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kneelingshadowsalome · 7 months

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FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 1/4

(König x F!Reader)

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Word count: 5.3 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Lol what now? König dual wields 2 swords, goes Mike Tyson on his enemies, teaches his captive girl constellations in German, cuddles her and feeds her grapes, buuut mainly just tries to get into her pants (which historically did not exist at the time) A bit of a slow burn, but don't worry, they'll bang eventually ^^

AD 90, somewhere in the untamed frontiers of the Roman Empire…

The end of the world is here.

Not only have the crops failed for two years in a row, making chieftains beggars and beggars food for the fish, but now there are rumours that the god of war has arrived to destroy the land. The accursed Romans had turned their eagle gaze back to your land after years of sending their troops elsewhere, making it seem like they were not interested in your distant land after all. Untamed, they called it, harsh and barren and therefore inferior – your lush, abundant, beautiful land. No doubt they spat on it in their war councils because your roads were not paved, because your crops and villages were modest, and the women sometimes fought alongside men. Their storytellers immortalized false tales about you, calling you barbarians, but the only barbarians you could think of were the Romans themselves – crude, filthy and boorish creatures, drowning in wine and shit in their cities.

Rumours started to get fat and distressed when the troops approached your village. They said there was a giant at the head of the army, that the Romans followed a Titan's son who loved to eat men, torture women and impale children. They said he didn't accept proper food but preferred to eat his fallen enemies, washed his weapons with the blood of children, and split captured women apart with his cock, as long and sharp as his sword. They told that the Titan ordered his soldiers to poison the wells and destroy the growing crops with salt and vinegar. The rumours said that his tent was bigger than any chieftain's house and that he still struggled to stand at full height inside it.

Even the land itself seemed to bow before him. Good weather followed his conquest wherever he went; ambushes failed, scouts got caught and tortured, exposing more villages to pillage and ruin. Your brother told you to flee the village, but how could you survive without your clansmen? You didn't know how to hunt; you barely knew how to fish. Your task in the village was to gather clams from the shore, dye wool and help the old Seer. How long could you survive on sorrels and clams alone?

. . .

The old woman calls you to see her on the brink of war, and tells you to prepare for a ceremonial offering. Two horses, black as night if possible, brown at the very least, to appease the Great Mother of the Earth and quench her thirst for blood. If the Mother is satisfied with your offering, She will perhaps stop the approaching army or convince the Titan to leave your village alone.

She does a small rite before you, and you need to stay with her through her visions. You hate the smell of the leaves she burns, and try to cover your nose with your tunic to prevent breathing in the bitter fumes. The seer looks like she’s just lying herself down to sleep, but it’s always a burden when the spirits arrive and she starts to talk. You turn your back on her to coax them to rise: a mortal stare annoys the chthonic ones. You nearly fall asleep too as you wait, wanting nothing more than to go back to your own hut and have a good night’s sleep. Perhaps because you’re lousy tonight, and less vigilant as you should be, the spirits arrive sooner than either of you thought.

“He’s strong,” the seer croaks from the earthen bed, and you fight the urge to turn around and peek at the old woman, currently in the clutches of spirits.

“Invincible… Hungry... The horses…won’t suffice…”

She drifts someplace else, and you try to memorize every word, every intonation, as cryptic or as simple as they are, for later interpretation.

“I see you,” she says in a slightly more cheerful tone, which is odd because the old woman is never happy or satisfied, no matter how bright the sun shines or how much food there is in the storages and pits.

“Me?” You dare to speak even though you’re not allowed to disturb the spirits. You could slap yourself for blurting out a single word, but luckily, the hungry ones don’t attack you for your insolence.

“You.. will be his downfall,” she speaks as if you are having a conversation here. “Be there. When he arrives.”

“...Be there? Why?” You dare to utter again, more concerned about what the Mother implies than the potential fury of some lowly earthen spirits. You haven’t got the faintest clue about what She might be suggesting. Why do you have to participate in the battle? How can you be there without getting killed? You’re not a warrior… The Mother has it all wrong.

Suddenly, you curse the night, you curse the whole day, knowing your brother’s late proposal was perhaps a warning, a hint from the gods to leave, and leave quickly.

The old woman laughs dryly on the ground - the throaty, outright sick cackle makes you flinch.

You don’t like this... You don’t like this at all.

“Mother. What must I do?” You demand to know, thinking about how all the gods, spirits, old women, and Titans should go to hell.

“Become a tree,” the old woman offers as if it’s the easiest thing to do. “A flower. Me...”

. . .

You become a marten first, then a bird. Then perhaps a tree.

You climb a spruce and wait there. You wait until the sunrise; you wait until noon. You wait until you see the glint of the Roman spearheads and hear the sound of their march.

You’ve dreamed of the Titan ever since you left the seer’s hut. You’ve dreamed of him slaying everyone in the village; you’ve dreamed of him driving a thick spear into the ground and grabbing you with an intent to raise you into the air and impale you on it. You’ve dreamed of him behind you, above you, inside you. You wake up one morning only to see that half of the people have left. You don’t know where they have gone, and you can’t follow them even if you did because the old woman waits for you in front of her hut and gives you a nod the instant you walk into another beautiful, sunny day.

That’s why you’ve turned into a branch in a tree, but for what purpose, you have no idea. You can’t understand why you must be here to witness the world’s end.

Your men scream and shout and roar as they crash into the thick forest of spears. The enemy is silent: it’s eerie, how the world burns and falls into ruin around you, people are screaming; everyone who has a soul and a heart is screaming for Mother as they die, but the men behind the Roman shields refuse to emit a sound. They don’t curse or shout or summon their gods; they simply stand their ground and pant mist into the air as wave after wave of men break on their shields and die before their feet. Somebody loses his spear because it gets stuck between your clansman’s ribs, but the Roman simply draws his sword in its stead: it’s the only sound among the pitched wails that cut through the forest – the cold, clear ring of a gladius being pulled from its sheath.

That is why you flinch at the sound of the first shout, a brutish command that sends all the shields to the side, only to present more shields: the Romans switch positions in their formation as if they’re not even human beings like the rest of you, just a single enormous creature made of iron and leather and bone, operating it's flat forest of weapons.

And then you see him: the giant of your dreams, the hungry titan everyone has told you about. He rises from the tide of helmets like a summoned god, concealed as one of the soldiers and only now revealing his true nature. He stands at least two heads taller than the rest, pushes his own soldiers to the side and breaks out of the formation these vicious Romans love so much. You knew he would be strong and big, but you didn't know he refused to show his face… You wonder what kind of a monster hides behind the black cloth with nothing but two eye holes ripped on it. As if this man needed the additional effort to stand out from other soldiers...

He's like a God of War, just like the survivors said: his armour is of Roman design, but the amount of metal that had to be scraped together to cover this man's shoulders and chest must've demanded a fortune in gold. He doesn't seem to care about the Roman ways, however: he throws his shield away as soon as he's out of the cumbersome formation as if he has carried it only as a decoration up until this point. He draws another sword in its stead – if any other man did such a stupid thing, traded his shield for a weapon, you would snort. But not now.

Standing between the Romans and your clansmen like a challenge, a threat, a deity, even the men possessed by the seer's blood spells hesitate to approach him. But when they do, the god unleashes carnage: the first warrior gets his stomach slashed open, and the two thick swords look like toothpicks when wielded by this man. A stomach wound is a gruesome, slow way to die - but just before the warrior's entrails spill to dangle between his feet, the brute grants him mercy by sweeping his head off with a single blow of his gladius.

A roar finally rises from your enemy: they cheer Death on as the head of your neighbour meets the mud next. The soil is already soaked in blood, but the Mother is hungry still. The forest booms with Her bloodlust as the god moves around like a slow tempest of muscle, metal and darkness: he breaks every Roman rule by fighting as his own man instead of demeaning himself as one of them, a lowly part of this odd metal beast before you. He sends a limb flying in the air with a swing of a sword; he uses the same weapon as a bludgeon to bash in someone's skull. He crushes a man's chest simply by sinking down onto one knee, breaking bone, tendon and flesh to splinters as a whole ribcage gets crushed under his massive weight.

Warriors flee before him, they fall under the combined wrath of the Mother and the Titan's sword. The dead seem to fall eternally, along with your heart, before meeting the ground with a hollow thud.

Your chieftain is among the last men standing, meeting this unstoppable foe with admirable courage. Not having succumbed to the spells of bloodlust in years, he meets his death as a seasoned but old warrior. With his fighting years behind him, your chief doesn't have a chance against this man, but you have to grant the beast a feather's worth of honour, because he recognizes your chieftain as the veteran he is and salutes him with his sword. Then he proceeds with the bloodbath: flinging your leader's sword and axe easily to the side, he walks straight into his arms like he would into a hug, grabs him by the waist, and raises him into the air like he's nothing but a child.

Your scream never leaves your lungs as you watch how the Titan raises the draping cloth from his face, just enough to sink his teeth into your beloved chieftain’s neck. The noise that erupts from your elder is not that of a man but a tortured animal. It’s not from this world, what you witness next: the giant tears a hunk of flesh from your chief like he’s a piece of roasted meat. Blood streams forth, his screams fade away all too slowly, and you hear your own weak wail in the air as the Titan lets go of the heap that used to be a strong male and a wise leader.

Your chieftain is dead; his essence spills to the earth in spurts to appease the God of War, who spits blood and flesh to the ground, making you gag into the cold spring air.

Then he raises his swords towards the sun, and the forest erupts into a roar with him: the thundering, ear-splitting cheer from his warriors makes the very earth quake beneath your tree. It seems to shake the branches of the forest, and before you know it, the giant’s howl of triumph breaks the one you’re curled around, and you fall, fall, fall into the mud beneath you.

You're not a tree anymore. No: you’re very much a human woman there in the dirt as the sound of shouting ceases like a distant dream.

And he turns.

Death turns.

Mother always said you were a curious creature, which is perhaps why you search for his eyes, even though you should be running. She also said you were a smart one, which is why you know that running is futile. Your limbs wouldn’t carry you far anyway. It is a cruel joke from the gods to have what little strength you have left pour out of you into the ground and up to the feet of the enemy who is already strong, both in body and in will.

The Titan looks at you with genuine wonder, a curiosity that surpasses your own. To your odd thrill, you find that his eyes are blue: the same blue of the sea which you used to collect delicious clams from.

The soldiers behind him shift with lust – their gear clinks as they devour you with unbridled hunger. The Titan is the only one who looks at you like you’re simply a cute little squirrel who happened to fall from a tree right there at his feet. Then his eyes drop to your breasts, and the familiar hunger that lives in men gives the ocean of his eyes a clouded look. When his stare finds yours again, he's a different man: the treacherous beast of your dreams.

You had hoped for a swift death… Violent but quick. But it’s clear that it’s not death he has in store for you as he takes a step towards you. It’s not a quick nor a slow death; it’s not death at all, because–

No.

You’d rather have your arms torn off and fed to the Romans rather than have him thrust the sword between his legs, his third weapon, inside you. If you’re going to die screaming, it will not happen on your back; you will not amuse this beast with your womanhood and tears.

You scramble forward to pick up something, anything: a bronze dirk from a fallen warrior. The giant’s eyes fall on the sad excuse of a weapon, then on the sorry excuse of you. He thinks you’re planning to fight him with that thing, and the corners of his eyes crease a little from the prospect of having to subdue you. You’re proving to be quite the entertainment, and you curse those eyes, looking so kind and lively when just moments ago, the same eyes were inhuman and possessed. His are the eyes of a wayfarer, a wanderer, not a soldier: you catch a hint of sadness in them and curse again.

He’s not human, you remind yourself and show him what actual humans are made of. What women are made of. You give him another name, Giant, because you’ve always feared giants and hated the stories about them. Dumb and reckless creatures they are, stupid destroyers who always place their trust in their size. You never meant to fight him, and he only catches up on it as you turn the dagger towards yourself and guide it to point straight at your heart.

You will be his downfall, just like the seer said.

“Nein–Warte,” the Giant speaks his first words, surprisingly soft to belong to a man like him.

The sorrow in his stare consumes you in full now. It gushes forth like a tide, causing your breath and hands to shake when they need to be stern. You straighten your spine, jut your chin forward, and call for Mother: you don’t even know if you’re yelling for your bearer, or the Great Mother, or the earth that gives life to all. Perhaps you call them all to gather around and witness your sacrifice, higher in price than any of the Titan’s offerings combined. The blood you’re about to spill onto the soil will surely appease the land and raise it to arms to finally fight against this beast.

He says something else just before you pull the blade back to strike it into your chest, and you curse for the third time in your mind: giants aren’t supposed to move that fast; they aren’t supposed to interfere in your last ritual.

But the worst of it is that even when he finally subdues you, even as he wrestles the blade away from you, he ends up drawing a large gash on his forearm… As if he is trying his best to protect you from accidentally cutting yourself.

. . .

You are brought to his tent, screaming.

It’s not as big as a chieftain’s house; it’s barely the size of yours. But it is larger than the tents you saw when you got carried there: as a spitting, screeching, hissing package of what these brutes would no doubt consider a true barbarian woman with uncivilized manners and a fuckable cunt. They will talk about you around their campfires tonight: about you getting broken in by their true commander. It’s enough to satisfy them for now: to imagine their champion to fuck you bloody and sore. And who knows: perhaps they’ll receive the scraps if the Titan gets tired of you.

The precious dagger is somewhere in the mud, probably trampled there like it’s nothing but a piece of worthless metal. Your own trampling is only about to begin as the Giant marches into his abode and sends the men away, giving you uneasy looks in the process, perhaps checking if any of them had enough time to have a go at you. Luckily for him, you’re in the same condition as he left you: legs together, safe and pretty, because he bound them with a rope along with your hands. You are nothing but a delivery, thrown on the floor of dirt and a few animal skins. He just nods at you, happy to acknowledge that you are untouched by the others, as if it would somehow be worse for you to be raped by ten of those petite men than be raped by him: a cruel, bloodthirsty Giant with a giant cock.

Your ankles and wrists get sore as you watch him doff his armour. He takes off the helmet, the belted straps, the segmented plates of his shoulder guards and the heavy Roman cuirass. The gods have truly favoured this man, not only gifting him tremendous height but insurmountable strength too. His muscles are large and lean and quiver with latent power as he moves; his back is so broad it almost competes with the wide mouth of the tent. He doesn’t seem to suffer from the cold either, but he keeps his mask on for whatever ghastly reason. Even if there is a monster under that mask, his body speaks of virility: he’s a man in his prime, a giant at his strongest, making you feel like an elf, a tiny little creature in the feet of this man who must be descended from titans indeed.

You continue to watch as he washes his hands in a small basin, cleans his mouth and neck, too. You reckon the water in that bowl is blood red and dark when he finally dries himself with a white cloth. He stands before you in nothing but his mask and the dark red tunic he had under the armour. He ties it from the waist with a simple leather belt, and it only now makes sense to you why Roman soldiers dye their clothes red: you’re pretty sure you can still see the darker spots on the hem of that tunic, the ones that used to be the lifeblood of your clansmen and kin.

He has the audacity to ask you - wordlessly - to clean his wound, the one you caused him. He sets you free from your bounds, and you are given fresh water and another cloth. He even opens a smallish wooden box of salve that has a familiar smell to it: pine tar and honey, used by your people to treat minor wounds and prevent bad spirits from getting into the wound. You wonder how he even knows about such a balm: is this warrior a Roman at all, or is he some odd creature hauled from the edges of the world to fight for them? You wonder if he has made the salve himself, extracted the tar from the pine and foraged the wax and honey himself, then cursed with his coarse language when he got stung by multiple bees…

You drive away the thoughts that threaten to make this brute human by snorting at his injury. The damage he gave to himself when he tried to guide the blade away from you at the price of his own blood.

It still troubles you that he did it. Even a tiny wound like this can bring any man down if it starts to fester. The cold winds and rains of spring can easily get into the gash and make it rot.

The idea of this giant being forced to his knees because of some filthy dagger wielded by a squirrel of a woman makes you smile inside. It would be a fitting fate for this man. But the vision also makes your heart sting. The thought of him dying of a simple flesh wound, alone and far away from his home, makes your heart grow kinder than it should.

You decide there is nothing you can do but treat his arm, strong and scarred from previous battles. He sits down while you get to stay on the ground, and you try to ignore it that your face is now level with his groin. He sits with a wide spread in those powerful thighs, and you wonder if it's because the rumours about his cock are true. You keep your eyes everywhere else except the hem of that tunic and what's going on under there. He purrs at your touch, making it clear that it doesn't need much more than your soft fingertips to get him hard after a triumphant day on the field of battle.

The wound is not deep, but you clean it carefully, trying to ignore the way his eyes seem to bore into you as you take care of him. Your hand is somewhat steady as you treat the damage with the nice-smelling salve, but you flinch as his hand suddenly meets your cheek. You look up at him, heart plummeting, thighs instinctively pressing together from the gentle way with which he cups your face.

“Schön,” he says, again with a tender voice and an adoring, almost worshipful stare. You don’t have a clue what he’s saying, but you know now for sure that it's not the tongue of the Romans he speaks. The scent of pines and bees lingers between you as he brushes a thumb over your lower lip. You are weak enough to give him a breath, a helpless, hot little exhale that meets his hand like a gift.

“Schön wie eine Fee,” he rumbles, sounding intoxicated or like he's under a spell of sleep.

“What the hell are you saying,” you whisper in your own tongue: just a meek little sputter, a tiny, horrified breath, but the giant’s eyes narrow with a smile.

“Sie redet,” he says happily, and your shoulders sink – you are on the verge of screaming from frustration alone. Whatever you do seems to only amuse this man, and you snap your mouth shut. Your cheeks heat up with recurring waves of odd fever. The ground beneath your shins is all but warm, and yet you feel warm all over: a dangerous sign, you know, and oddly tied to the peculiar bodings you have seen all week.

Because there have been many omens in the air lately.

It’s just that none of them were portents of war.

The cranes started to mate early this year, and you have found a lot of clams from the shore every day. Even your brother encountered a boar with nine piglets; everyone celebrated him as some holy man who had seen the Great Mother when he returned to the village that day. The wind started to blow from south soon after, and the moon has grown along with your womb: this morning, on the brink of war, you woke up wet and restless.

All the omens speak of fertility, of growth, of a new cycle and of birth: of spring and life. There’s nothing about death and decay, nothing except what the people have told you about… him. The death himself. The war god.

“König,” he says as if he can hear your thoughts and wishes to correct them. You look up and see he’s pointing to himself, or rather, holding his hand over his heart. You fight the urge to scoff at the gesture. As if this beast had a heart…

“König,” he repeats the word and pats his chest, and you realize he’s trying to tell you his name. You wrinkle your nose in distaste, and he smiles. It’s easy to tell when he does, even with the cloth that covers his face: you can see the joy clearly from his eyes, the boyish grin that must be occurring under that mask.

“Du?” He points at you next, inquisitive. He has an odd way of pointing: with two fingers, slightly crooked, and you understand very well what he’s asking of you. You refuse to tell him your name, however, settling for pouting a lip at him next. The smile in his eyes only deepens.

“Fee,” he pokes you gently on the shoulder and leans back in his odd Roman chair, seemingly content with having now named you.

And Mother was right: you are curious, so incredibly curious to know what this beast has chosen to call you and why. Are you a rat to him…? Some bird? Perhaps simply a girl?

He is so pleased with your conversation that he pours himself some wine and drinks the whole cup with one gulp. Great, you sigh inside your head, a beast and a drunkard. He pours another cup and tries to offer it to you, and when you don’t make a move to grab the clay mug, he brings it to your lips. You entertain him with a tiny sip: you’ve heard of wine and know that Romans are fond of it, but you have never tasted it yourself.

The tart, bitter flavour almost makes you cough. You thought wine was supposed to be sweet: everyone always describes it as something like milk or honey or juice from an overripe apple. It very much is not, and you almost choke on it and then make a wry face at your captor. He - König - only laughs. It’s another thing that catches you off guard: first those boyish, sad eyes and now this hearty, grown man’s laugh. You have proved to be such an amusement to him that he doesn’t force you to drink any more wine and enjoys the rest of it himself.

Then he rises and makes you shrink from him again, towers above you for a moment, and looks at you with that warm curiosity that makes your heart race.

“Müde?”

He tilts his head, the bag of darkness shifts, the blue eyes behold you fondly, and for some reason, you whimper an answer to yet another question you can’t even understand. He takes your little squeak as a yes and falls to crouch before you, then raises a massive hand to the leather strings that keep your demure little dress up.

To your horror, he pulls the knotted tangle open before you can stop him. Your dress falls from your shoulders and drops to pool around you, and you simply and verily stop breathing.

His eyes wash over you, he examines every little part of exposed skin like an entire treasure chest has suddenly opened before him. You pray to all the gods that he would find it in his heart to be gentle tonight. Your nipples perk up – from the cold or from his stare, you don’t know.

The rough callous of his palm meets your breast and encloses it in warm support. He cups you, weighs you like he would a fruit, and then he squeezes you, rather hard, too: a deliberate attempt to make you squeal again. He replies to your pathetic mewl with an approving rumble, and you look up at him with all the helpless tenderness of the Mother, hoping that Her gentle pleas might persuade this man not to hurt you.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, and his eyes dart to your mouth, to your eyes, then back to your lips again. He immediately softens his touch. Then he lifts you from inside your poor dress, picks you up like you weigh nothing at all, and carries you to his broad bed, the sturdiest you have ever seen.

This man feels like the strangest of fates, like a hopeless destiny, as he sets you on the skins and straw mattress, right next to your fluttering heart. Your insides ache as he undresses before you, entirely without shame. He’s hard under the tunic he rips off and tosses on the cold ground. Your eyes are glued to the legendary cock you’ve heard so much about, the cock that splits women apart: and it’s true that it's huge. It resembles the ones you’ve seen on horses, not on men, and your thighs are glued together as he comes next to you while that pale, monstrous cock sways long and heavy between his thighs. He moves you around a little, and you squeal from how weak you feel: weak as a mouse as he covers you with one of those rich furs he has in plenty on the bed. Then crawls under it too, right next to you.

Your heart almost wrenches itself out of your chest as a strong arm pulls you against him: the swell of your ass meets his thighs, solid and broad like treetrunks, and your lower back meets the hot, almost too hot horse cock. It starts to leak and throb against your skin the instant your flesh is pressed against his. You try not to whimper and moan as the Giant, König, curls around you like you two have always done this.

He takes a long, earnest inhale from your neck and hair, rumbles deeply and contently, and tightens his grip. Apparently, you smell and feel good…

You wait and wait to be plundered and raped, but König only settles for holding you tightly, like you’re a children’s toy made of the softest straw and purest undyed wool. You relax slowly, and he purrs against your back, starts to fondle your breasts, ardently, until your body betrays you and you find yourself wet again; he squeezes and squishes your teats slowly, approvingly, then pinches your nipple once before finally falling into a heavy, deep sleep.

…

Please forgive your author for any historical inaccuracies and other silly things you find facepalmable <3 During this time König would've probably spoken some form of Old Saxon but since I'm not a TOLKIEN we have to settle for modern-day German here. I don't have a taglist for this fic so please check my pinned masterlist for future updates.

Translations

Nein, warte - No, wait

Schön - Beautiful

Schön wie eine Fee - Beautiful as a fairy

Sie redet - She talks

Du? - You?

Müde? - Tired?

#könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig x you #könig #könig cod #konig x reader #könig smut #könig fluff #historical au #Roman soldier!König #könig x female reader

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beansprean · 28 days

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And they lived happily ever after? LOL

Izzyguana AU part 5! (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Aerial shot of the hill where Izzy's grave is marked, a hill sweeping steeply downward behind it toward a small bay where the ocean laps hungrily at the shore. It is dark and raining hard in thin diagonal strikes. 1b. Close up of Izzy's grave marker from below as it is pelted by rain. Behind, thick clouds roll past, rumbling with distant thunder. 1c. Repeat. A loud clap of thunder hits just as a flash of lightning cracks across the sky, illuminating a gloved hand that suddenly punches, palm up, out of the dirt.

2a. series of POV panels on a dark background, showing the ramshackle porch of Stede and Ed's home. The wooden slat door is closed, but there is a gap in the wood above the doorknob where golden light is shining through, juxtaposing the cold blues and purples of the storm outside. There is a shuffling sound of uneven footsteps. 2b. Repeat, closer to the door now, the panel tilted as if the POV is tipping back and forth as it climbs the stairs. The footsteps are louder. 2c. Repeat, closer, now past the stairs, footsteps louder still. 2d. Repeat. Closer. A final thump. The shadow of a head and shoulders falls across the door. 2e. Repeat. The door creaks open, letting out a burst of warm light. 2f. Repeat. The door opens fully, blinding the panel with light.

