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[ch0wen]

standing ovulation or whatever they say

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If my husband looked like this at my funeral, I would sit up straight from my coffin.

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no edits here 👀

[ch0wen]

I had a random surge of writing different works for different men - I don’t want to give you guys too much whiplash, so help me out, pls?

[ch0wen]

Bright Young Women, Sick of Swimmin' - Eric x Fem!Reader | NSFW

warnings: Smut, 18+ (minors dni), unprotected sex, & cursing

Eric sat alone on a palace bench outside, down the winding gravel path leading to the sea. He was calmly observing the ocean view. Black hair ruffled with the breeze. You swallowed your nerves as you walked down toward the young royal.

You haven’t had the chance to talk to him directly since starting your new position. But the other head maid was out today, so Grimsby tasked you with fetching Eric to assist in getting him ready for the party tonight.

“Excuse me, Prince Eric?” He perked up, and a kind smile crossed his face as he saw you.

"Yes?" He turned on the bench to get a better look. You fisted at the fabric of your long cotton skirt. Smiling softly back at the man.

To be entrusted with the responsibility of taking care of the young royal, while also hoping he does not catch wind of the very intense infatuation you have built up for him over the past few months, is entirely nervewracking.

You saw the type of person he was when he was alone in his study, interacting with the other housekeepers, his mother, and the civilians who trusted him. You and the others who value him do not judge him solely on his looks or the title he holds—he has made you admire who he is as the Prince in a new light.

“The Queen wants you to get ready now.” He nodded at your words. Standing from the bench and walking towards you.

"Mm, thank you for letting me know. Though I'm sure my presence is needed much later than now." He was teasing. Stopping in front of you with his eyes meeting yours.

You smiled up at him, “I think she knows her son’s tricks a little too well and anticipates that if we don’t hound you to prepare for the party then you’ll manage to escape going to the event completely.”

He chuckled as his expression softened even more. He liked that you teased him like this, most people were too intimidated to joke around with him. Eric leaned a little closer, the height difference being quite obvious,

"Mm, everyone knows me a bit too well. I suppose I'll have to do as I'm told then."

“We mustn’t keep the Queen waiting, hm? It is your party after all. This must be a little exciting, yeah?” You began to back up, turning on the path to walk toward the castle. Sensing the taller man's presence not too far behind. He hummed in agreement, following closely as you led him.

"It is a bit exciting being the center of attention. Though I think I'd rather be off by myself, doing my own thing."

The two of you entered the castle and began strolling through the halls.

“This is the event that’ll have you choosing your future Queen. Your wife. All these desirable princesses are sailing in from near and far to meet you!” You spared him a look as your footsteps fell into sync and echoed on the cobbled floor. He rolled his eyes slightly, though a smirk was still on his face,

"I'm well aware of what this reception is about. I don't really want a wife right now, and if I were to have one I'd rather her be my equal, not a boring pretty girl who'll sit on the sidelines while I'm off sailing."

“Isn’t that all it is?” You muttered, “Someone to manage the home while you’re off on adventures?”

He laughed, giving you a knowing look, "You don't agree with it, do you?"

“I never liked the idea of arranged marriages or the pressure behind it. No.”

Eric nodded, a hum in response. Continuing to follow you down the halls and up some stairs.

"Mm, I agree. I'd much rather be free to marry whomever I wish, not someone I have no interest in," he said with a little sigh.

“Well, I wish you at least have some fun tonight. And I hope you can work with your mother to give yourself the future you want.” You paused in the hallway, now standing outside his bathing room. He grinned at your kind words, and stepped closer to you, leaning down slightly so he was at eye level.

"Thank you, truly. It means a lot to hear someone say that to me."

He said it quietly, before standing back up to his full height, giving you a smirk. "You're much more pleasant to talk to than the other maids."

You smiled brightly back at him for the compliment. Watching him intently, “I am here for you, My Prince. It is my pleasure, truly.”

He smiled back, his expression growing more gentle as he looked down at you. "I know you are. You're like a breath of fresh air."

He paused before a smirk tugged at his lips again

"And you can call me Eric, I don't mind."

“Oh, I don’t. I don’t think I can…” Your brows furrowed, but looking at his sweet, assured face had your worry to maintain professionalism out the window. “Ah, okay. Who am I to deny the Prince? Well, thank you for your kindness, Eric.”

He seemed pleased that you agreed to drop the formalities, especially because it was more intimate to him.

"You're very welcome. You're adorable, by the way."

He's leaning against the wall beside you. Causing you to blush and press a hand to your hot face as you fight off a smile. “Oh goodness, thank you, Eric. You’re not making this easy for me.” You tease and wipe the hand down your face as your lips quirked into a small smirk. You leaned over, pushing the door open, “Y-your bath has been drawn. If you want to ring the bell, I can assist with bathing but otherwise, I was going to help lay out your clothes for tonight.”

He watched you with a smirk of his own as you blushed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He was quite enjoying making you flustered. It was a good look on you.

"Mm, I think I'll need some assistance with my bath, actually. If you don't mind." He said it in a smooth tone. Tilting his head as he looked at you. You nodded with a neutral smile but swore under your breath as he turned and stepped into the bathroom.

You follow him in, closing the door and averting your gaze as you default into servant mode. Not wanting to make the royal feel like he constantly had eyes on him, especially soon-to-be in his most vulnerable state.

He chuckled softly as you averted your gaze, and began to disrobe, letting his clothes fall to the floor without care. He slowly eased himself into the tub, letting out a small sigh as he relaxed into the warm water.

"You can look, you know. I don't mind," He teased.

“Are you fully submerged?” You kept looking at your shoes and worrying at your lip. He hummed, a small smirk on his face as he watched you. You were being so adorably respectful and shy about looking at him.

"Almost. Just my head isn't under yet."

He was teasing you again. You giggled and flick your eyes up to see him sitting in the tub with a playful smile on his handsome face.

“I can appreciate the shamelessness when you have a body like that and the power that you do, but you know the housemaid code. I’m just following the rules.” You hummed as you glided to the wooden stand next to the tub. Where the soaks and sponges are kept to assist with baths.

His eyes were trained on you as you came closer to him. He leaned his arms on the edge, resting his chin on his forearms as he looked up at you.

"Oh, but rules are meant to be broken, my dear. You know that just as well as I do." He said in a sultry tone, looking you up and down shamelessly. You lightly pushed his head back so he lay normally in the tub, as you kneeled by the edge to prepare to lather him with a soaked sponge and soap.

