here for me.” You stare up at your two attractive saviors. They can help you. They have the power to do so. Sanji and Zoro give you similarly confused scowls as if you just spoke gibberish.

“Please,” you beg. You put the sword down and reveal yourself to them from behind the rock. You show them your seashell bra, gills, and tail, watching awe register across their faces. “I need your help. I’ve been stuck with this fucking tail for a year now by this stupid witch and now I-”

“Wait, wait, slow down, darling,” Sanji says. “You need to slow down a bit so we can understand you.” His soothing voice coaxes you to stop and take a breath. “Okay,” you sigh, gathering your thoughts. “I’m sorry. It’s just been so long since I’ve spoken to anyone or told anyone about this.” Zoro quirks an interested eyebrow. “About what?” he probes.

And so, you tell them everything from the very beginning of that fateful, dreadful night. You watch them intently as you give them every detail, right down to the witch’s nasty ass toenails. Confusion, awe, and a twinge of fear register across their handsome faces until you finally finish.

Silence swells around you three for a moment, intensified by the cave. “So you’ve been cursed as a mermaid all this time and you sing that song in hopes that someone will come to free you?” Sanji asks.

You frantically nod, though you leave out one important part: that you have to be fucked in order to be freed. And since there are two males who were lured after your song, that means you’ll have to fuck both…which is fine with you. To be honest, they’re attractive enough that you’d probably enjoy it and you’re so horny that you’d fuck anyone at this point…well, maybe you’re reaching with that. You still have standards, curse or not.

“How do we know you’re not lying?” Zoro asks, giving you an accusatory squint with one eye. Sanji gives him a criticizing glare.

“Why would I lie about this, swordsman?” you scoff. “I’m miserable here! I can’t get back home and I’ve lost my entire life because of this!” You point at your tail that swishes around in irritation and impatience, almost like a cat’s tail.

Zoro purses his lips at you. “Which you got from your own choice, might I add.” You flush with anger. Why is he making this so hard for you? “Why should we help you?” he continues, squinting at you. “We don’t even know you.”

“And yet I could’ve killed you from entering my domain,” you shoot back. The swordsman opens his mouth to argue further, but nothing comes out. You’ve stumped him. Sanji sniggers, earning an elbow in the stomach.

“Listen,” you sigh. “I know this is strange, but I wouldn’t be asking you of this if I didn’t need this. And after we’re through, we can part ways like this night never happened.”

The pirates give each other a look, silently conversing with one another before turning back to you. “Well, how exactly do we free you?” Sanji asks.

Oh, right. You didn’t get to that part. “Um…well…” You nervously bite your lip, trying your best to make this sound as normal and less nasty as possible. “You’d have to…make love to me. Something about accepting my body as it is now to free me.”

As you suspected, both men stare at you like you’re unhinged. “I know this sounds insane and you have every reason to refuse, but I’m so desperate right now!” you practically sob. “I’ve been stuck in this body for so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be human.”

You press your hands together in a prayer, fat tears sticking to your lashes. “Please, help me. Please!” Sanji kneels before you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Shhh, darling,” he hushes you. “I’ll help you.”

Zoro is just as shocked as you are. “Are you serious?” He asks. The love chef looks over his shoulder at the swordsman, sticking his nose up at him. “Well, you’re not exactly making a move. Now leave so we can have some privacy.” He then turns his attention back to you, his eyes filled with lust and charm.

You once again nervously gnaw on your bottom lip, unaware that the act is getting to Sanji and Zoro. “W-Well…it’d have to be both of you since I lured both of you with my song.”

Sonja’s eyes widen and his cigarette falls out of his mouth. “Wait…him too?! Forreal?! He doesn’t even know what to do with a woman!”

Zoro glares at the love chef. “Oh, and you do?” he barks. “Most women run away from your pervin’ ass!”

“But…are you two up for it?” you ask, looking between both of the sexy strangers. The question seems to stump the two who stare at each other, coming to a decision. Finally, Zoro sighs and lowers his swords. “Only if he don’t get in my way,” he grumbles. “And only if you do whatever I say.”

Your heart leaps with joy though you also feel apprehensive. Having sex with strangers is by far the riskiest thing you’ve done in your chaotic life…but if it means getting rid of your curse then so be it. You’ll do anything to be human again!

The men are just as nervous as you are. Zoro clears his throat as he kneels, a blush on his tan cheeks. “So how do we start this?”

Sanji gives you a wobbly smile, an awkward chuckle leaving his lips. “Pardon my nerves,” he sheepishly says. “I’m afraid I can’t make love to a woman if I don’t really know her first.”

You understand and you have a solution. One of the perks of being a mermaid means you have ‘special powers’. “I can help,” you seductively whisper, your tone change shaking the pirates. “Just look at me.”

They do as you say and stare into your eyes. You lock your eyes with them, only needing a few seconds to peer into their minds and deep inside their souls. You take all of their anxiety, all of their stress, and all of their apprehension. You leave nothing but pleasure, calmness, and an undying need for you. The same need you have for them.

Instantly, the pirates are put at immediate ease, both of them sighing, their muscles loosening and their bodies relaxing. Sanji’s eyes flutter closed, his long lashes fanning his cheeks. “Fuck, that feels…nice,” he sighs. “I feel so calm.”

Zoro nods, his thick muscles and shoulders practically melting. “Mmm,” he hums in agreement. “And so…so…fuck, what did you do to us?” He scowls at you, though it is empty. All you can see is lust and need in his pretty, green eyes. All for you. Just the way you want.

“I just used some hypnotism to relax you and make it so your inhibitions won’t be so constrained,” you explain. To put it bluntly, you made them pitifully horny for you.

While Sanji looks surprised, Zoro is livid. “Hypnotism?!” he bellows. “You hypnotized us?! We didn’t…fuck…w-we didn’t ask you to…goddammit!”

He begins breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Your powers are working overtime on him. Sanji too! The man looks like he can’t wait to get his hands on you, whimpering quietly to himself.

You put a hand on Zoro’s arm, the slightest touch making him jump. You can feel his muscles pulsing under your fingertips, a testament to how needy he is. “Don’t fight it,” you gently tell him. “It will only make it worse.”

Your eyes flicker down to his lap, seeing a hard bulge already making its appearance. Sanji is just as worse off, his cock pressing against his pants. You lick your lips at the lewd sight of both of their dicks straining and throbbing for you. Soon, you’ll have them all to yourself.

You lean in towards Zoro, your eyes falling onto his plump lips. “Please,” you whisper in the small space between your lips. “Help me.”

Suddenly, Zoro stops fighting and gives in to his inhibitions. His green eye darkens, exciting you. “You want our help?” he mutters. “You’re gonna have to beg a little bit better than that.”

Sanji moves behind you, pressing himself against you so you feel the outline of his cock against your backside. “Listen to him, darling girl,” he teasingly whispers to you. “And since there’s two of us, you’ll have to listen to me too.”

His arms, less bulky than Zoro’s but sill sinewy with muscle, wrap around you. You quietly gasp, your body coming to life. His touch feels so good. So warm. You need more.

“Please,” you whimper. “Please save me. Free me. Just fuck me.” Zoro inhales, taken by your plea, while Sanji laughs in your ear. “So vulgar,” he tsks. “You should’ve said ‘make love’, darling.” His lips begin to lightly peck your neck and shoulders, his kisses warm and soft.

Zoro presses his calloused palm against your cheek, shivering at the way you press your face into his ouch. “Not for a needy thing like her. She needs something more.”

His thumb moves against your boom lip, playing with it. “Don’t you?” he questions. You desperately nod. “Then we’ll give it to you, but we’ll have to do everything we say, understand?” Again, you nod, pressing a kiss to his thumb.

“And tell us exactly how to please you,” Sanji adds. “I’m afraid I’ve never had the pleasure of making love to a mermaid before, and I’m sure Mosshead hasn’t either.” If looks could kill, Sanji would be dead right now from the way Zoro stares at him. “Can we start by kissing?” you nervously ask.

The pirate duo are happy to oblige. “Come here, gorgeous,” Sanji whispers, turning your face to meet him. But before he can lay one on you, Zoro beats him to the punch and moves his head in front of Sanji’s to lay his lips on yours. “Hey!” Sanji growls.

Zoro ignores him, kissing you passionately, the kiss growing more heated and rougher with every second. You both moan into the kiss, diving deeper and deeper into each other’s lips and the feelings it invokes. His kiss is rough and needy; nasty with the way he swirls his tongue with yours; playful with the way he nibbles on your bottom lip and allows you to do the same to his.

You wrap one arm around his neck, bringing him closer to you. His big hands begin to slide down your body, feeling your scales and gills against your fingertips. Sanji does the same, kissing down your scaly back. They don’t shy away or cringe from your imperfections and differences. They treat you like you’re the sexiest, most precious thing in the world to them.

“Turn around, darling,” Sanji whispers. “I want to taste you too.” You tear yourself away from Zoro, but keep one of your arms locked around his head. You do the same to Sanji, letting him put his head through the hole of your other arm to reach you.

He presses his lips to yours, moaning as soon as your mouths touch. His kiss is less rough and urgent than Zoro’s, but it is just as passionate. He takes his time getting to know your mouth, his tongue asking for permission to slip into your mouth by gently caressing your bottom lip. You part your lips, allowing him entrance, and busy yourself with the sloppy kiss while Zoro kisses your neck.

Their hands on you feel so good yet so agonizing, fire licking across your body. You need more. Anticipation flares inside of you, quickly boiling. You pull away from a panting Sanji, a string of saliva connecting to your bottom lips. “Take off your clothes,” you demand, your voice breathless and needy. “I need you both naked.”

The two men smirk at you, loving how eager you are. “Such a needy lady,” Sanji chuckles, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “You should probably join us though, darling. After all, we can’t be the only ones indecent.”

“How the fuck do you take this off?” Zoro growls, his thick fingers impatiently trying to get your seashell bra off. While Sanji barks that he’ll break it if he isn’t careful, you giggle and show Zoro how to take off your bra.

You let it fall, revealing your perfect breasts and hardened nipples to them. You relish the way they stare at you, eyes widen with lust and awe. “Fuck,” Zoro sighs, bringing his hands up to grasp your titties and give them a squeeze. “You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

“That’s something we can agree on,” Sanji murmurs, unconsciously rutting himself against your backside. “Apologies, darling, but I need to get these fucking pants off.” You smile at him, seductively so. “What’s stopping you?” You purr.

The two men hurry to strip themselves of their clothes, tossing off their shirts and pants, even their shoes and socks. You admire their bodies as they take off each article of clothing, your eyes hungrily drinking in their muscles and sun-tanned skin. When they are finally just in their undies, they wait for you to give them the green light on what to do next though their shafts throb with need.

“Stand up for me,” you softly demand. They scramble to do so, trying to beat each other to the punch. You coax them to lean against the rock behind them before you loop your fingers through the waistband of their briefs. They watch you, cheeks flushed, hearts thumping, their bottom lips caught between their teeth.

You only have to peel the waistbands of their undies down a few inches before both of their cocks are popping out from below. Your eyes widen in delight at their opposing sizes and lengths, already imagining how they’d feel in either of your holes. While Zoro is girthy, thick, and tanner with a beautiful pink head, Sanji is longer and skinnier but curves upward, protruding from a nest of blonde curls.

“Shit,” you moan, hungry for them, your pupils dilating at the impressive appendages. “You both are so pretty.”

Sanji blushes at the compliment while Zoro clucks his tongue indifferently. “A cock can’t be pretty,” he argues. All of that fight dissipates though when you wrap a hand around his shaft, slowly stroking it upward.

“But your cock is pretty, baby,” you protest. “So hard and beautiful…Both of yours are. Let me show you.” And so you begin to stroke both of them at the same time, getting used to how they feel in your hands, your thumbs caressing their heads every time you stroke up.

The pirates softly moan and purr encouragingly at the feeling of your slender, soft, warm hands pumping their cocks, their bodies melting against the rock. “Fuck,” Zoro moans, tossing his head back, exposing his thick neck and Adam’s Apple to you. “Put another spell on me, why don’t ya?”

You giggle, giving his shaft a tantalizing lick that makes him shiver. “Don’t tempt me, pretty boy,” you purr, the nickname damn near making the swordsman combust. His moans are deep and soft, bubbling up from his chest.