3a. Inside the house, lit up in warm candlelight, there is a ramshackle wooden table holding a pair of oranges, a bottle of rum, and a pair of silver coins on the close end. On the far end, a lumpy, unfrosted cake on a plate with a single lit candle in the center. At the head of the table in front of the cake sits the iguana in a handmade high chair, a party hat of wrapped palm leaves strapped to its head. Stede and Ed are standing at the table on either side of it with matching party hats. All three look towards the viewer as the door is opened. Ed, wearing a purple tee and green lavalava, has a cup in his right hand and his left hand is frozen mid-cheer. He stares at the newcomer with his jaw dropped and eyes wide with shock. Stede, wearing his teal blouse and brown leather pants, is similarly frozen, leaning into the table on his left hand and holding up a cup in his right as he stares toward the door. A handmade banner stretched behind them reads 'Happy Rebirthday Izzy'. 3b. Reverse shot, chest up of the real human Izzy standing at the door, arm extended to hold it open. He is covered in mud and soaked by the rain, hair falling down into his eyes, and is wearing the cream shirt he died in, now made loose and transparent by the rain but still bearing a faint bloodstain on the chest. Izzy stares forward at the scene in abject horror and confusion, lip curled back from his teeth. 3c. Repeat of 3a, this time with human Izzy and the head of the table. Another candle has been added to the cake, the banner has been changed to read 'Happy Rebirthday Izzys', and a third orange has appeared on the table. The iguana side-eyes Izzy, hissing suspiciously. Stede has resumed his cheer, raising his cup with his right hand and reaching around the iguana's chair to place his left on human Izzy's shoulder. Ed is laughing happily, leaning his forehead into human Izzy's temple and cupping his head with his left hand. Izzy sits frozen and frowning in shock and bewilderment, eye twitching, Ed's party hat now on his head. Izzy thinks to himself, "...Is it too late to crawl back into my grave?" /end ID

#ofmd #izzyguana #ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #steddyhands #mlm #ed teach #stede bonnet #izzy hands #our flag means death #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described

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theaawalker · 5 months

Text

I Promise [Finnick Odair x Reader]

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Song Inspo: About You Now by Miranda Cosgrove Word Count: 829 Series: 1 | 2 | ? Summary: a day of fishing brings reminiscence for you and Finnick. District 4 never felt like home, but you've always had each other. Finnick has his soul mark, as do you, but that doesn't change anything. You know he'll find someone better, but nothing is promised in District 4. Warnings: none Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

You loved fishing with Finnick. He was so good at it and you were very impressed. You also didn’t mind diving into the water as deep as you could to catch his eye.

It was like any other day, Finnick would cast out the nets and spear what he could and you would dive in to retrieve the nets. You had been doing this since you were kids and this was the first time Finnick wasn’t wearing a shirt. So let’s just say you were a little more distracted than usual.

As he pulled back his trident you watched his back muscles and noticed something. On his shoulder was a seashell tattoo. But this wasn’t any ordinary tattoo. It was a soul mark.

You looked down at your wrist and pulled your shell bracelets off to reveal a seashell soul mark identical to Finnick’s. He was your soul mate.

“What’s wrong?” He called to you. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” You said shaking your head. “I didn’t know you had a soul mark”

He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. Do you have one?” You shook your head and he shrugged. “It’s too bad, I haven’t found her yet”

“Yeah, what a shame.” You sighed and turned to the setting sun. “Listen, we have to finish up.” You said, running and diving into the water.

You loved Finnick, but he deserved better. He was amazing and you were, well, you. He didn’t know you were his soul mate and it’s very possible for a soul mark to disappear when circumstances change. There had to be someone better to be his soul mate and that is what you would hold out for.

As you swam to the surface you were met by Finnick’s sea blue eyes staring back at you. His hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you close.

“My little fish was underwater for a very long time. Are you ok?” He asked concerned.

“Yeah” You nodded pushing yourself away from him. “I have to go” You said swimming to shore.

After the next few months despite your best efforts you fell more and more in love with Finnick everyday. You tried to stay away from him but it was almost impossible. Oddly enough you thought that maybe Finnick was in love with you too.

You were fishing one day again when Finnick spoke up. “You know I don’t think this soul mate stuff is true. I mean how can a mark on my body that matches someone else mean I love them. What if I already love someone else”

You couldn’t tell if you were upset or relieved so you nodded. “Well I don’t have to worry about it”

“I just wish I wasn’t carrying this on my back” He paused. “Get it?”

“Ha, ha” You said splashing him with water.

“Oh, you want to do that do you?” He said charging at you and knocking you backwards and into the water with him on top of you and your back against the sandy bottom.

When you both came to the surface you laughed but Finnick’s face turned serious.

“Are you nervous for the reaping next week?” He asked, breaking the happy moment.

“I don’t know.” You said shrugging. “I always wonder what are the odds.”

He nodded and looked off into the distance. “Yeah... I suppose.”

“Come on.” You said pulling him up. “It’s almost dark”

The next week went by and Finnick seemed distant. He was really worried about the reaping. You weren’t sure if he was right to be, but today would be the day to find out.

You dressed in your best blue dress and braided your hair back in a single fishtail braid. Sadly, you couldn’t meet up with Finnick before, but you would see him after. You hoped.

After you were all lined up in the square that’s when your nerves finally hit. You fidgeted with your dress and tried to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of Finnick. To your despair he was nowhere to be found.

As they drew the girl’s name you breathed a sign of relief when it wasn’t you. When they got to the boys you crossed your fingers it wasn’t Finnick.

“For the boys!" The woman called out. “Finnick Odair!”

“No...” You whispered. You watched in horror as Finnick walked up to the stage. “No!” You said running up after him the guards in quick pursuit. You grabbed his hand and gave him a hug. That was all you had time for before the guards were tearing you apart.

Finnick still had your arm and through all the grabbing and pulling your sleeve pulled up revealing your soul mark. Finnick saw it immediately. “I knew it was you. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked desperately.

“I’m sorry.” You said as you were finally pulled away.

“I will come back to you!” He yelled as he was dragged into the justice building. “I promise!”

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

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iamsuckateverythingtobehonest · 7 months

Text

Between The Wall

Pairing: Sagau!Aether x Reader

Summary: Aether finds solace in the voice, he once hated and now loves.

!Warning!: First Time Writing, might be bad!

Part 1/3

Aether's first memory after he woke up from his long slumber is hearing a voice talking. It was distant but felt close to his ear but he saw no one near the vicinity.

He pushed himself up from the ground, patting his hair to clean off the remaining sand that stuck on his clothes.

'Where is this? How long I have been sleeping?'

Aether's eyes enlarged when he looked up to look around.

The world... He looking at is incomplete like it was just building itself. The sky had sun but it was dark, the birds that were flying in the sky moved without flapping their wings. The ocean and the sand he steps on, doesn't make a sound.

Aether started walking trailing along the shore, his frown evident. He doesn't know what to think about his situation at all, his first thought is to search for his sister who has been taken away fromm him but now he doesn't know what to do when he doesn't understand what kind of world he is in the first place.

Once again the voice he heard came up again, they sound frustrated but unfortunately, Aether couldn't understand the language they spoke, he couldn't decipher any of it even from the language he learned from another world he visited.

None of it fit.

Abruptly, Aether is frozen in place, his step is halted like some force holding him in place. He struggles through it, but his body doesn't respond to him, only his eyes can move to feel which wide as far as he can be.

Aether felt fears through his veins and fate, 'Lumine...' Aether's last thought before a bright light consumed him.

Aether opened his eyes with a jolt, breathing heavily, he turned his head when he felt movement only to meet with his beloved sister's eyes.

"L-Lumine..." Aether uttered, he quickly embraced her which surprised the other.

"Aether? What's wrong?" She said, worriedly.

"I have a long dream that you and me-"

Aether doesn't manage to say the rest of his words when everything happens so fast. He froze in place when fighting midair to escape before his sister was taken again.

Again they were separated.

Accompany with a voice that screams with him before his world becomes dark and consumes the bright light again.

"Lumine!"

Aether woke up again on the same beach but it was complete. The sun that bright, the bird flapping its wings, the sound of the ocean, and the sand he stepped on.

It's different, the voice too no longer there, and for a few months he is there.

He then meets paimon whom he saves from drowning, and not long after that excited voice enters his eardrums, this time the voice is clear like the flow of river.

Aether's eyes widened involuntarily which Paimon comments on, confused.

"No, it's nothing," he shook his head but then he heard a squeal, he still didn't understand the language but his cheeks went a bit red when he heard his name between the squealing.

But the moment is gone when Aether's body starts to move by itself around the beach, slashing at the bushes, running after golden crabs and Lizard, and jumping every step take took.

He almost died by drowning when the body suddenly moved to swim in the ocean and by the end of it, there was is treasure chest behind the rock.

The whole time Aether's face is full of terror, he even loses the capability to speak, he can't even ask for help from Paimon.

Suddenly he regained his body control and there was a light glow around his body. His body felt a little bit stronger and his stamina increase after the effect was gone.

He hears a gasp from Paimon, "An artifact blessing!"

"Artifact blessing?" Aether asked quietly, hugging himself, still feeling spooked by what just happened.

Paimon's nodded, "Uh-huh! You are so lucky even as an Outlander! You don't even have a vision but you got a blessing from the creator itself!"

"Creator? Do you mean Archon?"

"No! Archon is different from than Creator, The Creator is the one who created the world we live in right now, one of the people that even Celestia respect and believe in!" Paimon said, waving her hand around to prove her point.

"You will see!"

Paimon brought Aerher to the status of seven, the Anemo God. "Look up, if you see the clock the Anemo Archon wore, it belongs to the creator!" Paimon started.

"Each Statue has at least one or two things they hold of Creator belonging on their statues which to show they were favor by them!"

Aether looks at the statues, his face looks firm, and has a lot of thoughts in his head.

"What if...you can hear the so-called Creator's voice? They even can control your body anytime they please...what would the person be then...?"

Paimom blinked with a frown evident on her face, "That...would be...dangerous,"

"Huh?"

"I-I mean! Everyone herein Teyvat even the Archon loves the Creator if they know someone who can hear their beloved Creator and even can be controlled by them..." Paimon trailed off as she crossed her arms in troubled faces, "The person certainly would be a target."

"...I see," Aether nodded, "you still don't answer my question, Paimon."

"Well, that just means, the person is the Creator's vessel, and The Creator is fond of them to even let them hear their voices." Paimon said, "Also having a Creator by your side certainly will bring a lot of fortune, power, and a bright future to your side right?"

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #aether #aether x reader #genshin traveler #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #self aware genshin #sagau aether #sagau

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rynwritesreid · 3 months

Text

Mind games~Spencer Reid

Chapter three~ nothing’s new

Chapter summary: The FBI gives you time off, allowing you time to heal after what happened to you. But after news spreads, someone from your past contacts you, making old wounds resurface, making you turn to none other than Spencer Reid.

Chapter warnings: Talks about the BDSM community and BDSM dynamics. Talks of fainting. Submissive reader and dominant Spencer. Alcohol consumption. Mentions of what happened to you in the previous chapter but nothing serious. Reader cries but Spencer comforts her. Mentions of emotional wounds from previous relationships.

A/N: I might start releasing these every week instead of every other week, but I am not sure. I also hope this is a good description of what BDSM and specifically D/S relationships are like, I know that community gets a lot of really bad stories written about them.

~mind game’s masterlist~

~join the mind games taglist~

Everyone on the team had been looking after you, making sure you were okay. Spencer, however, had been a godsend. He would send you texts throughout the day, even though the man hated technology. He had opened up to you about what he had been through, maybe in hopes of you opening up, or maybe he just wanted to show you he knew how you were feeling. But you didn’t really care, you were just happy that he was no longer horrible towards you.

You did want to open to Spencer, to everyone, and let them know what you had seen, but you just couldn’t. And the fact that people from academy had been texting you, telling you they had heard what happened and that they couldn’t imagine how you felt, just made it worse.

It had also made it back to your ex-boyfriend, who after 1 and a half years of ignoring your texts, had decided to call you. Part of you wanted to ignore the call, to push away any connection to the past. But another part of you was curious about what he had to say after all this time.

Taking a deep breath, you answered the call. His voice sounded distant and strained as he spoke, "Hey... I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry."

The sincerity in his tone surprised you, and for a moment, you were reminded of why you had loved him in the first place. But then reality set in, reminding you of the pain and heartbreak he had caused.

"I appreciate your sympathy," you replied coolly, trying to maintain a sense of composure. "But I'm doing my best to move forward."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could almost hear him searching for the right words.

"I understand if you don't want to hear from me anymore," he finally said, his voice filled with regret. "I just wanted you to know that I've changed. I've done a lot of soul-searching and therapy since we broke up. I wish I could have been there for you when you needed me."

Your grip on the phone tightened as his words struck a chord within you. The longing for closure and understanding warred with the pain and bitterness that still lingered from your past.

"It's too late now," you replied, your voice laced with a mixture of anger and sadness. "You had your chance, and you blew it."

There was silence on the other end, and you could almost picture him taking in a deep breath before speaking again.

"You're right," he said quietly. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I hope that someday, maybe, you can find it in your heart to let go of the hurt I caused."

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words hit you like a wave crashing onto the shore. The pain of his betrayal resurfaced, threatening to engulf you once again. Part of you wanted to believe in his sincerity, to believe that people could change. But another part of you feared being hurt all over again.

"I don't know if I can ever forgive you," you managed to say, your voice trembling with emotion. You didn’t care what he had to say anymore, so you just hung up.

You couldn’t hold back any more and you just began to sob. You picked up your phone and decided to call Spencer, it probably would have been smarter to call one of the girls, Spencer wasn’t the only one who understood what you had gone through, but Spencer was the only one who could truly understand you.

As the phone rang, your tears continued to flow, blurring your vision and making it difficult to see. The weight of your emotions felt like an anchor dragging you down into a sea of despair. Each ring seemed to echo in the cavernous void of loneliness that had enveloped you.

Finally, Spencer's voice broke through the haze of your anguish. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his tone filled with concern.

You tried to steady your voice, but it came out choked with sobs. "Spencer," you managed to utter between gasps for air. "I... I need you."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Spencer's voice softened with understanding. "I'm here for you," he said gently. "Take all the time you need, and when you're ready, I'll be right by your side."

“I’m ready now Spencer, please.” In that moment, you could hear the urgency in your own voice, the desperation for comfort and solace. The pain of your past relationship had resurfaced, triggering a deep yearning for someone who truly understood you. And Spencer, with his unwavering support and compassion, was the only person who could provide that.

Silence lingered on the other end of the line, and you wondered if perhaps you had overwhelmed him with your sudden vulnerability. But just as doubt began to creep in, Spencer's voice filled the void once again.

"I'm on my way," he said firmly, his words laced with determination. "Stay where you are. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Relief washed over you like a gentle tide, easing some of the turmoil in your heart. You trusted Spencer implicitly; his presence was a balm to your wounded soul.

Spencer rushed into Hotch’s office, telling him that you needed someone with you right now, and that he will be back to work as soon as he can be.

And Spencer, a man who was always true to his word, was at your door within 20 minutes.

You opened the door, your tear-streaked face betraying the pain you had been holding inside. Spencer took one look at you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. The warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, brought a sense of security that you hadn't felt in a long time.

"I'm here," he whispered softly into your ear, his voice filled with genuine concern. "You're not alone anymore."

You clung to him, seeking solace in his presence, as he led you to the couch and sat down beside you. “You don't have to face this pain by yourself”, his voice was calming, “everyone on the team loves you, they all would be here in a heartbeat for you. I mean they are discussing what to get you for when you come back to work.”

You let out a weak laugh, the first sign of a smile since the whole ordeal began. It was comforting to know that you had a support system, a group of people who truly cared about you.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I don't know where I would be without all of you."

Spencer's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes filled with genuine compassion. "You're stronger than you think," he assured you softly. "And we'll be right here with you every step of the way."

In that moment, as you sat there with Spencer by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope. The pain and heartache were still present, but now they were tempered by the love and support surrounding you.

“Would you like to talk about what happened, or is there something else on your mind?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were ready to relive the details of the past, but then you realized that Spencer was right. It was time to face what had happened and start the healing process.

Taking a deep breath, you began to share your story. The words tumbled out, sometimes in a rush, other times choked with emotion. Spencer listened attentively, never interrupting or judging. He offered gentle words of encouragement, his presence a constant reminder that you were not alone.

As you recounted the painful memories, it felt like a weight was being lifted off your shoulders. Each word spoken was an act of defiance against the pain that had consumed you for so long. And with each passing minute, you felt a little bit stronger.

When you finally finished, there was a silence that hung in the air, as if the weight of your story needed a moment to settle in. Spencer broke the stillness with a soft sigh.

"I'm so sorry," he said sincerely, “you should never have had to have gone through that. He will rot in prison. And that ex of yours, he did not deserve you.”

You nodded, grateful for Spencer's unwavering support and understanding. His words were like a soothing balm to your wounded soul, validating the pain you had endured. Your heart ached with the realization that you had been in a toxic relationship, but knowing that you were no longer alone gave you the strength to move forward.

"Thank you, Spencer," you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes once again. "I don't know how I would have made it through this without you."

Spencer's gaze softened, his hand gently wiping away your tears. "You don't have to thank me," he said softly. "Being there for you is what friends do. We look out for each other."

The word "friends" lingered in the air, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between you and Spencer. The connection you shared felt deeper than mere friendship, but you were both still healing from past wounds. It was too soon to explore those feelings, and not long ago, Spencer had shown his dislike for you.

After about two weeks, you were back in the bullpen. Garcia had decorated your desk, telling you that this always make her feel better and she thought it would do the same to you, JJ and Emily informed you on all the gossip you had missed, Hotch had gone full dad mode on you, making sure you were okay, Rossi had invited you over to his for a private cooking lesson, Morgan had told you all the pranks he had pulled on Spencer. Spencer on the other hand seemed to keep his distance, he had smiled at you, but ever since that day he had come over something seemed to have changed.

You couldn't put your finger on it, but there was a palpable shift in the dynamics between you and Spencer. He was still kind and supportive, but there was a subtle hesitancy in his interactions with you. It was as if he was holding back, as if there were unresolved emotions swirling beneath the surface.

You desperately wanted to address it, to talk to Spencer about what had transpired between you, but you feared that doing so might jeopardize the fragile bond you had built. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if he saw you as nothing more than a friend and confidant?

You pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the work at hand. The team had a new case, one that required their full attention. As you discussed the details with your teammates, you noticed Spencer's gaze linger on you for a moment longer than necessary. It was a fleeting look, but enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Throughout the day, you found yourself stealing glances at Spencer whenever you could. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, a connection that had grown stronger during your time of need. But you both had been through so much already, and neither of you wanted to rush into anything without being sure.

As the case progressed, Spencer's presence beside you became more prominent. He would stand just a little too close, his hand brushing against yours as he passed you a file or offered his insights. It was subtle, but it spoke volumes about what he was feeling.

Even JJ had commented on it, asking if something was going on between the two of you, but you assured her nothing was going on. But the truth was, you weren't quite sure how to define whatever it was that was happening between you and Spencer.

After the case was over, the team decided to go out for celebratory drinks. This was the first time you had gone out since what had happened to you. You were sat in-between JJ and Garcia, they were both talking about their funniest sex stories and you couldn't help but laugh along with them, grateful for the distraction from your own thoughts. Across the table, Spencer was engaged in a lively conversation with Rossi and Morgan, his laughter ringing out in the crowded bar.

You don’t know what compelled you, but you decided to share yours, and you were almost certain Spencer couldn’t hear you.

“If you want to mine”, you paused, allowing the girls to give you their full attention, “I told my ex that I was into BDSM and he thought that just meant me calling him daddy. So, when I told him what I was really into, he nearly fainted. It was definitely an interesting and eye-opening experience." The girls burst into laughter, their faces turning red from the combination of alcohol and amusement.

The sound caught Spencer's attention, his ears perking up as he turned his head towards you. His eyes locked with yours, and you could've sworn there was a flicker of interest in them.

"Wait, what did I miss?" he asked, leaning closer to catch the tail end of the conversation.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you glanced at the girls. JJ nudged you playfully, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh, Y/N's just regaling us with her kinky adventures," Garcia chimed in with a teasing smirk.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and surprise evident on his face. "Is that so?" he asked, trying to hide a smile.

You shifted in your seat, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. The playful conversation seemed to have opened a door, allowing for a light-hearted connection between you and Spencer. You took a deep breath, deciding to seize the moment.

"Yeah, well, it was definitely an experience," you replied, matching his playful tone. "But let's just say, I've learned my lesson about dating vanilla guys."

Spencer chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I can assure you, I'm far from vanilla," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice.

JJ and Garcia exchanged knowing glances, silently urging you to take the plunge. They had seen the connection between you and Spencer long before either of you had acknowledged it, and they were more than ready to play matchmakers.

"So," Garcia interjected with a sly grin, "are we going to sit here and talk about kinks all night, or are you two going to finally address the elephant in the room?"

“I-erm what elephant?” you asked, there was hint of confusion in your voice.

“Oh, come on.” JJ stated “Even when Spencer hated you, he couldn’t take his eyes of you.”

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly, his gaze shifting nervously between you and JJ. You could see the internal battle raging within him, the fear of rejection warring with his desire for something more.

Finally, Spencer took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to speak. "I... I have to admit," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "Even when I claimed to dislike you, I couldn't deny the pull I felt towards you. You're intelligent, compassionate, and..." He trailed off, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reciprocation.

A warm smile spread across your face as you reached across the table, gently placing your hand on top of Spencer's. "And what?" you prompted softly.

He let out a shaky laugh, his fingers intertwining with yours. "And beautiful," he finished, his voice filled with sincerity.

JJ and Garcia exchanged triumphant glances as their matchmaking efforts paid off.

“You know, I think it’s time you two go home, so you can discuss this somewhere Hotch can’t hear you.” Emily said in a hushed tone.

You and Spencer laughed, realizing that your friends were right. It was time to have a more private conversation about the growing feelings between you. As the night came to an end, you and Spencer found yourselves outside the bar, away from prying ears.

The air was crisp, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. You leaned against the side of the building, facing Spencer who stood only a few feet away. There was a comfortable silence between you as you both took a moment to collect your thoughts.

Finally, Spencer spoke up, his voice filled with vulnerability. "I never meant to push you away before. I was scared...scared of opening myself up to someone, scared of getting hurt. But seeing what you went through, how strong you were...it made me realize how much I care about you."

Your heart swelled at his words, grateful for his honesty. "Spencer, I understand why you acted the way you did. We've all been hurt before, and we all have our own ways of protecting ourselves," you replied softly. "But I want you to know that I care about you too, and I'm willing to take the risk if it means we can be together."

Spencer's eyes met yours, filled with a mix of relief and hope. "You would really give us a chance?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

A gentle smile tugged at your lips as you stepped closer to him. "Yes, Spencer, I would. I would give us a chance," you confirmed, your voice filled with certainty. "Because the truth is, Spencer, I've been falling for you ever since the first case I worked.”

Spencer's eyes widened, surprise mingling with joy. "Really? Even when I was being an insufferable jerk?"

You chuckled softly. "Especially then," you admitted. “But I do have to know what you mean when you say your far from vanilla.”

Spencer blushed, his cheeks turning a shade of crimson. "Well," he stammered, "I've always had a... deep fascination with role-playing scenarios and exploring different power dynamics." He paused, his gaze searching yours for any sign of judgment or discomfort. “And I can say I enjoy being the dominant one more.”

“Is that so? What have been your favourite scene you’ve done so far?”

Spencer cleared his throat, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "Well, one of my favourite scenes involved a classic teacher-student dynamic," he confessed, his voice laced with excitement. "I got to play the strict professor, and she was my eager and naughty student."

Your eyebrows raised in surprise and curiosity. "Oh? And how did that play out?"

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Let's just say there were some detentions and extra credit assignments involved," he replied coyly. "It was all about the power play and the thrill of breaking the rules within the safety of our consensual role-playing."

He then once again looked to see if you were unconformable. “What about you? What do you enjoy.” He asked.

“I, erm- well I enjoy being the submissive one. I was in a dynamic relationship with someone, and they gave me a necklace to wear, to show I belonged to them. They used to tell me what outfits I could wear when going out.”

Spencer's eyebrows furrowed, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Did you enjoy the feeling of submission, or was it more about the trust and surrender that came with it?" he asked gently, his voice filled with genuine interest.

You took a moment to consider his question before answering honestly. "It was a combination of both," you replied, your voice soft but unwavering. "There was something incredibly liberating about giving up control and trusting someone else to take care of me. It allowed me to let go of my responsibilities and just be in the moment."

Spencer nodded, a thoughtful look on his face as he took in your words. "I understand," he said quietly. "The power dynamics in BDSM can be incredibly nuanced and fulfilling when both parties are open and communicative about their desires and boundaries."