“I am in no position to risk anything. I will follow the rules because you and your mother are giving it to me good here.”

He was amused at how stubborn you were being. He let out a small hum as you began to lather him up. “So uptight, my dear. You could stand to loosen up a little."

He was still watching you with a smirk as you moved about. He found himself quite distracted by your form, his eyes roaming your body as he took in the sight.

“I loosen up with a bottle of wine and my hand every night. I get by just fine,” you said absentmindedly, as you scrubbed his muscular arms and chest. Blushing at the fact that you just confessed that.

He let out a low whistle, his smirk turning into a full-on grin at your comment. He was pleasantly surprised by your boldness, and the thought of you alone in your room with a bottle of wine and your hand...

"Well, isn't that an interesting mental image?” He purred, shifting a bit in the tub to get more comfortable.

“Glad to provide you with some material for later if it doesn’t work out with the princesses tonight.” You teased again. Not knowing where this surge of playful boldness is coming from but thinking it works with the banter you’ve had so far today.

Eric laughed in surprise at your response, clearly not expecting that. He liked it and he found you even more endearing now than before. He raised an eyebrow and smirked up at you, looking you over again with starved eyes.

"I'm going to have to make sure I give you some more opportunities to loosen up, my dear."

“Don’t worry. When I’m done with you, and you’re down at your party, it’ll be just like any other night. I’ll be sure to secretly snag a bottle of the good wine from the kitchen for your special occasion too.” You winked, lathering up his hairy, toned chest. Trying not to squeeze at his fleshy pec while you rest your hand for stability on him.

He chuckled softly at your teasing, his eyes darkening slightly, "Oh, I'll be looking forward to that.” He purred, eyes raking over your body.

“Oh, I don’t think I sent you an invite for a private show.” You giggled softly, “And you’ll surely have your hands full in the ballroom. You can’t just sneak off from your own party.”

His expression became more sultry and flirtatious. He couldn't resist the temptation of teasing you more, especially with how fun it was.

"I'll find a way, trust me. And who says I can't have a personal show later tonight?” He asked lowly, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a moment before meeting your stare again.

“Me. I say so.” You leaned in to annunciate your point. Flicking your eyes to his smirking mouth, then meeting his hooded stormy blue look. He grinned at your response, his eyes darkening even more as you leaned closer.

His gaze roved over your face, lingering on your lips for a moment longer before flicking back to your eyes, "Mm, are you sure about that?” His voice dropped an octave lower.

“How about, if you’re bored at the party, you should seek me out. But you ought to be able to find my room yourself before my performance is over.” You bit your lip at the proposition, and absentmindedly rubbed the sponge down his chest, to his abdomen, and over his partially submerged happy trail. He let out a small groan, his body shivering slightly at your touch. He was struggling to keep himself under control now, your proximity and teasing words driving him crazy.

"Deal."

His eyes followed your every motion as you moved the sponge lower and lower.

“I can tell you like that idea.” You hummed, and you cannot fight back your own smirk when your hand ran over his hardening dick. He let out a small hiss as you brushed against him. His eyes widened for a moment before his smirk returned,

"I do. A lot." His voice was low and husky as he looked up at you through hooded eyes. He shifted slightly as if to push himself against your hand.

“Eager.”

You raised an eyebrow and kept his watch. Using the sponge to wash his junk, your hand goes back to stroke him a few times. Paying attention to his alert cock under the water.

Eric let out a shaky breath as you teased him, his body tensing up at the feeling of your hand on him. His stare was intense as he looked up at you,

"Mm, can you blame me?” He asked, his voice strained and slightly breathless.

He wanted more, struggling to keep himself composed under your touch. You glanced down at his dick, then to your own breasts that were being pushed up onto the edge of the tub, on full display for the hormonal Prince.

“Hm, no, I guess I cannot blame you.”

His eyes immediately followed yours. His mouth went dry as he took in the sight of you, his hands gripping the marble tub tightly to keep himself from reaching out and grabbing you.

"You're being a tease, you know that?” He growled, his gaze roaming over your body hungrily.

“I’m just doing my duty, my Prince.” You pouted innocently as your hands slid from his groin to his muscular thighs and legs.

He groaned, frustrated, as you moved your hands away from his perked-up dick. He desperately wanted your touch back where he needed it most, and how good you looked pouting was not helping.

"Don't give me that look, my dear. You know exactly what you're doing to me." His voice strained and slightly pleading.

“I think you’re just getting worked up in a steamy room with someone you deem to be easy and will ‘bend over’ at your will.” You hummed with a quirked eyebrow. “Do you have this type of response with every maiden tasked to wash you?”

He grimaced at your words, "You're not like every other maiden, you know that. You're different."

His eyes burned with desire, as he looked up at you. You shook your head in disbelief at the Prince. Thinking he was just desperate enough to say the right thing to get you to succumb. Not thinking he could ever see you as someone he’d lay with. You fretted as your fantasies were coming to a head because you didn’t believe you’d ever get to the point where the Prince would even acknowledge you.

"You have no idea how badly I want you right now," he breathed.

“Come off it, Eric.” Your eyes were trained on his feet while scrubbing them. Positioned at the end of the tub, thankfully out of arms reach from him if he got insistent. He huffed in annoyance as you refused to believe him, clearly frustrated by your disbelief. He sat up more, his body tense, coiled like a spring.

"I'm being serious. I've never felt this way about anyone before. I want you. I want you so badly it hurts. Can't you see that?" Eric said firmly, eyes burning.

“I think you’re just horny, my Prince.” You swallowed and looked him in the eye. Trying to hold your poise and professionalism. You teetered so close to the edge of this teasing, flirting jesting that you were scared you'd capsize and crash and burn if you pushed it too far, endangering your job position,

“It doesn’t matter which head is attached to the body touching you," you muttered.

He clenched his jaw, clearly aggravated that you were still doubting him. He was so used to getting whatever and whoever he wanted, that your resistance was a new and unexpected experience for him.

"I don't just want just anyone. I want you. And I can tell you feel the same way. Stop faking like you don't." His voice was low and insistent. Eric was getting more desperate, needing you and needing you to admit that you wanted him.

You rose to your feet and put some of the soap away. With a turn, a huff, and hands on your hips, you scowled at the handsome prince, “What you think I’m just dripping? Aching to be filled by you? Because you’re the prince and you get what you want. So how could there possibly ever be a lady to turn you down, when you’re so certain of yourself?” You challenged.