Sanji’s moans are louder and sluttier, his voice echoing throughout the cave and bouncing against the walls. “God, darling!” He groans. “Y-Your hand is so…s-so…fuck!”

Zoro laughs at his partner despite his body shivering and trembling at your touch. “Damn, Sanji, it’s only her hand,” he cackles. “Can’t handle it, huh?” The love chef glares at him, sweat glistening on his forehead. “F-Fuck you,” he stammers.

“Uh-uh, baby,” you gently critique. “You should be fucking me.” Keeping your eyes locked with his, you wrap your juicy, soft lips around his throbbing, long cock, finally taking him into your mouth.

Sanji’s eyes grow wide at the sight, barely able to handle it. “Oh, fuck yes,” he groans, his hand moving to your head. “God, mon chere, you’re so good to me. How is it you’re this good?”

You have no clue being that it’s been a year since you sucked dick. But the act comes so naturally to you. You bob your head up and down his length, gathering spit to help you suck on his cock better. Saliva drips down your chin as you gag all over his cock, pumping him in and out of your mouth.

Sanji watches you from behind the slits of his eyes, his hips struggling to keep still. Noticing, you pop off of his cock for a moment with a gasp, inhaling. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “Fuck my mouth, baby. Take what you need.”

Those words are enough for Sanji to finally break. Once you slide back onto his cock, he grips your hair with enough strength to keep you there but not enough to make you feel trapped. He then begins rolling his slender hips into your mouth, his balls touching your chin as you gag and slobber on his dick. “O-Oh, my God,” he moans. “Mon chere, your mouth is so perfect.”

Zoro watches his partner fuck you, in awe at how good you take that long dick down your greedy throat. His own cock pulses and throbs in your hand, his hips unconsciously fucking your palm, imagining it to be your pretty face. He finally can’t take the waiting anymore and wraps a hand around his cock. “Ain’t I here too?” He huffs. “C’mon, babe, I need your mouth too.”

You smile despite Sanji’s cock in your mouth, gently tapping the love chef’s hip. He gets the message and slides out of your mouth, his cock now shining and dripping in your spit. “I thought you’d never ask,” you breathlessly reply and envelope him into your mouth finally.

Zoro’s cock is thicker so it stretches your mouth out in a way Sanji’s didn’t. You can feel it as it plunges down your throat, insisting that you take it deeper. Unlike Sanji, Zoro doesn’t wait for you to tell him to fuck your throat. He does it anyway, gripping your hair to give him leverage as he pumps his hips back and forth, sliding his cock against your tongue and hollowed cheeks.

“Goddamn!” Zoro hisses, watching the way his dick disappears and reappears between your plump lips, saliva bubbling at the corner of your mouth as your throat expands around his shaft. “The love chef is right about one thing: your mouth is perfect, baby.”

“I told you,” Sanji hums, lovingly running his fingers through your hair while he slowly fucks your hand that is now sodden wet from your saliva and his dripping pre-cum. “She’s a wonder of the Grand Blue.”

Zoro grunts in agreement, a loud moan leaving his body as your free hand massages his heavy balls. “Oh, you’re a slut,” he breathlessly chuckles. “You can’t help but want all of me.”

“And me!” Sanji whines, quickly becoming more turned on at the sight of the swordsman using your throat like it’s a toy. “God, Zoro, relax. She’s a woman, not a pocket pussy!”

Zoro glares at him, pissed that he is ruining his fun and his concentration. “Tell her that; not me. She’s enjoying this shit.” And you are. Your ‘pussy’ is throbbing from having both dicks all to yourself plus the luxury of having two sexy men fight over you.

Speaking of fighting, Zoro is currently at war with the urge to cum. “God, baby, you’re too good at this,” he groans. “You’re gonna make me cum soon.”

“No, no!” Sanji shouts, prying the swordsman’s hand off of your head so you can retract yourself from his cock. “You can’t cum in her mouth. It has to be inside of her to free her, remember?”

“I know that!” Zoro barks, still laying a hand on your head. “I was only tellin’ her to warn her.”

“Then you’d better switch with me and let me fuck her mouth a little more,” Sanji argues. “You’ve been too greedy. Don’t forget, I’m here too, Mosshead.” Zoro rolls his eyes, not looking too happy at sharing. “Fine, but don’t take so long.”

So the two share you, passing you around like a hot potato, fucking your mouth like it’s no one’s business. They shower you with praise and encouragement, telling you to take them deeper, calling you a “good girl”. Their words make you wetter, your slit throbbing impatiently. You want to get filled the same way your throat is.

“You’re doing so well, taking us at the same time like this, darling,” Sanji lovingly says. “What can we do to repay you for your kindness, hm?” Zoro seems to want to know too because he slips his cock out of your mouth so you can answer, but still ruts himself against your hand.

You don’t hesitate telling them what you need: “I want you to taste me,” you imploringly answer. “I want you to touch me.” The two smile at your neediness, their hands caressing your face and hair.

“Tell us how,” Zoro says. Though it sounds like a demand, you can tell that he is just as eager to please you as Sanji is judging by how quickly he gets on his knees to reach you better. “I’ve never been with a mermaid before.”

You smirk at him, causing him to blush. “Oh, really?” You ask. “I’d expect such a renowned swordsman to have been with plenty of women.” Sanji chuckles, earning a hot glare from the swordsman. “I’m just teasing you,” you giggle, pressing an apologetic kiss to his lips. “I’ll show you both how to touch me.”

Sanji kneels down with Zoro, both of them paying close attention to your anatomy. You lay back against a bed of seaweed and run your fingers over your throbbing slit several inches below your belly button. “Here,” you breathlessly say. “Right here.”

The two stare at it, realizing that it has its own puffy lips that are glistening in your wetness. Sanji, salivating at the sight, struggles to speak. “Is this your…y-your—“

“Pussy,” you finish, giggling at his stutter. “It’s just a slit, but it’s just as sensitive as one. My tail too.” You flap your tail around, pointing at your fins.

“You like bein’ touched here?” Zoro curiously asks. You nod. “On my fin and my scales. Just light stroke them with your fingertips. I’m very sensitive there.”

‘Please touch me there,’ you beg in your head. ‘Touch me anywhere.’ Your body burns like a flame, desperate to be touched, felt, and held. You are touch-starved and the way these men move their hands is making your appetite worse.

While Sanji stays at your side, Zoro moves down to your tail, gently placing it in his lap. “Like…this?” He probes, gently running his fingers down your scales. Your back arches and a whimper leaves your lips, his fingertips leaving a trail of pleasurable sparks in their wake. Zoro smirks at your reaction.

“Oh, she’s a sensitive one,” Sanji coos. “We’ll be careful with you, darling girl. Just relax.”

Then, gently and slowly, the French man begins sucking and licking up, down, and around your slit, exploring your wet folds. A loud moan that bounces off of the cave walls explodes from your body, finally unlocked from the treasure chest within you. “Hey!” Zoro barks. “Why do you get to go first?”

Sanji, pissed at being interrupted, turns to glare at his partner over his shoulder. “You’re down there with her tail, aren’t you?” He scoffs. “Shut up and keep stroking. If you don’t, I’ll take your spot there too.”

He then goes back to making out with your ‘pussy’, giving you gentle strokes with his tongue. You gently place your hands on his face and aim his face downward, his nose rubbing up against your clit.

The love chef hums and moans in pleasure just as you do, loving your taste and how wet you are. Even better are the sounds you make: desperate and beautiful moans, whimpers, and gasps drawn out of your body that echo in the empty sea cave with no one to witness but the two men currently pleasuring you.

Zoro moves his calloused fingers down to your tail fins, gently stroking up and down with his thumb and forefinger. His other one plays with your scales, his fingers tracing them like one would guitar strings. You can only describe the feeling as having a thousand tiny clits that are repeatedly stimulated. It’s a glorious, wonderful feeling.

“Oh, sh-shit!” You gasp, sensitive from such stimulation. “That feels s-so fucking good!”

Zoro picks his head up to intently look at you, a proud smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah?” He teasingly asks, his green eye piercing into yours. “I bet I’m makin’ you feel so good, aren’t I, baby?” He leans down to begin kissing down your scales, his tongue poking between his lips to gently slide down your tail. You damn near cum right there.

Sanji is still becoming acquainted with your slit, his tongue swirling about between your lips and against them while his nose swipes against the hood of your clit. He ticks his hooded eyes up to meet yours, hearts practically floating in them as he stares at your pretty tits and parted mouth as you moan. “And me too?” He asks, desperate to hear you say it. “Am I making you feel good too, darling?”

He does some kind of trick with his tongue that touches some spot inside of you that nearly makes you cum right there all over his face. ”Yes!” You whine. “Yes, yes, right here!”

Your hands grab his blonde hair, fingering his locks and keeping him locked against your cunt. He hungrily eats at you, his hands moving underneath you to hold your ass. When he pulls away, his mouth is sodden wet from you and he eagerly licks at his lips. “You’re so wet here, mon chere,” he gasps, his finger lightly toying with your pussy lips. “I could just slide my finger in.”

You flush at the idea, having already thought about it. “Um…you can,” you shyly say. “But can you both share?”

Zoro and Sanji look at each other, surprisingly not put off with the idea. Zoro quirks an eyebrow at you and you feel his hard cock nudge at your tail. “You want us to eat you out at the same time?” He asks. Sanji tuts, moving over to make room for the swordsman. “So desperate for us.”

And they give you exactly what you want. They take turns eating and slurping your wet pussy slit, licking and sucking your clit while the other fingers your slit, hooking either one or two upwards to stroke your G-spot. Sanji’s fingers are slender and long, perfect for piano, while Zoro’s are thick and fill you up.

They each offer copious amounts of saliva, spitting on your pussy even when the other has their fingers in you. But neither seem to care, too focused on making you lose your everloving mind.

And you are. Broken moans and high-pitched whines leave your lips, your hands gripping their hair and any part of their bodies for dear life. “Oh, my God,” you moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “You’re both so good at this!”

Sanji’s mouth leaves your clit to leave kisses on your breasts instead, his hands groping what his mouth isn’t stimulating. You go to rub your clit, but Zoro firmly places your hand on your stomach. His eyes are fierce and stern, exciting you. “Uh-uh,” he firmly says. “Don’t touch her. She’s ours right now.”

‘She’s ours’. Your pussy is theirs. You feel yourself shiver, enjoying the idea of you being theirs.

Sanji presses a kiss to your panting lips, sucking gently on your tongue. “Put us where you want, darling girl,” he implores. “Show us what you need.” And when he goes back down to join his partner in feasting on your cunt, you push his head down onto your slit while Zoro finger fucks you.

The two don’t switch this time, probably because your moans have grown louder, signaling your end nearing. You can feel it the more Zoro’s thick digits curl up to fuck you, emitting lewd, wet sounds as they swirl in your wet slit. You can feel it the more Sanji makes love to your clit, swirling his tongue around and around. That knot in your core tightens with each second, threatening to snap.

“Oooh, fuck!” you croon. “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum! I’m gonna…gonna…!”

You can feel it. Just something more. A little more to give you that push. The swordsman is that push, his rough, velvety voice reaching your eardrums to encourage you to finally let go.

“Cum, baby,” Zoro moans. “Give it to us. We’ve got you.” Sanji hums in agreement into your slit, his tongue moving in perfect time with Zoro’s thrusting fingers.

Finally, you break and with a loud, ear-shattering moan, you cum all over them. Their mouths, their fingers, and their chests become covered in your cum…or squirt when you finally realize that you’re squirting. You didn’t even know mermaids could squirt!

Zoro shoves Sanji out of the way to get himself a taste, but Sanji is too busy laughing with joy at your loud orgasm to get mad. “My, what a voice!” He laughs. “Such lungs on you, mon chere. I suppose you needed that?”

You slowly nod, coming down from your high. “That was amazing,” you sigh. “Thank you.”

You stare at both of them with such gratitude that Zoro blushes despite having just swallowed your squirt. He awkwardly wipes his mouth with his hand, his cheeks red. “Of course,” he says, clearing his throat. “So, uh…do you still want to—“

“Yes,” you giggle, sitting up and staring into their eyes. “Yes, I do. I don’t care who goes first; just as long as you’re both in me.”