"Would you ever consider exploring that dynamic with me?" you asked cautiously, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. “I mean, I would still be the submissive one.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, filled with warmth and reassurance. He reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "I would be honoured to explore that dynamic with you," he replied softly. "But only if we establish clear boundaries, practice open communication, and ensure that both of our needs are met."

You smiled, relieved by his understanding and respect for the importance of consent and communication in such exploration. "I couldn't agree more," you murmured, leaning into his touch. "We'll take it slow, step by step, and create a safe space for both of us to express ourselves."

~taglist~

@iluvreid @drspencerreidsthings @amatheuni@i-heart-mgg @Liidiaaag@wyntersstuff@brilliantreid @donttrustlove@btsiguess-kpop @bellesmith628 @lunaticgurly @Oureternalbond@somethingsmart123 @ula-revolution @pleasantwitchgarden @vvampwebb @alysena2 @sujan39 @nini123 @xoxo-lyss @rory-cakes @marantha @http0kms0jpg @peppersapro @mommymilkers3000@spicycalabaza @shinixpo@dr-reidsslut@[email protected]@potatochip-111 @stars-n-stuff15 @nugget1234567@00047c@carley12041@earth2stxr@cosavuoi-me@sewmxx @bibissparkles @frgtmenotes @mdanon027 @drreidsfavwhxre@yourfavoritefangirl @sunnyyyyyyyynnus @mega-kittyglitter-1 @loliakeoghan23 @7bel-o@dreamsarebig @kohordosara16@ashlynt @waywardhunter95 @millreid0607@spencerstits @ruby-d1amond @harrrystyles5 @maoricth @sarcasm-and-stiles @r-3dlips @khxna @k3nz13a @reidtopia @danelhi@fictionallifestuff @girl_lost_not_found@bbggarcia@b0nesnotcals@super-btstrash-posts @blacksoul-27@reidsgirlhottie@alexxavicry @olives-and-sunshine @skulliecadaver-blog

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid smut #rynwritesreid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid

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thetwilightroadtonightfall · 3 months

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“If I find the pieces of hurt inside me, what should I do once I have them?”

“Make something new. Because there’s no going back to how things used to be.”

The time has come. A freshly baked fic, written by yours truly. ☺️ May I present to you…

Overmorrow

Summary: After Daybreak Town’s destruction, Ephemer awakens on a distant shore. This is the story of how he learns to live again.

Takes place after the events of Union Cross, and before the events of Missing Link.

Read here: Ch 1: Refraction

[link for better image quality]

[link to fun supplementary info for the fic]

#khux #khml #ephemer #overmorrow #kh fics #my fics #my art #FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY #I’ve been chewing and gnawing on this fic for 3 months straight #I’ll be posting more content for it as time goes on (keep an eye on the overmorrow tag above ⬆️)#my posts #my ocs #timeless child

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korebringerofded · 4 months

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You Can Hear it in the Silence- Part 1

Roronora Zoro X F!Reader

Summary- A handful of moments, Zoro realizes he has feelings for you, you realize you have feelings for him, tension tensionnnn Warnings- Future smut, adult content, sexual tension? Romantic feelings? Crack fic energy, lots of fluff and pining. Usopp being personally victimized by Zoro, emotionally unaware and distant Zoro, Reader wears a dress? Strawhat!Reader

A/N- I ask that you read my rules before going any further on my page. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated and keep me going All requests are always open and you can find my entire masterlist here. Please do not copy, use my work, or put it through AI without my permission or I'll be really sad about it!!

A/N- Hope you enjoy! This was supposed to be an imagine buttttt now its a multi-part fic, sorry for no posts. Its mental illness aint it. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated and keep me going All requests are open and you can find my entire masterlist here

Roronora Zoro was not the kind of person who would often find himself discomposed, he was undeniably brave and headstrong, sometimes to a fault.

He was practically a one-man army, him being a ruthless pirate hunter turned pirate meant he had seen countless battles, faced many challenges.

So far, only two things could really cause that stoic image to falter, losing a fight, and you.

From the very first day that Monkey D. Luffy dragged you aboard the Going Merry, Zoro had taken notice of you. His sharp eyes followed you closely, taking in the curve of your pretty lips and the flutter of your lashes. It started as a simple interest, a curiosity for the newest crewmate, that was all.

At least, that is what the renowned swordsman told himself.

For the first few months of you being aboard, Zoro had believed he had been successful at ignoring the blossom of warmth he had started to feel towards his new crewmate. He had convinced himself it was truly nothing more than a friendly interest.

That was all, just a friendly and completely platonic interest in you.

You, who had a habit of wearing short dresses when it was a particularly hot day, skirts edge swaying at your thighs as you moved around the ship.

You, whose warmth and kindness made Zoro’s skin crawl and his chest ache in an uncomfortable and unfamiliar way.

You, whose sweet and musical laugh would play on repeat in Zoro’s mind like a siren’s song, no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

You, who would spend entirely too much time with that damn cook.

Not that Zoro cared, of course he didn’t care.

He cared, he cared a lot.

It was dinnertime, the sun setting over the shore while everyone was settling into their normal routines as the salty breeze blew along the deck. The entire crew sat around the dining table eating and conversing as they did nearly every evening. Nami, Sanji and Chopper sat next to you on one side of the table while Luffy, Usopp and Zoro sat on the other.

Luffy was talking to Usopp who sat at the other end of the dinning table, his voice loud as he shoved an absorbent amount of food into his face, his face pushed out like a chipmunk with chubby cheeks full of acorns.

“L-Luffy! Be careful, you’re gonna choke!” You stammered, watching with wide eyes and a pale face.

“Ah, I wouldn’t worry so much about him. I’ve seen Luffy eat 12 whole roasted chickens in a row before.” Nami said with a sigh as she patted you on the shoulder.

“What about the bones?” You asked

“Oh yeah, he ate those too. I’m not even sure he noticed he did it.” Nami said.

“I rike food, is that suwch a crime?!” Luffy asked with a huff as his teeth tore into the juicy meat of a chicken leg, the grease coating his face and the food muffling his complaints.

That sent everyone at the table into a fit of laughter, except for Zoro, who was sitting directly across from you at the table and was entirely too distracted staring directly at you to even notice the rest of the crew,

He had an almost unreadable expression on his face, his jaw tight. His body was tense, heart beating rapidly in his chest, like the echoing beat of a drum. Zoro’s eyes never left you, they followed the way your chin lifted into the air and your head tilted back as you laughed with your whole body.

He could see the small tears that formed at the corner of your glossy eyes as you laughed so hard it seemed to hurt, curled lashes fluttering as your hand reached up to brush the tears away.

Although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, even himself, Roronora Zoro started to live and breathe for those bite-sized moments of your life. He wanted to see everything, experience all of you in every way possible.

Eventually, it got to the point where every thought that ran through Zoro’s brain would somehow descend to thoughts of you, your smile, your laugh, and those fucking eyes that were starting to ruin him.

As was normal aboard the Going Merry, Zoro was working out on the deck, doing countless amounts of reps with an abnormally huge weight, his rippling muscles twitching and sweat forming on his brow as he enjoyed the breeze and the sunshine soaking into his already tanned skin. He passed the weight between each of his arms after each set of reps, making sure each of his arms was properly matched.

Zoro was training particularly hard today, his bandana tied around his head to catch the sweat from stinging his eyes. He couldn’t help it, he had been distracted for weeks, he had to try and clear his head.

He needed something, anything to take his mind off of his new crewmate, you.

No matter how hard Zoro tried to avoid you, to ignore you, or be cold towards you…you would appear, and melt away that cold exterior like the onset of spring over a fluffy snow-covered field.

Just as always, as soon as Zoro’s clouded mind started to clear, your voice and presence appeared and sent a spark down the swordsman's spine, his muscles twitching as he glanced over his shoulder to see his only real weakness, you.

“I made some lemonade, you want some?” You asked in a honeyed tone.

Zoro’s eyes immediately scanned down to take in your outfit, gritting his teeth to contain the audible groan that threatened to escape his mouth. You were wearing a rather short dress, the brightly colored skirt swaying in the breeze as you held a tray with a glass pitcher full of lemonade and a few glasses on it.

“Damn…why do you have to be so cute?”

“That damn cook didn’t touch it, right? I think he's trying to poison me.” Zoro grumbled, only half-joking.

You giggled softly, looking up at him as you quickly shook your head back and forth. You sat the tray down on a small table off to the side of the deck, bending over just a bit to pour Zoro a full glass of the lemonade.

Zoro couldn’t help it, his eyes wandered down the curve of your back to your round hips, his hand clenching around the dumbbell in his hand as he saw the skirt of your dress ride up the back of your plump thighs as you bent down.

“Nope. I made it myself, it’s definitely poison-free.” You said with a toothy grin, standing back up as you offered him the cup, the ice clinking against the sides of the frosty glass.

“Hm.” Zoro smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

You giggled softly, still holding the glass out for him to take.

Zoro didn’t even realize what he was doing, your presence alone was like a bucket of ice water that short-circuited his brain. All rationality left his mind the moment he laid his eyes on your pretty face.

For a split second, you could have sworn you caught his eyes flickering down to your thighs as the edge of your dress fluttered in the salty ocean breeze.

“That was just my imagination, right?” You thought to yourself, your heart starting to thunder in your chest like an approaching storm.

Zoro didn’t notice the weight starting to slip from his hands and without really thinking about it, he took another step forward. His sharp eyes were staring intensely into yours as his free hand reached to take the glass you had offered him, your fingers brushing against his calloused ones for just a moment before…complete chaos.

SMASHH-CRACK

It was a splintering, echoing sound, the ship trembling back and forth at the sudden impact.

Usopp was pale as he rushed over and stared down at the weight sticking half-out of the deck and tottering back and forth between you and Zoro.

Ussopp stepped around the weight with his arms flying up around him wildly as he tried to get out actual words. He was puffing out air as his face turned red.

“WHAT…THE…HELL?!” Usopp managed to stammer as he looked up at Zoro with a perplexed look on his face.

“Uhm…sorry.” Zoro mumbled in a hoarse voice, clearing his throat with a cough, though his cold, sharp eyes never left yours.

“Is that all you have to say? Now I have to fix this!” Usopp huffed, his face red in frustration as he threw his arms up one final time and he ran off to the storage room to get some tools and supplies.

Usopp ran off, his body slumped over as he mumbled curses and complaints under his breath.

As Usopp left, Zoro’s eyes wandered from the weight sticking out of the splintered wood and then back to your beautiful eyes.

He was sure he would die of embarrassment then and there, your eyes were wide and you were looking up at him with a shocked expression on your face.

He was certain you would tease him, absolutely positive you would…but instead, he saw admiration in those big, beautiful eyes. You were honestly too awestruck to even notice Usopp's ramblings or to care about the damaged deck.

“Do you lift those everyday?” You asked, taking another step closer to him.

“Oh..yeah…” Zoro answered, his mouth suddenly going dry.

“That's…incredible. What do those even weigh?!” You asked, eyes glossy.

“Um…I have no idea. I think…1000 pounds, maybe?” Zoro chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin creeping up on his face.

Your eyes widened as you stared up at the swordsman, his chest was wide and littered in twitching muscles and pale scars from his many adventures. He had been training for a while and his tan skin was glossy with beads of sweat that rolled down to his rippling abs. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow the beads of sweat until they rolled down to his curly green happy trail.

Yeah, after that you were completely and totally head over heels for Roronoa Zoro, not that you could ever tell him.

Preview to part 2

“I can’t do this.” Zoro shook his head, shooting a glare at Nami.

“Yes, you can.” Usopp said with a chuckle. “She is totally into you!”

“Usopp is right, she is absolutely into you.” Nami nodded, hands on her hips.

“Why is he here, anyways?” Zoro grumbled in a whisper, pointing his thumb in Usopp’s direction with a look of disgust.

“Hey! I’m great at romance!” Usopp scoffed with a look of offense.

“This is going to go so badly.” Zoro said in a low voice, almost at a whisper as he started to rub his face with his hands, back slumped.

“All you have to do is ask her to spend the evening with you.” Nami said, one of her eyes twitching slightly.

“And if she says no?” Zoro retorted.

“She won’t! Now stop being such a coward!” Nami snapped, giving Zoro a slight shove towards the steps leading up to the main deck of the ship.

Zoro glanced over his shoulder to see Nami and Usopp each of them giving him two thumbs up before turning back towards the steps with an audible groan before he started up the stairs.

“Why did I agree to letting these idiots help?”

“I am not doing this. No way.”

Zoro’s thoughts came to a complete standstill as he made his way to the top of the stairs and to the main deck. It was like the unshakeable man had been struck by a great bolt of lighting at the very sight of you. His calloused hand was wrapped so tightly around the banister that the wood trembled under his grip, sure to shatter to splinters if the pressure kept up.

You were splayed out on the deck of the Going Merry, the afternoon sun shimmering down in bright rays of light and dancing over the surface of the freshly washed deck and your incredibly tempting skin.

Your hair was fluttering behind you as you lay in the sun and thoughtfully flipped through one of your favorite books, laying on your stomach and kicking your feet absent-mindedly. You had on one of those absolutely maddening dresses, they always had an effect on him but that dress drove Zoro’s mind to recesses of his mind he never thought existed.

He really couldn’t help it as his eyes flickered over your body, slowing as he scanned over the round curve of your ass and the plush skin of your thighs. It all was starting to make his head spin and his dick twitch uncomfortably under his clothes.

Zoro was so caught up in subconsciously memorizing the shape of your body that he didn’t even notice you had looked up at him, the book still laying open in front of you. You both just stared at each other for a moment before you eventually spoke.

“Did you need something?”

Part 2 Coming Soon

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blue-sadie · 11 months

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Tears Of Gold

Neteyam Sully x Human Reader

Prt 1. Prt 2

Summary: he didn't realize his feelings till it was to late and he regrets it ever since

Warning: reader death, asshole neteyam

Yn pov

It felt cold and dark even though there was light, even though I was surrounded by navi and friends I felt desolate, even though I was with family it didn't feel like home nothing ever did.

It was never was the same after we moved to the ocean no one was the same, kiri was more distant, neytiri was more angry while jake was more stricked with us while tuk was the same but she missed home, lo'ak followed tsireya around like a lost puppy and neteyam who acted as if we weren't friends to hang out with his new 'friends'.

I was left by my self most days except the ones where kiri felt guilty i was always alone or when I had to help neytiri with a few things but it was a very rare occasion.

"You forgot me again" I murmured to neteyam as he sat down beside me "oh sorry" he sighed out again before it fell into silence "what happened to u-" I whispered but was interrupted by nyx a navi girl who was one of the best fishers they have and the one who had eyes for neteyam "come on neteyam" she called out sweetly gesturing him over and he left without a goodbye or a look.

All I ever did here was sit around because no one wants to teach a 'demon' how to help or work around the village so all I do is sit in the sand making small shell bracelets and necklaces.

I stared into the water as it rose and descended on the shore watching as shells appeared and disappeared due to the moving sand i sat there waiting, waiting for a sign or something to happen i was frozen in a thoughtless daze staring into the water as the sun sunk behind the horizon, the water was illuminated by the glowing plants underneath the surface it was always a sight to see.

I don't know how long I was stuck there till I felt a presences beside me, he cleared his throat for me to acknowledge him "mom is looking for you" he murmured not taking his eyes off of me "she isn't my mom" I muttered but instantly regretted my words neytiri was nothing but nice to me but I could always feel her eyes burning stare into the back of my scull when I wasn't looking or the silent mutters of 'demon' under her breath it made me feel like a freak.

"Whats wrong" neteyam asked settling beside me, I finally broke "I don't belong here nete" I said glancing between him and the water "I never belonged here" I whispered as tears glossed my eyes neteyam listened not making a sound, he was scared because he didn't know what to do he used to and he feels guilty for letting you feel this way "i-i" he tried to speak but didn't know what to say.

"You were the only one who really felt like family now your a stranger too" I cried as the tears slid down my cheeks, he wanted to wipe them away and tell you that he still loves you but he knows that was a lie he used to but doesn't anymore he loves nyx.

"I wanna go home" I sobbed bringing my knees up to my chest " you are home yn" he whispered laying one of his hands onto my shoulder i let out a dry laugh as I shook my head "this isn't my home it never was" my throat was dry and sore "come on yn don't think like that" he rumbled as he moved in front of me taking my head into his hands using his thumbs to wipe my tears away "how about we hang out tomorrow for the whole day" he murmurs staring into my eyes "ok" he smiled as I answered him "Come on let's go" he smiled helping me up.

[Next day]

I woke up and ate some breakfast before going to find neteyam who was up and about i neared the his usual spot when I heard them and stopped dead in my tracts "why do you hang out with that demon nete" nyx asked harshly and my heart ached I was the only one he let call him nete.

"I feel sorry for her I truly do or I'd just leave her in the dust" he laughed dryly my hand quickly covered my mouth covering up a sob I stumbled back knocking over a few buckets causing them to notice me.

Neteyam looked at me with guilt and opened his mouth to speak but I just shook my head before running, running away and not looking back, I ran down the shore far away from the village.

I only stopped when my legs gave out falling to my knees with a thud I roughly wiped my tears trying to stop crying but I just couldn't "why" I cried "why" I whaled loudly.

I sat for awhile slowly coming down and being thankful no one came after me "I thought you were different neteyam" I cried rocking myself trying to calm down was our whole friendship a lie were those things he was saying really true.

"Yn yn" I heard multiple voices calling out to me in the distance but I didn't want to be found so I got up and started moving away from them.

Neteyam pov

"What the hell is wrong with you" dad yelled at me as we searched along the beach for yn "I don't know" I whispered I felt guilty but I don't know it was because I was caught or that I said those things "ma jake look" mom pointed at the faded human foot prints "let's go" dad yelled as we started running down the beach.

Yn pov

I was climbing on the rocks that aligned the shore maneuvering myself carefully not to fall but it was becoming harder with the tide rising making some rocks wet and dangerous.

"Yn" I turned abruptly on a rock and screamed as my foot got caught in a crack I fell over scraping my knees before wracking my head against the rock damaging my mask "fuck fuck fuck" I cursed trying to cover the crack.

"Yn" neteyam yelled as he ran over to me his eyes widening as he saw the crack that was starting to grow bigger and bigger "fuck yn where is your spare" he asked his hands running over my waist and back trying to find my spare "I don't have one" I said trying to stay calm and not breathe to fast.

"Dad dad over here" he called out but I already started feeling light headed and sick "i-i can't neteyam" I murmured He carefully cradled my body against his "I'm so sorry" he whispered as his eyes filled with tears.

I lifted my hand up to his face gently caressing his face "I love you neteyam" I said weakly as my hand began to fall but he caught it with his own and kept it by his face "no don't do this" he yelled but I only heard it as a whisper.

I closed my eyes sucking in my last breathe

"goodbye".

#avatar #avatar way of water #avatar pandora #avatar x reader #avatar x reader angst #avatar x human reader #avatar x human reader angst #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x reader angst #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x human reader angst #reader death

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sudokuplayer · 7 months

Text

MY LOVE IS A WEAPON THROWN ONTO THE OBLIVION OF YOUR BODY (taken from booklet of original art and essays by Sufjan Stevens, written to accompany his new album Javelin)

read essays ↓

1.MY LOVE My first love was an involuntary sound – the music of the spheres – a subdued, white-noise shuddering of my heart, a fluster of hummingbird vibrations that I could taste in the prenatal hemispheres of my mouth, body against body and brain against brain, two conjoined selves conjuring an off-shore thunderstorm in the horizontal distance, dazzling with flashes of metallic music and elemental chaos in the safe harbor of my mother’s womb. There was no light and no dark, no semblance of simile or semaphore. There was only the blurred and audible presence of a distant and divine voice hovering above the waters where I balanced between the prism of absence and presence on an inflatable dirigible of sea foam, wandering into the oleaginous abyss with a half-smile of hazardry and wizardry – my maiden voyage into the “unbeknownst” of oblivion. For what did I really know at this point in my primordial mindlessness? Nothing at all. I was struck dumb, created from ignorance and ether, first without function or features, then without order or form. I was sensation and consciousness postponed, a wet and placid portion of monotonous fruit cut in quarters awaiting heaven’s blessing. My only occupation at this point was to occupy, be occupied, preoccupy, and prevail nature in a womb-world of benevolence and buoyancy. The music of the heartbeat of the universe danced me to sleep. Within this realm, I was love and life supreme, undivided by thought, word and deed, a small promise kept until the act of doing would undo me for good. My birth was my undoing. And then I was born into oblivion.

2.IS I remember in college, falling in love for the first time, two spring months of rapture, residing on the tail end of a helium balloon. I was so giddy about everything: washing the dishes, tying my shoes, scrambling eggs, binding books, pulling berries off juniper trees. My infatuation had such an arrogant persuasion on the world around me. Everything as metaphor ascribed with romance. I remember, while mowing lawns on the college campus, finding an injured fledgling crow by the dining hall. I carried it to the biology lab, where we called a woman who ran an animal sanctuary from her home. She met us on a bike with a wicker basket. “You are doing the universe a great favor,” she said, holding the bird to her breast, like Mother Goose. The event provided endless fodder: for prose poems and folk songs and long conversations on the roof of the aspirin factory, where we got drunk on Boone’s Farm sangria, speculating on cosmic intentions and the order of the universe. So much meaning, so little time. I was young and dumb and in love. Guided by a perverse curiosity and a voracious sensation-of-the-imagination pivoting at the tip of my tongue, I marveled at the mysteries of life laid out before me, awaiting in the calm commotion between innocence and experience.

3.A WEAPON And then experience pummeled me. Many years later, after the long-suffering exhaustion of life had driven me into the bleak underbelly of realism, my most profound thought was sad and static: that nothing really matters, nobody loves me, and loneliness would always be my most devoted companion. In my new sobering worldview, absent of love, I began to encounter everything as an object without meaning, without modifier. The homeless man selling day-old newspapers on the subway was just a homeless man selling day-old newspapers on the subway. There was no metaphor, no rapture, no cosmic intentions. I had to ask myself: does this make the man, the newspaper, the subway, or myself any less meaningful? No. Quite the opposite. For what resided in that substantial vacancy where I was always prone to symbolize the world to death is exactly what I needed right then: Opportunity. Presence of Mind. Peace On Earth. Stable Stoicism. Absence of Metaphor. Responsibility. And Hard Facts. That was my prayer: to shake off the doting artistry of an over-eager poet with a proclivity to create dreams from doldrums; to approach the world as a concrete object, a thing to be held, not a thing to behold, or allegorized; to remain at peace and in careful jurisprudence in spite of the resentful intonation of my overarching loneliness that devastated innocent bystanders with all the magic castles of the imagination. I told myself: I must snuff out the candle of candy-corn dreams. I must soldier on like a dead-end daydream undeterred. I must be steadfast in the stolid presence and essence of common sense and survival. I must be true to life internal and reside in resignation at last.

4.THROWN My second love was less ecstatic, but more tragic: the “gift” of sight – an elemental flash of lightning, which struck me like a bag of metal shavings thrown out onto ice reflecting back at the centerpiece of my sternum. A sucker punch to the chest. My cold consciousness came into sharp focus, rattled by illuminating waves invading everything around me. The light was loud and extraordinary. And even with my eyes closed, my pupils began pontificating at the pornography of sight, and I was momentarily carved into madness. Seeing is believing is birth. I shuddered and shirked at the tangible evidence of something else – the others – the imposition of a sensation outside myself, in which everything was separated into opposable armies: the land from the waters, the air from the earth, the seasons from the doldrums, the seen from the unseen, sin from sainthood, light from dark, good from evil. Everything was put in its place by the curse of namesake. The world was now before me, beneath me, above me, and ultimately against me, a pressure foot pressed down on all sides. I felt a cold claustrophobia, empty and alone, trans-natal and tragic, baffled by the violence of this new environmental context. And to think I was just a silly beansprout of a thing shivering under the medical lights, squirming like an open earthworm, now tasked with this terrible act of naming. God gave me a pen and a pad of parchment paper. “Transcribe your feelings and your findings,” she said. “Do your thing. First thought, best thought.” I did as I was commanded, a dutiful sea urchin inching its way to the possibility of words and wisdom.