He watched you. His eyes roamed over your body before he met your stare. He could see the challenge in your eyes, and he found it infuriatingly attractive. He clenched his jaw again, his frustration mounting.

"Maybe I do think that. Maybe I'm so used to getting what I want, that I expect everyone to fall at my feet." He retorted, his tone sharp and biting.

"But you're different." He continued, "I know you are. You don't just give in to me because I'm the Prince. And that's what makes me want you even more."

You narrowed your eyes at him and approached slowly. Your hand ruched up the hem of the skirt, as you stalk closer to the gazing Prince in the tub.

The dress is bunched up in your small fist, your bare thigh exposed to Eric. He watched you as you approached, his eyes widening slightly.

“Why don’t you have a feel then? Prove yourself right. You tell me, am I aching for you, my Prince?” You whispered sharply. Knowing the truth was hidden underneath, as you held a steely gaze. He could see the defiance in your eyes, the challenge, and it sent a shiver down his spine,

"Gladly."

His voice was rough with desire. He reached out and wrapped his large hand around your thigh, his grip firm and possessive as he pulled you closer to him. You held a poker face, as your eyes deceived you and followed down the wet, muscular body, the abs poking out of the sudsy water, and his pink tip bobbing like a buoy. You rest your knee on the tub's edge, eyes flicking up to his.

His blue eyes were dark like a stormy ocean. He’s gazing up your skirt like he’s looking to heaven. You smirked slightly as Prince Eric reached deeper between your legs.

“You’re gonna be so disappointed.” You teased, as you bit your bottom lip. Eric groaned softly as he ran his hand further up your thigh, his eyes following the path of his hand as he reached higher and higher. He could feel your wetness through the fabric of your underwear, and it was driving him crazy.

"Oh, really? We'll see about that."

He slowly pulled the fabric aside, his eyes fixated on your most intimate part. His fingers brushed your wet cunt.

“See? C-completely dry.” You obviously lied, as you cleared your throat, eyes hooding. Your own fingers playing with the ribbons on your corset. He smirked as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with amusement and desire. He knew you were trying to hide how much you wanted him,

"Liar." He purred, his hand tracing over your slick folds gently.

“I’d never lie to you, my Prince.” You hummed, running fingers through his dark strands of hair. Pulling his head back to look at you more. He let out a low growl, his grip on your thigh tightening possessively.

This rush of confidence slammed into you like a tidal wave. Heart thrumming as you bite your lip red. Rocking hips down against his fingers. He loved the way you looked down at him, the way you were trying to take control, and he couldn't deny how much it turned him on.

"Mm, you're being a naughty girl now, aren't you?" He teased, his fingers moving more firmly against your folds as he began to rub your clit in slow circles.

“F-fuck.” You're whining and rocking your hips down again. Loving the rough feeling of his calloused hand, and nimble fingers against your most sensitive area.

You used your grip on his hair as stability. Catching the way he kept rolling his head back to look at you from a different angle, his mouth dumbly and hotly hanging open as he rubbed.

“Mmm, no, I’m good. N-no. I am just here to serve my Prince.”

He chuckled lowly, enjoying how you were trying to hold back your moans and how you kept calling him your Prince. It was driving him insane with desire, and he wanted nothing more than to hear you completely fall apart for him.

"Are you now? Then why are you so wet for me, my good little servant?" His fingers circling your clit faster and more insistently.

You humped your hips down, moved your knee off the tub, and stepped into the water. Standing over the Prince more, as you climbed into the tub, “I realized you needed to feel my wet pussy and I am solely here to serve the king.” You moaned softly, straddling his lap, as you sat fully in the bathtub still in your skirt. The water made it heavy.

He groaned, his hands moved to grip your hips tightly as you straddle his lap. The feeling of your wet skin against his and the weight of your skirt made him shudder in pleasure.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice rough and strained. He loved having you on top of him, completely at his mercy and he at yours.

Your experienced, nimble fingers undid the ribbons holding the corset together. A pull at the breastbones opened the top. Tossing the shirt to the marble floor and putting your hands on Eric’s shoulders. His eyes widened slightly as you discarded your corset, and Eric couldn't help but let out a low moan as he took in the sight of your bare chest. His hands immediately moved to cup your breasts.

"Fuck, you're beautiful." He breathed, his gaze raking over your body hungrily.

“Thank you, My Prince.” You gasped, feeling his hard cock rubbing against your core. He growled as he felt your slick heat pressing against his cock, the urge to be inside you becoming more and more overwhelming. The head pushed in intently.

"God, I want you so badly. I want to feel you around me."

“Just take me, I’m yours to have.” You whined into his ear. Pressing your breasts to his hairy chest. He shuddered at your words, his control snapping completely as he finally gave in to his desires.

He lifted you up slightly, positioning you over his cock, and then slowly lowered you down onto him, his eyes never leaving yours as he did so.

Arching your back as he breached your walls. Nails digging into hair and flesh, “O-oh, my gods," You whimpered.

He let out a strangled moan, his hands gripped your hips tightly as he held you still for a moment. Letting you adjust. The feeling of you clenching around him was almost too much to handle.

"So tight... so perfect..," he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as he fought to keep control. He wanted to just pound into you relentlessly, but he also wanted to savor the feeling of being inside you for the first time.

You yanked at the heavy material of your skirt to move it away from where your bodies met. He then started to manhandle your body, getting into a rhythm of fucking you. Keeping a hand on his chest to steady yourself. The other hand tangling in his hair again.

He let out a low growl as you yank your skirt out of the way, the sight of his cock disappearing inside you making him even more aroused. He began to thrust up into you harder and faster, his hands moving to your hips to guide your movements as he used you like a rag doll.

"Gods, look at you, taking me so well..."

“I’d bend at your will, my Prince. I’d do anything for you.” Gasping breathlessly into his ear. Whining and clawing at him as he uses you. He shuddered at your words, he loved the feeling of your nails digging into his skin, the way you were completely giving yourself to him.

"That's right, you're mine to use however I please. And I plan on taking full advantage of that." He growled, his thrusts becoming more and more brutal as he lost himself in the pleasure.

You rocked your hips down to meet his thrusts and your chests slid together. Your large breasts rubbing against his hairy-toned chest, “I aim to please, Your Majesty.”

He moaned loudly, the feeling of your nipples brushing against his skin sent shivers down his spine. He loved how responsive you were, and how you moved with him so perfectly,

"You're such a good little servant, doing exactly as I say. I should reward you for being such a good girl."