Your libido is still high as is your need. You want both of them on you, in you, now. At this point it’s less about the curse and more about wanting to be filled and fucked by these two sexy idiots.

The two stare at each other, silently trying to come to an agreement. “I go first,” they say in unison then immediately become irked. “Why you?” They ask each other, quickly growing angrier at the fact that they share the same brain.

“Because you had her mouth first,” Zoro snaps. “Ya didn’t even ask me if I wanted first dibs!” Sanji opens his mouth to retort but then stops, pausing to think it over. “He does have a point,” you mutter.

“Yes, but…you’re too big!” Sanji argues, motioning to Zoro’s big body. “You might crush her or be too rough! You can’t just fuck her like you did her mouth. You need to take your time to get to know her body.” The two begin to go back and forth like two kids, tossing in immature insults and stupid nicknames.

As hilarious as the scene is, you can feel your slit throbbing impatiently and your need quickly growing to new heights. “Boys,” you firmly say, grabbing their attention. “Instead of fighting, why don’t you both just fuck me together?”

The duo blink at you, confused. “How?” Sanji asks, perplexed. “You mean…one gets your pussy and the other gets your…oh.” When he realized where that other dick is going, his cheeks grow hot. “What?”

Zoro snaps. “What does she mean?”

Sanji sighs and whispers to him, making the swordsman turn as red as a tomato. “Um…are you okay with this?” The blonde nervously asks.

You’ve never been more okay with something in your life, you realize. You know in your heart of hearts that these two will take care of you, casual sex or not. “I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t, pretty boy,” you giggle. “Are you okay with it?”

You look between the two, searching their faces for apprehension or any signs of second guessing. Despite their obvious nervousness, Zoro shakes his head, a determined scowl on his face. “Well…I suppose it is fair,” Sanji mutters. “We’ve shared her since the beginning, so why not continue?”

He turns to Zoro, puffing out his chest. “I-I’ll take the back if you want the front. Just as long as you don’t hurt her and you’re not too rough!” The swordsman rolls his emerald eyes, shoving the blonde out of the way. “Oh, shut up,” he huffs.

You suddenly find yourself being scooped up bridal style by Zoro, your tail flapping happily at the sweet act. You giggle and wrap your arms around his thick neck, leaning your head into his chest. He leans against a rock, keeping you against him, while Sanji stands behind you, his cock bobbing against your ass. Feeling yourself be sandwiched between both of them, your hands running over their muscles and abs, is enough to make you reach climax.

You keep your arms locked around Zoro’s neck, his face just inches from yours. “Is this okay?” He asks in your ear.

You nod, staring into his eye which reminds you of a vast, lush forest. It softens, flickering down to your lips. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “I promise I’ll make you feel so good.”

Hearing such a sweet promise coming from the rugged pirate invokes something with you that feels like butterflies. You smile and softly peck his lips. “I’ll hold you to it, swordsman,” you whisper against his lips.

Zoro smiles and gives you another chaste kiss before moving between your bodies to rub your clit. Once you begin to moan is when he slowly slides his cock against your sodden wet slit…and then the tip slips in. You both gasp at the contact, sharing pants and heated breaths. You begin to roll your hips against his, slowly taking him inch by inch inside of you.

“That’s it, mama,” he coos. “Nice an’ slow…nice a-and…fuck!” He squeezes his eyes shut, his pretty face screwed up at the pleasure your silky, spongy, wet walls bring him.

You’re feeling it too—his girthy cock makes him a lot thicker which causes your walls to stretch around him. It becomes easier the more he moves, wetness secreting from the both of you to act as lube.

“Look down, baby,” he whispers. Look at that pussy takin’ me.” You do and you see what has him so pent up: the way his thick cock plunges in and out of your slit is so lewd yet so sexy. The first cock you’ve taken in a year!

“Wow,” you say in astonishment. Sanji watches too, unconsciously rutting his cock against your backside.

“Keep going,” you plea, gripping the swordsman’s shoulders. “Fuck me, Zoro. Please.” He doesn’t need to be told twice. Immediately, he grabs your hips and proceeds to fuck you, practically bouncing you up and down his cock, invoking broken moans and gasps from your pretty lips.

Zoro watches your face change expressions, his lips sexily pressed together at the immense pleasure he feels whenever your tight, wet hole throbs and squeezes around him. He quickly loses control, letting go for you. “Oh, God,” he moans. “Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good!”

He does too. The pleasure is blinding, wiping your mind blank. Almost enough to forget about the love chef. “Sorry to interrupt,” Sanji chuckles. “But you’ve got another cock to take care of, darling…after I prep you a bit back here.”

He presses his index finger to your lips, coaxing you to suck on it. You hungrily do so, stimulated by Zoro’s cock as he slowly fucks you, pistoning himself into you.

You then feel Sanji’s finger gently pry your cheeks apart and probe your asshole. You gasp into Zoro’s mouth as you feel the French man’s digit lightly trace your asshole, keeping his touch gentle and soft. “Good girl,” he whispers. “Does it feel good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you exhale, struggling to even speak from the pleasure. Though it’s a foreign feeling, it makes the pleasure of Zoro’s thrusts feel even better. Then, slowly, Sanji sinks his finger into your asshole, emitting a moan from you. “That okay?” He asks. “Not too much?”

“N-No!” You whimper. “Fuck, it feels so good!” Your body turns into mesh, your head lulling onto Zoro’s shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut. It’s all too much to take. Zoro tightens his grip on you, still pistoning into you. “Such a big girl takin’ us both like this.” He presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “Jesus Christ, Sanji, are you done yet?”

He glares at the blonde who has yet to slip his dick inside of you yet. “Hold on!” He barks. “I need to make sure she’ll be okay to take me!” But you know you are. Your asshole is as open and stretched as it’s going to be. Plus, your want is increasing and so is your need. You need, yearn, to be filled.

“Sanji, please,” you moan. “I need you.” You reach your arm back for him, hooking it around his neck to pull him flush against you. He holds your ass and massages it as you push back against him, rubbing his cock between your asscheeks. The act is so slutty and so unlike you, but you can’t help you. You need him too.

The blonde wraps one around his cock and brings it to your asshole, gently pushing his hips toward you. A gasp leaves his hips as soon as that tight muscle squeezes around him. You push back, taking more of him in you while Zoro pauses, letting you get used to both of them.

It’s a weird, strange feeling to be filled at both ends…but it also feels amazing. You can feel them touching every sensitive part of you that makes you see the entire galaxy behind your eyelids.

“Easy now, darling,” Sanji pants. “Take your time. Just meet me halfway.” You continue to do so, pushing back while he pulls forward. You toss your ass back into him, taking him deeper and deeper with every inch, forcing slutty moans and whimpers out of Sanji’s mouth. “Fuck,” he moans. “Fuck, mon chere, you’re so tight here!”

Zoro smirks at the blonde over your shoulder. “Can’t handle it, Vinsmoke?” He sniggers. “Is that ass too tight?” Even though he’s the main one struggling not to move, his entire body trembling against you.

Sanji scowls at him. “Don’t be so vulgar,” he growls, but you can feel him throb inside of you. “Just shut up and fuck her.”

Shockingly, Zoro listens and the two begin to slowly move at the same time, falling into a rhythm that has you moaning and calling to God, your sounds bouncing off of the cave walls.

They both push in and pull back at the same time, each of them filling your holes which pushes you toward your second orgasm with every push and pull. Zoro presses his lips against your ear, his hips slamming into yours. “Thatta girl,” he praises. “Take those fuckin’ cocks. Such a good little slut, y’know that?”

You wordlessly whine at his degrading words, shuddering helplessly between them. The swordsman grips you to him, rubbing his pelvis up against yours. “Come the fuck here,” he growls. “You hear me talkin’ to you?”

“Y-Yes!” You whine. “I-I’m sorry! Fuck, Zoro, yes, right there!” Your rosebud sings with pleasure as Zoro continues to rub against it, your entire body coming to life from what you’re feeling.

Sanji caresses your face, turning you to face him. “You have the most beautiful voice, mon chere,” he lovingly sighs. “I want to hear more of it. Will you sing more for us?”

As if persuading you, he rolls his hips in a way that makes both of you moan. “Do it,” you plead. “Fuck me.”

They do just that, taking you on the ride of your life, fucking you into oblivion. And their dicks aren’t the only things responsible. Every time their lips touch some part of your body—your neck, shoulders, lips, breasts—, every time their hands grope you, every time you grip or stroke their hard muscles and warm skin, you can feel that knot in your core begin to tighten as much as your wet slit and asshole do around their cocks.

At some point, their thrusts become faster and harder, keeping you squeezed between them and holding you up for better access to do as they want to you. They fuck you like there is no tomorrow, letting out loud moans and grunts that make you wetter, causing their cocks to become even slipprier so it’s easier to slide in and out of you. You can’t believe how good you feel, let alone how long it took for this to happen.

Zoro gives you an open-mouthed kiss, playfully nibbling on your bottom lip. “This enough for you, mama?” He whispers. “Are these dicks good enough for you?” Your tongue is too heavy to speak, the pleasure stealing your voice from you. “Aw, the poor baby can’t even speak,” he laughs.

Sanji is just as fucked up though, his hips moving on their own as he grips you to him. “Fuck, I’m close!” he moans. “I can’t wait to fill you up, darling. I’m gonna make you all mine.”

Zoro scowls at him questionably. “Yours?” He huffs. “What about me? You think your load is gonna be bigger than mine?”

The French man raises an eyebrow, smirking challengingly at him. “Let’s find out. We’ll see who can make her cum the quickest and fill her up the most.”

Always up for a challenge, Zoro gives him a smile. “You’re on.” He then locks his arms around you, keeping you dangling off of the floor. “Hold on tight to me, mama. This ride is gonna get bumpy.”

You tighten your arms around him, anchoring yourself to him while Sanji locks his arms around you. “Let us know if it’s too much, okay?” He whispers.

You nod, leaning your head back against his shoulder. You give yourself to them and they give their all to you, pounding your pretty pussy and even prettier asshole until you’re sobbing, fat tears glistening on your lash lines. Your tail fin curls in ecstasy the way your toes would and your hands move to grip your men’s hair, overcome with pleasure.

“O-Oh, fuck!” You sob. “Yes, yes, yes, just like that! I-I’m gonna cum!” You can feel it building with every passing second; with every drop of wetness that dribbles down your inner thighs and coats your slits. “Me too,” Zoro huffs. “You’re just too goddamn tight, baby.”

Sanji only gives you a wordless, slutty moan, unable to speak. But he doesn’t have to. You can feel both of their cocks throbbing and swelling inside of you, their thrusts becoming more urgent and much harder than before.

Tapping into your powers once more, you look both of them in the eye, keeping them close, wanting to be one. “Cum with me,” you demand. “Both of you cum with me now. Fill me up.”

After a few more sloppy, stuttering thrusts, the pirates give you what you want. They cum inside of you up at the same time, filling you up to the brim with two cream pies that knock the air out of you. Their slutty, loud moans and grunts trigger your own orgasm. With a shiver and an earth-shattering scream that nearly shatters the pirates’ eardrums, you finally combust and cum all over Zoro’s cock while your asshole clenches around Sanji’s.

You feel like you’re soaring for just a few short, blissful seconds, flying through the highest clouds and taking the pirates with you. They keep you lifted up and against them as you shudder and writhe in pleasure, riding out the hardest orgasm you’ve had in a year.

It makes you dizzy and your head goes completely blank. It takes every single ounce of energy out of you, so much so that you go limp when it fades. You lean your head against Zoro’s chest, suddenly exhausted.

At some point during your mind-blowing orgasm, you pass out. You don’t remember much about what happened after you had your second nut. But when you awaken, it is dawn and you find yourself still sandwiched between a sleeping, naked Zoro and Sanji. The swordsman has his muscular, scarred back to you while the love chef is pushed against your back, acting as the big spoon.

The morning sun peeks through the cave, turning the soft waves that crash against the shore a beautiful hue of gold. The sunlight illuminates off of your naked bodies, acting as a physical representation for afterglow: your arms, your faces, your legs…

Legs?

To your utter shock and joy, you look down to see that you no longer have a fish tail but your legs. Your beautiful, gorgeous, human legs. You sit up between the pirates and wiggle your toes just to see if you can do it. Your little piggies listen to your order, your toe bones wiggling about.