5.ONTO A world without language was once the indication of certain death. Soundless, voiceless, nameless vapor. A typography of empty vessels. The void! But now, what of the tragedy of names, spoken into existence with the demystification of words? I was culprit and complicit, identifying all the divergences, differentiations, variations, permutations, diversities, dichotomies and double entendres. Categorizing the animals, cutting them down to size, organizing the parts of the body with the parts of speech, a fanatical grammar-game of possession, domination and death. I had to ask myself: Is this manner of identification in the name of higher knowledge even if it disregards purpose, analysis, and compassion (observation absent of intention)? And how could it be undertaken without idolatry and ulterior motive? I desired the objectivity of the photography of the baby-brain, whose fuzzy visionary reception was a delightful nebula of perfumed consciousness and joy. I wanted to see the world coherently and without discretion, discernment, reduction, and deduction – unintelligible intelligence. Instead I began to perceive how intimate knowledge generates prosperity (fullness) and progeny (fruitfulness) – of ideas and offspring. To be “made known” was to be consummated: “Adam knew Eve” – intercourse as discourse (knowledge as physical/sexual engagement). To know someone was to take possession (to gain access, in confidence and with confidentiality). The exchange would potentially unveil the secret knowledge between lovers (the nominative ordinances of arousal) – wherein posterity would become the observable antecedents of this sacred wisdom, and pleasure would be its misfortune (of infatuation and love, of chaos and order). My sexual discourse began to die a slow death of observation and objectification, a nonsense category of substances seen and deemed believable, predicating a cosmic break from the universe: a psychic rebirth, from which invisible things transformed into figures of speech, wherein figures of speech were left dead in the wake of rivulets and rivers, drowning in a molten waterfall of dread, where they would meet their maker in linguistic whimsy. My death was now new life. My reincarnation, a reverse sublimation. I was made known; therefore, I knew nothing.

6.THE For a short time, my pet peeves were my shortcomings: dry skin in the morning – brushing off the bed sheets with bits of outer insulation from my body. Was I molting? I needed to drink more bitter herbs, I thought. I had chronic stomach pain, below the clavicle, a small fist of air. Sweet antacid, mint leaves, fennel seed tea. Invisible Anxiety. The pain in my leg: a hypochondriac’s dream. Soothing myself with palm oil and camphor. Small applications on the surface. At dinner with guests, supplementing aspirin with ice-water, saying very little otherwise, a friend agreed with everyone’s assessment: “Yes, sometimes you are cold and unfeeling. You could warm it up a little.” My apparent coolness – was it a matter of objective safety? That remote vacancy which I brought to every engagement, keeping the world at arm’s length, the anthropologist’s vantage point, sustaining the presumptive: was that my vocation – the judicious spectator, an odd outlier outlining all this activity while staying behind the line of sight? As the youngest sibling, I was always evaluating my older sisters with fierce judgment from the corner of the room, just out of reach: eavesdropping on phone conversations, catching glimpses of padded bras, curling irons, and maxi pads passed between casual doorways. Taking stock of the panoply of premature adulthood (teenage pregnancy), unruly rebellion (sneaking out at night), clumsy and combative excursions with our wicked step-mother (cat fights with elegantly finger-nailed fisticuffs). I watched from a dutiful distance, careful not to engage, harboring a catalog of tragicomic events and all their moral assessments in order to avoid the worst-case scenario for myself. I was in the world, but not of it. I learned from the mistakes of others: that I was nothing more than a mistake waiting to happen, potential energy. I learned from the mistletoe to keep watch overhead so as to avoid the dangling modifier of accidental affection. I learned from the stone in my shoe to keep walking through the pain with a staggering refrain in my step, a constant reminder of the brokenness of my body and the indefatigable self-loathing of my own self-consciousness.

7.OBLIVION My third love was a surprise affection – ticklish touching and tender swaddles of terry towels and cotton cloth wrapped in armfuls of goose down feathers transfixed in the careful undertaking of childcare. A sensual delight! I was an object to be objectified, a thing to squeeze and prickle, caress and carry about in a breadbasket. I grew from a pinecone to a pine tree, from a newt to a dinosaur, from a poppy-seed to a poppy flower bursting with fireworks. This love then transferred its fornications onto something wet, wild and ornithological – a flying, feathery python ascending to its countenance as a bastion of bridegrooms in a flaming aviary chariot of leathery kisses all aimed at my elbows. Hope is a thing with bird feeders. So I watched the feathered fowl crowd around the seeds and suet, grubs and grains with dinosaur intensity, beaks and claws doing their vast prehistoric business with messy execution. My lovers cawed at their community of plumy mishaps like transcendental mother hens: nuthatch and creeper, tanager and titmouse, blue jay and junco gallivanting together like an armful of woolen throw blankets clapping the dust from their ornamental features. Our fairy dance of foreplay lasted for days. Cat calls as birdsong with balloons, iambic pentameter poems, chimes that rhymed with clanging crystals hung on fishing line, and all the fanciful costumes with sequins and fringe, flowered bell bottoms, metallic body suits, reggae music, ballroom dancing, charm bracelets, diamond rings, glimmering little earrings with fly-fishing ornaments, and, on the last day, a very long and serious monologue about global warming. Our lovemaking was quick and witty, a little slutty and clumsy – nothing more than a jaunt, a quick choreography of slaps and body slams, two pigeons in a mosh pit, working things out in juvenilia. Nature had done its work. Afterward we lounged together in the afterglow with soft pillow talk and dreams of nest eggs and parenting, protecting, foraging, feeding, and changing diapers, all the domestic labors of love. But for now, in a warm bird bath, sunning ourselves with a glistening glow, I could only think of the sweet bliss of here and now, the wetness of loving kisses on my nape, my neck, my back, my rump, my foreshortened wings and a sweet nectar nightcap. Hope is a thing deferred, but a dream fulfilled is a tree of life.

8.OF My fourth love was peripatetic: a suitcase stored in an overhead bin on an airplane. Things beget things beget responsibilities. I procrastinated my life by traveling far from it. A day before the voyage, I stayed up late in the polar forces of the night, diligently packing the baggage on the couch, opened up like can of tuna fish, a glass of lemon juice on the nightstand (master cleanse), the Siamese cat washing itself, the dollar store dishes in the sink, my dirty clothes in a paper bag. The last time I had left for this kind of trip, my things were in boxes in one room on the second floor of a gated town house in God-knows-where, New York. Now everything had been transferred as in a swap meet, boxes upon boxes, things upon things, other voices, other rooms. The living room was a labyrinth of speculative journeys, a crossword puzzle of travel prompts. Outside, gale force winds rose to the occasion, knocking on the windows like unwanted guests. I imagined the weather overtaking everything in an apocalyptic frenzy: cups and saucers trembling in tongues, plastic wrap coming undone in a transparent wedding train, pillowcases falling over our heads like hard hats, ceiling fans circumnavigating the neighborhood like helicopter rides, the colored crayons on the kitchen shelf thrown asunder to make slapdash hieroglyphs all over the window panes, the mysterious penmanship of the gods! My mind was preoccupied by disaster, a force majeure, an act of God, a ball of yarn, and the four horses of the Apocalypse. I wanted nothing of it: this origami suitcase lifestyle of travel and transition. I wanted to be here and now. I wanted silence, solace, and stillness. I wanted the simplest of things: a bowl of vanilla ice cream, a warm bath, and a quiet place to sit and stitch my hand-crafted cross-stitch of rainbows and sailboats framing a sexy cartoon portrait of Dionne Warwick diligently working the lines for the Psychic Friends Network from way back in the 1990s, when every solution to every problem was just a phone call away.

9.YOUR History repeats itself, defeats itself, cheats itself, berates and beats itself. I am not historic. I am histrionics. I must hate my mother and my father. I must hate myself and take up the cross and be born again. In this way, my fifth love was an immutable shadow following me with sticky tricks and schemes, a cancerous contamination of the mind that could only be cured with the deadly venom of a cone snail. I couldn’t quite shake it, the cobalt-blue memory of a ghost haunting my sophistry, a prescient reminder that the knowledge of faith and the substance of hope were right behind me this entire time (and not something to pursue, or follow, like an ornamental object on the horizon, dazzling, elusive and alive in the distant future). The Divine Inside was a “previously known encounter.” I could never see it face to face, but only feel it in my shadow, the former patterns of an aura left behind, pushing forward, pursuing, persuading, steering and navigating my memory through the valley of the shadow of death. I wanted so desperately to “have and to hold” the real substance of things (evidence!), the physical, intimate engagement with the body and the blood, which I actively sought out in transcendental activity, prayer and supplication, the sacraments, the feasts of the saints, a metaphysical substance to salivate and sublimate within the natural order of things. But this was a false pretense. God is not natural, but supernatural. The real material of divinity is ineffable, unassailable, unknowable, unutterable, and unreal. The evidence of providence is not within our line of sight, nor within our grasp, but instead beyond and behind our physical kinesphere. It is unapproachable, unspeakable, unobservable, and ultimately “erstwhile”. And yet still we continue to feel it “under our skin” and “within the universe” of our own personal history: The Past/The Passed/The Repossessed. God is our delayed consciousness – the nameless, faceless dichotomy of our secret truth. And we are made in its indistinguishable appearance. Therefore our own true “image” is without a name or a face – a baseless, shapeless cloud hovering above the waters, a countenance of empty atmosphere (signifying nothing) – a gothic apparition, a vision of love, a dance of the eternal travesty of life, a burrowing beetle of impenetrating curiosity. Digging for the true grit of life in the eternal dirt of the universe.

10.BODY My last love was a kind of science fiction. I was out running errands at the mall when I saw a fleet of lampshades falling like flying saucers from the sky. The alien robots came to me in an escalating beam of light and said: “We come in peace! The obverse seeks to make its face shine upon you, while the inverse hides in shame.” They did their thing with my body, prodding and poking around for some good news, but at first I would have none of it. I struggled and squirmed under nylon restraints strapped onto a stainless steel operating table. I was a basket case of curmudgeonly vitriol, pointing out everything that was wrong with the world around me: Fossil fuels. Cancer. Money. Greed. Sales Tax. Frozen Yoghurt. Religion. Varicose Veins. Junk Mail. But the alien robots were unflappable. They said, “We just need a little DNA, not a diatribe,” while swabbing the insides of my mouth with a cottony Q-tip. Then, after careful intubation and a slow drip of aesthesia, I eased into the abyss. They removed my clothes and covered my body with a marshmallowy spray foam. They swaddled me into a warm cocoon of maroon goo, where I remained in stasis to the end of the ages, slowly resuming into the soft, pillowy features of my former self – pre-natal, premature, pre-conceived – a slippery and succulent primordial membrane of soupy warmth and illuminating agency awaiting, once again, the cosmic journey laid out before me like a yellow-brick road of possibilities – the secret oblivion of love, the “unbeknownst!” Within this pinprick vision, I saw a tapestry of afterbirth in afterglow as an addendum to an immaculate after-thought of rapturous joy. I was born-again in fullness and truth. I was a peanut. I was a pretzel. I was a pan-fried shrimp. I was pandemonium personified. I was once again myself waiting to happen again and again and again and again and again … until the end.

— Sufjan Stevens

#sufjan stevens #javelin

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callsigns-haze · 1 month

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Out of All: Chp 1

Jake Seresin x OC! Anna Bradshaw

Brothers' Best Friend Series! Follow along as these characters navigate the treacherous waters of love, loyalty, and desire, all while facing the ultimate taboo: falling for your sibling's best friend. From heart-pounding moments to steamy encounters, this series is a rollercoaster of emotions that will keep you hooked until the very end. Brace yourself for intense romantic tension, sizzling chemistry, and enough drama to keep you guessing. Are you ready to embark on this captivating journey?

This chapter includes explicit sexual content with detailed descriptions of sexual activity and intimacy between characters. Scenes depict physical intimacy, including kissing, touching, and biting, with characters described in states of undress. Emotional intensity is explored, encompassing themes of longing, desire, and vulnerability, with brief references to past trauma. Characters may be shown consuming alcoholic beverages, and mature themes such as casual relationships.

You awaken with damp locks cascading around your shoulders, the remnants of a hasty shower leaving your hair slightly damp. The notion of lying bare and weary in your bed holds no sway over you, not today. This is your respite from the world's demands, a day designated for absolute inertia.

Yet, the presence of your older brother, Bradley, imposes a modicum of propriety upon your morning ritual. You toss aside the cozy embrace of your bedclothes and reach for garments, a black sports bra and snug booty shorts, enveloping your frame in layers that shield your bareness. A gray zip-up sweatshirt becomes a casual adornment, tied around your waist in a laissez-faire manner.

Your hair, now only mildly damp, is gathered and pinned back with a claw clip, a functional arrangement that frees your nape from the clinging strands. Drawing back the gray curtains, a panorama of the ocean unfolds before you, a sight both captivating and serene. The dawn paints the sky in delicate hues of pink, intermingled with whispers of orange and faded purples, casting a spell of tranquility over the horizon.

Venturing into the kitchen, you encounter Bradley, already immersed in the morning routine. He offers you coffee, a gesture met with a swift refusal, accompanied by a reminder of your disdain for the bitter brew. His presence, always punctual and ever-prepared, serves as a reminder of the responsibilities that linger beyond your sanctuary.

The tension between you simmers beneath the surface, a testament to diverging paths and unspoken expectations. Bradley, with his well-intentioned gestures and earnest advice, seeks to guide you toward a future he deems promising. Yet, your heart beats to a different rhythm, anchored in a passion that defies conventional wisdom.

Words are exchanged, terse and laden with unspoken truths. You assert your autonomy with a fervor born of frustration, demanding recognition as an adult capable of charting her own course. Bradley, stoic yet remorseful, concedes to the weight of your words, his embrace a silent admission of fallibility.

But beneath the veneer of reconciliation lies a deeper discord, a clash of ambitions and aspirations. For you, music is not merely a hobby but a lifeline, a refuge from the burdens that threaten to engulf you. Yet, to Bradley and others, it remains a folly, a dream unworthy of pursuit.

Twelve years have passed since you first embarked on this journey, seeking solace in distant shores and unfamiliar melodies. Yet, the specter of familial expectations looms large, a constant reminder of the rift that separates you from their world of certainties.

"Small steps," you plead, a plea born of desperation and resolve. And though Bradley offers his assurances, you know that the road ahead is fraught with uncertainty, a path illuminated by the flickering flame of your unwavering determination.

---

You ain't never been in a spot quite like this before, where everything's about the physical but nothin' about the feels. Dressin' up or gettin' ready didn't matter much when you knew your clothes would end up scattered and your makeup smeared, and your hair—well, it was destined to be a mess once his hands got tangled in it.

Bradley had golf in the mornin', so he cleared out 'round ten forty, leavin' the apartment empty. Expected him back for lunch, but he had other plans, hittin' up a bar with his buddies. Didn't bother you none. Last day before work kicks in, you got the place all to yourself.

Scoured through your closet like it meant somethin' what you wore. Knew one thing for certain, though—lingerie. Got a few pairs, some more risqué than others. Had a soft spot for your sage green set. Thin, barely there, and entirely see-through. Just one tug, and it slipped right off.

Opted for a denim skirt, casual yet classy—that was the aim. Didn't wanna give off any vibes like it was a date or nothin', just keepin' it cool.

Grabbed a plain white tee, makin' sure it was thick enough to conceal the lace underneath. Checked yourself out in the bathroom mirror. Finally felt like yourself. Brown curls cascadin' freely, baby cow eyes sparklin' in the lightest eyeshadow. Lips glossed with a hint of strawberry, nails painted in the faintest shade of pink with swirls of white. You felt it. You felt like the girl.

Still had some time 'fore the taxi showed up. Decided against drivin', 'cause you knew you wouldn't be in the mood afterward.

Recently chopped your hair. Used to be long and wavy, but you snipped it up to your chest. Suitin' you better, truth be told. Waves actually cooperated, and your hair finally laid right. Pinned up the top strands, knowin' any tie-up wouldn't survive the night.

Phone buzzed from the bathroom windowsill. Couldn't help but grin seein' it was a text from Jake.

Jake: You still up for six?

Had to play it cool. No emotions, just sex.

You: Yeah! Should be able to swing by.

Kept it simple. Didn't wanna seem too eager or too disinterested. Both of you were clear—a relationship wasn't on the table.

Jake: Great, see you then.

Stepped out of the elevator, headin' for the fourth door. Only been to his place once, but you remembered your way around. Knocked on the wooden door, standin' on the black mat as you waited.

Door creaked open, revealin' a tall man with a buzzed haircut and a face that told tales. He smiled, askin', "Here for Jake, right?" Gave you a bit of a start, but his question eased the tension. Nodded, returning the smile as he hollered for Jake. He stepped aside, introducin' himself.

"I'm Javy. 'Bout to head out anyway if you're wonderin'." Nodded back, offerin', "Anna, pleasure." He nodded in return, informin' you that Jake was down the corridor before takin' off.

You made your way to Jake's room, but before you could even enter, he was on you, attackin' your neck with fervor. Wrapped your arms around him as he left his mark, each bite sendin' shivers down your spine. "Jake...damn!"

He smirked, continuin' his assault. Shut the door behind him, pressin' you against it. Grabbed your thighs with intent, demandin' you to jump, and you obliged.

Breath hitchin', groans escalatin' into moans. Couldn't help yourself, not with him. Every time, you lost all control, and it only amused him more. "Look at you, ain't even touched you properly, and you're already a mess."

And the mess was only just beginnin', for the fourth time.

You both lie there, chests heaving, the echo of passion still reverberating in the air. Six o'clock came and went, and now it's nearly nine. Three hours of entwined bodies, three hours of him taking you to heights you never knew existed.

"You're somethin' else," Jake murmurs, shaking his head in wonder as you both share a breathy laugh, nestled under his oversized covers. You gaze at him, a smile tugging at your lips. For the first time in sixteen years, you feel something stir within you, a sensation akin to a long-lost myth or fairy tale.

"I could say the same," you reply, exhaling softly as he draws you closer, pulling you against his chest. It catches you off guard, but you relax into his embrace, resting your head against his heartbeat, a rhythm that feels like a forgotten melody.

"What's the time?" you inquire, both of you aware of the impending need to part ways. Agreed to wrap things up before nine, with work looming on the horizon. Tomorrow marks your return to music, the beginning of a new chapter in your life.

"It's eight fifty-seven," Jake answers, meeting your gaze with a knowing look. You nod, running your fingers through his tousled hair, savoring the fleeting moments.

You rise from his chest, reluctantly disentangling yourself to get dressed. He sits up beside you, the covers cascading around him as he slips into sweatpants. His gaze lingers on your back as you slip into your lingerie, his lips tracing a path along the sensitive skin of your neck. His hands find their way to your curves, a gentle massage that sends shivers down your spine.

"Jake..." you start, a hint of urgency in your voice. He understands, but the reluctance lingers. He wants you to stay, to lose track of time in each other's arms.

"Jake..." you repeat, a bit firmer this time, and he relents, knowing you have to leave.

You rise, and he walks you to the front door. Tonight was unforgettable, but tomorrow holds obligations, and Bradley would launch a search party if you didn't resurface soon. You smile as he opens the door, his smirk a bittersweet farewell.

"When will I see you next?" he asks, a hint of longing in his voice.

"Next Saturday, same time?" you propose, already looking forward to the next rendezvous.

"Sounds like a plan. See you then, Chick."

A/n: This whole series is a dedication to @callsign-magnolia for her birthday...I was going to post on Monday but I guess this is a little early gift!

tagging:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@callsign-dexter

@horseslovers2016

@rosiahills22

@djs8891

@hookslove1592

@emma8895eb

@hardballoonlove

@kmc1989

@dempy

@mamachasesmayhem

@senawashere

@buckysteveloki-me

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@itsmytimetoodream

@jessicab1991

@ahh-chickens

@dingochef

@dizzybee03

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perhaps-in-anotherdream · 13 days

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[CN] Li Zeyan’s MQ: Burning Imprints (Eng Translation) - Part 1

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a mind quest, 灼痕, that is yet to be released on the global server! ♡

✦ Part 1 || Part 2 || ASMR

🔞 Additional Warning 🔞 Same old but more severe warning this time LOL. The steamy parts of the MQ are as explicit as they can get, i.e., some of the most explicit stuff you’ll read in a CN otome game right now, so if you don’t qualify for the game’s 17+ rating (CN server), I’d very highly recommend that you don’t proceed under the cut~ :>

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

【Subbed Video】

not posting the video right now b/c my YouTube channel is still on probation from Li Zeyan's UR ASMR upload LOL, so this video will go online in about three more weeks, and I'll update the link then~

──────────────

【Chapter 1】

Toot––

The melodious steam whistle sounds from afar. A ferry sails over the shimmering, crystalline waves, its sleek and majestic hull gradually becoming clear in the field of vision.

Accompanied by the heavy thud of the ferry entering the port, the seagulls on the coast are startled, scattering and flying into the azure sky.

I exchange a few words with the staff next to me, and eventually, we fine-tune our respective appearances. As we look on in anticipation, the ferry slowly lowers its gangway.

In no time, people begin to descend in small groups of two or three.

Employee A: Wow! I can’t believe the entire island has been booked for team-building. The company really is committed to this.

Goldman: After all, we’ve managed to seize back several projects from FengZhen Group, and the financial report has some commendable highlights. Anywho, the only one who is capable of making such strides is our LFG. [1]

Executive B: Indeed, let’s have the administration team shoot a few extra videos. We can use them as promotional material when recruiting from universities next year.

Amidst the continuous ebb and flow of conversation, a staff member next to me props up their head ornament and walks up to the crowd.

Staff Member: Welcome, travelers from distant lands, to Nan’Ao Island!

Staff Member: I am an elven emissary of this island. In the time that follows, I will be accompanying you on this journey of exploration along with my companions.

In cooperation, I point the “wand” in my hand toward the direction of the shore. As I watch the expression on the staff members’ faces, either of astonishment or admiration, the weariness accumulated over the past few days of running around dissipates a little.

With the Spring Festival approaching, LFG offered employees the opportunity for company-sponsored travel as a benefit. Nan’Ao Island was among the destinations that were up for choice.

This place has just undergone the transformation into a vacation-themed resort with a “Magic Holiday” theme. In addition to the subsequent promotional campaigns, [MC’s Company Name] was also involved in designing the majority of the activities.

In order to closely follow up on the initial operations, I decided to stay on the island. Concurrently, I made most of the opportunity and assumed the role of an “NPC” to promptly identify and address any potential oversights that might occur during the process.

MC: Now, please make your way to the nearby golden beach. We’ll be guiding each of you to choose your own “abodes.”~

The crowd follows the guidance and walks toward the beach. I maintain a courteous smile, my gaze subconsciously scanning around, but I’m unable to find Li Zeyan’s figure.

...Could it be that he got caught up with some last-minute work? Or could there be some other reason?

As I silently ponder to myself, memories of the conversation during our video call the other day surface in my mind.

–

──── [FLASHBACK STARTS] ────

LZY: …they can only truly relax when the higher-ups are not around.

LZY: There are still many year-end matters to attend to, and not all members of the management, myself included, necessarily need to be directly involved.

I let out a prolonged “Ah” and lean a bit closer to the screen.

MC: Team building is an essential component of corporate culture… how can CEO Li, as a member of LFG, make an exception?

MC: In such opportunities to strengthen team cohesion, if the boss also actively participates, it can provide even better motivation for everyone!

MC: Moreover, “sharpening the axe doesn’t delay the cutting of firewood.” Taking a break before the New Year also means entering work with a better mental state afterward, don’t you agree?~

Li Zeyan, on the screen, locks eyes with me for a brief moment, and his motion of flipping through the documents comes to a halt.

LZY: If [MC’s Company Name] ever incorporates a debate competition into team-building activities, a certain someone here would surely come out on top.

MC: So, to translate your words, does it mean that CEO Li has been persuaded by me?

Li Zeyan leans back against the chair noncommittally, and though he doesn’t confirm or deny, a touch of softness settles in his expression.

LZY: Don’t celebrate just yet; I need to arrange my schedule first.

LZY: If I can carve out time, I’ll try my best to make it there.

───── [FLASHBACK ENDS] ─────

–

Seeing the stream of people on the pier gradually thinning out, my gaze falls on Goldman, and subconsciously, I consider asking him about Li Zeyan’s situation.

But considering that there are still numerous unfamiliar LFG employees present here, and given my current role as the “Elven Emissary,”...

After some thought, I decide to play the role of an “NPC” for now and find a moment to give him a call later.

Click.

A soft sound emanates from behind. I reflexively turn around and find myself involuntarily squinting my eyes into a smile.

Li Zeyan is leisurely leaning against the railing of the pier, holding up his phone in my direction. His hair dances in the sea breeze, revealing his deep-set eyes and brows.

Perhaps due to the vacation atmosphere, he is dressed somewhat casually today. The collar of his shirt is loosely open, allowing the sunlight to sketch out subtle contours.

Noticing that I’ve turned around, he then shifts his gaze away from the screen. A barely perceptible hint of a smile lingers on the corners of his lips.

At this moment, only the two of us are on the boardwalk. I finally can’t resist the urge to let a smile tug at the corners of my mouth and briskly walk up to his side.

MC: Hm-hmph, I knew you’d definitely come~

MC: By the way, were you sneakily snapping photos of me just now?

LZY: I’ve been standing here for quite some time already.