“This is an honor to fuck you, Eric.” You breathed, nipping at his ear. Feeling his facial hair rubbing harshly against your soft skin; Scraping at it hotly.

"Fuck, you drive me crazy. You're such a good little slut for me, aren't you?"

You're a whiny mess, as you rocked and rubbed against him. Nearing your orgasm. Feeling his strong hands gripping your ass in the soaked thin material of your skirt, “Y-yes, my Prince.”

He could tell you were close, and he began to thrust even harder. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, as he chased his own release.

"I want you to cum for me, darling. I want to feel you come undone on my cock. Can you do that for me, princess?"

“Y-ye—yeah," you tugged at his hair and brokenly moaned in agreement, as his hips fucked up into you in the soapy water.

You're clenching then spasming, as your hips flexed and rocked. Hitting your climax. Moaning his name over and over. He groaned, your orgasm sending him over the edge as well. He buried his face in your neck, his hips bucking up into you a few more times as he emptied himself inside you.

"F-fuck, princess... you're amazing..."

You sighed heavily as you came down from your orgasm, “Oh, fuck me, Prince Eric…”

He chuckled softly, his arms wrapping around you and holding you close as he caught his breath. He gently nuzzled your neck, placing soft kisses along your jawline,

"I think I just did, darling."

You shivered in his touch, giggling and pushing weakly at his chest. He grinned at your weak attempt and he tightened his grip on you instead, pulling you even closer to him.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere. You're mine now."

“I already work for you. I’ve been yours all along.” You grumbled into his skin. He chuckled again, running his hands up and down your back soothingly.

"I know, but I mean it differently now. You're mine in every sense of the word. You belong to me, both body and soul."

“Eric," you pushed firmly on his chest, a furrow to your brow, sitting up more as you straddle the Prince. His cock softened inside you. You're cocking your head to the side, “Careful, now. Body and soul? You’re nearing the territory of uncharted waters.”

You were starting to feel like you walked into someone else’s fairytale. Like he was your dream prince, who wanted you back. But you know that’s not reality. You work for him.

A soft smile graced his face, as he watched you. He reached up to brush a strand of hair away from your eye. His touch was gentle and affectionate,

"I know what I said. And I mean it. You're mine to cherish, to worship, to protect. I want all of you, body and soul. I want you by my side always, princess."

“Eric, please.” You flushed, “Hundreds of princesses are coming to see you soon. Don’t be talking like that.”

He rolled his eyes, hands resting on your hips again as he looked at you with a playful smirk.

"I don't care about those princesses. They mean nothing to me. I only want you, my sweet little servant. My good girl."

“What, like forever? Your mother would never accept me.” You worry at your lip again. He frowned slightly, his expression turning serious as he cupped your face in his hands.

"I don't care what my mother thinks. She doesn't get to dictate who I love. And I love you, princess. I'll make her accept you if I have to."

You blinked at him stupidly and confusedly, as you pulled away and off him. Climbing out of the tub, “No don’t say that. Don’t say that word to me when you don’t mean it. You don’t know me.”

You grabbed a dry robe off a hook and wiggled out of your heavy wet skirt. Shooting a glare at him over your shoulder.

“This fantasy is going too far!"

He sat up in the tub, a mixture of confusion and frustration on his face as you pulled away from him. He silently tracked your movements around the bathing room, before shaking his head.

"What the hell are you talking about? Of course, I mean it. I love you. And I do know you. I know everything about you. You're my housemaid, remember? I've seen you almost every day for months now," He wrinkled his handsome face with a frown.

You walked over and handed him a towel, so he could get out of the tub to dry off. Unable to knock your capacity to take care of him, “You haven’t held a conversation with me once.”

He seized the towel from you, his eyes never leaving yours as he stood up and began to dry himself. He can't help but feel a pang of guilt at your words, knowing that you were right.

"I... I know that. But I didn't think I needed to. I thought I knew everything about you just by observing you."

“What?" You laughed dryly, "No, you don’t observe me.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair, frustration growing within him,

"I do, though. I've been watching you for months, memorizing your every move. I know how you like your tea, how you prefer to have your hair done, the way you walk, the way you laugh... I know everything about you in that way."

Your curls fell into your face, shaking your head, “You’re out sailing half the time, Eric. Meeting beautiful exotic women. You’re too busy talking about your adventures and looking through your collections. I mean, like, we have had passing glances." You blinked as you started to realize. "Are you telling me all those times we've crossed paths, your desperate attempts at us having a moment? The fingers brushing mine in the hall? Rubbing against me as you pass in a crowded party...?”

He stepped closer to you, his eyes darkening at your words. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle but firm.

"Those passing glances were more than you realize. They were the times that I was tempted to pull you aside and take you for myself. The times I wanted to bend you over my desk and have my way with you in front of everyone. The times I imagined what it would be like to have you writhing beneath me - but I had to refrain."

You stepped back and kept shaking your head, “Too much. Too, too much! I can’t do this. We can't do this. We have Kings and Queens, Counts, Barons, and Lords, coming to your castle with their gorgeous daughters. To meet you.”

You backed up more. Not letting him get too close. His musk and eyes, the charming British accent. All tempting to lure you in like a siren's song, “And I am not a princess.”

He let out a frustrated growl, following as you backed away.

"I don't care if you're a princess or not. I don't care about those other girls. I don't want any of them. I want you. I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you. And you can't deny the connection between us. The way our bodies fit together, the way we move in sync... We're meant to be together, princess."

You outstretched your arms to keep him at bay. Flattening your hands to his bare chest. Fingers twitched on his skin as there was a loud knock on the bathing room’s door. Grimsby’s voice on the other side rang through the thick wood,

“Prince Eric, your mother is asking for you. She picked out your outfit and wants to see you try it on!"

Eric sighed heavily, annoyance clear on his face as Grimsby's voice interrupted the moment. He glanced towards the door, then back at you. Eyes lingering on your hands against his chest.

"Fine. I'll be there in a minute," he called back to the man through gritted teeth, his body tense with frustration and unfulfilled desire.

'We’re done here' you mouthed to him, pushing him back firmly but not harshly. After scooping up your skirt, you wait by the door to hear Grimsby’s footsteps patter over the stone flooring; echoing away.

“I have to get back to work or he’ll personally get me fired.”

He scowled at your words, clearly unhappy with the idea of leaving things as they are. He took a step towards you, but you pushed him back again, and he reluctantly stepped back further. He watched you gather your things, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and desire.