“Oh, my God!” You shout, unable to keep your happiness at bay.

Your shout alarms the pirates and they quickly awaken. Zoro immediately grabs a sword while Sanji panickingly looks around for danger, his blonde hair a sex-ruined mess. “What, what?!” He gasps. “What is it?!��

You take a moment to gather your words as tears begin to push past the dam of your eyes. “My legs!” You sob. You show the duo your legs, happily moving them around. “You broke the curse! It worked!”

Zoro gapes down at your legs, even gently stroking your skin from your thigh to your knee. Sanji breaks out into an astonished smile, his gray blue eyes wide with wonder. “My God,” he whispers. “It was real.” You nod, unable to keep yourself from sobbing with joy. You can’t believe it worked!

The swordsman looks pleased that everything worked out for you. “I guess our work here is done,” he says. “We should be leaving now.” To your confusion and shock, the two leave you sitting there and begin to get dressed. “Wait, you’re leaving?” You ask. “Right now?”

Zoro stares at you as if it should be obvious while he puts on his pants. “Well, yeah,” he says. “I mean, we gave you what you wanted, right? We’re not needed anymore.” He shrugs on his boots with the quickness, still having not put on his shirt. “But it was…really nice.” He clears his throat, awkwardly looking away from your naked form.

Sanji is quicker putting on his clothes, staring at you somberly. “Better than nice, mon chere,” he sighs. “You were amazing. But our time here has come to pass. Our captain will be looking for us, so we should—“

“Don’t go!” you blurt, grabbing Sanji’s hand. The love chef looks taken aback at this. Zoro is too, looking at you with a startled expression. You’re just as taken aback at yourself and the sudden desperation you feel watching them go. Why do you feel this way? After all, you did tell them you could depart after you got your legs back.

And while you are happy to have your beautiful, human limbs back, you’re not happy to see the pirates go. They made you feel safer than you’ve felt your whole life. They accepted you, helped you at your darkest hour, fucked you stupid, and came inside of you without even knowing you. All to help you! How can you give them up?

You flush embarrassingly and release Sanji’s hand, instead using your arms to hug yourself, covering your naked breasts. “I-I mean…you don’t have to leave so soon. I really enjoyed your company, regardless of the sex.” You look at each other from under your lashes, bashful but honest. “I wouldn’t mind y’all stickin’ around for a bit.”

Zoro and Sanji stare at you in shock, obviously not expecting this proposal from you. Then their gazes soften, filling you with butterflies that nervously flap and flutter about. Before any one of them can respond, a sheer, loud scream coming from deep within the cave stops you:

“Zoro!” Luffy calls. “Sanji, are you in here?!”

Immediately, you crawl behind a rock, frightened. “We’re coming!” Sanji shouts. “Luffy, don’t move!” You hear other voices too, unfamiliar and scary to you. You haven’t been around other help in a year.

Zoro walks toward you and kneels with you behind the rock, his eye sparkling with mischief and gentleness. “I wouldn’t mind that either if you don’t mind our crew.”

He hands you over his shirt, holding it out for you. “But I will warn you: they’re annoying and unhinged, but you won’t find better people than them.” He gives you a crooked smile that makes you trust his words.

“You want me to join your crew?” You ask in disbelief. The swordsman passively shrugs, ever the emotionally constipated one. “If you want,” he bashfully asks. “I think Luffy will like you. He likes everybody…mostly.”

Sanji chuckles, kneeling beside you. “What do you say, darling?” He asks, a sparkle in his eyes. “You up for some more adventure?”

You take a moment to stare into the men’s eyes, seeing nothing but a generous nature that soothes your fears and leaves you feeling giddy, happy, and safe.

“Hell yes,” you giggle. You take Zoro’s shirt and put it on, feeling like you’re wearing a dress with how big it is on you. You then wrap your arms around both men’s necks and bring them in for a soft, thankful kiss. “Lead the way, boys,” you purr.

Joyfully, Zoro scoops you up into his arms while Sanji fusses about not being able to hold you, much to your humor, as you’re carried away to meet your new crew. Suddenly, the fog that the witch’s curse created is gone, leaving your present and your future looking brighter than ever.

And all because of that stupid ass song.

THE END.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #black coded reader #my fic shit #my one shots #one piece smut #sanji x black reader #zoro x reader #zoro x black reader #poly smut #poly love #mermay 2024 #black writers #sanji vinsmoke #roronoa zoro

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randomlywanderingmoth · 2 days

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Tam Lin Bedivere: Interactions

Common Master: Ah. How did this one summon me in the first place? This is Pan-Human History, there should be no catalysts that exist to draw me out... sheer compatibility perhaps? "Whatever troubles you, worry not. I am here for whatever you may need. Do not hesitate to call on me."

(Generally, toward her Master, Tam Lin Bedivere will be professional, supportive, and protective. The mask of stoicism she maintains rarely ever slips- only in truly unguarded moments does the Fairy Knight of Autumn drop her facade, and only then does the innocently impish girl come out. In those moments, one could be forgiven for mistaking her for the Last Master of Humanity- or for those lacking context, a seemingly normal girl.)

Fujimaru Ritsuka (pre Ordeal Call): "... Ah. Of course it would be like this. If I may air my sole criticism, you really ought be more aware of yourself." That's advice you'll probably never take, I think. As long as you're on this hellish track, you will never take the chance to introspect. Is that a curse, or a blessing? Even I couldn't say.

Kadoc Zemlupus: "Sup nerd... huh. That was a reflex- did I know you once? I don't recognize you from Fae Britain..." For some strange reason, something about him annoys me... I can't place it. Well, as long as he is my Master and I am his Servant, we have a job to do.

Mash Kyrielight: ... it's her. It's her. It's that girl I almost can't remember quite right. The Tam Lin of Chaldea. I don't understand- I don't understand- why does seeing her make my chest hurt? I can't... I can't speak to her like this.

(Generally, her memories of Chaldea's humans is mostly dulled, by sheer passage of time. Her criticism of The Last Master of Humanity is more a criticism of her past self, when she failed to prevent the Savior Aesc's tragedy, and nearly died in the process. This girl who looks too much like her, and acts too much like she once did, provokes such a reaction.)

Artoria Caster: "Ah- I'm surprised to see you here. It's odd, I didn't think- eh? Ah. You're a Servant now. I see. Here that other me survived, and you were the one who died. We never spited fate in this timeline. Well... if you are as capable as you were, I look forward to being in your care."

Melusine: "Ah, it's Melusine. You seem well. How about it, want to go and enjoy the breeze at high altitudes? ... eh? How do I know you? Well... we were friends, in another time." Well, at least she's doing well enough... although... is she drinking soy sauce?

Barghest: "Barghest! Hey, I- one moment-" gotta get a bit of height on her so she doesn't hurt her neck- "right, there we go. So, how's Chaldea been treating you? Hmm? Oh- just think of me like a coworker." And rival among Her Majesty's knights, but you don't need to hear that.

Baoban Sith: Oh good, she's here too. Well, I suppose I don't have to be her minder, so at least there's that. "Baoban Sith. I do hope the lack of fae here agrees with you. Ah- no, I'm not that Master. Hmm? Shoe shopping, what?" Oh no, please don't say that the other me is also her minder...

(The disadvantage of being from fully an alternate timeline is that nobody knows you in this one. Generally, Tam Lin Bedivere has been made aware that in this timeline, she did not exist. By and large, most Servants would recognize Tam Lin Bedivere not to be Fujimaru Ritsuka rather quickly; Baoban Sith simply feigned ignorance for her own amusement.)

Morgan: "I'm here, Your Majesty. Hmm? No, there's no mission, I simply wished to enjoy your company... thank you, Your Majesty." The look in her eyes... she doesn't know me, and yet she tolerates my presence. Our Master comes first, but she comes immediately after. Even in this life, even if you don't recall me, I remain ever loyal.

Habetrot: "Eh- Totorot? ... ah, my apologies, Habetrot. You looked like someone I knew. Hey, do you do commission? I can give you my measurements if you need." That grin, the way you hold a needle... even if it isn't the you I knew... it's still you, isn't it. Totorot, my friend...

Oberon: "... you know I know it's you, right? Don't be coy, not with me, I won't be patient with your antics."

Vortigern: "And behold, the King of Curses. You get one chance, if you betray our Master's trust... what's with that look, huh? Are you already up to something?" Even if this man is no longer driven by a need to destroy Faerie Britain, he's still a terrible imp of a man who is always looking to cause trouble for his own entertainment.

Merlin: "Oh, goodie. Merlin. If we're not about to go on a mission, I have dust motes to categorize." I don't strictly hate him, I just can't stand being around him. I can never tell if his smile is genuine or not, and it bothers me rather a lot. Of course, Master insists that we're 'compatible for missions', and something about busters, but I can't make heads or tails of that.

Bedivere: "Ah, Sir Bedivere. I hope you don't mind that I've taken your name... eh? Of course I'm loyal to Her Majesty. Yes, even after she passed." I like this one. I like this one quite a lot. I hope we can continue to get along this well... perhaps we could fistbump.

Count of Monte Cristo: "You're in the wrong shadow again, Count. Come out here. What's with that forlorn expression, anyway?" It's so annoying, the way he looks at me like something bad happened to his Master. Aside from that... he's remarkably amicable. I'd heard Avengers were difficult to get along with, but this one is fairly nice, if eccentric...

Likes: "I like camping. Tending a bonfire with traveling companions, telling stories and watching the stars... there's something deeply calming of it all." I still remember our travels, Aesc. I still remember our journeys, so fondly... but... why do I feel like there were journeys before those?

Dislikes: "I have trouble with liars but I can stomach them. Traitors make my skin crawl... it's the complacent forgiveness of betrayal that I can't stomach. You can only witness so many backstabbings of so many friends before you lose patience." Besides of which, if we'd acted back then... Aesc's tragedies may have never happened. That Cnoc na Riabh's tragedy as well.

The Grail: "A wish? An earnest wish, from the heart... I would wish for the chance to travel with them again. To see the world, to help the world, alongside them." Totorot. Grimr. Ector. Wryneck. Uther. Aesc. No matter how many millenia pass, I refuse to forget the ones who grieved my pains, who shared their journey with me. Who saved me from... whatever came before.

#fgo #fate grand order #my writing #tam lin bedivere #fanservant #let's be honest there's a REAL long list of Servants she could interact with

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askcarlislecullen · 19 hours

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Will you and your family all live together one day again? Maybe even anytime soon?

You know, I very rarely answer questions that are at the top of my inbox. These days, I sift through them with a good bit of discrimination and some of them sit for years and still others I never deal with. But this is a provocative question which the asker may not realize is very timely, as Esme and I are preparing our home to be closed for a month while we make what has now become an annual sojourn to Europe. So as we pack, and prepare gifts, and reminisce, and think about the time soon to come with our children less than two weeks from now, we have also been asking ourselves this rather thorny question.

And I think—I think—I am at peace with the fact that the answer is likely no.

I never intended to be the leader of a large coven. No one is more surprised than I that seven others found fit to stay with me all these many years. That those I turned chose to stay, and that two others saw reason to travel and hold out for years to find us, and that my daughter-in-law chose to join us in this very life will never stop being surprising to me.

We've lived in many configurations in the little over a century we've lived as a coven of two up to a coven of eight. As a man and his brother in law, as a man and wife and her brother, as a couple and their boarders, as two couples and their brother. It wasn't until Alice and Jasper joined us that we even broached choosing cover stories that more closely resembled the family we imagined ourselves to be, and even then, some frequent and sudden moves in the early days there necessitated that we take different covers and often, live apart.

Then came those intense seven years over the turn of the last decade, in which our sense of family was abruptly sharpened as if by a gravitational pull by raising our miracle child. We got to experience for the first time the visceral realness of existing as parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents. And if I had to put a finger on it, I suspect it was that moment, of for once, not playacting at being a family, that allowed our family to evolve.

The distance forced upon us by the pandemic was painful, I won't lie. But this new reality where we can travel when we choose to, when our adult children or our adult granddaughter and her fiancé freely come to us for a spell and then go their way, is strangely healthy.