LZY: You were the one who didn’t notice me, so you can’t really call it being “sneaky.”

LZY: Besides, I haven’t seen a certain someone for several weeks. Am I not even allowed to take a few pictures now?

MC: Hehe, Sir, you’re allowed to do whatever you please~

MC: After all, this “Elven Emissary ” here is so cute. It’s only normal if you want to treasure this moment~

LZY: [laughs helplessly] …as usual.

His voice carries a subtle undertone of helpless resignation, causing me to involuntarily burst into laughter. Li Zeyan looks at me and slows down his pace.

LZY: Your mood seems exceptionally upbeat today.

MC: Of course~ After all, I had a hand in creating this tourism project, and the first batch of guests to be welcomed here happens to be employees from my boyfriend’s company.

MC: One must acknowledge it’s a wonderful stroke of fate.

The bright and beautiful sunshine beams down, and the warm sea breeze carries with it Li Zeyan’s soft chuckle.

LZY: Turns out this kind of hectic coordination can also be viewed as a “serendipitous coincidence.”

LZY: Obviously, when the administrative department was selecting the team-building destination, in order to advocate for Nan’Ao Island to be included in the list, a certain someone even went out of her way and brought a PowerPoint presentation to explain.

LZY: What was it? Something along the lines of “since there’s a hierarchical relationship, if LFG chooses Nan’Ao Island, they can enjoy discounts and save on budget funds.”

LZY: “After tirelessly working for the entire year, what better place to warm one’s heart than heading to a sun-drenched island during the chilly season?”

LZY: While you did deploy a bunch of rhetoric, you also appealed to emotions and reasoned with logic.

MC: In any case, judging from the results, the strategy did prove effective!

MC: CEO Li, rest assured. Since I’ve strived for this opportunity, I will ensure the quality of your team building is guaranteed.

MC: I pledge that no matter what, both CEO Li and the employees of LFG will enjoy a perfect vacation~

In the midst of our conversation, we’ve already reached the end of the boardwalk and stepped onto the soft, warm beach. Li Zeyan’s voice resonates from beside me.

LZY: And what about you?

MC: I’m gonna fulfill the duties of the “Elven Emissary ” and ensure you all have a great time, of course~

LZY: …a certain someone never forgets her professionalism.

In the distance, the hubbub of indistinct yet clamorous laughter emanates from the meeting point. I clear my throat and speak in a serious demeanor.

MC: I officially welcome you to the island~ Our magical holiday journey is about to begin!

──────────────

[Tidbits]:

[1] It’s a reference to his top-up SSR from this same event.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 2】

As we get closer to the meeting point, the distant voices of conversation become increasingly clear. I loosen my grip on Li Zeyan’s arm, lowering my voice.

MC: I’ll go ahead first; we’ll catch up later, okay~

–

I gesture to another “Elven Emissary” as I speak. The latter, understanding my signal, walks in front of the unfolded map and speaks during the interval before I take the stage.

Staff Member: Up next is the segment for choosing your accommodation. Feel free to pick based on your preferences.

Staff Member: For those seeking a quiet retreat, you can choose locations near the “Healing Hot Springs” and the “Elves’ Home Bar.” The surroundings are picturesque, and it’s convenient to reach us whenever needed.

Staff Member: If you lean towards activities, you might want to choose accommodations near the boardwalk. This not only offers more convenient access to activity spots like “Blue Sea Snorkeling” and “Dragon Wing Gliding” but also…

MC: But also, there’s a higher concentration of hidden items in the nearby area!

Seizing the opportunity, I smoothly take over the conversation and walk to the front. And sure enough, a curious inquiry reaches my ears.

Employee A: What was that you just mentioned about the hidden items?

Beaming ear to ear, I raise a string of coconut shell bracelets.

MC: This is the Easter egg segment we’ve designed~

MC: Scattered around the captivating spots worth exploring on the island, you’ll find 16 sets of these bracelets. If you find them, please pass them over to the Elven Emissaries.

MC: Once you collect them all, you’ll unlock a hidden scenery–– share this delightful surprise with someone you hold dear~

MC: Now, who would like to come up first and choose their accommodation?

The air buzzes with excitement as conversations erupt. Though no one comes forward to take the stage, everyone simultaneously turns their eyes to the back of the crowd as if in tacit agreement.

My gaze follows the direction of the crowd, and looking up, I see Li Zeyan standing alone under the shade of a tree.

Probably not wanting to draw attention to himself, he has deliberately chosen a spot slightly removed from the crowd. However, he is still unable to escape from the employees’ gazes locking precisely onto him.

The beach at the moment is akin to a natural conference room, with countless eyes of either admiration or curiosity trained on Li Zeyan, all awaiting his directives.

I struggle to contain the urge to hook my lips into a smile, suddenly recalling Li Zeyan’s words from our video call – “They can only truly relax when the higher-ups are not around.”

During the relaxed time of team-building, it’s actually a great opportunity to lessen the sense of distance between superiors and subordinates...!

Suddenly, an idea pops into my mind, and I speak with a beaming smile on my face.

MC: Although no one has spoken yet, their collective gazes have already pointed to the most fitting candidate.

MC: That handsome gentleman back there! Could you come up to the stage, please?

LZY: …

Across the bustling crowd, Li Zeyan and I lock eyes for a brief moment before he finally walks unhurriedly to the front of the stage.

The moment our shoulders brush against each other, his thin lips move almost imperceptibly.

LZY: [GAHH THE “THREATENING” WHISPER] You’re gonna have to settle this account later.

MC: C’mon, enliven the atmosphere a bit. Please cooperate, CEO Li~

I also answer in a voice that only the two of us can hear, briskly leading him to stand in front of the map. Then, with a serious demeanor, I ask.

MC: I wonder which accommodation you’re planning to choose?

As I speak, my fingertips trace over the area near the “Elves’ Home Bar” as if inadvertently, and I stare at Li Zeyan expectantly.

His gaze wanders over the map for a moment, then he raises his hand and points to a vacation cabin nestled within the dense forest at the far end of the bay.

LZY: This one here.

LZY: However, it’s in a rather secluded location. I’m afraid I won’t be able to find my way there alone.

With this sentence, he slips one hand into his pocket and turns sideways, looking at me with an indolent gaze. Although he hasn’t said anything explicitly, I clearly catch his implication and discreetly pout my lips.

MC: ...Then, after everyone has chosen their accommodations, I’ll––

Goldman: Actually, after CEO Li’s demonstration, the process has become much clearer. We can complete the remaining steps under the guidance of others.

Goldman: Going in groups like this will also increase efficiency.

Goldman pushes his glasses up and suddenly speaks from the audience.

Several threads of understanding or confusion are thrown from the crowd, but they all nod in agreement in groups of two or three.

LZY: Could you lead the way now, “Miss Elven Emissary”?

MC: …please follow me. Everyone else, carry on.

Amidst the lively atmosphere, I escort Li Zeyan off the stage and walk out of the crowd. It’s not until we are seated in the equipped car that I turn to look at him.

MC: Sob, sob~ and here I was so sure of our tacit understanding. Did you not catch the hint I gave you just now?

MC: This place is the furthest from our offline work information exchange hub, “Elves’ Home Bar.” I’ll have to take so many detours in the future…

Suddenly, a warm touch lands on my lips. Li Zeyan raises his hand and caresses my lips, sending a wave of tingling sensation through me.

LZY: Well, isn’t that just perfect.

In the faintly intoxicating sea breeze, he leans in toward me, his voice tinged with a touch of indolence.

LZY: Since it’s so troublesome, just reduce the frequency of your visits.

LZY: Invest all the time you would have spent there on me instead.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 3】

The cozy tropical sunshine beams down as I sit on the deck of the small boat, adjusting the fishing net. Suddenly, a few drops of cool seawater land on my cheeks.

Li Zeyan floats up from the sea, lifting the breathing tube with one hand, and squints slightly as he looks in my direction.

LZY: Wasn’t it a certain someone who took the initiative for this and said she wanted to try her hand at fishing?

LZY: Why is she dilly-dallying now?

MC: Let me finish fastening this last buttonhole… don’t rush me!

I lazily scoop up a handful of water and splash it back at him. Looking at the dripping wet hair over Li Zeyan’s forehead out of the corner of my eye, I can’t help bursting into laughter.

MC: Don’t you feel this scene gives a sense of deja vu?

MC: It feels like when we were on White Pearl Island, I was waiting for you to come back from pearl diving just like this. [2]

As I speak, I adjust the equipment and give him an OK gesture. Li Zeyan seems to recall something as well, and a glint of smile glides across his dark-colored irises.

LZY: All I remember is you waiting on the deck for about ten minutes, and then you started feeling bored.

LZY: When I got on the ship, you persistently kept asking about the underwater scenery.

As he says this, he reaches out and clasps my palm, bridging the distance between him and me.

LZY: And this time, you can accompany me to see it together.

With these words, Li Zeyan pulls me along and together, we dive into the warm, cerulean sea.

The scenery undersea is akin to a picture scroll, its novel appearances unfolding before our eyes through the diving mask.

Schools of fish shuttle through the vibrant, swaying coral. Occasionally, one or two would swim alone, leisurely swishing their tails as they cruise along.

The target suddenly appears, capturing my attention instantly. I swiftly dash forward and swing the net. Unexpectedly, the fish rapidly changes direction and escapes from my encirclement.

MC: …

Li Zeyan casts a sidelong glance at me, his long legs sheathed in a black diving suit swaying leisurely in the sea waves.

Despite the breathing tube and diving mask obscuring his face, I can still vaguely discern a smile.

Unwilling to resign myself, I chase after several lone fish again, but all my attempts to catch them end in failure. I grab his hand and float to the surface, exhaling a sigh of frustration.

MC: These fish are too agile. Can I apply for some assistance from outside?

Upon hearing my words, Li Zeyan glances at me and takes off his breathing tube.

LZY: When you say “assistance from outside,” what exactly are you referring to?

MC: I was referring to CEO Li’s Evol, of course~

MC: As long as you pause time for just a moment, we can catch them all in one fell swoop, can’t we!?~

I lean in with a beaming smile on my face but am stopped by Li Zeyan’s outstretched finger pressing against my forehead.

LZY: Even if we succeed this way, there won’t be much joy in it.

LZY: Instead, we should slow down our movements and allow the fish to relax their vigilance. Once they feel safe, they’ll come closer on their own.

LZY: When the time comes, they naturally won’t have any chance to escape.

Seeing my skeptical gaze, Li Zeyan doesn’t offer further explanation. He simply puts on his breathing tube and motions for me to join him in diving underwater again.

I follow behind him, observing as he pauses with the net in front of a cluster of coral, quietly slowing his movements. Before long, sure enough, a few fish swim over.

Silently, Li Zeyan leans forward, waiting until the fish approaches the net without any alertness, then swiftly pulls the net together.

Eyes wide, I suppress the excitement bubbling within me as we float up. I watch as Li Zeyan lifts the net, several fish floundering vigorously inside.

Glistening droplets of water cascade down his damp forehead, melding into his equally soaked neck and broad shoulders. I can’t help but gasp in awe.

MC: So amazing! You managed to really catch them!

LZY: I learned quite a few techniques from the fishermen back when we were on White Pearl Island. Just putting some of that knowledge to use. [3]

Li Zeyan lifts his hand and swings the net onto the small boat as he speaks, then helps me up onto the deck. Followed by this, he speaks with a hint of amusement in his tone.

LZY: On the other hand, a certain someone has already been on this island for quite a long time for planning and on-site inspection purposes.

LZY: How come it is that no matter if it’s diving or fishing, there’s always a sense of novelty in your reactions?

MC: Hehe, I indeed haven’t had the chance to enjoy myself here. This island is more of a workplace for me, after all.

MC: Every day, I’ve had to stay on top of the situation on-site, adjust program designs and coordinate personnel arrangements…

MC: Sob, sob, I’d just pass out as soon as I went back to my room, so I didn’t even have any time to explore properly.

A warm touch lands on my cheek as Li Zeyan casually wipes away the water streaks from my face, giving me a somewhat helpless glance.

LZY: Aren’t you always on the dot to remind me about “seizing” the chances to relax when I’m on business trips?

LZY: I remember you mentioning before that you’re not the only person responsible for this project inspection.

LZY: So, how come you didn’t sneak off to “touch fish” and relax a little? [4]

MC: I just can’t help but feel a little uneasy without seeing things with my own eyes. After all, this project is going to be recommended to LFG, so it’s only natural that I must ensure every detail is ironed out.

MC: Moreover, haven’t I already “seized” it back? Being by your side is already the best method of “touching fish.”~ [5]

Grinning, I reach out and touch the fish still flopping around in the net, the tail note of my voice carrying a cheerful lilt. Beside me, Li Zeyan chuckles softly in response.

LZY: A certain dummy has always been quite skilled at comforting herself.

LZY: So, what’s the plan for these fish?

MC: The restaurants on the island do offer processing services… but I want to push the envelope a little further.

Beaming from ear to ear, I lift my chin towards the open-air barbecue area on the shore as I speak. Li Zeyan follows my gaze, his voice now tinged with a hint of comprehension.

LZY: When it comes to troublesome tasks such as this, a certain someone really spurs into action.

MC: But I also need someone here to cooperate~ Pretty please, Li Zeyan; it’s been ages since I have experienced your culinary masterpieces!

As I speak, I fold my hands together in a gesture of prayer and gaze at him. Although Li Zeyan remains non-committal, the glimmer of a smile in his eyes grows increasingly pronounced.

—

Sure enough, once the small boat stops by the boardwalk, Li Zeyan picks up the net.

LZY: Go change your clothes.

LZY: Decide on the flavor you want, grab the condiments, and meet me at the barbecue area.

With Li Zeyan’s promise, my mood can’t help but brighten all the more.

After changing into dry clothes, I head toward the “supply point,” filled with joy and expectation, mentally calculating as I walk––

Naturally, we should include the local specialty sauces… but what if Li Zeyan doesn’t have a taste for them? I should also bring some classic condiment pairings like spiced salt and hot pepper…

Staff Member: Excuse me… Miss Elven Emissary!

A hesitant call sounds from behind me. I quickly snap out of my thoughts, and a polite smile forms at the corner of my lips.

MC: May I help you with something?

Staff Member: I just found one of the bracelets you guys mentioned while taking photos by the reef. Could you please guide me to the registration area?

The other party opens their palm towards me as she speaks. My gaze falls on the beaded bracelet, and my eyes can’t help but sparkle a bit at the sight of it.

The first bracelet has been found so quickly! This collection task seems to be progressing even more smoothly than I imagined…

MC: Of course, please follow me~

I reply in a brisk tone and send a message to Li Zeyan, letting him know that I’d be ten minutes late. Then, I escort the girl to the “Elves’ Home Bar.”

After taking care of everything, I inadvertently glance at my phone. My heart suddenly stutters.

…It’s been twenty minutes past the time I promised Li Zeyan that I’d be there.

—

I rush towards the open-air barbecue area at lightning speed, carrying the bottles and cans in my arms, and spot Li Zeyan leaning against the long table.

Several plates are already arranged on the table. As I draw nearer, the tantalizing aroma of grilled delights wafts into my nostrils, clearly indicating that they’ve been ready for quite some time.

Seemingly hearing my footsteps, Li Zeyan lifts his gaze to look at me. I promptly dash a few steps forward.

MC: I’m sorry for making you wait for so long… haha, the aroma is so delightful!~

MC: As expected of Mr. Li. You can maintain top-notch performance even without any condiments!

LZY: These fish have already been seasoned. You can stop buttering me up now.

LZY: While I was waiting for you earlier, a staff member passed by in the vicinity, so I asked him to help me fetch them.

LZY: Otherwise, if I were to wait for a certain someone to bring them back, the fish would have all burned.

MC: The route to the registration point was a bit circuitous. I didn’t realize it’d take this long.

As I rush to explain at lightning bolt speed, a not-so-firm yet no-so-gentle tap lands on my head.

LZY: [laughs helplessly] Dummy, I’m not mad.

LZY: I just realized that you seem to be particularly invested in this group task.

MC: Because I designed that surprise single-handedly from scratch. Instead of it staying hidden, I rather hope it can be seen by everyone~

MC: And, to be honest, I also have a bit of a selfish motive.

MC: “The harvest reaped from a certain someone’s efforts during this time has indeed been worthwhile.”... I want to hear you say these words personally after seeing the “surprise.”~

LZY: [laughs even more helplessly] You’re already an accomplished producer in your own right, do you still need this kind of affirmation?

MC: Of course~ After all, affirmation from clients and work partners is recognition of my capabilities, which fuels my resolve to keep pushing forward.

MC: However, the affirmation from my boyfriend–– can sweep away all the weariness from this period, filling me with motivation to welcome the next challenge head-on~

LZY: [even more indulgently] Dummy.

As he says this, his baritone voice softens slightly, and he forks a piece of fish and brings it to my lips.

The delicious flavor explodes on the tip of my tongue. I squint my eyes contentedly, listening as Li Zeyan speaks in a low voice.

LZY: It’s okay to give yourself a break without any worries.

LZY: Don’t underestimate the people at LFG.

──────────────

[Tidbits]

[2+3] It’s a reference to LZY’s first UR card story: “Melding Into You.”

[4+5] The term used here is “摸鱼” (lit. meaning touch fish), which is actually used to mean “slacking off.” There are a lot of playful puns here, which I’m too exhausted to explain rn. Anyway, while I could have used the fig. meaning, I went with the lit. one b/c the conversation revolves around the whole fish imagery here, e.g., you see MC touching the fish they’ve caught together (with him guiding her) as she says her best method of slacking off, i.e., relaxing, is simply being with him– which essentially is a core part of this date, which you’ll see unfolding later ahah 🥺

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 4】

Outside the vacation cabin windows, the dense patter of rain mingles with the rustling of branches and leaves.

Standing on the terrace and looking outwards, I can see the buildings near and far being shrouded in a fine veil of rain.

I withdraw my gaze from the eaves outside and glance at the work group chat that has been continuously bombarding me with messages since just now.

The sudden downpour has only now begun to taper off. The patrol staff just reported that the beaded bracelet placed at the seaside has been washed into the sea.

If similar situations occur at the other sites where the bracelets are placed, it will surely impact the experience of the game. With this in mind, I swiftly send a few messages in the group chat.

MC: “Once the rain stops, let’s each go check the placement of props in our designated zones.”

In response, there comes a series of consecutive affirmations in the group chat. Deep in thought, I raise my head and gaze towards the forest outside the vacation cabin.

The nearest hiding spot to me is right here... I’ll have to seize the opportunity when Li Zeyan isn’t paying attention and sneak out for a quick look.

As I’m contemplating, Li Zeyan’s voice suddenly comes from behind.

LZY: It’s so late, and you still haven’t come to bed. What are you zoning out for?

I discreetly tighten my grip on my phone and turn around to look at Li Zeyan.

He is sitting reclined against the headboard, iPad in hand. His dark fringes hang leisurely, partially veiling his eyes.

A pair of glasses rests loosely on the bridge of his nose, reflecting several glimmering points of light from the screen.

I plop back onto the bed, casually leaning closer to him as if nothing has occurred.

MC: The rain outside is quite lovely, so I was just snapping a few photos.

MC: And what about you… it’s only been a few days since the vacation, why have you already started looking at documents?

Catching my curious gaze, Li Zeyan leans back and casually angles the iPad in my direction.

LZY: In order to complete a certain someone’s mission.

I move closer with some confusion, and a chart titled “Technology is the Ultimate Weapon” immediately enters my field of vision.

On the topographic map of the vacation island, at least a dozen annotations are sprawled, detailing analyses ranging from distribution patterns to minimum spacing radii, both internally and externally.

For a moment, I can’t help but be bewildered by the scale of the arrangement. Then I hear Li Zeyan’s voice coming from beside me.

LZY: As you can see, there are already people from LFG who have begun updating the guide in real-time.

LZY: In addition to taking turns searching during the vacation, they also share the locations they’ve already found the bracelets each day to avoid wasting time.

LZY: Goldman even went ahead and prepared charts, saying that it would narrow down the search area through data analysis.

I withdraw my gaze and meet Li Zeyan’s eyes with a moment of incredulity.

MC: Isn’t that taking it a bit too seriously… hang on, you didn’t assign this as a task to them, saying something like, “You must complete it within the designated time frame,” did you?

Li Zeyan shoots me a cryptic glance with a hint of ambiguity in his expression.

LZY: I haven’t become that unreasonable yet. This is something that interested individuals did voluntarily.

LZY: At the end of the day, it was a certain someone’s previous introduction that piqued their curiosity.

With a pensive “Oh,” I suddenly think of something.

MC: So, to derive from what you said, this is a private chat group? Then how are you––

There is a sudden hesitation in Li Zeyan’s demeanor.

LZY: [you can’t see me but I’m actually crying lmao 😭] …I asked Goldman to add me to it.

His voice remains very calm. I hold his gaze for a moment, but can’t help bursting into laughter.

MC: Pfft, haha, so it turns out CEO Li is also participating in this activity, huh! Then doesn’t that mean you have to lead the team and set an example?

MC: But you have the “secret weapon” in your hands! Just “please” me a little, and who knows? You might uncover some clues.

I teasingly poke his cheek. Li Zeyan doesn’t say anything and simply stares at me intently.

A moment later, he suddenly chuckles and casually takes off his glasses, setting them aside. Without the obstruction of the lenses, those deep eyes of his stare at me unabashedly.

LZY: [chuckles teasingly] How do you want me to “please” you?

His voice seems to take on a slightly huskier timbre than usual, as he reaches out and takes hold of my fingertips.

A wet, passionate kiss descends immediately. I quiver, instinctively wanting to pull back my hand, but he restrains my movements.

LZY: Like this?

LZY: …Or would you like me to go further in?

With these muffled words, his lips quietly trail to my neck, lingering there, taking his time and igniting a growing fire.

My heartbeat accelerates uncontrollably, but I still make a conscious effort to keep my willpower intact.

MC: …I already asked you to please me. Naturally, you should be the one to think about how to do it.

LZY: Hmm, I haven’t thought it through yet.

He appears to be genuinely reflective, but the force of his delivery suddenly increases, catching me unawares. The goblet glass at the head of the bed is knocked over, its content spilling silently and soaking the crumpled bedsheet.

I tightly clench the pillow, his voice reverberating in my ears.

LZY: [shaky, breathless voice x1] But since you’ve handed over the control to me…

LZY: [x2] When we should stop won’t be your call anymore.

—------------------------ interlude ------------------------—

The rain outside has stopped at some point. Only the gauze curtains in the distance dance in the breeze, occasionally making a rustling sound.

I stealthily open my eyes. The man next to me has half of his face buried in the pillow, his features traced by the moonlight pouring through the window.

His body rises and falls gently along with his light, rhythmic breathing. It seems that he has already drifted off to sleep.

MC: Li Zeyan? CEO Li? …Zeyan gege?

In order to feel out, I speak in a soft voice. Seeing that he still hasn’t responded, I slowly move his arm aside.

Then, gently and quietly, I rise from the bed, casting one last glance at the sleeping Li Zeyan before feeling at ease and pushing open the door.

—

Creak––

Along with this almost inaudible sound, the crisp air post-rain rushes towards me head-on.

The clear night drapes over the quiet vacation village, with the vaguely audible murmurs of the waves in the distance.

I walk along the cobblestone path into the woods, carefully identifying the location of the placement point by the distant lights.

The bracelet hanging from the branches sways gently in the breeze, almost blending into the dim light of the night.

Feeling relieved, I send a message to the group to confirm that everything was fine. But just as I’m about to leave, I can’t resist muttering to myself.

MC: …Li Zeyan, you really are a dummy.

MC: This hiding spot is clearly so close to where we’re residing, and yet you still haven’t found it.

LZY: After all, considering the vast expanse of the area to search through, it’s surely going to consume a lot of time.

LZY: Instead of running around aimlessly, it’s better to wait patiently for the chance to arrive.

A familiar voice sounds from behind me. Startled, I turn around at lightning pace. There, standing behind me, is the person who I saw seemingly “sound asleep” just a moment ago, now watching me.

MC: You… You were actually pretending to be asleep!

LZY: A little correction. I was simply concerned about your safety when I noticed you were heading out so late, that’s all.

LZY: The discovery I’ve made just now can only be regarded as an unexpected gain.

Li Zeyan’s eyes mirror a contemplative interest as he speaks.

LZY: On the contrary, a certain someone here seems to be getting more and more adept at pulling the wool over people’s eyes.

LZY: While her leading foot earnestly vowed that she was genuinely exhausted and just wanted to sleep quickly, her trailing foot dashed out the door to be busy with this and that…

LZY: [GAH THAT MENACINGLY SEDUCTIVE TONE] It seems like I don’t need to be mindful of such excuses from now on.

The roots of my ears can’t help but flush a bit, and I let out a cough before offering an explanation.