"We're not done, princess. Not by a long shot."

You yanked the door open and lingered in the royal bathing room doorway, “Except we are, at least for now. You need to go meet so many pretty ladies and look just happy enough to keep world peace between your kingdom and all of theirs. So, go do your own damn job or risk pissing off mommy." You said in a semi-mocking tone.

He grumbled under his breath, knowing you were right but hating it. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his jaw clenched tight,

"Damn it, you're infuriating, you know that?"

“Then stay away from me," You said with a teasing raise of your eyebrows, then hastily exiting the doorway and into the shadows.

Scurrying down the hall and to your room. Passing other servant friends and your coworkers. Rinsing your hair with a proper wash in the communal quarters.

After drying off, you touched up your makeup. Making it a little sexier tonight, with darker shadows and brighter blush. You changed into the formal event uniform - a slim, black maid's dress. Spinning in the mirror, you grimaced at your reflection. Feeling not sexy at all.

You'll blend in with the shadows, as colorful princesses in ball gowns soon swarm the castle.

[ch0wen]

HELLRAISER (2022) dir. David Bruckner.

[ch0wen]

Raise a Little Hell

Trevor x Fem!Reader Part 1 | Part 2 * - (in progress)

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Trevor got home, drunk, and you were pissed off at him for it. You started an argument with him because lately, he's always out late and intoxicated when he gets home.

He started yelling at you back, pissed too that you're always bringing up him going out and, in his eyes, having fun.

"Seriously? You're bringing up me getting drunk when you're literally the one who gives me grief for being even a minute late getting back from work? Work, babe. I need a drink in me to handle your war paths." He groans as he puts a hand on his head and runs it down the front of his face, before snagging the freshly opened beer bottle off the side table and taking a swig.

"I made dinner, Trev," I sigh. Gesturing to the pans on the stove with the cold, burnt food caked inside. Feeling stupid standing in the kitchen in a floral patterned dress.

"Yeah, and? It's your job to make dinner. The food is cold at this point anyway," He scoffs and leans back against the wall. He didn't notice how upset you were. He was just being stubborn as always.

"No, it's not my job, you prick."

I toss the hastily untied apron onto the counter, before opening the fridge and getting my own beer. Cracking it open and taking a swig.

He glares at you, watching you drink the beer, "Oh really? Then what is it, huh? Housework?"

He says it sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. Pushing off the wall as he walks closer to you, clearly still drunk.

You scoff at his ignorant comment, but point your beer neck toward him, "Don't you come near me. I'm so fucking annoyed with you." Then tossing one of the pans into the sink. He grabs your arm and pulls you against him.

"What're you gonna do about it, princess?" He chuckles and looks down at you, smirking as he's clearly messing with you.

"You're drunk. Let go of me," you shrug him off and turn to start scrubbing at the pan. He wraps his arms around your waist and presses himself against your back, his chin on your shoulder as he watches you clean the pan.

"But I don't wanna..." He says it in a pouty tone, acting like a brat on purpose to get a reaction out of you.

You scrub at the pan as you let him hold on. Pausing to drink your beer with a heavy sigh as it's set back down. Dropping the sponge. And without turning around, you stare blankly at the backsplash that you helped him pick out last month, "Was Riley there?"

He groans when you bring up Riley. Not wanting to admit that he was at the bar with her. Knowing that it'll make you even more pissed at him.

"Yea, she was." He admits it quietly, while his grip on your waist tightens. Not wanting you to turn around.

"Of course she was," you mumble as you start scrubbing the pan again. He sighs, hearing the irritation in your voice.

"C'mon, don't be mad. It was just for fun." He tries to defend himself, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and mumbling against your skin.

You huff, "How am I supposed to feel when you still hang out alone with the girl you used to fuck, Trev?"

He grits his teeth when you ask that. Clearly, he does not want to talk about it. "We're just friends. We've been over this." He mutters and tightens his grip even more. Now just holding you possessively.

"Yeah, I know. But you never have us hang out all together anymore," you rinse the pan, wash your hands, and let them fall to the edge of the countertop; Clenching tightly.

"Because you always act like this when she's around," He mutters. Moving his hands to grip your hips instead. Spinning you around so you're facing him now. He leans against the counter, trapping you between him and it. Looking down at you with a slight glare. You look into his blue eyes and just feel the anger and resentment. There's something dark about the way he looks at you now. You don't know when things started going downward. But he just started to shift away emotionally and it's severely affecting your relationship,

"She is just so handsy when she drinks and you just let her." You frown at him as he rolls his eyes at that. Not seeing the problem with it, sighs, his grip on your hips tightening a bit more.

"She's just a touchy person when she's drunk. That's all. It's not like she's doing anything to me," He mutters. His tone is dismissive, as if your feelings didn't matter in this situation.

"I just," you sigh. Feeling like you're not going to get through to him. You know the routine - He drinks, you bicker, you either fight or fuck, he forgets, he's super apologetic like a dog with its tail between its legs the next day, he drinks, repeat. "I mean, surely you could understand that I worry she doesn't know her limit when she's alone with you."

He sighs again. Growing annoyed at your concerns and how much you're worrying about something that he sees as insignificant.

"Babe," He groans and moves one of his hands to your chin. Tilting your head up to look at him. His expression was stern as he looked down at you. His grip on your chin is almost tight enough to bruise. "Stop worrying so much. Nothing is going to happen between me and her, I promise."

"Okay," you wince and grab his wrist. Pulling his hand away from your face. "Jesus, fuck. I hate how aggressive you get when you drink."

He looks slightly annoyed that you pulled his hand away. His grip on your hip tightened to a point where it was almost painful. "Then why do you keep pissing me off?" He grumbles, not really meaning it, but still being antagonistic from the alcohol in his system.

"I don't know, Trev!?" You give a firm but not harsh shove, as you move away from the counter. Not liking him cornering you like that. You scoop up your beer and walk through his studio apartment into the living room and onto the leather couch. "I feel like I don't even know you anymore."

He follows you, "What do you mean you don't know me anymore?" His tone is cold as he sits beside you, leaving a bit of space between.

"You-...you came home late one night a few weeks ago and you've just seemed off ever since," you furrow your brow as you gaze out of focus into the apartment. Trying to remember what may have happened to cause this change in him. He raises an eyebrow at that. A look of irritation on his face as he tries to also remember what you're talking about. He leans back against the couch and crosses his arms, his mind racing.