I lay a great deal of blame for the dysfunction of our family dynamic squarely at my own feet; when I turned Edward I needed badly his adoration and his unwavering love. I needed someone to guide, to counsel, to bring into manhood. But there was always a part of me that was a little bit afraid of letting him fully step into that manhood, holding an iron grip, terrified that if my child was no longer a child, I would lose the identity that a century ago saved my life. And without consciously intending to, I arranged everyone else so that I wouldn’t have to let that go.

Isabella and Renesmee changed that. When Edward became a husband, and so soon after, a father himself, our relationship shifted. And I found that in adding "Renesmee's grandfather" to my identity, much to my relief, I didn't cease being "Edward's father" but that there was suddenly room for me to live even more fully into being "Esme's husband" and also sometimes just "Carlisle."

I put up less of a façade with my children now. It is easier to admit to them when I also am afraid or worried or sad. They in turn don't seem to worry as much about pleasing or disappointing me. We feel free to treasure one another's company, and, when we feel we can't treasure it, to be apart.

Now does this mean the ten of us will never again be under one roof? Hardly. For one, we already regularly do this for weeks at a stretch twice a year now, in the summer and in the winter. To say nothing of the fact that time periods which are long for humans are devastatingly short for us—in the future, we might choose to live together for years, or even a decade or more, who knows. But we will do so with the changed understanding that the arrangement is temporary, for however long "temporary" is.

And I suspect that is, in fact, the way we should've thought of it all along.

#carlisle cullen #family dynamics

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sergle · 8 months

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(re: sssniperwolf and jacksfilms) It's laughable that she escalated it that hard. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sure stalking him like that is illegal and it's terrifying regardless, but Jack said in a stream (can't remember which one) that he wasn't about bringing up past controversies of hers or cancelling. And now she shows up outside his house (wtf!!!). Like he was willing to only call her out for stealing and freebooting but she's gone and stalked him and Jack doesn't seem like the type of guy to take that shit. Actual WTF moment from her part. wild

omg long post below bc apparently I have opinions: YES!! THAT'S WHAT'S SO INCREDIBLE ABOUT THIS... Jack has been genuinely diligent about keeping things on-topic in his streams, and hasn't brought up any of her other Stuff, or anything Personal. Despite the fact that she kickstarted the whole thing by making it INCREDIBLY personal and attacking his physical appearance... His goal has been to call out and bring attention to content theft, and he's stuck with it. Dude's also cared about this for years, and she's not the first content thief he's criticized. He just hates the way that freebooting has become so accepted-- to the point where youtube praised her for "coming up with such creative video ideas"? Hey! Ew! Dude wasn't trying to get her cancelled though, there was no smear campaign of her character. He's been rallying to get her to CREDIT the creators that she relies on for all of her content. It would set a precedent for all other "react" channels on the platform for one of the biggest channels on youtube to actually give credit where credit is due. Or, god forbid, get permission first? It's not hard. It's already done the job of making some other people who do "react content" self-analyze whether or not their content is transformative, and to maybe care about crediting the creators they rely on for their genre to work. There is a way to make this kind of video that isn't so slimy. And making fun of her lackluster-at-best reactions is so far from even being a big deal. Bc she literally does just sit there and say nothing. Plus, his goal has a clear End built into it: if she started shouting out the creators she takes content from, and put links directly to their pages in her video descriptions, the job would be done! That's what he's asking her to do. Real bare minimum stuff. It legit would have been easy to steer away from the content theft and to also talk about her history of lying to her audience! her ghosting a dying kid with cancer who was a big fan of hers! the fact that she's been arrested for armed robbery! her history of transphobia! He would also get more clicks that way, which is what she claims is his sole goal- to get more clicks. I'll bring it up though! She's been a terrible person the whole time, and has kept a steady course of manipulating her audience of young children and/or, let's be completely honest, simps- into thinking that she's a Wholesome creator. (And now, into thinking she's an innocent victim.) All of the actual effort put in by her has gone toward optics, not the content she puts out. A carefully constructed online persona, for one, but also literal appearances. Jack totally can't say this, bc she already went off the handle and said the only reason he doesn't like her is bc he Hates To See A Woman Be Successful. But I can! That was a cheap shot for her to use that argument when, for once, it's not applicable! Much the opposite, even! Dudes online wouldn't go to bat for her if she didn't look the way she does. And it weakens any case she'd have against him by making baseless claims like that. She banks hugely on being an attractive woman to get her clicks/following. A massive amount of effort is put into her appearance. The makeup, the lip fillers, putting her hair in little pigtails, the chokers and tube tops, the big non-prescription Nerd Glasses, the thumbnails where she has her mouth open in That Expression?

I don't even have to say anything. But making a weird facial expression and putting your hair in pigtails aren't moral failings. Showing up at someone's real life home (whose address you shouldn't even have access to), filming the front of their house at night, doxxing them to your audience of millions of people? Because you were mad at them online? That is fully scary! Yeah girl I'm pretty sure that Jack can press charges! There is absolutely no way to take the moral highground now that she's literally stalked him, and doxxed his home. She tried to goad him and Erin (Jack's wife) out of the house, also, which creeps me out even more-- because what was she planning to do? The fact that she's been arrested for violent crime before does pop into my mind! lmao! Jack was streaming a game at the time that she was outside his home, and these clips of him, his friends, and Erin reacting in real time to what is genuinely a scary situation have been taken down in case he needs to use them in legal action. Shit is legitimately serious!

#sergle answers #long post #LONGEST POST ON EARTH I'M SO SORRY #saying all this out loud only takes a few minutes but typing it... girl this is a BOOK #clearly I have thoughts on this Online Drama but also this isn't online!#these are people who exist in real life. and compromising a person's safety bc he criticized you for stealing tiktoks #is a real life thing. this isn't confined to online spaces! you can turn off your computer to get away from An Argument #but someone going to your house?? that's absolutely terrifying #and all of this is just because he's been telling her to credit the creators. it could have been resolved so simply.#I hope he takes legal action against her bc he genuinely has grounds to do so.#and I can't imagine how terrified and upset I would be if someone was outside my door. filming my house for their audience.#also the 'what if the roles were reversed' argument is rarely made in good faith... but she's already brought up the topic.#this would be getting even more coverage and the optics would be Even Creepier if a strange man with millions of followers showed up #at the home of a woman- just bc she criticized his videos- filming her home address for all to see and trying to get her to come outside.#It's just as creepy that sssniperwolf did this as it would be coming from ANYONE else #it's been downplayed bc her being a little skinny woman means that A Man shouldn't be threatened by her #which. even if she wasn't going to Do anything. any one of her rabidly loyal online followers MIGHT. she's not the only one who could go to #his house now! anyone could show up.#sergle.txt #Jacksfilms #Sssniperwolf

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icewindandboringhorror · 1 year

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I still very loathe the Media Trope of ‘’cold genius man doesn’t feel emotions and never has relationships... UNTIL.. one random relatively bland Preddy Woman comes along and warps his entire personality and ability to think, his heart has grown and his seeming asexuality has evaporated, he is now Normal :)” or whatever like... AS a walking generic hermit archetype myself.. we would NOT act like that .... just let people be detached weirdos in peace, you cowards .. OR, don’t bother to write one in the first place if you find us too boring to exist realistically in our natural state lol.. pathetic

#the only exception to this is its okay if he develops some pesudo-romantic psychologial fixation on one of his long suffering male sidekicks #or assistants or whatever (since this character acrhetype ALWAYS has some sort of like Straight Man Every Man helper to follow #him around and be an audience stand in. sometimes multiple like a whole team of assistants. sometimes just one etc.)#like a strange not-entirely-romance-but-mutualy-unhealthy-comedic-codependence w someone you worked w 25+ yrs COULD be in character. sure.#ASIDE from that one exception though..... just keep them aromantic and asexual.. why would someone who has been that way for their #entire fucking life suddenly be like ''well I've known this woman three weeks but she's really hot! whoops!''#''guess I'm going to act completely out of character! sometimes booba so booby it fundametally alters the dna of me personality. you know ho #w it is'' .. like shut up.. explode #It's not that I project personally onto these characters (writers are bad at writing them and they're generally annoying as shit) BUT just #like... coming FROM the perspective OF a cold detached ''robot'' seeming hermit freak.. like textbook scholar wizard man locked #away in a tower somewhere type personality... You just watch shows sometimes and you can SEE that the writers are trying to write #the Character Archetype that is your actual realworld personality and you're just like 'we do NOT fucking act like that!!!' lol #you know ? like .. i don't actually care about the characters themselves but more just.. the principle of the thing. staying true to what #has been set up. You can't be like ''oh yeah this is your typical cold detached hermit weirdo with zero interest in human relationships for #the most part blah blah blah'' and then 5 minutes later be like ''WAIT GUYS!! LOOK! they're still NORMAL! look they love booba #too!!! haha hashtag Relatable!!'' .. what have you done to him.. you've massacred the archtype.. cowardly fool #Also I'm referencing them as male because this character archtetype is usually male but the same thing can apply for other gendered versions #of the archetype. it's ALWAYS annoying. no matter what it is lol. GOD AND IT'S even worse when they're supposed to be like hundreds or thous #ands of years old like.. some sort of supernatural being who's ''above it all'' because they've seen the world's cycles for so long #and blah blah and then it's like ''omg.. suddenly into romance.. for some reason all 900 years of my life nobody has ever been good #enough but YOU.. random ass person who I met 30 minutes ago and are completely average in every way or maybe you have like one #special power or are smart or something but apparently somehow I've lived 900 years without ever meeting a single other smart person #or whatever but WOW.. you... instant soulamtes.. I am no longer aromantic and asexual. I am also no longer smart.''#at least if it's a human with a normal lifespan you can be like 'well they were only 30. maybe they genuinely did just have their first #sexul awakening' or something but.. you're telling me like.. 900 years??? 1000 years?? and NOW they're like 'whooa!!' lol #Which obviously all aroace people are different.. all people with autism or schizoid pd or any other mental illnesses that can sometimes #lend people towards that type of 'weird hermit' archetype are all different. plenty of these people WILL have relationships and sex and desi #re those things. but it's like.. if you are OBVIOUSLY setting out to write that one VERY specific archetype within the broader archetype #then GO ALL THE WAY!! you cant have someone be like HALF-detached partial-hemrit sometimes-maybe-genuis or whatever #or I guess you can but like. it should be that way from the beginning. it's the random sudden shift in personality thats jarring

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caramiaaddio · 1 year

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well the nice thing about having had a life changing codependent relationship for most of my life is that whenever something bad is going on I can always switch my brain over to feeling bad about that instead

like it’s gonna feel bad either way but I’d much rather be in ‘mourning the loss of a dear friend’ mode than ‘my entire life is falling apart’ mode y’know

#like there’s so much to think about there I can very easily distract myself #whatever happened at work today? nah. instead consider: why didn’t they love me and could we ever be friends again?#it’s sad but it doesn’t give me a panic attack lol #and unlike thinking about things that make me happy my brain doesn’t snap back to the bad thing #it’s wild though that even after I’ve kind of forgiven them for all the stuff that happened it all kind of hits different #like yeah okay I was valid in feeling violated but also it wasn’t like it was on purpose and stupid kids do stupid kid shit #but even knowing that there’s just a part of me that can’t help but think about everything that went down #gives Greek tragedy vibes. the perfect storm of missteps is what ruined things in the end #and at this point like. I spent so long bothering them that I don’t wanna teach out and continue the pattern #plus there’s always that lingering fear and insecurity over being dumped in the first place #but it’s just so strange to have someone in your life for so long and then to just…not #I still bring them up in conversation sometimes like ‘oh yeah my ex liked that movie’ it’s weirdly natural #like we were inseparable for a decade it’s wild that they’re just…not part of my life anymore #and my brain will be stuck on this tangent for DAYS. great coping mechanism for whatever the fuck is happening at work #which like. don’t ask I don’t wanna talk about it I just want to move past this job and never see these people again

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falling-endlessly · 4 months

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The Finer Things in Death

Alastor x Soulmate!Female!Reader

Summary: An AU where your soulmate's first words to you are tattooed on your body in their handwriting.

Oh dear, where's your smile?

You knew those words by heart. Could recite them backwards, in your sleep even. Those damning words have been inscribed on the inside of your ankle for as long as you could remember, the elegant cursive strokes poking out of your shoe line.