MC: Circumstances change… my current action is entirely driven by my dedication to work.

Li Zeyan lets out an ambiguous “ah.” His figure is outlined by the distant lights, casting a slender silhouette that projects onto me.

Amidst the murky darkness, I discern his voice carrying a slightly deeper chuckle, and it seems a little more muffled than usual.

LZY: Sophistry.

LZY: Whether or not there’s some truth to it… I’ll examine it in my own way.

His voice drops to a whisper, and what follows is a warm and entangled kiss.

I find myself involuntarily clutching onto the corner of his garment, tilting my head back to reciprocate. The next moment, I feel the tip of his tongue gently glide across the roof of my mouth.

Despite the brevity of that touch, it sends a shiver through me, making me tremble uncontrollably. I feel as if my heartbeat is about to melt into the fiery breath of this moment.

??: Has this area not been searched yet?

Indistinct chatter suddenly echoes from a distance. I gasp and turn my head, watching as two blurry figures appear far off at the edge of the woods.

MC: They seem to be looking for clues… We…

Before I can finish my entire sentence, it’s gradually drowned out by stifled whimpers.

Li Zeyan closes in on me from the back, covering me deeply. His one hand presses against my lips, seemingly trying to hush my voice.

His slender fingers teasingly caress the space between my teeth. After playing around for a while, they irresistibly delve further in.

MC: …!

LZY: They should know what’s appropriate.

LZY: But if you can’t control your voice… that might be a problem for us.

His fingertips carry the slight chill of the night, stirring my tongue every now and then. It feels like an appeasement, and yet also a form of punishment.

All the sounds in my ears fade away, leaving only the pounding of my heart, growing more and more violent amidst the whimpers. Unconsciously, I bite down on the fingers he has inserted.

His embrace, imprisoning me, tightens even more. A moist kiss descends onto the nape of my neck, followed by gentle nibbles, trailing down to my chest.

Rumble––

The rain, which came to a halt, has begun pouring down at some point unbeknownst to us, pitter-pattering onto the surface and creating ripples.

In the embrace of the night, everything is steeped in the surging tide.

──────────────────────────────────────��───

Continue to Part 2: here!

────────────────

#the first time ever i split a date translation in half haha. it was too big and Tumblr doesn't allow more than 30 pics in a post so 🙇‍♀️#*screams* LI ZEYAAAANNNNNNNN ✧⁠\⁠(⁠>⁠o⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠✧ THE MAN YOU ARE 🧎‍♀️#couldn't carve out time for the two thousand words essay i initially wanted to write so y'all have been spared AHAHAH 🫠#mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc #mr love victor #mr love queen's choice #恋与制作人 #李泽言 #love and producer #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc translations

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mx-metronome · 3 months

Text

Meditations on Eden 1

Writing for the sake of writing. Eden spoilers under the cut (also it’s long, oops)

Imagine you are a star in the sky, having only known the indifferent twinkling of your distant siblings and the loud silence of the universe.

Now imagine that you fall from such a comforting nothingness, at a blazing speed, towards a solid something below. You’ve been pushed out of your cradle of Light & Song and into a land of coldness and chaotic noise.

Imagine that you’ve been born. Would you not be angry? Would you not feel betrayed that a caring Mother would do such a thing to you, to remove you from your comfort? Perhaps that is why babies cry. Perhaps that is why many moths so quickly abandon their journey.

You settle into the terrible noise, learning the sound of the waves crashing on a shore and the sensation of wind whistling past your ears, and then out of the senseless noise you hear the tolling of bells and feel the vibrations resonate through you. Imagine that the star at your core trembles in response: it sounds like Her beckoning you back home.

All the while, you think, Why cast me out from the stars if only to call me back home again? What purpose does this serve? And yet She calls; and yet you trust Her.

So you follow.

You are told that all is given breath by starlight. Was I not breathing before?

You continue to follow Her voice.

Imagine that time passes, and existence becomes more bearable.

You find other fallen stars like you, other Children of the Light. Some are much taller, some much shorter, many in all shapes and colors adorning their vessels.

They sing songs of the Eye of Eden, the place of salvation, where Her Warmth proves itself true to those who have fallen to darkness. Have I fallen to darkness? Did she send me into this darkness, or was I dragged down by force?

The children gesture towards the Mountain crowned with a halo that She had been calling you to, an intense light extending from the summit back to the stars. That is where She is, She will save me and bring me home when I get there.

The children urge you to collect winged light, for these are the key to salvation. They caution that the Darkness wishes to reclaim these and that you must keep them safe. I will take these wings to Her to gain her favor.

So you continue to follow Her voice.

You pass through troubled lands devoid of the creatures’ songs, replaced instead by heavy air and the dead ground. Large creatures of not-Light swim through the thick air in endless circles, hunting for Her essences. They seek your winged light, your tickets home. You guard them jealously as you slip past, you refuse to give them up.

You ascend a mighty tower, full of graves and old stories and the dangers of hubris and ambition. The dreamlike void swirling with particles of light make you feel the closest to home you’ve ever been. These wings will surely be enough to get me home.

You continue to follow Her voice.

She leads you to the base of the Mountain, the Holy Site, irradiated with darkness, clouded in ash. Surely this must be a mistake? This doesn’t look like salvation at all!

And yet, in all your doubt, She calls; and yet, in all your apprehension, you trust Her. You continue to follow Her voice.

You scale this peak, cloaked in a storm of stones, patrolled by more of these dark creatures. You make a dash towards the open hallway, where She is calling from. You want to trust Her.

A gust of wind pushes you backward just a few inches, and your foot slips. Enough lost momentum for a torrent of rocks to pelt you, knocking you to your back. Helplessly you watch as the winged light that would surely bring you home scatter to the winds, dwindling and then fading to nothing, like candlelights in a hurricane.

Why? Why did She bring me here? This place is only pain, only anger. She couldn’t possibly dwell in a place like this, a place of absolute darkness. How could I possibly trust Her?

And yet, She calls.

You crawl between flung rocks and dragons’ eyesight towards Her voice, the loudest it’s ever been. You have no choice but to trust Her.

As you enter the hallway littered with winged light, you wonder if this is the salvation the children meant, the ultimate reward for your troubles. But it isn’t home. She beckons you further inward, Her sound is almost deafening now.

You hesitate a moment before continuing to follow Her voice.

You follow the voice into the Eye of Eden, the place of salvation.

A crystal of darkness so intense that it’s poisoned the land for miles around it.

A shattered palace whose tile floors are now strewn with the petrified corpses of children who came before you.

Imagine that She has brought you here to a place reeking of death, dissonant with the scraping of stone against stone.

A place that children sang about.

Now imagine, right then, that you can’t hear Her voice anymore. You call out, just in case you’re missing something, but you feel no response.

Would you not be angry? Would you not feel betrayed that a caring Mother would do such a thing to you, to lead you to the place where you’d die again with no further explanation? Was falling away from the warm stars not enough?? You tried your best, you brought the light here, you did as you were told. Why couldn’t you be saved? Why isn’t She here???

You let out your anger and pain in a fiery scream, but the red crystal screams louder. You feel the darkness begin to slow you down and the threads holding the winged light to you begin to fray. Resigning to your arrogance and greed for answers, you step out into the downpour of rocks and kneel before the nearest stone child.

As you succumb to the intense darkness, you feel your remaining winged light tugging you, as though it were reaching for the fallen child. Reluctantly, you cradle one of your precious light in your hands and place it against the statue. Immediately, a golden light peeks through the cracks in their stone skin as the winged light combines with the child’s soul. You see your winged light count fall by 1.

They sing songs of the Eye of Eden…

You understand.

…the place of salvation…

You cannot save yourself. That is not why She brought you here.

…where Her Warmth proves itself true to those who have fallen to darkness.

The winged light was never yours to keep. Your salvation was never yours to claim. Love was never meant to be taken.

Realizing that time is short and your light is waning, you arise to your feet one final time and trudge through the storm and the sludge, reaching out and touching the damned with the light you had protected all this time. One by one, the winged light shine gold through the cracks in the stone like an ore vein, and the rocks begin to rain harder, as though the Darkness is punishing you for daring to be selfless in this final act.

As you reach out to the furthest sky kids in the darkest places, you feel the polluted water burn the soles of your feet, the pointed stones in your lungs. Your winged light reserves grow emptier and emptier, and the darkness begins to seep into your eyes and your joints and your heart.

As a loose stone clobbers the back of your head, your last winged light violently tears away from you, shattering instantly against the intense radiation. With your core now devoid of light and your soul emptied of all your achievements, you feel the darkness coat your body like a thick skin. The vessel you took on becomes heavy and movements laborious. The searing pain is unbearable.

You feel so hot, like your body is burning away, and as your heartbeat slows to a crawl, you grow cold. Is this the salvation? Will I spend eternity in a void?

What will become of them?

And as you exhale your last breath, the cold dissipates, and you feel nothing.

It is almost like falling asleep.

It is almost like waking up.

Imagine you were a star in the sky, having only known the indifferent twinkling of your distant siblings and the loud silence of the universe.

Except now that twinkling is far gone, and the silence is even louder. You left your nonexistence and fell into existence. You left your cradle, learned to point, learned to charm the butterflies, learned to laugh, learned to cry, learned to dance, learned to fear, learned to pray.

And in your final moments of existence, you learned to love. Truly, wholly, and with wild abandon, even without the guarantee that it would benefit you somehow in the end.

Yes, another child comes along on the same pilgrimage and saves you too. You’re reborn, you get to reenter the world you’ve come to love again. But that’s not necessarily what this story is about.

Imagine that She is you. Imagine that you are Her. You are Her Warmth, Her Salvation made manifest, Her Guiding Light. You are the Voice that She led you along, and you are Her Kindness.

When the children sang the songs of the Eye of Eden, they were singing about Her, and they were singing about each other, and they were also singing about You.

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #thatskygame #sky spoilers #eden spoilers #meditations on Eden #sorry this is so fucking long lol #one of my resolutions this year is to write #and I’ve written about Eden before #I wanna write more #but I like Eden a lot #I understand why folks don’t and I explore those reasons #but I have a lot of feelings about Eden

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yuesgirlfriend · 8 months

Text

of birds and honey

(simon "ghost" riley x reader) medieval AU

part 1/part 2/part 3

warnings: canon typical violence, masturbation (afab)

A week passes without much happening.

Excitement over new knights has died down, and the people go back to their regular routine. Wool is spun, gardens are weeded, new straw with sweet smelling sprigs of rosemary is spread over the floor. Peasants in distant fields begin planting and tilling as spring slowly settles into the dreary air.

She feigns reading when her father discusses defenses with the Knight Commander Price, hears gossip of French ships breaching southern shores by the kitchens, and overhears one of the knights (Garrick, she heard his name was) express worry about leaked battle plans and French spies.

She does not see the man called Ghost again, until one afternoon she is practicing embroidery while balanced on a windowsill overlooking the courtyard.

Shouts sound out from down below- when she glances down, a small crowd has gathered around two figures circling eachother.

She rushes to the scene when sounds of steel striking steel begin to ring out. Down the stairs, past the hall, through the kitchens, and there he is- Ghost- swinging a blade towards another knight.

A duel, a duel! Sir Graves and the Ghost!

Says one of the stable boys as the other man- Graves- dodges another strike. She pushes her way to the front of the crowd, needing to see every line of Ghost’s armored body as he grunts and dodges. He moves like he is dancing, brutal and calculated.

Duels are vicious, bloody ordeals- very few have ever happened under her fathers watch, the clergy under his thumb finding the merciless bloodshed godless. But now her father watches from his balcony as Ghost parries Graves thrust and, with one fluid motion, takes his head.

Something wet and warm splatters across her face. She doesn’t flinch.

While Ghost holds the mans head by the helmet and roars warnings of what happens to traitors to the rest of the watching, silent knights and crowd of stunned servants, she stares at the red hot blood splattered across her shoes and silken surcoat and tries to put a name to the feeling coiling in her stomach.

The sky is streaked with red as the run sets into the horizon, as if God saw the blood in the courtyard and took inspiration. Every sound and color seems muted, unable to break through the buzzing in her ears. She spends the rest of the evening picking flecks of blood off her face, feigning a headache and skipping dinner.

Her hands don’t stop shaking, and she’s filled with the need to run, to move. Once the sun sets, she slinks out of her room. Favoring the shadows and moving only when sentries are turned away, she makes her way to the highest peak of outer wall. The stars peek over the horizon, the moon hanging above them like a pearl.

A shiver runs through her when her eyes land on the hulking form standing over the parapet. She moves on soundless, slippered feet towards him.

“Lady.” He says as if in greeting. How he heard her, she’ll never know.

“It must be true, what the cook says.” She steps up beside him, overlooking the dark his surrounding the castle, the plains muddled together under the blanket of night.

“And what is that?” His voice is gruff, his hood up over his masked face.

“That you have got eyes in the back of your head.”

That’s the abridged version of what the cook had said; she had overheard the old man telling the maids of rumors he had heard- that the Ghost was the spawn of the devil, a witches son, a biblically deformed creature hiding 9 eyes and countless heads beneath the mask.

Something vindictive and admittedly childish had rose up in her and led to her placing several handfuls of nettles in the cooks bed.

She refused to feel guilty, even when she spotted the irritated welts on the mans skin the next day- was it not the prophet Amos who said to let justice roll on like a river, and righteousness like a never-failing stream?

He lets out a huff. Something tells her this is as close to a laugh as he will give her. For a long moment, there is only silence broken by the occasional scurry of a rat, as they stand watching the night where it’s unfolded before them.

“There’s a storm on it’s way, lady.” His gloved fingers tighten where they grip the stone. She wishes he would turn, so she could see his eyes. “It’d be wise if your father sent you somewhere far.”

“I’m stronger than I seem- have faith, I can weather any storm, sir. And the stronghold is well defended.”

“‘S not the stronghold I worry about. It’s the people.” Finally, he turns to face her- in the moonlight, his eyes look like moons themselves, haloed by a dark night of greasepaint.

“Be careful who you trust, lady.” In one fluid motion, he takes off his cloak and wraps it around her shoulders before bodily turning her away. “Get back inside. You’re father would have my head if I let ya freeze.”

She follows his orders without question. Maybe he really is a witches son, she thinks as she slinks back into her quarters.

The fire is nothing more than a collection of dim coals, now. Wrapping the Ghost’s cloak tighter around herself, she tosses another log onto the fire and crawls into her bed.

The feeling from earlier that day is back- the tensing, the coiling in her stomach, the heat in her abdomen as if someone is churning her chest over hot coals. Usually venturing out at night cures her of this incessent, shaky need to move, but this time, it had only exacerbated it.

Squirming around, she buries her nose in his cloak. Ghost’s cloak. It smells of lye soap, wood ash, cold night air.

Some kind of hot and heavy pressure hangs in her stomach- her thighs rub together, twisted around her sheet, and that seems to help for a moment, but then it gets worse.

Without thinking, she sends a trembling hand down between her legs- to her womanhood, as her old governess would have said- and adds more pressure. And, oh- that is new.

She hesitantly moves this wetness around, up and down, until her back arches off the mattress, until she masters this new feeling and she has to bury her moans in the rough frabric of Ghost’s cloak.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw ghost #cod mwii x reader #simon riley x reader angst #part 2 coming soon #call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley headcanons

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moonbaby26 · 6 days

Text

Title: The Nest

(Chapter 7 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Aokiji/Kuzan x Reader (referenced), Smoker x Reader (referenced)

Chapter Warnings: non con elements, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal sex, possessive/controlling relationship, hint of exhibitionism, implied past physical and/or sexual abuse to reader

Chapter Synopsis: You must now fulfill your previous promise to Doflamingo, beginning your stay on the island of Scylla with him. Alone with the warlord again at last, he’s further becoming everything you’d feared and needed all at once.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

——————————

The days back at sea came and went one after another. Thankfully, Vice Admiral Momonga was someone you got along with well. He was a bit serious, but clear in any expectations for his crew, which made life easy for you. Because there was then more doing than thinking, regardless of the twisting emotions still inside of you.

And with Momonga being your interim commanding officer, you had also put in your request for shore leave direct with him. He’d told you that even HQ was having trouble reaching Tsuru except for the shortest status reports now. So you had no chance for contact with her anyway.

On orders of the world government, Tsuru and your normal crew had pushed the rebels on Lyra even higher into the mountains there. Unfortunately, it’d also become more of a waiting game of starving those remaining freedom fighters out as the marine blockade had cut off all other supplies to the island.

But the extreme terrain of peaks and valleys there also made it difficult to get out proper transmissions, save for the briefest bursts with weather permitting.

Though you weren’t worried. Because someone like Tsuru wouldn’t be outsmarted by the rebels’ untrained forces. It was only a matter of time before the world government accepted the enemy’s surrender to reinstate the previous royal family there instead.

And nobility like that was actually the only reason Momonga’s ship would be stopping at the island of Scylla as well. Once you’d been aboard, you’d found out those additional details that that part of the voyage would be an escort mission.

Some high blooded man and his two sons were all heading to Scylla for a few days of rubbing elbows with their fellow upper crust. All of them wealthy and connected enough to have a vice admiral like Momonga at their beck and call as a bodyguard at least.

The vice admiral had given you no trouble with your own request either though. Three days and nights of shore leave had all been approved. After safely delivering the escorted nobles, Momonga would be docking at the nearby marine port on one of Scylla’s satellite islands. And you would get to stay on the mainland and then reconvene with his crew when they came to recollect that same royal family a few days later.

But the closer the start date drew, the more anxiety gripped you. Until the night finally came where you found yourself still unable to properly sleep, standing on deck again just before sunrise to the lower ranks’ surprise.

The wind was somewhat cold, bringing up an ocean spray along with it as you’d stepped against the ship’s railing to view those distant lights of Scylla becoming sharper and sharper on the horizon at last.

You could hear the skeleton crew of the night watch calling out their standard protocols. Announcing land in sight, and determining the headings for the helmsman to begin turning the ship towards harbor.

But something in your stomach had tightened even further as the port did begin to become visible. Because from even there you could recognize the docks already full of other ships in the dim moonlight. Ones clearly from all makes and nationalities.

You were wondering if one of them was discreetly Doflamingo’s. Even though he’d given you his supposedly private, most direct number what was now almost three weeks ago, you had not used it yet for any late night “check in” as he’d called it.

Because Momonga had approved the exact dates you’d first told the warlord. Nothing had changed on your side.

And you’d been correct in your assumption too that there’d be no private quarters for you on this ship. You’d hardly been alone the entire time, and never felt comfortable enough to try and force the chance to be.

You’d wanted to do more than just talk with Doflamingo as well. A call alone would not have satisfied you even if you’d had the time.

Yet what if the pirate wasn’t even here yet? Or what if he was just jerking you along the entire time? You knew you would have to call him today to confirm a meeting time at the church regardless.

———————————

And later that morning you finally had made an excuse about needing to call the mainland to verify arrival with a place you would have rented a room at. But in reality, there was no such reservation. Your intent had always been to stay with the warlord only, just as you’d promised him.

Yet if Doflamingo ditched you, you would have then changed the story to say that the imaginary room had been double booked and given away already. A believable notion for as high traffic as this island was currently.

As it was then though, you’d somewhat hid away in an armory room. Rifles were racked up behind you while you’d dialed the number Doflamingo had given you, standing with your shoulder pressed to the wooden wall as the marine snail rang and rang.

The level of anxiety that returned to you as that phone continued to ring for far too many times was embarrassing too. Almost enough to make you hang up and just assume you were on your own before the click of a connection made you stand up straighter within the dark room.

“What?” Came the familiar male voice, albeit still sounding as if he’d just been woken up and wasn’t at all pleased about it. He didn’t even say his name either. But he must not need to if this was really such a direct line.

“Our ship has docked.” You said instead of any greeting either. “If you still want to meet me, I have an escort assignment I have to finish first for some duke and his kids. And then I’ll be free to go into town off duty. I should be able to get to the church by eleven hundred.” The shorter you could keep this conversation, the better as you’d just dumped all that information immediately onto him.

There was an uncomfortably long pause as well. And then, “Well good morning to you too.” Finally came as a rather snide retort. Followed by, “So in other words…you’re waiting for some other man to wake up just so you can play servant girl to him?”

You frowned immediately at his fresh attitude. What was he so pissy about already? “Sounds like you were still sleeping yourself” You countered.

But there was an additional irritated grunt at that as Doflamingo’s voice got even sharper. “I was awake until just three hours ago making every call possible so that I could clear my schedule for you today, brat.”

“So you’re here already?” You asked for that confirmation anyway, choosing just to disregard the rest to keep this conversation moving.

“Of course I am.” And he did sound somewhat more awake there before continuing. “So you said eleven? Fine. I’ll meet you in the church by then.” It was the easiest landmark you’d both agreed to before.

“Alright. I’ll be there. The upper level.” You still suggested more specifically next. That gallery would hopefully be less crowded than the main floor today. And a better view for you truthfully, who had still never seen any of it.

“Yes. Don’t keep me waiting.” Was his only additional reply though. Terse really before the connection ended in another loud click.

————————————

For the nobles you were with, they had indeed slept until the very last moment. Only by almost ten did they suddenly have more sense of urgency to disembark. They wanted off the “dirty” marine vessel and to get to whatever higher end accommodations they’d made on the island.

You’d had to listen to them berate one another as well as you’d still waited while they gathered their things. The father was insistent with his sons, telling them to put their masks on as per carnival traditions. And all other kinds of comments as he urged them to look presentable and in fashion for the holiday.

Because they would not shut up about it, you knew they were attending some ball tomorrow night and the duke was expecting his boys to find equally high born dates today to invite there. All with the goal of said dates becoming political wives of significant dowry apparently.

But the boys were young and too busy whining about the cold, about the dampness of the fine mist still coming off of the sea, and any other matter of trivial things.

One of the other sailors made eye contact with you amidst it all and you saw him roll his eyes dramatically at their persistent complaining.

And you’d finally smirked a little at that, just before another heavy bag was thrown on top of the other two you were already balancing for the nobles.

“Do not drop that! The contents are fragile.” One of the boys scolded you.

Then why had they thrown it at you? “Yes, my lord.” You answered in feigned respect, though they couldn’t even be bothered to glance at your face to notice the insincerity of your expression.

More than one marine was trying not to laugh by then too though. But the naive royals, cousins to some king or something, still didn’t pick up on any of that mockery before they finally exited the gangplank.

Though still complaining all the while as the fancy heels on their boots then tried to catch on the seams between the wooden slats. Especially with the ship still bobbing up and down slightly as the waters shifted against the dock.

The fools had no sea legs at all. You would have taken them by the arm like children to assist them, but you didn’t want to be yelled at either for daring to ever touch them with your filthy peasant hands.

So you just had to watch as they stumbled and bitched while you and the rest of your marines walked down smoothly even with balancing the ridiculous amount of bags and boxes they’d saddled you all with.

A horse drawn carriage awaited your guests once on land though. And it was a blessing as soon as they were in it with the door shut to not have to hear them any longer.

That was when one of those other sailors looked back to you. A lieutenant just below your own rank. “Captain, we can take it from here. We’ll play as bell hops the rest of the way to their villa. The Vice Admiral said you had shore leave starting today. So get out of here and go enjoy it.”

“You sure?” You asked anyway as you’d handed off the bags you’d been carrying. They were now being loaded, some on top and some below the carriage.

“Positive. This is a waste of time enough already.” He answered, then somewhat purposefully throwing the bag they’d specifically said was fragile roughly to the carriage’s bottom storage.

“Alright then. See you all in a few days.” You certainly weren’t going to argue with him if escape was finally offered of course.

So as the other marines followed that carriage, still acting as security for it, you had backtracked to board Momonga’s ship again instead. You quickly changed out of uniform and gathered your single small duffel bag before heading alone back down the gangplank and towards town.

———————————

It did feel a little surreal just walking on your own once you got further into the city however. Everyone ignoring you as you had to turn this way or that not to strike shoulders when the crowds of tourists bottle necked in some areas.

You were far more accustomed to being in formation with your crew, and always all in uniform whenever you moved through places on patrol. People tended to give marines a wider berth. Either from respect or fear depending on which side of the law they found themselves on.

So to be disregarded so fully was still strange as you kept moving through the narrow streets trying to take in everything while you passed one new thing after another.

You could smell the different street foods being cooked and sold. And the fresh flowers and decorative garlands as well that many were purchasing to wear in addition to their masks.

Carnival had begun in full force on the island. But you were just an observer here, not a participant. You were only appreciating the elaborate spectacle and decorations that you doubted you’d ever get the chance to see again.

Because so many stars had had to line up just to make this visit happen. And as you rounded another corner, walking along one of those clear canals and the gondolas ferrying people up and down them, you had at last found the main square.