He finally speaks, "I've been off because you keep pestering me about stupid shit like work and what time I get home. That's why I seem 'off'."

"No. No, Trevor. That's not just it. You came back on edge that night. Like you did something bad and wrong. And I always thought you were seeing someone. Maybe Riley again. And you've just been distant..."

As you sip your beer with a sigh, Trevor clenched his jaw. He wasn't expecting you to bring that up again. He looks at you, his expression closed off as he processes what you say. He was silent for a moment before speaking again. His tone was cold and emotionless, "And you're accusing me of cheating on you again, huh?"

"Because I feel like I don't know you," You repeat. Slapping your hand to your side as you turn to him. Taking in his lack of expression. A dim light of the man you actually fell in love with. His handsome defined features are now stony. "You have been pushing me away."

He scoffs and rolls his eyes again, clearly not believing you. "I'm pushing you away because you're constantly accusing me of cheating on you, and it's pissing me off, princess." The nickname he uses sounds almost like an insult now. He clenches his jaw again, and you wonder if it could unhinge if he does that too often. The irritation is clear on his face as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Because you're never around?! And when you are, you're drunk! It's like you need to be away from me or under the influence when you're around." You huff, as you sneer over at him. Angry at yourself that your features are betraying you as they brim your eyes with tears.

He groans when he sees you getting teary-eyed. He hates when you cry, especially when it's because of him. "Oh, so I'm a bad boyfriend because I need a few drinks every now and then? You're so damn sensitive." Not wanting to admit that he does have a drinking problem and that it is starting to affect his relationship with you.

You shake your head and finish the beer. Getting up to retrieve another. "Happy Anniversary, Trev."

He watches you walk into the kitchen, "Ah yeah, forgot that was today," he says sarcastically.

You keep the fridge open, as you hide behind the door from Trevor. Letting some angry tears fall. Wiping at them harshly as you snag another beer bottle. "You're just further proving my point." You mumble, before letting the fridge door slam shut.

"And what point would that be, hm?" He grunts as he rises from the couch and stalks into the kitchen, stopping behind you to lean against the counter. "That I'm a bad boyfriend? Because I'm fully aware of that, sweetheart."

"Yes. Exactly. Something happened to you three weeks ago and you've been a really shitty boyfriend ever since," you snap, angrily facing him.

He raises an eyebrow before glaring down at you, "You really think I'm a shitty boyfriend because of a single night where I came home late?" Despite the night having affected him more than he wanted to admit, he feigns ignorance.

"No! That night changed you into becoming a shitty person," you shout, growing frustrated.

He steps closer, getting in your face and towering over you. "Watch your tone, princess." He growls. His expression turned into a scowl.

"No." You outstretch your arm to keep him at a distance. Manicured fingertips barely touching his toned chest, "You don't get to intimidate me. I'm done with this fucking toxic cycle!"

He grabs your wrist, his grip tight. He pulls you closer to him, leaving no space between your bodies. "Oh yeah? What're you going to do about it?" He asks in a challenging tone. Looking down at you with a smirk, enjoying this a bit too much.

You look up at him in terror before instinctively slamming the beer bottle onto the counter. Holding the jagged end toward him as you back up, "I'm done with the fighting and the aggressive sex. The darkness you bring with you into a room. You have been nothing but a storm cloud in your own life. You don't go to work, you just drink. You avoid. You destroy."

He looks at the broken bottle in your hand, eyes widening slightly at the action, before returning to their fixed cold glare on you. "Oh yeah? Well, maybe you should've thought of that before falling in love with me, huh?" His tone was almost cruel as he held his gaze. Not intimidated at all by you or the broken glass.

You feel your back hit the wall as you whimper slightly. Yet, you keep your stare hardened and determined. Sick of the emotional abuse that you've been suffering through for the past few weeks. Knowing in your gut something happened to your once loving boyfriend that fateful night.

"I loved your old self. The Trevor I fell in love with would've never made me question that he would've ever laid a hand on me. Unlike the version of you standing in front of me now." My hand holding the bottle was shaking.

Trevor notices the shaking hand, a bit of amusement in his eyes, as he steps closer again. Closing the distance between you. He places a hand on the wall next to your head, trapping you against the wall with his body.

"Oh really?" He asks in a mocking tone, a smirk gracing his lips. "You're sure you still love the old me? Not even the version of me that you see now?"

You shake your head, "No. Because I'm not sure there's an ounce of him left in you. You have been so abusive. I don't even feel loved by you anymore," your lip is uncontrollably wobbling. "We don't make love as much as we used to. It's all aggressive and hard and punishing. You hit, and scratch, and I claw to get away from you."

Trevor raises an eyebrow at your words. His smirk widens slightly as he looks at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. He leans in close to your ear, his voice low and mocking as he speaks, "Oh? And who's fault is that? Who's the one who gets me drunk and then expects me to not be a little rough with you?"

"I don't want you drinking!? You've just used it to cope or numb something. Baby, I want to help you. But you have to help me. This isn't you." You try fighting the tears, but they trickle down as you plead to him.

He scoffs at your words. Moving his face away from your ear and looks down at you with a cold expression. "Help me? Help me with what? You can't help me, princess. No one can."

His tone is harsh and dismissive as if he truly believed that there was nothing that could be done to fix him or the mess he's in.

"But there is something that happened?! I can try." you whimper. "Please baby, just talk to me."

You place a shaking hand on his cheek. His expression softened slightly. He stays silent for a moment. Debating whether or not to tell you what happened that night, three weeks ago.

He sighs, the fight leaving his body as he leans into your touch. The coldness in his eyes fades as he looks at you.

"Please, Trevy," you whisper. A thumb caressing his skin.

He sighs again and closes his eyes. The nickname causes a pang of guilt to go through his chest. He was still a little drunk, but the softness in your touch and the tone of your voice was making him vulnerable again. Something that he recently hated being. But, he knows deep within his soul that he should be taking care of you.

He leans into your touch more, his head dropping down onto your shoulder as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. Silent; he just rests there.

"Okay, maybe not tonight. Maybe let's go to bed, yeah?" You whisper. Your hand moves to card through his hair. Feeling your heart clench as he finally shows you a minuscule glimpse of a gentle reaction.

He lets out a shaky exhale against your neck as your fingers move. The sensation was soothing him in a way that he didn't know he needed. He stays like that for a moment, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him as he clings to you like a lifeline.

"I love you so much, Trevor. I want to be there for you. I'm here for you." Your hands continue to gently scrape at his scalp. Feeling him slacken into your touch. You push off the wall and slumped over, now cuddly man toward his bed.