In theory, somewhere, someone else was supposed to be sporting your own neat, boxy handwriting. You'd say you lucked out with yours. Some soul marks were less than pleasant, and others were downright embarrassing (imagine having the words move, asshole written on your stomach for the rest of your life. No thank you).

At least your soulmate was trying to cheer you up, right?

Yeah, but there was just one teeny, tiny problem.

Your soulmate was dead. Long dead actually.

Were they stillborn? Did their toddler self die in a house fire or something? Night after night you laid awake in your bed, pondering what the hell could have possibly happened to have altered the entire course of fate.

All you really knew was that your soul mark was a light gray (indicating a severed bond) instead of the usual inky black, and it had been since the day you were born. Everyone was in shock to see the faint words on your little ankle. After all, how could a soul mark exist if the other person wasn't even alive to speak those words into existence?

Simply put, you were a conundrum, and it had been some time since you had dedicated effort into figuring out why? You'd accepted it. Your soulmate was dead. Life went on.

Besides, you'd spent enough time grieving over someone you'd never met before.

Your lifestyle was not extravagant by any means, but it was comfortable. You had a steady income, lived on your own in an apartment in the city, and survived off of more than ramen bowls. Every day you would come home and read in your little fluffy alcove that you'd built yourself by your window, or pop open a bag of chips (and the occasional bottle of wine, if you were feeling fancy) while you watched the latest crime show releases from your couch.

Yes, so comfortable was your little routine, that you didn't notice the robbery happening in the convenience store you were browsing in, or the stray bullet coming for your head until it was too late. Your skull exploded in a world of pain, eyes rolling back as your body crumpled to the ground.

Dying was an interesting experience, to say the least. Your soul floated from your body, the final notes of music that blasted from your earphones fading into nothingness like the sound of a car driving away.

There was a brief moment where you were struck numb, hovering in the air as you stared down at your glassy eyed corpse, blood pooling alarmingly from the circular shaped hole in your head. You heard screams of the other customers behind you, but they were kind of muffled, like you were underwater.

It didn't last long though, because before you knew what was happening, you felt an almighty tug downwards, like an anchor had just chained itself to your stomach.

And that was how you ended up in hell. Fun. What were you here for? You had no idea. Maybe God got mad that your teenage self stole a few packs of gummy bears in high school. But a life of eternal damnation and suffering seemed a little harsh, didn't it?

Before you could contemplate the semantics of it though, something...strange happened. Your ankle, right where you'd tried countless times to forget your soul mark existed, was burning like a fucking brand.

You hissed sharply in pain, frantically pulling down your sock to assess the damage. Was the eternal punishment starting already or something? Shit, you had terrible pain tolerance.

But what you saw made you gasp. In fact, you could hardly believe your eyes.

Because in the place of your faded grey soul mark, the letters had been reinvigorated, darkened with a swift hand and—glowing they were glowing holy shit.

"Hah," you huffed in disbelief, shaking your head slowly. "So that was it, huh? I was destined to meet my shitty soulmate in hell this whole fucking time?" You punctuated the last words with a few angry kicks to an unassuming patch of weeds. What a cosmic joke at your existence.

But, like you always did in shitty situations, you gathered all of your raging emotions, stuffed them tightly in a box at the back of your mind, and cooled your head. Freaking out in this place would do you no good.

Turned out hell was pretty much like the world you'd left, except for the fact that you could kill someone on the street and nobody would bat an eye. Like all of the depraved aspects of humanity were on full display now in a somehow still functioning society.

You managed to snag a job at an old record store, the owner giving you one look before grunting and gesturing to the register—but not before lifting his jacket to show you the long assault riffle strapped across his chest. Yeesh, you got the message.

It wasn't a bad job by any means, especially considering where you were. Sure a little boring and monotonous, but you'd restock thousands of old albums if it meant staying away from the overlords.

Oh, yeah, another thing. Overlords were like the big shots around hell. Messing with them usually meant a death sentence, or worse, a contract.

And if there was anything at all that you picked up from all those nights of watching television, it was that you do not make deals with the devil. Really, elementary level shit. And you'd never actually seen Lucifer, mind you, but these demons were probably a close second, right?

Yeah, so really, you were just living a shittier variant of your life on earth it seemed. Repetitive, safe and comforting. You were even starting to like the scent of musty cardboard, as weird as that was.

And once again, all thoughts of your soulmate slipped your mind.

Until one day, when everything went to shit.

****

It started like this: with the sad sight of your empty fridge.

You groaned, dragging a tired hand down your face. Seriously? You thought you'd restocked already, damn it.

Your stomach growled achingly, and you sighed, wondering if you'd actually die again if you starved yourself. Begrudgingly, you decided that you didn't really want to chance it, throwing on the first set of clothes that you saw and slipping out of your dingy apartment to make a quick grocery run.

You generally hated leaving your apartment, and didn't do so except to retrieve bare necessities or walk across the block to go to work.

Why? Well, see exhibit A to your left: some poor, random demon screeching and running around on fire. See exhibit B to your right: a turf war between two rival gangs. And finally how could you forget, cannibal colony, slurping up intestines like bloody, chunky spaghetti. Disgusting.

The worst thing about hell wasn't the fact that you were in hell, it was the fact that the worst of the worst people were all cramped together like some fucked up refugee camp, and some people were significantly worse than others. Which sucked, for the poor unfortunate souls just trying to get by. Like you.

You sighed, ducking under a stray stream of bullets (you weren't falling for that shit twice) and side stepping pools of blood and guts. Just a regular Monday morning in hell. God damn it.

It seemed luck wasn't on your side though, because an ugly, dog-headed demon blocked your path, sneering down at you smugly. "Hey bitch, it's your lucky day. The big boss is hiring, and you fit the profile."

You clenched your grocery bags in a white-knuckled grip. Nobody would give a flying fuck if you were dragged off of the street in broad daylight. "Not interested."

"Oh it wasn't a suggestion," he chuckled darkly. You tensed as you were surrounded by at least four other demons. Shit, you knew you should have slept in.

"You like apples?" You nodded sharply at the demon in charge.

His face twisted in annoyance. "Why the fuck do y—"

You reached into your bag, before hurling a granny smith straight at his forehead. He yelped as it made contact, stumbling back as he shook his head in confusion. While everyone was still in shock from your weapon of choice, you shoved your way out of the circle, gunning it straight down the street because your second life did depend on it.

"Get her!" You heard a yell of absolute rage, making you shiver. Fuck, that did not sound promising. That apple must have really pissed him off.

Putting your limited aerobics to use, you ducked, dodged and lunged through the crowd like a pro. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, air burning your lungs as you pumped your legs faster. But of course, your grocery bag ripped open, sending all of your food tumbling and you by extension, tripping and face planting in the dirt rather pathetically.

A meaty hand gripped a handful of your hair, yanking it up harshly. You cried out as he pulled, hands uselessly trying to smack his away, but his hold only tightened. A liquor-filled breath and cheap cologne invaded your senses, making you cough.

"Uppity bitch," he growled, giving your scalp a painful yank for good measure. "You actually thought you could get away? Maybe I should teach you a lesson, huh? Sample the goods."

You froze, every nerve in your body going cold. So far in your stay in hell, you'd managed to avoid the more depraved souls here. You kept your head down, didn't draw attention to yourself, and were mostly left alone. Looked like today, your luck had finally run out.

"Get the hell off of me!" You spat, twisting around vehemently, only for your head to snap to the side as you were harshly backhanded.

"Stop your fucking whining and stay still!" He snapped, narrowing his eyes.

You bared your teeth, snapping at him aggressively.

A round of mocking chuckles went around the group of your kidnappers, the one holding your hair giving you a wicked grin. "Shit, that was cute. Really—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, because his head exploded. Literally exploded, blood and brain matter dripping from your face. His hand went slack, dropping you on your wobbling knees.

Everyone was silent for a second, staring at the bloody mess where the demon was standing two seconds prior.

And that was when you heard it. Static. Loud, crackling and ominous.

Your mouth went dry. Shit. Shitty shit shit. You knew what that meant. How could you not? The asshole broadcasted his killings all over hell like a fucking psychopath. And now, it was your turn to become hell's gory entertainment. Fan-fucking-tastic.

You stood frozen, breath stuck in your throat as dark, menacing tendrils slowly curled along the walls. A large, grinning shadow rounded the corner, before the culprit himself stalked into view, razor sharp teeth on display as he tilted his head. "Oh," his grin widened. "Am I interrupting?"

"N-No man," one of the braver demons stuttered, taking a step back. "You can have her—"

Splat.

You turned slowly to face the bloody wall, eyes wide in disbelief.

"How distasteful," the radio demon shook his head. "As if I'd participate in your brainless thuggery. No, no. Unlike you gentlemen, I have class. Truly," his eyes lit up like glowing radio dials, a dark shadowy mass rising behind him as his antlers branched out like a gnarled, rotten tree. "Did your mother never teach you any manners?"

Faster than you could blink, the demons around you were reduced to blood, cartilage and splintered bone. The overwhelming irony scent made you want to gag, but you didn't dare move a muscle, eyes fixated on the terrifying sight before you.

When the radio demon noticed your staring, his smile sharpened, antlers shrinking as he leisurely approached you. Oh no. Nononono.

You struggled to keep from hyperventilating, your body going into shock as he leaned into your personal space. Two bloody fingers pushed into your cheeks, forcing your mouth into a morbid, artificial smile. "Oh dear," he tutted in amusement. "Where's your smile?"

You jerked back violently, eyes wide as icy cold realization washed over you. Dread squeezed your lungs as you stared at the grinning, bloody figure of your soulmate in horror.

The radio demon. Psychopath and mass murderer.

Your soulmate.

What the FUCK.

"T-This," your voice shook. "This is not happening."

There was a sudden screech of radio static, before his own eyes widened. Shit. "What," he said sharply. "Did you just say?"

"A-Ah," you trembled, leaning back. Every single nerve in your body was alight, screaming at you to get the ever-loving fuck away from him. In what was probably the stupidest and most desperate plan of your life, you pointed over his shoulder fearfully. "Look! Another one!"

As soon as he turned his head, you bolted down the street.

****

You slammed your front door closed behind you, double—triple checking your lock before sliding down to the floor in a panting mess.

Immediately you grew paranoid. What the fuck were you thinking? A lock wouldn't keep the radio demon out. You needed fifty more locks and ten more doors. You needed to barricade yourself inside for the next month. You needed—

"Hello there!" An exuberant voice chirped.

You screamed, throwing the first thing you could grab in his direction. He caught the house slipper, inspecting it in amusement, before tossing it over his shoulder.

"My, did I scare you sweetheart? Apologies," he grinned smugly, relaxing in your recliner with a mug of coffee. Your favorite mug.

You blinked. What the fuck?

"What are you doing in my house?" You squeaked, fingers digging into your welcome mat.

"Oh dear, allow me to introduce myself," he set the mug down on your coffee table, leisurely rising from the couch and offering a hand. "I'm Alastor! A pleasure to be meeting you sweetheart, quite a pleasure."

You didn't take his hand, instead choosing to gape at him like a dead fish.

He retracted his hand, tilting his head with a shit-eating grin. Twirling his cane, he continued like there wasn't just an awkward and terrifying pause. "I hope you don't mind that I followed you! You see, I believe our conversation was cut a bit...short." His eyes glowed as unidentifiable symbols floated in the air around him.

As quickly as they appeared however, they disappeared like they were never there. Jesus Christ, this man was giving you emotional whiplash. "Anywho!" He perked up again, ever the charming grin on his face. "Enough about me! I've yet to catch your name, darling."

Fuck. You really didn't want to give him your name.

But before you could open your mouth, he leaned closer to you, grin widening ominously. "I hope you're not thinking of lying, my dear. I must say, I'm not very fond of that quality."

"Y-Y/n!" You said quickly, raising your hands to shield your face.

There was a slight pause, before a gentle touch swiped at your cheek, retracting after a moment. You peeked your eye open, only to become vaguely ill at the sight.

"You had a little something on your face," he chuckled in amusement, holding out a clump of brain matter. With a swift flick, it was magicked away.

"What do you want?" You whimpered, overwhelmed with the entire situation.

"Oh dear, is it really that strange for me to want to get to know my soulmate?" He tilted his head, leaning towards you uncomfortably close.