Lights were hung up on strings between the many lamp posts. Leaving you to imagine what it must look like up close at night as you’d passed additional booth after booth of food and other carnival vendors.

But this town square was massive, large enough for all of it and more as you realized some people were already dancing even this early in the day. Musicians were playing as you watched couples enjoying themselves, moving together to the music.

Others sat at the outdoor tables, drinking and laughing. What you assumed was likely sparkling wine was in bottles already open, sitting in buckets of ice even in the cool air as they snacked on antipasti plates of all kinds of foods.

You saw some sort of stuffed pasta that looked amazing too when you’d yet to eat a thing today, but you had to remember the mission at hand.

Which was still rather impossible to forget as you now stared up to the towers of the old church at the center of it all. Just like the photos in your book from years ago, those spires and the flying buttresses supporting them seemed to scrape the sky.

And even from here, the stained glass took up so much of the remaining surface area, as you wondered if it’d really be the rainbow of colors inside that you’d always envisioned.

——————————

Once within those walls, it was crowded there too. But far quieter as people milled about, taking in the intricate stonework, tapestries, and marble statues of the saints. Yet those statues were only newer additions of course. Works commissioned by the world government within just the last five hundred years or so. Each statue honoring one of the founding families of Mariejois.

The legends were that this building had once been used to worship something far older than even those Celestial Dragons though. But you didn’t care about any of that today as you finally got to look up at all the still original stained glass above you.

The largest main window was a representation of the sun, with hues of yellows, oranges, and reds mixing with the light from all the other windows. But races from all over the world were represented in those many secondary windows too, like weaving a story long forgotten. Fishmen and merpeople, giants, minks, and more. Even those humans with wings that you had been told by Tsuru really existed on islands somewhere in the sky.

Candles were lit here and there too, though not really needed for all the light still being cast across the limestone floors in the daylight.

And as you looked further up, the vaulted ceilings were painted blue like the sky, with gold leaf stars peppering throughout to reflect that sunlight from the windows even further.

But while you walked beneath so much history, you were also already heading towards one of the spiral staircases that lead up to the gallery. This was a large balcony that was thought to accommodate even more worshippers in the extremely distant past.

Your watch said it was a quarter until eleven when you’d climbed the stairs. You knew your feet had slowed while you’d been taking in all the sights. But you weren’t late. And as you’d sat on the closest pew to the railing, you left your bag beside you while you still looked out over everything in a bit of disbelief.

Clouds must have been shifting in the real skies outside as the sun danced through the windows now. You were not religious by any means, but sitting alone here as you watched those colors moving across the floors, you finally had some of that moment you’d been seeking.

You were seeing something you didn’t think you’d ever deserve or be able to. Because as you’d been told so very many times, you were no one, nothing. And this place and its beauty was not for your kind. But somehow you’d finally made it here regardless.

Even if it wasn’t with Kuzan, or Smoker, or anyone else who could have shared this with you and actually understood the significance.

You’d swallowed at that lonely thought too, just watching the people wandering below who now looked so much smaller to you. No connection really felt with them as you used the back of your hand to wipe that faintest hint of new moisture from your eyes.

If the warlord did come, he’d surely think you an idiot if you were emotional before him yet again. He’d caught you crying in Mariejois. And he’d made you cry in Sabaody. Here in Scylla, it didn’t need to become three times to make it a habit.

But it was turning into one, wasn’t it? Despite your best efforts. A dangerous cycle too, as if this growing weakness alone was what truly summoned and fed that man. The way you kept feeling more detached and unsated from any thought that wasn’t about him.

And your breath did still catch when this game suddenly began again, that instinct of fight or flight becoming just another familiarity to you too as long fingers wrapped around your throat.

Doflamingo had arrived early.

But you could feel the warmth in his grip as well. Even with his nails pushing against your pulse point. Your heartbeat literally in his hands as he stood behind you then.

It wasn’t the same as Mariejois or Sabaody though. If he wanted to fight you here, he already would have.

You were only being tested now as the words finally came.

“You never called me in all these weeks, woman…not until this morning. Have you really been so busy?” Was the very first thing he asked. That tone of insult as clear as the sunlight all around you.

And only then did you finally understood his earlier attitude.

This goddamn fragile man.

“They would have been suspicious if I’d segregated myself. I was never alone.” You spoke with quiet purpose, even with your throat still pressed by his hand.

“You found time this morning,” he reminded you.

“Barely a few minutes. That wouldn’t have satisfied either of us.” You contended sincerely next. You knew he had to notice your escalating heart rate against his hand though.

Maybe even the growing heat too. Some might be your haki just under the surface, readying to defend your throat by reflex alone. But there was definitely more to it. You felt it in your chest as those same fingers of his loosened enough to briefly stroke your jaw instead.

“I missed you.” He said.

And your lips parted in a little surprise as his fingertips ghosted across them. Just before he released you entirely, then walking around the end of that pew to slide in to sit beside you.

Like this was just the most natural thing in the world when Doflamingo’s hip pressed against yours and his arm hooked around your shoulders.

The warlord pulled you against him in one fluid movement, the two of you then sitting tightly together while he looked past the balcony railing as well, taking in the view of everything now below you both.

But you were only looking at him. He was in an all black suit for once, the fabric perfectly tight and tailored to his long frame. No feather coat to speak of either.

The only two pops of color were a crimson red tie tucked into the vest beneath his suit jacket. And the matching blood red carnival mask which covered his eyes and the bridge of his nose in replacement of his usual glasses.

The mask had built in lenses though, still hiding him regardless even as he finally smiled darkly down at you, realizing your obvious stare.

“You’re looking a bit smitten, woman,” He taunted, taking your chin again with one hand. “I clean up well. Don’t I?”

But he didn’t care if you actually answered that. It was clear what kind of greeting Doflamingo really wanted as he leaned further down to capture your mouth with his already.

And you didn’t resist him. Not this time. Neither of you caring that this was still a church either as his tongue had quickly slid inside your mouth.

Though you did pull back again as soon as the demon’s surprisingly sharp teeth had nipped your bottom lip next. Hard enough to hurt, but not enough to bleed this time.

“Once bitten, twice shy?” He mocked through a chuckle regardless. And his arm that had still been around your shoulders shifted enough for him to bring a hand over one of your breasts to squeeze it harshly.

Painfully in fact, right through your shirt as you made a noise of discomfort.

He straightened back up as you did, but still looking down at you. Those white teeth glinting as he smirked. “I’m just hungry is all. Can’t I have a bite?”

“There’s plenty of food outside.” You finally spoke in a huff then, but continuing to look at him with an odd fascination. It was just so different seeing him dressed this way, no matter how brutish he was already behaving.

It did remind you of the suits he used to wear in the North Blue. But you hadn’t thought of him as anything but a thug then. Though he was far more dangerous and much stronger today.

“It’s rude to stare without following through, lover.” He broke that new silence though, simultaneously moving his hand lower to slip it beneath the bottom edge of your shirt as he said so.

And before you could even protest, he’d forced that same hand past the waistband of your pants as you felt his fingers dig in over the top of your underwear.

He squeezed your mound possessively as he still smiled at you. “This treasure is getting all of me later, healed or not. I hope you understand that. I’ve been celibate for fucking weeks now, woman. It has not been fun.”

And in that single moment his words were somehow more shocking than the literal handful of you that he was now molesting for any onlooker who may walk by on the balcony.

“There’s no way that’s true.” You still managed to say as his fingers started to push aside the thin strip of fabric between your legs and touch flesh next. In your mind, there was no way in heaven or hell that a man like this would willfully abstain.

But his head tilted as his smile faded at that. “You really do have a lot of nerve…first brushing me off, because you’re just so ‘busy’ on your new ship. And then calling me a liar as well?” His fingers hooked a little harder at those words, already edging your entrance.

And as you tried reflexively to close your legs at the additional aggression, you still didn’t back down from him.

“Well what reason would you have? That doesn’t make sense.”

But he just pulled you even closer then, forcing your legs further open with his other arm as he brought you into his lap.

“Because I wanted to fast before my next feast. So quit being such a bitch. This is what you wanted isn’t it? Me all to yourself?”

And you tensed as one of his fingers did slide inside of you. He wasn’t being gentle now at all as he started thrusting it in and out of your resisting channel soon after.

“Yes. I want it…” you finally relented though. Realizing some other people were starting to come up the staircase to the balcony. You would let him do this if he would just take it somewhere more private. “But not here.” You purposefully let your tone go more into that pleading range at that. Trying to appeal to his ego then if it meant being spared this public exhibition. “Please.”

And that ploy actually worked. “Then clean this off.” Was the command that came next as he growled slightly, hand pulling out of your pants just as abruptly at your change in tone. But he brought those now wet digits in front of your face for you to follow through in his new order.

The logical side of your mind knew that saliva would be no cleaner than the slick of you already on his fingers. But it was clearly the demeaning act itself that he wanted from you.

You knew too that in moments you’d be in view of those strangers still rounding the staircase. So you could either comply, or you were sure he’d make you do it in front of them instead.

There were mere seconds to decide as you opened your mouth and he immediately slid his fingers inside. The taste was strange while you sucked them just long enough to appease him. And just before those other tourists reached the top of the steps to walk past you.

He withdrew his hand with a chuckle before being seen, as if it really all was so fun. “See? Now that wasn’t so bad was it?” He was still grinning too, even as you felt him wipe his hand dry of your spit against your clothed thigh afterward.

Regardless of your non answer though, he did seem more relaxed after this display of submission, looking back out to the church again as his arm went around your waist.

“So are you going to tell me why you wanted this place so badly? You don’t exactly strike me as the pious type.”

The pirate’s tone may finally be more neutral now as well. Yet you still knew that if he thought you were hiding anything from him, it was just going to put him into a terrible mood all over again. And that version of Doflamingo was not the one you wanted to spend your shore leave with.

So you had no choice but to answer. And truthfully at that.

“It’s not important. There was just this book I had when I was a kid. It had so many pictures of this island and the church. So I’d always look at it whenever I needed to be somewhere else for a while. That’s all.”

And you waited afterward, just for some snide or cruel comment in response to that childish admission. Ready for his next barb as your eyes went back to those radiant windows.

But the warlord’s hand had moved up, rubbing your back almost gently instead as he simply responded.

“Then this was your escape.”

“Yeah.” You just agreed. And you could feel his stare on you. That way you were already getting used to when he was truly analyzing you. “What else do you want to know?” You still asked next under that scrutiny.

You saw the slight upturn of his mouth in the corner of your eye as well. A smirk that didn’t fully form. Maybe you had surprised him a little there. But it wasn’t an offer he was going to pass up either.

“Tell me what you did before Tsuru then. Before you were a marine.”

And his hand was under your chin again, capturing it and turning your face so that you couldn’t look away from him either as he awaited your answer.

Why he should give a damn about your past was as nonsensical as anything else to you though. You knew there was nothing unique in the things you’d suffered.

“The same as anyone from my town…I stole to eat. I hid to live.”

“Hid from who?” He insisted regardless. His grip on your jaw tightening a little again.

“My mom’s bosses. And her customers.” You just replied plainly. The emotion to those memories a lot more numb after this many years. “But she’s dead.” You were still quick to clarify though. You had no living family if he was thinking there was anyone else to exploit. “She worked in a brothel.”

You saw Doflamingo’s expression change, if ever so slightly. And as insane as it was, you swore it was that flicker of jealousy again. Even if he did ask more carefully then. “Did they make you work there too?”

“No.” You were also quick to confirm. Though trying not to show your discomfort in the idea that he may still care more that someone else had hypothetically had you, than the immorality of an underaged girl being a victim there at all.

“But they tried to….didn’t they?” He was definitely making the right assumptions none the less though. It took an evil man to understand another one you supposed.

“Sometimes.” You admitted. Yet you’d always managed to slip away before clothes could come off or anything could truly happen. And if not, you’d go to plan B with those men. “I’d make them so mad that they would rather hit me instead. That worked if I couldn’t get away otherwise.”

Doflamingo shifted on the pew, and you couldn’t tell if he was actually finally bothered by this as he smiled. The smile was definitely not a happy one.

“You’ve always been clever, haven’t you?” He told you.

No, you’d just done what you had to.

But he rubbed your back one more time before sliding you out of his lap so that he could stand up again.

You watched him straighten his suit jacket and tie too, a clear vanity still evident there before he slid one hand into his pants pocket.

His other hand then stretched out for you to take it and stand up beside him as well. But he didn’t let go of it afterward either, wanting you to follow him as he held your hand in his own. “Let’s go get you decent, and then we’ll go eat some fucking food already. I’m starved.”

You’d put the strap of your bag over your shoulder to go with him. And of course you were already wondering what he had in mind for making you “decent”. Yet your concerns on that did fade a little as you’d noticed him hesitate once back on the first level of the church.

Doflamingo was still walking with you. But his gait had slowed when something to the right caught his eye.

And you tried to follow his gaze as he pulled you along really, but the only thing there were the statues of the saints which everyone had to pass back through in order to exit. Nineteen of them in fact for each of the original families.

You heard a low chuckle emit from him just as you thought he’d been looking at one statue in particular. But another tourist had stepped in front of it before you could read the dedication plaque as you passed.

And then you were both outside again in the sun.

———————————

Doflamingo had had you leave your bag with some lackey of his that’d been waiting out there. They would take your things back to wherever it was that he was staying on the island.

But you didn’t really focus on any of that in this moment, still feeling like you’d fallen into some bizarre alternate reality as the warlord continued to lead you so personally by the hand.

In truth, there was still a power dynamic you could feel in that gesture even now. Not the simple affection it may be for any other couple. But on the outside at least, it was a convincing facsimile to that more innocent kind of attention.

A kind of care you couldn’t remember really experiencing before. Because Smoker was far too gruff to ever do such a silly thing as hold your hand. And Kuzan hadn’t liked public displays of affection either. Even as casual as the now admiral could be in uniform, he didn’t feel comfortable showing too much with you back then. At least not in front of the other enlisted. It was only a private thing for him, not something to be lauded over others.

But Doflamingo’s hand was tight around yours without hesitation in front of everyone as you kept up, walking side by side together through the cobblestone streets.

The first place he brought you to was some fancy store too. Evidently what he had meant by that earlier comment of making you more presentable as you’d crossed the threshold with him and realized just how out of your depth you immediately were here.

Because this was the kind of place those idiots you’d been escorting earlier would have shopped. Only for those people who had inherited far more money than sense as you immediately stared at some of the dresses and the intricate jewelry sparkling from locked cases.

You even moved closer to Doflamingo, feeling like you were only in the way as some women who you were certain were princesses from one country or another moved past with their servants in close heel behind them.

But the pirate let go of your hand, sliding his arm around your waist instead when that had happened. Not paying any mind to the twittering of those girls as you did notice them look back at him.

They looked him over just as you had in the church actually before giggling back at each other. You were far from the only one thinking him distressingly attractive in that dark suit today.

But you realized he was only waiting for an attendant as one of the store employees quickly walked up to offer their assistance.

“My girlfriend here needs enough outfits for the rest of this week.” Doflamingo’s voice was a little different then, and you realized this must be his ‘talking to the help’ tone. Which as quickly as he shifted to that made you also wonder how a pirate, even a disgustingly rich one, would have learned to fit in so well in this type of place.

Though of course that heat immediately warmed your chest too at what he’d called you. Said as if it were actually true, not even a mocking smile as he’d called you his in front of these strangers.

And before you could fully accept any of that, he’d continued with even more, instructing the attendant.

“I want to pick the colors. And at least one dress needs to be good enough for the ball tomorrow.”

The what? Oh hell no.

You looked up at him, ready to argue then. But he just eased you forward, towards that shop worker as they’d pulled out a tailor’s tape to quickly begin taking your measurements.

You didn’t have time to fight back then as you felt more like a damned show dog instead for as rapidly as the process went after that.

They’d had you in and out of the changing rooms as they pulled one dress after another. This necklace or that, these shoes or those.

And each time you were dressed again, you were being stood in front of Doflamingo. The man now sitting in his typical fashion, leaned back on an equally expensive looking couch as he’d judged each new ensemble.

You had no idea what he was truly looking for. But you could tell when some of the dresses met his approval more than others. His knees had spread open more from his place on the couch for a few of them. Likely no coincidence that they were usually the much tighter fitted ones on your body.

It was still hard to keep track of which dresses he’d asked them to box and which he’d asked them to put back. But you knew there was no way this wasn’t costing thousands of beri when it was all said and done.

You heard him tell the staff to have the accepted ones all delivered to where he was staying too. Save for the outfit and accessories which he wanted you to wear out of the store.

That one to wear now was a shorter dress than some of the others, but still high class you guessed. But then again, what did you know as you were already trying to get used to the heavy necklace and bracelet, plus the skimpy heels they’d paired with it. Everything else you’d came here with would also be sent back to his place.

You did see him pull out a large wad of paper beri from one pocket by the end, putting it on a silver tray they had brought with his receipt.

Of course your mind instantly wondered how many illicit dealings had it taken to acquire that cash as he’d only stood and rejoined you, taking you by the hand again.

As always, you couldn’t see his eyes, but you felt them moving over you as he finally smirked again when the attendants weren’t hovering as closely anymore.

He leaned down to speak lowly in your ear as well. “I’m tempted to just bring you home right now and fuck each other until tomorrow morning, woman.”

And that smirk of his grew into a grin as he actually nipped that same ear of yours before whispering further into it.

“But as nice as your pussy is…” He’d moved the hand that was holding yours so that they both brushed low across your front then. “Eating this cunt alone won’t give me calories to burn. And I’ll need that energy for us tonight, won’t I?”

The renewed heat in your face to these lewd promises didn’t help anything of course. But, “I haven’t eaten anything today either,” was all you did agree with out loud at least, though leaning your head away a little for concern of him biting your ear harder the next time.

————————————

Once back outside again, there was one more detour that he wanted to take before finally looking for food. He’d walked you up to one of those large booths selling all variations imaginable of the carnival masks.

“There were still marines here earlier. It couldn’t hurt to cover you up a bit more.” He mused, starting to look at the different ones. “…What kind of animal are you anyway, woman?”

Getting your own mask wasn’t a terrible idea given the circumstances. But you didn’t know how long you could tolerate something stuck to your face either as you looked back up at his crimson one.

“What is yours supposed to be then?” You asked him.

“Why the red death of course.” And the dark smile he gave in accompaniment to those words did give you pause.

But that unease swiftly dissolved again as he’d grabbed a black mask with a few feathers next and abruptly shoved it in front of you. “Here. The black swan.”

“You’re the bird, not me.” You immediately protested, even as he pressed the thing right over your eyes anyway.

It didn’t have the built in lenses like his mask though, your eyes still able to be seen as you glowered up at him a little.

But he didn’t care about that as he spoke, something about that mask seeming to trigger these new words. “Have you ever actually pissed off a swan, darling? They’re mean as sin once provoked. Especially if you come between them and their nest. Hissing beasts bit the shit out of me once.”

And he was just talking as he unstuck and restuck your mask to make it perfectly straight across the bridge of your nose. Some kind of light adhesive already lining the backing of all of them.

But you were listening of course. Because what a random thing for him to admit. “You had swans? Wouldn’t it make more sense to have flamingos?” You asked somewhat rudely, that bit of irritation in you needing an outlet anyway with the stupid thing now pressed on your face.

He’d paused at your question too, as if he really were considering how much to divulge in answer. But he only frowned a little, before still responding even with a deeper tidbit. “The swans were a long time ago. They were only my mother’s. And yes, I know. Some pirates get all into the animal theming, but I don’t have the time anymore. If we kept flamingos at the palace, one of my crew would forget to feed the fucking things and I’m sure they’d end up dead.”

“Which would end up dead, your crew or the birds?” You dared to quip right back. And maybe it was because you didn’t know what else to do as you realized Doflamingo actually had a mother who he remembered.

He hadn’t just spawned from a pit somewhere after all. But if she’d kept swans, was it some sort of a farm he’d come from then? Or could she actually afford them as just pets?

You had so many questions you knew were not yet time to ask. But your boldness about his potential punishments for his crew’s mistakes only made him smile again. Even as he reached in his pocket to pull out some more beri to pay the booth worker for your mask.

“Very funny, you brat. But I don’t harm my actual officers just for failure. If I put them on a task above their ability, then that fault is mine.” Which was a rather level headed notion actually. Though he did finish with something far more what you would have expected. “In my inner circle, only betrayal is an instant execution. As I’ve warned you before I’m sure.”

And his hand squeezed yours a little tighter there as the two of you still walked on together.

But this was not a subject you wanted to put him back on. Too much of a risk when you still had days potentially alone together.

“There was some kind of pasta thing I saw someone with earlier. It looked really good.” You offered, trying to redirect the conversation to safer waters as you glanced around towards the food booths again. He’d already said how hungry he was more than once.

“An oversized ravioli wasn’t it? It looked like lobster inside.” He did answer you too, clearly having noticed that same dish at some point. But adding. “Lobster’s my favorite food if it is.”

This was good. He hadn’t put back up his full walls then. Though at the same time, him offering even these smallest details might only be a ploy to make you lower some more of your own defenses. One never knew with him.

But despite all the overthinking you still had to do, you did like the feel of his hand still around yours. And the sometimes jealous stares of the strangers looking at you both as you’d passed them. They didn’t know he was actually a monster of course. Just as they didn’t know the two of you were supposed to be natural enemies instead of lovers.

To any outsider, you must look like just another couple enjoying the day. Especially when Doflamingo did smile again at the revelation that it really was generous portions of lobster tail meat stuffed into those ravioli.

He’d ordered a large basket of it, or rather almost a bucket of the things to share. You had carried the basket while he and you both speared the individual pasta shells one after another with the forks they’d given you. Eating gladly at last as you’d walked and talked more together of unimportant things. Commenting about the city around you mostly, no more of those personal details just yet.

“You want a beer?” He’d asked you though once the ravioli was gone through later. Him even licking the remainder of that rich cream sauce from his fork before leaving it with the rest of the dirty plates and utensils that bus boys were continually clearing from the outdoor tables.

“I thought you were more the champagne, top shelf kind of guy.” You contended, referencing back to his previous teasing of you from that call weeks ago when these plans had first been laid.

“I am. Though I prefer the Cava from Dressrosa if we’re being specific.” He smirked, of course remembering that previous conversation as well. “But they have their own brewery here. It’s not that piss in a can shit you drink in Marineford I assure you.”

And so before you knew it, you were also sharing high dollar beers with the Heavenly Demon on this outdoor date together.

Adding alcohol to any fire was not the safest choice. But part of you really wanted to know what a buzzed Doflamingo could be like too. He’d already heard you plastered before. So there was no mystery there, though you swore you would not get that bad again anytime soon.

But the alcohol certainly helped maintain this growing comfort level as you’d seen him even perk up when one of the bands had started another song. One he apparently knew well as he started pulling you towards it.

“Oh, no. I am not going to dance right now. No way!” And not in heels like this surely as you tried to pull the opposite direction just as quickly.

“It’s a waltz, you idiot. There couldn’t be anything simpler.” He answered, one vice like hand still on yours as he drug you regardless. His other hand tilting up the rest of yet another bottle of their specialty beer as he downed it.

He chunked the bottle after, which landed so perfectly in a far off trashcan that you were certain it’d had some string assistance.

Which that was the first time he’d used his powers since meeting you today that you’d noticed. And maybe it made him remember how easy cheating with them would be as well.

“Don’t make me puppet you.” He’d threatened when you’d still resisted. “I’ll lead, all you have to do is move your feet. If you can fight me and fuck me, then you can dance with me too. It’s just in the timing, woman.”

But again…how did a pirate even know how to waltz? This, plus the swans, and the way he’d talked down to the people in that fancy clothing store, like it was just as natural as breathing to him. The puzzle pieces just weren’t fitting.

Because he could be so vulgar and unhinged in one moment, and yet moving with more authority and class than you’d seen from most royals in the next. Even though you did keep forgetting that he was also a king himself.

That title was just so hard to label him with in your own mind, when you’d all known him as only a pirate for far longer than the couple of years he’d now ruled Dressrosa.

But as he did take you into the area where the other couples were already dancing to that waltz, there was no denying that a real king likely would dance just this way as you felt his arm slip around your waist again.

You tried to copy him as he did lead with your hand raised in his other hand. But when you realized he was looking down at you as he easily went through the footsteps, you looked away in renewed awkwardness.

It was not like fighting him despite his suggestions. Because you were confident when fighting, even if losing. Here you just felt like a child trying not to step on his comparatively graceful feet.

You heard him sigh at your non commitment though, before he jerked his fingers up even without letting go of you and abruptly your feet did begin moving on their own.

“Stop it!” You fussed, trying not to let anyone else hear. Being controlled now was just as disconcerting as it’d been in Sabaody, even if the stakes felt lower here.