He allows you to guide him. You sit him on the bed and help him remove his pants and shirt. You catch the tired smirk on his lips, while his eyes remain closed. Only catching them peeking open as he sleepily watches you move around the room while taking care of him. He lets you help him lie down, and you place a garbage can by his side of the bed.

"Bedtime, baby. We'll talk tomorrow."

He grabs your wrist as you try to pull away, "Stay with me." He mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper as he tugs you down onto the bed with him. You oblige as you let him pull you. Having changed into one of his t-shirts while puttering about the apartment.

You curl into him and appreciate the warmth his body provides. You bury your face in his chest and let out a deep sigh. He immediately wraps his arms around you. Pulling you flush against his chest and holding you close to him. Burying his face in your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, and letting it calm him further. He's silent for a moment before speaking again, his voice still quiet and hoarse,

"I'm sorry."

"I know," I hum, as I press a soft kiss to his chest.

He shivers slightly. Arms tightening around you like you're the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

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Eventually, you feel Trevor's breathing even out. You roll over in his arms, and he unconsciously pulls you closer, staring out into the dark apartment. Wide awake after the events of tonight.

The darkness plays tricks with the shadowy furniture, as you glance around the room. Your mind races as the overthinking kicks in. What did he do three weeks ago? What happened to him? He came back almost the exact way he's been acting now. Just so much more aggressive, all softness scrubbed out of his body. This is the first time in a long time that you feel like you actually cracked him a bit.

His face is buried in your neck again, breathing steady and soft. Your eyes flick to his phone lighting up in his jeans pocket. Illuminating the section of the room like a spotlight. You hesitate but then move carefully to get up.

Trevor lets out a small noise of disapproval when you move, his arms searching for you in his sleep and finding nothing. He grumbles as he rolls over onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow and remaining fast asleep.

You breathe a sigh of relief when he stops fussing and take out his phone. Lowering the screen brightness before seeing the message. From Riley, asking him if he made it home safely.

You worry at your lip before unlocking the phone and texting her.

'Yes. But it's Diana. I'm concerned about him. Can we talk?'

The phone buzzes with a response almost immediately, 'sure. we can talk now if you want.' And she asks if you're able to talk privately.

'Ye can we meet at that 24/7 diner at the corner of ferry street??' You start pulling on a pair of Trevor's sweatpants and zip-up as you wait for her response.

Riley texts back a 'sure thing,' and tells you she'll meet you there in a few minutes. Quickly, you put Trevor's phone back and slip a pair of boots on before quietly leaving the apartment. Heading out of the complex, and over a few blocks to the diner.

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You arrive at the diner, noticing the back of Riley's curly hair sitting in the booth in the corner. This place is mostly empty. She waves you over when she sees you walk in, you spare a glance at the clock on the wall and note that it's almost 4am.

Her expression is filled with concern as she watches you approach.

"Hi Riley," you smile softly, before sitting down opposite her in the booth. Taking in how tired she looked. "I'm sorry for keeping you up."

She waves her hand dismissively, her eyes studying you closely as she takes in your appearance. "Don't worry about it, Diana. I was awake anyway."

She lets out a small sigh and leans back in her seat, a tired look in her eyes, "so, what's up with Trevor?"

You fiddle with your fingers nervously on the table, "Y-you're his friend. Have you noticed he's been acting different?"

Riley nods in agreement, "Yeah you're not the only one who has noticed that. He's been really different. I've tried talking to him about it, but he just shuts me down and changes the subject every time."

You worry at your lip and then look at her, "Was he with you? Three weeks ago?"

Riley looks at you for a moment, her eyes widening slightly as she realizes what you're asking. She hesitates for a moment, clearly conflicted about whether or not to tell you the truth. She lets out a sigh and nods slowly.

Your brow furrows as you feel your heart drop. Eyes falling to your hands and sliding them off the table, "Yeah, he was with me three weeks ago."

"Were you guys like...sleeping together?"

Riley's eyes comically widen even more at your question. She quickly shakes her head, a look of horror on her face. "No! God, no. We weren't sleeping together." She says firmly. Clearly taken aback by the suggestion.

Your eyes dart up and you sit back in your seat. "Oh! Oh. I'm so sorry, I just know you guys have a history and I've only just started being really paranoid."

You shake your head, but Riley lets out a soft sigh as she releases a bit. Understanding where you were coming from.

"I get why you would've thought that though. But we're friends. Nothing more, I swear."

"Thanks. I believe you," you nod. "What were you guys doing that night then?"

Riley looks down at the table for a moment, hesitating again before answering.

"He was having a rough night. And I let him stay over at my place for a while to get his mind off of things." She says, keeping her answer vague. Not wanting to tell you the details of that night.

"Did he tell you what happened? Please, he won't tell me anything. But I feel like he came home almost possessed that night and just hasn't been the same since." Desperation and worry lacing your words.

Riley sighs again, her expression filled with sympathy as she sees the desperation in your eyes, "He was, really messed up that night. I tried talking to him about it but he didn't tell me anything. All he said was that he did something stupid."

She pauses for a moment, debating whether or not to continue. You look to her, silently pleading that she does.

"He was just so full of guilt and regret when he showed up at my place. I've never seen him like that before. He wouldn't even look me in the eyes. It was like he couldn't bear to face me."

"Did he say why?" You ask breathlessly. "I'm sorry, I just want to understand so I can know if I can help him in any way."

Riley shakes her head, messy curls bouncing. A look of frustration on her face, "He didn't give me details. He just kept saying 'I did something terrible' and 'I don't deserve her.'"

Her expression softens slightly, "He really loves you, you know..."

Your lip wobbles, feeling like you've hit a dead end. Nodding halfheartedly, "I just don't get it."

"I know it's hard."

"I mean," you sigh. "I think deep down that he wouldn't cheat. At least the Trevor I knew for a good chunk of our relationship wouldn't. And if that's the Trevor that went out that night, then how awful was the circumstance that he put himself into?"

Riley squeezes your hand reassuringly, her eyes filled with understanding. "I know you trust him. And I know he wouldn't cheat. But whatever he did that night, it really messed him up. I've never seen him so self-destructive before."

You can't help your worried tears as you hastily wipe them away with the sleeve of the hoodie. Breathing in his familiar cologne. "Did he like, mention anything else that may have not made sense? Like he didn't hint at anything he got himself into?"