"Y-Yes, actually," you stuttered, trying to look anywhere but his prominent red eyes. "I thought you'd do something more along the lines of...killing and eating me." You shrunk back as his grin widened. "Please don't eat me."

"How morbid, I would never!" He waved it away, like the idea was preposterous. "My word! What awful rumors you've been hearing about me!"

"You frequent cannibal colony and I just saw you tear apart six demons like they were freshly baked bread," you stared at him incredulously. "What hasn't been spot on?"

He paused, before giving you a humoring chuckle. "Well it seems your impression of me needs correcting!" Before you knew what was happening, nimble fingers encircled your wrist, pulling it forward gently. He pressed warm lips to the back of your hand, before giving you a charming grin. "Enchanté, ma chère."

You blinked, breath stuck in your throat. "What—What does that mean?"

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about it!" He gently set your hand down, before pinching your cheek condescendingly. "Well my dear, I'm afraid I have other responsibilities I must attend to!"

He stood up with a flourish, leaning on his microphone cane as he smirked at you. "Not to worry!" He snapped his fingers, and a slim, feminine shadow emerged from the ground. "Missy here will watch over you in my stead."

"What? No, I—"

"I'll be back before you know it!" He offered a chilling smile, before melting into a puddle of shadows.

You gaped at the spot where he once stood, trying to process what the actual fuck just happened. Your gaze slid over to the feminine looking shadow, still standing in the corner of your living room. She grinned at your attention, teeth sharpened.

You closed your eyes, head thumping back against your door in exhaustion.

"I'm so fucked."

****

Enchanté, ma chère : Charmed, my dear

#hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin #radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x oc #alastor x ofc #alastor x original female character #hell #hazbin alastor #alastor being a menace #alastor being alastor

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sunniques · 1 month

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— 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ?

➺ PAIRING: lee heeseung x female reader

➺ GENRE: stepbrother au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: the story of how your stepbrother’s girlfriend realizes her boyfriend has never really been hers.

➺ CW/TW: stepcest, infidelity, possessiveness, heeseung can lift reader, cucking kink, voyeurism, masturbation (f), oral sex (f), fingering, face sitting, unprotected sex, creampies

➺ WC: 4.6k

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read.

A lot of people find your relationship with your stepbrother cute. How could they not? He’s always so doting and protective like a real brother would be. In spite of being only slightly older, Heeseung takes on a very important role in your life. He constantly goes out of his way to take care of you, making sure you have anything you could possibly need.

Heeseung’s girlfriend never thought too much about the relationship between you two. It was natural that he took the naive college freshman under his wing and constantly had you by his side. Mina found it endearing, actually. The way he worried about you like a mother hen who wasn’t ready for her young chick to go into the world alone is adorable and a good sign. After dating so many inconsiderate losers, she thinks she’s finally chosen the right guy.

But somewhere along the way, Mina starts to grow tired of it. Time has gone by, and you’re no longer a naive freshman who can’t get around without her boyfriend’s help. Of course family is important, but it’s not like you’re entirely helpless. And yet, that’s exactly the way Heeseung acts. He’s always ready to drop everything when you need him. On several humiliating occasions, he’s even left her half naked on his bed just to go to you because you bought something you couldn’t figure out how to put together, or because you wanted to hang out with him.

It’s hard for Mina to admit that she’s a little jealous. Especially because it all seems so ridiculous. There’s no way her boyfriend actually wants you like that. But as time goes on, she thinks that maybe she’s not all that crazy. Especially with the affectionate way her boyfriend looks at you. Despite all this, Mina doesn’t say anything. At least, not until Heeseung starts to bring you along to what were meant to be dates.

“Babe, why do you keep bringing your stepsister? i thought we were going on a date?” It’s hard for her to not sound bitter and annoyed.

“Her roommate is going to visit her parents, and I don’t want Y/N to be alone.” His tone is kind and gentle like always, but it’s also firm and leaves no room for arguments.

What’s worse is that Mina can’t bring herself to hate or blame you. In a way, she understands why her boyfriend is always so concerned about you. You’re so nice and trusting that it would be way too easy for someone to take advantage of that. There’s also the fact that you’ve been more than willing to let them have some alone time, but Heeseung never lets you leave.

It’s all so strange and frustrating that Mina feels like she has to take matters into her own hands. So she does.

The key to Heeseung letting you go is getting you a boyfriend—or at least getting you to start dating. It’s easy enough to find a guy who’s interested in you. That’s never been a problem for you, and all it takes is her showing your picture to the cute guy in her communications class for her plan to fall into place. As luck would have it, you’re also into meeting the guy and going out with him.

Little did Mina know, setting you up with him would be a mistake that would cost her everything.

On the night you’re meant to meet up with her classmate, Mina excitedly goes to her boyfriend’s apartment. It’s been a long time since she got to be alone with Heeseung, and she was going to make the most of it.

She’s dressed in tiny tank top and a cute little skirt that Heeseung loves—it barely hides the lingerie she’s wearing underneath. Mina quietly lets herself into her boyfriend’s apartment using her spare key. Quietly, she tiptoes to his room only to find the door wide open. What she doesn’t expect is to find you sitting on his the edge of bed while Heeseung kneels in front of you.

Mina feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on her as his pretty hands rub your soft thighs. You look incredible, clad in a cute little dress with your makeup and hair done to perfection. It’s a mistake for Mina to keep watching, but she can’t find her voice at the moment.

“Seungie, what’s wrong?”

God, Mina hates that you call him that. Mostly because she can tell how much Heeseung likes it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going out to meet some guy?” Heeseung sounds almost venomous, but it’s like you don’t hear it. “Who is he? How’d you meet him?”

You tilt your head, pretty lips pulled down in a confused frown. “Didn’t Mina tell you? She set me up with a guy from her class. He’s really cute!”

A chill goes down Mina’s spine. She can see Heeseung’s back tense when you tell him how your date came to be. The air feels almost murderous as he gently squeezes your thighs.

It kills Heeseung that he was almost too late in stopping you from meeting some strange guy in the pretty little dress you have on. He softly rubs your thighs, eyes simmering with anger and desire he doesn’t care to hide. Not anymore.

“Oh, angel.” Your stepbrother murmurs, hands slowly trailing up to your thighs. “You know you’re my favorite girl, right?”

An unsuspecting smile graces your lips. “Yeah. And you’re my favorite guy.”

Heeseung hums in satisfaction as his fingers ghost the edges of your dress. He watches your eyebrows furrow, but you don’t say anything. As always, you have blind trust in your stepbrother. That’s all the indication he needs to get up and push you down on his bed. Heeseung hovers over you, loving how you’re staring up at him with sparkling, wide eyes. He swoops down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

Your heart is racing in your chest as Heeseung forces his tongue into your mouth. Despite the initial shock, you quickly melt into the kiss. He swallows your moans, pulling you closer as he deepens the messy kiss. You mewl into his mouth, carding your fingers through his hair with desire you had never realized you had for him.

Meanwhile, Mina can only watch as her boyfriend kisses you with a passion that he clearly never felt for her. It feels like her heart is ripping in half as Heeseung begins to undress you. Tears well up in her eyes when he groans at the sight of the lingerie adorning your body. Mina can see how hard he is from where she’s standing, and the desire in his eyes is very different from the way he looks at her.

“Can’t believe you got all pretty for some other boy.” Heeseung spits as he starts to undress. “Were planning on letting him fuck you?”

You shake your head and go to speak, but you can’t when Heeseung roughly pulls off your lingerie then his own underwear. His cock is thick and big, possibly the biggest you’ve ever seen. It’s twitching and leaking as he looks at you with his dark eyes.

“W-We shouldn’t be doing this.” You whine as Heeseung shoves your thighs to your stomach and licks a broad stripe up your wet pussy.

Your stepbrother groans at your sweet taste, thrusting his tongue into your dripping hole. He laps up the juices leaking out of your slit, circling his tongue on your clit for good measure. The noise you let out is downright pornographic and pure music to Heeseung’s ears.

“Seungie!” You keen as you spread your legs and tangle your hands in his messy hair. “I– Fuck!”

Heeseung pulls back with a wet slurp to spread your cunt open with his big hands. “God. You have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, angel. Just had to taste it.”

Each one of his words is like a dagger to Mina’s heart and confidence. Wet tears trickle down her face, but she doesn’t say anything as you pull on her boyfriend’s hair. Heeseung only moans and dives back into your slick cunt. He greedily laps up everything that drips out of you, sucking and kissing your clit.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Hee.” You repeat through a needy mewl, making no attempt to stop him. In fact, you buck your pussy into his mouth as he sucks on your sensitive bud.

“Shh, angel.” Heeseung shushes as he flicks his tongue across your swollen bud. “Just relax and let me eat you out. Been wanting to do this for so long.”

Mina swallows thickly, the hurt slowly being replaced by something else. Her eyes grow bigger when she realizes which feeling is taking over. She shifts slightly, feeling a familiar wetness begin to pool in her panties. Mina feels sick that the sight of her boyfriend cheating on her can turn her on, and she thinks that she should leave right now and never return.

But she stays.

Mina licks her lips and continues to watch. Even she can’t help but think how hot you look, whimpering and writhing as Heeseung pushes your thighs apart so he can bury his face deeper in your pussy. He flicks his tongue, slowly descending until he’s lapping at your hole, slowly fucking the wet muscle in and out. Your eyes roll back as your stepbrother eats your pussy like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

The sounds coming from your pussy and the way Heeseung messily eats you out has Mina’s own cunt clenching with need. She can feel her underwear start to stick to her cunt as she watches her boyfriend lap up your arousal like a starved man. Mina bites her lip, feeling sick and twisted for being turned on by your pretty moans.

Heeseung suddenly pulls away, but not before he slaps your thigh playfully. He goes to lay on his back all while wearing a filthy smirk. “Sit on my face.”

You bite your lip as a hot flash of arousal pulses through your body. Both your and Mina’s cunts throb at the suggestion. Heeseung sees your hesitation, but doesn’t back down.

“C’mon, baby. Be a good little stepsister and ride my fucking face.” He growls out with dark eyes.

With your pussy dripping, you crawl over to him and kneel over his face. Mina watches with heated eyes as you slowly lower your cunt on her boyfriend’s face. The heat in her stomach grows when she hears Heeseung groan in satisfaction.

“That’s it. I want your pretty pussy suffocating me.”

With that, your stepbrother grabs your hips and pulls your cunt down onto his face with a groan. Mewling quietly, you rub your cunt all over his mouth. Every time he moans or grunts, it sends little vibrations through your pussy. The delicious feeling has you grinding down on his tongue as you chase that feeling. Heeseung eagerly fucks his wet muscle into your hot cunt, already addicted to your sweet taste.

Mina swallows thickly when he sees Heeseung thrusting into the air as he eats you out. His cock is leaking and throbbing with need. Fuck. How she’d like to go and lick all that up, to have him fuck her mouth as he fucks you with his tongue. Mina rubs her thighs to soothe the growing ache in her pussy as she watches you ride Heeseung’s face.

Your eyes roll back when your stepbrother slaps your ass. A loud squeal spills from your lips as Heeseung keeps fucking his tongue up into your cunt. He grabs your ass and kneads it roughly. With one last groan and flick of his tongue, he sits up and takes you with him. The effortless display of strength turns both women on, one containing her moan while the other cries out as she’s pressed back into the mattress.

“Such a sweet little cunt.” Heeseung moans as he buries his face back into your dripping cunt. “Shit, Y/N. You’re fucking soaked down here.”

“Heeseung!” You cry out as he pries your thighs further apart. Your stepbrother shakes his head to grind his tongue against your sensitive cunt.

“Fuck, you have the hottest little pussy.” Heeseung lifts his head with a groan, lips shiny with your arousal. “Missed eating some good pussy. It’s been so long.”

Mina feels pathetic that her cunt throbs at his degrading words. She bites her lip, hands trailing up her thigh and to her soaked underwear. It’s so filthy and humiliating, but the ache in her pussy is getting to be too much. She slowly rubs circles on her covered cunt as she keeps watching her boyfriend cheat on her.

“Fuck, Seungie.” You mewl desperately. “S-Shouldn’t like having your face buried in my cunt.”