“Then quit half-assing this. I’ve seen you move those legs plenty of times. You’re far more coordinated than most. You’re just being stubborn.” But even with him chiding you and doing that work for you both then, he still had time to lean down and steal yet another kiss as you’d tried to bitch at him further.

Your additional protest was then muffled of course. But he didn’t stop there as that lewd tongue filled your mouth yet again. And even that wasn’t enough for him as he’d then withdrew it just to nip your own tongue sharply in his next movement.

Yet this time you did bite right back, enough to make a point at least. It was about all you could do after all, unable to move much otherwise below the neck with his parasite ability still in control.

Oh, but your returned aggression only backfired. Because he absolutely liked it, escalating things that much more as you felt your hand which had been on his back get pulled down and around against your will next. You were just a marionette again as your hand slid between the two of you instead and right over his crotch.

“Doflamingo.” You warned lowly, unable to stop your fingers from then cradling him just as he wanted.

“Doffy,” He corrected you this time though. “That’s what my family calls me.”

“I’m not your crew.” You reminded.

“I didn’t say that you were,” he agreed, even as he made your hand tighten on what was clearly the bulge of him beneath that fabric.

But he was smirking hungrily yet again as he purposefully twitched his cock within his pants just enough for you to feel it too. Your hold on him still concealed from the others the way he now had your bodies pressed together.

“Are you ready to head back to my villa now, woman? I think I’ve had enough of this restrictive suit for today.”

“Take off your strings and we’ll go.” You replied.

“Well, are you going to be a good girl and call me Doffy like I’ve asked while you take all of this?” He purred back, twitching his still mostly soft length against your hand again.

Your eyebrows raised. It felt weird to say, but you were sure it would be far from the worst thing he’d ever ask you to repeat.

“Yes, Doffy.” You submitted again on this at least, letting him have another win as you looked up at him expectantly.

His lips pulled back in a decidedly wicked response at that too before he’d kissed you roughly again and the strings fell back away.

“Come on then. I’ll show you the way home,” He breathed against your ear before yanking you back from the band and the other still dancing couples.

And as the two of you started to walk again, you were just realizing how dark it was already getting. Vaguely you remembered now about Scylla having shorter daylight hours than most islands.

Yet as you were still thinking that, a sudden boom and a flash of colors had you looking further up. And Doflamingo did as well as the next firework went off and then another and another.

They were pretty, but he’d already made up his mind of the only thing he wanted now as he pulled you along again.

You could watch it all though as he lead. You now looking up at him and the Scyllian architecture passing to the left and right under the continued pops and hisses of the multicolored fireworks.

More people were walking on every street, some pausing to watch the show above as music and scents came and went as you still passed different musicians and vendors even now. The scope of carnival here extending well beyond just the center of the city.

You realized how many days it really would have taken to see it all, more than you had time for before he finally brought you to the high gate of a villa which faced one of the canals.

He fished in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a key to unlock the gate which was nearly flush to a stone archway above, then guiding you through it beside him before shutting and locking it again.

Gas lanterns burned to light another cobblestone path beyond as you realized the villa was far deeper than it was wide. The entryway going back into a private courtyard with a fountain and what looked to be olive trees and even grape vines in planters. But you barely had time to appreciate any of it before he was pulling you up an outdoor staircase that went to the upper levels of the home from the outside.

“It’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but say anyway as he’d opened a double set of glass doors into a long hallway.

“I thought you’d like it,” he did answer you though.

It even smelled good you realized. There was probably a kitchen downstairs. But then he’d opened another door after he’d lead you down the hall and you realized you were already standing in what had to be the master bedroom as he shut the door back behind you both.

The room was gently lit with a couple of oil lanterns already burning. And you very briefly recognized your own duffel bag on the floor near a dresser. There was another large set of glass doors already opened onto a different balcony as well, the curtains on those doors shifting in the cool breeze coming in.

The scent of the ocean carried on the wind, and the sounds of the city as well. There was a table and chairs on that new balcony. It looked both elegant and cozy all at once.

But that was the last attention you were able to give the outside for now as you felt Doflamingo’s arms close around your waist soon after.

You took a breath, knowing he was done waiting. Yet as much you wanted this too, your body still remembered the pain of him. You couldn’t help but be nervous as you felt his mouth bear down on your neck all over again.

And his teeth too, but he didn’t bite hard. Not yet anyway before his hands were already deftly undoing his tie. The red fabric hit the floor, his black suit jacket not far behind it.

At about this point you finally began helping. And when he’d realized your fingers were now working on his vest buttons, he went to his pants instead.

He was wearing a real belt this time through the black slacks as he unhooked it. But he didn’t bother to slip the belt from the loops as he was already unbuttoning his pants soon after.

You had gotten his vest out of the way as he slid it off. His lips were back over yours too as he started moving you both towards the bed.

He was bent over enough to kiss you all the while as you were reaching up to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one. And yes, you finally had to admit that he wasn’t entirely wrong when he’d said how much easier his normal attire was to get past.

All dressed up like this, he looked ridiculously good. But it was so many more layers to deal with. And yet it did make the payoff all the more gratifying as you finally freed the last button and your hands immediately ran under his then open shirt.

He made a pleasured sound against your mouth as you mapped out his abdominal muscles and then his chest while he remained in your reach. You bid him to slide the entire shirt off next. Which he did.

And finally it was then your turn to push him. Even if you were smaller than him, you were strong relative to your size. And you knew how to move larger opponents around, now leading Doflamingo by the mouth, and turning him so his back was to the bed instead. Just before you shoved him down onto the mattress in on one fluid movement. It was actually made easier by his height, for the leverage that created for you. Like felling a tree really.

Of course he was allowing it, but you highly doubted his other female playthings ever moved him around roughly this way at all.

But you needed him laying down as soon as he could be. Because once his back hit the bed, it was much easier to reach everything that way. Even as you pulled away to get a good look at him laying below you afterward.

At last you could see him fully shirtless. Something that shouldn’t have been as big a deal to you as it was.

Tight, lightly tanned skin, lean and muscular all the way through as you moved back in. You pushed your high heels off, crawling forward onto the bed to kiss down his flat stomach while you felt his muscles tensing beneath your lips.

As you’d thought, there was not a scar to be seen on this man. He wasn’t a coward, but he knew which fights were worth it and which were not. You’d heard he could repair and stitch himself back together to a degree as well with his strings.

That likely accounted for the lack of even smaller scars as you felt him raise his hips for you.

He was sliding off his pants too now. You backed off a little, giving him the room to toss them. No underwear as usual. But he pulled off his socks too, throwing them wherever his shoes now were.

And with that the king of Dressrosa was now fully nude beneath you on these silk sheets. Already fully hard and bared to you except for that red mask still covering his eyes.

You took in this alluring sight as his lips remained parted, breath coming in shorter pants for you.

He wanted so badly to be fucked by you. Somehow that thought pulsed deep into your brain, as strange as it felt to think this when you knew that in pure physical strength alone, he was absolutely the better of you two.

You’d argue that in a prolonged fight, you’d still be creative and fast enough to give him real grief and pain. But that wasn’t the point right now.

“Doffy,” you tried that nickname he’d requested earlier, lowering yourself to begin kissing down to his waist once more. You knew what you wanted to do for him now. You just didn’t know if he could behave enough not to hurt you.

He groaned softly at each new touch, clearly enjoying the attention as your mouth kept getting lower and lower.

His thighs he spread so easily too as you massaged them with your hands. “Can you control yourself for me, Doffy? I’ll use my mouth if you can do that for me, baby.” You promised him, trying to work in both the nicknames he’d seemed to like the most. “But you can’t choke me. I can’t finish you if you just choke me...you realize how big you are compared to me, don’t you?”

You had no idea if this would work. But you were willing to try. You did want to try.

You wanted it badly.

“I know.” He panted a little more, chest moving up and down as you saw that precum already forming on his tip as you took his shaft into your hand.

You could see his thigh muscles tensing too, as you now stroked him before blowing just the slightest bit of air across his tip as he took in another sharp breath.

But you weren’t much for teasing, kissing the head of that terribly large cock right after as he shifted almost desperately. Your tongue followed behind as you licked the sensitive underside at the bottom edge of the head. Flicking it with your tongue really the same way as he had once done to your clit that day in Mariejois.

And oh, he definitely liked that as you heard a quiet curse escape him and felt one of his hands moving down into your hair.

Yet you still knew the danger. If he tried to deep throat you, you’d probably puke honestly. His length would be far beyond the threshold of your gag reflex.

“Easy…please,” you reminded him. You did keep one fist around the base of his shaft, almost like a stop to keep from taking him too deep. But stroking his base with that hand as you did take the rest of him past your lips then.

You wouldn’t say you were an expert by any means. But you’d done this before. You knew what Kuzan and Smoker had both liked. You had to imagine it was universal to a degree as you tried to suck Doflamingo now while bobbing up and down enough to be somewhat satisfying without choking yourself.

A fine line as you did gag once or twice, trying to find that edge as his hips did start to move, reflexively pressing further into your sucking.

You reached under to take a hold of his sack too. He was just inviting to be touched anywhere you chose as he kept his legs wide open for you.

When you massaged that heavy sack as well, then giving them a light squeeze, he full out moaned for you at the bit of over stimulation.

That was a surprise for how much it made you react too, his sounds making you so very wet. No outlet for you yet, still trapped in the tight dress he’d bought you as you just kept sucking him as intensely as you could.

His hand had tightened almost painfully too in your hair by then, in tandem with the harder and harder his hips were trying to move against your mouth.

“(Y/N)…” he groaned again as he thrust raggedly. “…I want you to swallow me. Go ahead…I’ll get hard over and over for you. We aren’t even close to done...”

His back was even arching a little as you did comply to try and force him over the edge already. Kinder than you had to be when he obviously wanted this first release as soon as possible.

So you started licking that sensitive spot at the base of the head once more, giving his balls another light squeeze too for good measure.

The pirate’s breath shuddered with the additional flicks of your tongue and he groaned again as you plunged your mouth down onto his shaft once more after.

Your one hand stayed around his sack, but the other now gripped against his hip. Which he responded to that too, liking the bit of pain as your fingernails dug in for purchase.

He was humping upward, his dick riding in your mouth as he made sounds of even further desperation.

“I wanted this…suck me harder…” He was still panting as you saw his other hand fisting tightly into the bed sheets.

And you did use your mouth even rougher at that, your eyes flitting up to see what you could of him. He was biting his bottom lip again. His jaw clenched as you saw his adam’s apple jump when he swallowed.

A tremble ran through Doflamingo’s legs as he pulled them up, his thighs flexing before his back arched again and you knew what was imminent before he finally let go within your mouth.

Even if you hadn’t been touched between your own thighs yet, you actually felt your channel briefly contracting too, almost like a contact high for how much pleasure he was clearly experiencing.

And you did swallow as much of that salty heat as you could. Of course some of his seed couldn’t help but escape you too though as it ran back out along the length of him, and you coughed a couple times while pulling back to regather yourself. He’d thrust up deeper right as he’d cum, just as you’d expected, finally jabbing you hard as you’d had to fight that instinct to gag his ejaculate right back out of your throat.

And even in the resulting haze of his orgasm, he still noticed when you’d pulled away from him even that much. His arm reaching out to grab you just as quickly, pulling you down against his still heaving chest as he grinned up at your cum stained lips.

Doflamingo was absolutely his own type of man, always reminding you of this too as he kissed you without hesitation then, the remnants of his own arousal not bothering him in the slightest.

“You’re such a good girl,” he purred in that special tone of his as well, kissing you again in even further approval before his long tongue ran out to clean your lips and chin for you in just two quick licks.

The gesture was weird, but truly affectionate in a way you would have never been able to explain to a normal person.

And he laid his head back afterward, steadying his breathing for another long moment as he stroked your back and down to your still clothed ass.

The sun had fully set now, darkening the bedroom even more save for the firelight of those oil lanterns while the two of you lay there quietly for several more minutes.

You thought he was just wanting that brief recovery period, if he’d been serious at least about getting hard for you again soon enough to continue. Even a man like him was somewhat restrained by the basic rules of biology after all. It’d take a bit for his weapon to reload so to speak.

But you realized he was actually laying there thinking too in the new dark before he started something that was not at all what you would have expected right now.

“(Y/N)…I want to see you.” Doflamingo said abruptly, sitting up in the bed then as he grabbed you by your wrists to pull you up with him. You were now sitting in front of the warlord on the bed, his legs around you as he looked down at you.

You still didn’t understand what he meant at first of course, making him have to clarify as his hands tightened more against your wrists. “Take off my mask, (Y/N).” He tried ordering next instead. “It’s too dark for it now…I want to see you all the way. And if you’re staying with me, then you’re going to sleep beside me too. I want this off tonight.”

Your own eyes had long since adjusted to the lantern light, you watching him with a little disbelief.

But despite his words sounding confident, you could see his mouth was now tense. No mocking grin at all as your fingertips did touch the sides of his mask, albeit cautiously when he pulled your hands closer.

Of course you had wondered many times what he hid beneath his usual glasses. Being intimate with a man without ever seeing his entire face was a bit of a mindfuck in it’s own right. And yet, that secrecy was also just part of who he was. Behind a mask of one kind or another was the only way you’d ever known him.

The sudden request had you very nervous too. Because it felt like what seeing a new partner nude for the very first time was like in a normal relationship. But for Doflamingo, this was actually a more vulnerable situation than even his long cock just resting soft against you in this moment.

And what would happen if you somehow didn’t react how he wanted you to when finally seeing him?

“Are you sure?” You heard yourself asking, even as he was the one that still held your fingers against the edges of that mask.

“Yes. I’m sure.” And even as he answered that, it did sound like just the smallest hint of uncharacteristic stress had finally entered his tone.

He wasn’t going to tell you again though, not without getting angry you knew. So you did your best to keep your hands steady as you slipped your fingertips beneath the mask to begin peeling it gently away from his skin.

And as it did come off, you felt you weren’t allowed to look away. But the first you saw of that new skin was both his eyes shut defensively as the mask pulled fully away.

He did have eyelashes was the first mundane detail you noticed. Like an actual human…and thin blond eyebrows that were tightly lowered then just before his right eye did open to make true eye contact with you for the very first time.

And even in the lantern light, you could tell the iris there was a deep shade of red. Cautious, maybe even concerned in its focus now as he tried to determine your reaction.

But he was still hiding the left eye, keeping it closed as you dared to let your fingers stroke down his temple and cheek in what you hoped was a soothing gesture.

Because there on the other eyelid was finally the flaw he’d been concealing. Something that marred what would have otherwise been an entire body’s worth of perfection. You could see the thick scar tissue over that closed eye.

The strike through the smiling face and one eye of his jolly roger now made all the more sense in the world too as you finally put two and two together.

“Doffy.” You called gently up to him. And you got to see his right eye react just to that softness of his name from your lips.

He wanted to be comforted. This was obviously something he almost never showed anyone. It was that difficult for him.

And gods, if that didn’t do something to you as well as you ran your fingertips across his lips next.

“Look at me, Doffy…it’s okay.” You still kept this going as your heart moved into your throat. It shouldn’t feel this different already.

But he did respond positively, kissing your fingertips just as that left eye finally opened.

And to your surprise, that eye wasn’t missing at all. You’d expected the worst, based on the damage to the eyelid. But his left eye was actually intact, even tracking you in tandem with the right. He could move it.

But could he see from it?

The iris of the left eye was different. Slightly larger than the right. Possibly once red too, but too difficult to tell now in the cloudy white that mostly obscured it.

Who would have ever been so brazen or lucky enough to get that precise of a debilitating hit on the Heavenly Demon?

And did they live to tell the tale?

But that story wasn’t really what you cared about in this moment either as you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him now. That strange warmth just building and building as your mind tried to understand that this truly was still the same person in front of you.

He was starting to suck your fingers slightly now too, already tired of just kissing them alone as they remained near his mouth.

Yet you couldn’t contain what you finally said after seeing his true face for just this long.

“You really are gorgeous.” You breathed even as his teeth had now started to nip your finger tips.

And you’d gotten to see both his eyes widen slightly at that sincere declaration. His mouth pausing its toying with your fingers as he looked down into your own eyes again.

He looked confused if just for that moment, unsure even before he finally pulled your wrists enough to take your hands back away from his face.

But for once the warlord couldn’t find the matching words. He just looked at you, something new and unidentifiable briefly in those eyes before he let his body do the talking for him.

His mouth was back over yours so quickly. So entirely needful as the taste of him filled you again.

He was unzipping your dress too, but with such a fervor that you thought it might rip before he’d slid it from off your shoulders.

Your own mask he reached up to pull away too. But not near as gently as you’d done for him. It stung a little as he’d yanked it off.

The same was done with your bra. His nimble fingers unhooking it with ease. The mask, and the dress, and the bra joining your shoes on the floor then.

He left your jewelry on, either liking the aesthetic, or just too impatient to deal with it as he’d now been the one forcing you onto your back on the mattress.

His fingers hooked into the sides of your underwear, yanking it roughly from your hips and off of your legs too before he was then leaned back in to start licking a wet trail straight down your chest.

You were essentially along for the ride at this point. But you were able to grip into that short blonde hair along his scalp as his head came back up to bite one of your breasts.

The sound you made in response simply encouraged him of course as he did it again even harder to the other one.

But just when you thought you were going to have to engage some armament coating for self preservation’s sake, he started sucking your chest instead.

Something he’d never done to that degree before as you gasped at the new sensation when he worked one of your nipples far more carefully in his mouth while it hardened at the attention.

And now you could see the intensity as his eyes glanced up at you while he squeezed your other breast beneath his hand.

Making true eye contact while being thoroughly ravaged put things on a whole new level. And he still didn’t give you time to accept this at all before you felt his other hand move between your legs almost simultaneously.

He went back to sucking and biting your breasts as he thumbed your clit hard, making your thighs try to slam closed as you writhed beneath him.

Of course, closing anything to him was no longer allowed. So both his hands were below your waist then as he grabbed your knees to force your legs back open before you felt him release one hand again to push his fingers right inside you once more.

He was finger fucking you immediately too, continuing what he had started at the church as you whined desperately.

“I’m going to take this. Again and again, you understand? I’ve waited too long.” You heard him growl as he’d risen back up to straddle you. Your hands were then forced back above you as he grabbed your wrists again next. “But if you’re good, we’ll keep using lube each time.”

And as he said this, he’d let go of you again just enough for his strings to pull open the drawer of the nearby nightstand. Another string lifted a small bottle out of that drawer and into his hand.

He was already fully hard again as he’d poured some of that bottle’s contents into one of his palms. Then spreading that liquid entirely over his waiting cock before the bottle dropped back onto the nightstand.

Even if you’d said no, it wouldn’t have mattered to him. You could only brace yourself, yet fighting to relax all the same before Doflamingo had forced his then freshly slick cock past your entrance once again.

He was already panting, his eyes absolutely full of that yearning for you as he immediately started to thrust.

Even all the lube in the world couldn’t let you stretch fast enough though as you cried out in return.

“That’s it…come on, scream for me. Scream for your man.” He breathed out regardless, that suction already starting as you could hear the additional wetness of the lube making those god awful sounds through the room as his hips pumped in and out against you.

“Bastard!” You arched and cried out again as you fought the pain of that pressure, the bed protesting as well as his weight shook it.

But every time your legs tried to close around his hips, he’d just grab you by the thighs and force you open again though.

After about the third time, he dug his fingers into that flesh of your legs, enough to pierce it slightly.

“I want to watch this wet pussy while I fuck it. So keep these goddamned thighs open.” He briefly scolded.

You glared up at him, but that only drew out an additional nasty smile from the pirate as he angled his hips further at that, changing the pressure to scrape more against that special, sensitive spot inside of you.

As you moaned immediately too, he was looking so smug again. “Are you going to cum for me this time, love?”

And in the pain of it all, you still caught that slight difference in his wording.

Love.

But he didn’t stop there. “I want you to. Cum for me, (Y/N).”

And as he said this, he was still pounding in and out of you, sometimes hitting against your cervix, sometimes not. He knew the farthest depth he could fit by now, but that didn’t mean he never overshot that point in the haze of his own pleasure.

You felt like you were burning up too. Even if he was doing all the work right now by his own volition. The bedroom smelled like sex and sweat. That change so fast as you did feel your muscles trying to contract again.

“Then rub me. If you want me to cum…” you suddenly had found your voice again.

You saw his eyes go back to your face at those words, he really had been watching you stretch around him down there just as he’d said he would.

“Rub what?” He asked darkly though, wanting to hear you say it.

“Rub my clit,” you replied a little more irritably.

“Beg for it.” He just countered right back.

You flinched when he hit your cervix again and you thought that time had really been on purpose.

But clearly your pride still exceeded your discomfort as you did refuse to beg for your own release. Not yet.

And he was fine with that too.

Abruptly Doflamingo had pulled all the way out of you before roughly flipping you onto your stomach as he got on his knees behind you and pulled your ass back up to him.

“I guess you’re declining another shot of the lube then.” He taunted, just before plunging his cock into your aching channel all over again.

It was still plenty wet naturally, but the lube absolutely would have helped as he started thrusting desperately into you all over again.

And now it did feel wholly animalistic, you on all fours momentarily before he’d reached forward to shove you back down into the bed by the back of your neck.

Just your ass still up as his pelvis humped it like a bitch being bred by her mate then.

And the sounds he made as he did so. He was fully consumed in that moment as his hand tightened even further on your neck from behind.

Either the spine or the throat was always what he went for when he sought to better control you.

But the worst thing was that you still felt yourself contracting anyway around him. Body trying to coax his second release from him whether or not you had even had your first.

You were as sweaty as him too from just the intensity of the body heat and the peak of arousal that made you feel like you were burning from the inside out.

Even when it hurt, you were still keeping up on your knees for him too, letting this man continue to ride you even as he kept you gasping with your chest and neck pinned into the mattress.

“That’s right…you love this don’t you?” His voice almost sounded close to breaking then in response to your own sounds.

He slammed in even harder again for emphasis. “This is all for you….I did wait for you. I haven’t fucked anyone. So take what you’ve earned.”

Your expression still showed surprise at this confession, even while it was difficult to look back at him as he finally orgasmed again and you felt his body shudder harshly before his seed filled you to the brim.

You could feel him still trembling, not hiding that weakness at all either as he kept himself sheathed inside you to survive what seemed like even more than one additional orgasm afterward for him.

That sticky overflow did drip from your folds and down onto the bed too as he pumped his hips slowly a few extra times just for good measure.

It was as if he absolutely didn’t want you to miss a single drop of him.

And you mostly didn’t even as he stayed inside, just letting go of your neck in favor of your waist as he pulled you all the way down into the bed, laying on your sides then with him still breathing rather raggedly behind you.

You felt him hugging you to him. That grip still wholly possessive as he rested a few minutes again.

And you didn’t mind the new silence, fully appreciating that cool night air still coming through the open balcony doors as it ghosted across you both.

But after a while, he must have wanted to look at you. Because he at last slid his softening length back out before again forcing you to turn. This time the two of you facing one another as his arm went tight right back around you.

The Heavenly Demon actually nuzzled you then, before you felt him chuckle.

“I’m still burning up, woman. What poison are you made of anyway?”

And you could see that look of almost exhausted contentment in his eyes as he looked you over.

He was actually sated. If only for this moment as you couldn’t resist reaching back up to touch his uncovered face. He’d allow you almost anything right now, you knew that instinctively too.

And he did turn his face further into your renewed touch, letting you pet him as his eyes softened with that rare comfort.

He really was beautiful like this. Though you knew no one else would ever believe it.

But you didn’t care about anyone else right now. Not at all as you brought your lips together again to kiss him gently.

The type of kiss you wondered if he even understood the meaning of.

Whether he did or not though, he still liked it. And he returned that softness before a loud pop from outside had you both looking towards the open balcony doors again.

You stared as suddenly the bedroom was awash with color. More fireworks beginning again outside as you realized you were truly smiling.

“What?” You heard Doflamingo ask, voice still tired as he put his head back against you. “It’s just noise.”

But it was far more than just that as you still watched the multiple hues flaring across the room one after another.

It was such a similar effect actually to that sunlight coming through the stained glass in the church earlier today. It made you realize that you’d always thought your fantasy of sanctuary would only ever look a certain way.

But that wasn’t true. Because this place was becoming a sanctuary too. Somehow, someway, you did feel needed as this man gripped you harder when you hadn’t yet answered him.

“It’s just pretty.” You finally offered, unable to really put this to words of course. Your eyes met his again as you finished though. “It’s what I wanted.”

He made a sound at that, putting one long leg over your hip as if to wrap you up even further against him in this makeshift nest.

“Agreed.” Was all Doflamingo said as his attention never left you then. And that spoke volumes.

Because neither of you were talking about the fireworks any longer. It was all about this new feeling. Something that you both feared not being able to carry on without again.

———————————

T⨂ BE

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

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