Heeseung smirks into your wetness. He gently circles his tongue on your clit, kissing it tenderly before he gently starts to nip at it with his teeth. Mina shoves her panties aside when you moan out in pleasure. Now she’s furiously rubbing at her bare pussy, wanting to see you cum on her boyfriend’s face.

“But you do, baby. You like me fucking you with my tongue, and I fucking love eating this sweet little pussy.”

Your hips buck up at the words, grinding your cunt against his mouth as you moan for him. Juices drip out of you lewdly, leaking down to your ass and onto Heeseung’s sheets. Your head is swimming with pleasure, and you have to remember that this is all so very wrong.

“You like that?” Heeseung teases you, loving how you’ve turned into putty in his hands. “Answer me, Y/N. Do you like your stepbrother telling you how much he loves tasting your juicy cunt?”

Your back arches when Heeseung sucks your puffy bud into his mouth. “God—yes! Feels so fucking good, Hee! Love having your mouth on my pussy.”

Heeseung growls, the vibrations making your cunt throb as he sucks and licks your swollen clit. Eager to have you cum on his tongue, he slips two fingers into your fluttering hole. Mina follows in suit, unable to take her eyes off the erotic sight of you getting ate out and fingered. Fuck. This was better than any porn she had ever watched. Her hand is dripping with her own arousal, and she can’t even feel disgusted anymore that she’s so turned on by the entire situation.

“Mmmh, shit, Hee.” You whine as the tips of his fingers brush against the gummy spot inside you. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Do it, baby. Cream all over my tongue.” He purrs in delight. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”

Heeseung flattens his tongue on your clit while his fingers grind into the spongy spot in your cunt. Your back arches off the bed, orgasm whiting out your thoughts as you cum around his long fingers.

Mina has to cover her mouth as Heeseung moans along with you. By now she’s shoved her fingers into her sopping pussy, the squelching sound is drowned out from the sounds coming from your own pussy. The filthy sight is driving her wild, and she’s so delirious with arousal that she wishes Heeseung would just fuck you already.

“You’re amazing, angel.” Your stepbrother praises with his fingers still buried knuckle deep in your pussy as he softly strokes your velvety walls. “So soft and wet. It makes me want to shove my dick into your tight little hole.”

Heeseung slowly pulls his fingers out of you, and you can only watched with a lidded gaze as he moves his body between your thighs. His cock is twitching and leaking as he grabs the base. He smacks his cock down on your slippery pussy, dragging his drooling tip up and down your slit slowly. Mina has to press her hand into her mouth harder to stifle her filthy moans. The sight of her boyfriend pressing his drooling cockhead into your soaking pussy is so hot she might just cum all over her fingers.

“S-Seungie—fuck. We shouldn’t.” You whimper as he leans forward and braces his arms by your head.

You and Mina both know you don’t really mean your words. It’s clear that you want your stepbrother to split you open on his big cock. That becomes obvious when you don’t try to stop him as he shoves his cock into your pussy until he bottoms out completely, balls pressing against your ass. Shuddering with pleasure, you scratch your nails up his arms as you sink into the bed.

“Pretty pussy was meant to take my cock.” Heeseung growls, already drunk on the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his dick. “Fuck. I know it’s wrong, baby, but I just couldn’t help myself. Your hot little cunt was just begging for my dick. Doesn’t it feel all nice and full having your pussy stuffed with your stepbrother’s big cock?"

Mina starts fucking herself harder when you nod desperately. Your hands go to tangle in his hair as you grind your hips up to meet his thrusts. “Yes! Fuck! Love my stepbrother’s cock stretching me open! Feels so fucking good, Hee!”

Mina knows better than anyone how good you must feel. Although, she imagines you feel must better than she ever did because from the way Heeseung’s fucking you, she can tell he’s doing it with much more enthusiasm and passion. Even his moans are more guttural and full of more pleasure than she’d ever heard. They’re deep as he pulls out until just his tip is spearing you open. Then, he pushes forward, thrusting his cock deep into your fluttering walls.

“That’s it. Tell me how good it feels.” Heeseung leans down, lips brushing against yours. “Don’t be shy, angel. Let me know how much you like this cock fucking you.”

You gasp wantonly and pull him down further to press your lips together. He groans and licks into your mouth easily, tongue slipping past your lips as his cock thrusts deep into your hot, wet cunt. Your hips buck up to meet his, loving how his dick rams into your sweet spot over and over until your sight is painted with pretty little stars.

“Fucking love it, Hee.” You moan between sloppy kisses. “God—I love your cock!”

The coil in Mina’s stomach is close to snapping. By now, her juices are dripping down to her wrist. Luckily, the lewd squelching and sound of skin slapping together drown out any noise she’s making. Heeseung is fucking you so hard and good that she can smell the musky scent of sex from where she’s standing. The erotic aroma turns her on even more, pussy clamping down on her fingers in desperate need of release.

“Tight little pussy feels so good.” Heeseung moans out between the quick pecks he’s giving you. “God, I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.”

Your heart races as Mina’s breaks all over again. It hurts, but somehow that just turns her on even more. She keeps fingering herself as tears pool in her eyes.

With a low moan, your pussy clamps down on Heeseung’s dick tightly as you go to eagerly kiss him. A soft I love you, too goes unnoticed by Mina, but not by your stepbrother. He groans into your mouth, cock throbbing inside you.

“Mmmh.” Heeseung hums against your lips before he trails wet kisses down your neck. “I love my gorgeous girl. That’s why this feels so good. Even your tight little pussy knows how much I love you.”

His gorgeous girl? Mina thinks deliriously, orgasm dangerously close. It’s something he never referred to her as.

You cry out loudly when Heeseung bites your neck and sucks the skin into his mouth. His hips rock against yours, balls smacking against your ass as his pelvis grinds down on your swollen clit.

“Seungie!” You whine in ecstasy. “I’m getting close.”

Your stepbrother doesn’t let up. In fact, his thrusts seem to get faster and rougher. His cock pistons in and out of your cunt, creating sloppy wet sounds as you get even wetter. His eyes are dark as he pulls back to look at you, all pretty squirming and trembling on his cock.

“Cum for me, baby. Cover my cock with your sweet cream so I can fill you up.” Heeseung pants. “Cum on my cock, angel.”

His teeth sink into your neck again, and it pushes you over the edge. Your hot cunt throbs as you squeeze down on his cock. Somehow your pussy only gets tighter and tighter as you get fucked through your orgasm. You tighten your legs around his waist until he can barely pull out, rutting his cock in short shallow thrusts as your climax starts to taper off.

“So fucking tight.” Heeseung hisses by your ear. “Shit, baby. Get ready. I’m about to creampie your cute little pussy. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

With a strangled grunt, he buries his cock to the hilt and shoots his load deep inside your fluttering walls while your pussy softly milks him for every drop of his hot cum. Mina reaches her own climax when she sees her boyfriend cumming inside you. She has to stifle her moans as she trembles and shakes outside the room that’s filled with the smell and sounds of hot sex.

“You’re taking it so well, angel.” Heeseung kisses your jaw tenderly as his fat tip spurts rope after rope of his thick cum into your clenching heat. “Milking my cock like I knew you would.”

He grinds his hips down, cock pulsing as he finishes stuffing you full of his hot, sticky load. Your stepbrother fucks his cum inside a bit more before reluctantly pulling out. Heeseung’s cock throbs as he watches his seed drip from your messy pussy.

He licks his lips, heated gaze never leaving your body. “Let’s do it again.”

You don’t try to protest as your manhandles into a different position. Mina is still coming down from her high when she realizes her boyfriend is still hard and about to fuck you again. She knows she shouldn’t feel excited or aroused by the fact, but she does. Especially when your face is shoved into one of Heeseung’s pillows just before his big cock rails back into your needy pussy.

Heeseung starts fucking you so hard his headboard slams into the wall repeatedly. The harsh sound pairs well with the plop plop plop sound coming from your cunt.

“God, Y/N. You’re so fucking good for me.” Heeseung groans when you clench down on him.

You moan loudly, bouncing yourself back on his cock. “Fu-Fuck, Seungie. This is wrong. We s-shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know.” Your stepbrother smacks your ass, not sounding the least bit remorseful. “It’s so dirty baby, but I couldn’t help myself. Had to get my dick wet using your pretty little pussy.”

“Mmmh!” You whine out mindlessly, face turned to the side with your ass raised in the air for Heeseung to fuck deeper into your wet hole. “Feels so fucking good!”

“Yeah, it does.” Heeseung’s laugh sounds almost mean as he speeds up his thrusts to fuck his cock harder into your sopping cunt. “Your cute little pussy is the best I’ve ever had.”

His words shouldn’t please you as much as they do, but those lewd words turn you on so much that you can’t stop your cunt from tightening around him as he keeps spearing into you like an animal in heat. They also shouldn’t turn on Heeseung’s girlfriend but that’s exactly what they do. She isn’t angry, only extremely aroused as your ass bounces back on your stepbrother’s pelvis.

“Fuck!” Heeseung groans, fucking his cock right into your g-spot. “You’re so fucking hot, angel.”

You are. So hot that Mina finds herself wishing she could eat Heeseung’s cum out of your pretty cunt. She just knows you taste good, and mixed with her boyfriend she’s sure you must taste even better.

“Seungie, please!” You cry out, dizzy with arousal.

“Shit.” He growls, slipping a hand underneath your hips to rub fast circles on your clit. “Gonna make you cream on my cock again.”

“Heeseung!” You squeal as he picks up his pace, ramming into your squelching pussy as he rubs soft circles into your swollen clit.

Your stepbrother shoves his cock deep into your cunt and grinds, making you squirm and whine as his dick rubs against the spongy spot in your pussy. Your hands twist in the sheets. He flicks and pinches your puffy clit. God, do you look good, and so does Heeseung. Mina is groping one of her tits while the other hand goes to play with her pussy again. Briefly, she thinks she wouldn’t mind having a video of you two fucking so she can watch it over and over again.

“Hee, I’m gonna cum.” You moan against the pillow.

“Do it, baby.” He encourages you, free hand coming down to slap your ass hard. “Cum all over my cock. Want to feel your hot cunt squeeze me.”

It’s not long before your orgasm hits. You’re screaming into your pillow as your cream coats Heeseung’s big cock. Your pussy clamps rhythmically around his dick. Mina can’t see you, but with the way your toes are curling she can tell your eyes are rolling to the back of your head in pure ecstasy.

“Oh, baby. You feel so fucking good.” Heeseung praises you. His hands move to slap your ass again, making you squeal and tighten again. “Fucking work your little pussy on my cock. Fuck. Need to fill you up again.”

“Want you to stuff me full.” You whine back at him, pussy fluttering at the thought of Heeseung’s cum filling your cunt again.

“Yeah?” Your stepbrother laughs, sounding way too delighted. “Want me to creampie your hot little cunt again?”

“Please!” You whine as Heeseung’s fingers slide over your hip to start working soft circles into your clit again. You writhe back on him, feeling yourself get even wetter at the filthy thought of him shooting his hot load inside you.

“Cum inside me, Hee.” You pant, mewling when his fingers rub your clit even faster. “Want it so bad. Want to feel it.”

“Oh, fuck.” Heeseung groans, hips snapping hard against your ass when he feels how tight you’ve gotten. “You ready, baby? Fucking take it. Take your stepbrother’s cum in your needy little cunt.”

You moan loudly when you feel his hot cum filling your pussy, stuffing you so full it drips out around his cock. Heeseung ruts his spent cock into your sloppy pussy as he pinches your clit, watching as your back arches as a fourth orgasm sweeps through you. You lazily fuck your cunt back into him, loving the feeling of his cum dripping out of you and coating your thighs.

Heeseung pulls out of your warm cunt with a low groan. He’s quick to pull you against his chest and lays you down with him. His face is buried in your hair, eyes closed in bliss as you both try to catch your breaths. You feel his smile in your hair as he cuddles you and murmurs sweet praises against your temple.

Through your drooping eyes, you catch sight of Mina. Her eyes widen when you two make eye contact. You can’t hide your smirk when you see that she was masturbating to the sight of Heeseung fucking you raw. Instead of saying anything, you give her a seductive wink. Mina clenches around her fingers because the wink is full of understanding and promises.

It’s clear that Heeseung was never hers, but maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing.

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