Riley shakes her head again, "He didn't say anything else. Just drank himself stupid and cried. Pretty closed off. Ok, well, I guess he did say one more thing though..."

You peek up with piqued interest. Riley's expression grows serious, "he mentioned a 'lament' and that he didn't deserve you. That he was a monster for what he's done and you should hate him."

"What?" Riley nods slowly. Eyes locked in on yours as she sees the shock and disbelief. Your brows furrow again, as your mind spirals. Lament? And if not cheating then what else?

Riley watches as your mind clearly starts racing. A look of worry on her face as she could practically see the gears turning.

"Don't. Don't over think it, Diana," She says softly, gently squeezing your hand again.

"I don't think that's possible. I worry so much for him."

"I know you do. But you're not going to figure out what happened by stressing yourself out. It's not good for you."

You nod and almost ignore her concern as you ask your follow-up question, "What do you guys talk about when you're together?"

Riley raises an eyebrow at the question, caught off guard by it, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, again, I trust and know that there's nothing funny going on between you guys. You're friends. Always shooting the shit and catching each other up on life, from what I've seen. What have you guys been chatting about lately? Any plans? Did he talk about anything in the past few weeks before that night?"

Riley's question becomes more thoughtful as she processes the question, "Well, we haven't really been talking much recently. Things have been a bit tense between us since that night. He kind of sulks and drinks and keeps me as a drinking buddy. But I think around the time of the incident, he mentioned going out to meet up with some old friends."

"Anything else?"

"We didn't really talk for long. He seemed distracted the whole time. And I didn't want to pry or make him uncomfortable."

You squeeze her hand and smile at her gratefully, "Okay. Ok, thank you for sitting through my interrogation," you tease.

Riley chuckles and rolls her eyes, "It wasn't one! I understand why you're asking, you know. I'd probably be just as confused and worried if I were in your positon right now."

"Thank you. It just isn't sitting right with me," I release her hand and look at the clock. "I've kept you. You need some sleep, I bet."

Riley looks to the clock and realizes how late it is. "Yeah, you're probably right. I have work in the morning." She looks back to you concerned, "Are you gonna be okay, Diana?"

"I will be once he is, probably." You admit, "But, I wanted to say I'm sorry if I ever have been bitchy to you or have come off cold when we have all hung out. I really appreciate you being in his life, and I genuinely hope to get to know you more." You smile softly.

Riley's heart warms at your sincerity. "It's okay, I get it. And there's no need to apologize. I know you're going through a lot right now. And I would like to get a beer with you guys, we'll need to figure out a time when you're not in the mood to kick my ass for hanging out with your boyfriend."

"No, I trust your word. There will be no skepticism seeping from me again," you promise with a bigger smile. "But just no hands on the upper thighs. Everywhere else, above the belt, is at the legal limit," you tease.

Riley bursts out laughing at your comment. A light blush crept on her cheeks, "I promise I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." She says giggling a bit.

"We all get that way when drinking, I don't blame you, girl." You giggle a bit and feel a wave of comfort and happiness wash over you - Having the feeling of being shut into a dark corner for some time in these past few weeks.

Riley smiles warmly, feeling a sense of camaraderie between you. "Exactly, and I know I can be a bit touchy when I'm drunk...But I can't help it. Trevor is just so touchable, ya know?"

You smirk, "He really is! He works that body to perfection. Hard not to poke at those muscles."

Riley nods, "Oh yeah, I'm pretty sure it's physically impossible not to want to touch those muscles. They're so defined, I could just drool over them for hours."

You laugh and nudge her playfully, "Alright, relax!"

"I'm just being honest! Haven't you seen the way he looks without the shirt on?"

You smirk to yourself. Nibbling on your lip a little as you think of all the times you've walked into his apartment after he's worked out, or got out of the shower, in the shower with him, on top of him, underneath him. He had an amazing physique that can be appreciated by all. But you get to see and feel it at all of his most intimate angles. And while Riley may share similar experiences with you, you can feel in your gut that she is no threat.

Riley can't help but notice the way your eyes glaze over slightly as you think of Trevor. She smirks at the sight, clearly amused.

With your mind focused on Trevor, your lips falter as you begin to worry about him. Your mind falls back on how much he has shut down. You spare Riley a weak smile before lightly tapping the table, "Right. I'm gonna motor. We'll keep in touch, yeah? I'll snag your number from him. Good Night, Riley!"

Riley smiles softly as she notices your expression falter again, her playful demeanor lessening. "Yeah, of course. Get some rest, Diana. You look like you need it."

"You too. Stay safe and well." You bid her farewell as you leave the diner. Briskly walking back to Trevor's apartment complex and letting yourself in with your key.

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The apartment is dark and quiet. The only sounds are the low hum of the air conditioning and soft snores coming from the bed. Trevor is still asleep.

You breathe shakily, grateful that he’s still asleep. And before you think better of it, you’re back on his phone. Scrolling through text messages. He only has a couple of group chats, and single chats to search through. He doesn’t really keep up conversations or talk to a whole lot of people.

You find a group chat that showed the last message was received the night things went to shit. It was a message confirming a meeting point.

The group chat seems to consist of a few unknown numbers. There are only a few messages in the chat. You scroll through the messages, looking for any clues or hints as to what he was doing that night.

An unknown number was texting about a burglary they were planning. - ‘Big score.’ - There was dropped a pin to an address. - Trevor confirmed he ‘was in.’ - Is this what they got up to that night? Was he a part of a robbery? Did he kill someone? Did someone do something to him? Instinctively, you look at his sleeping form.

Then your eyes flick back to stare at the text messages for a moment longer, your heart racing in your chest. You’re not sure what to think. The thought of Trevor being involved in a robbery is shocking and unnerving. And you can’t help but notice the lack of details about what actually happened that night

As you look at his sleeping form, you feel a mix of emotions. You’re worried about him but also hurt and confused by his actions. You don’t want to believe that he would do something like this, but the evidence is right in front of you. But that still doesn't answer the glaring questions.

After a beat, you glance at the clock and a sigh of resignation, locking the phone. That’s enough detective work for the night, Nancy Drew, you mentally chide. You put his phone back and shed the boots, hoodie, and sweatpants, and crawl back into bed with Trevor.

Trevor stirs slightly, his eyes fluttering open just a bit.

“Babe…?” He mumbles sleepily, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“Sorry, baby. I just got back from the bathroom. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” You whisper, kissing his arm as you settle in.

Trevor hums softly at the press of your lips to his arm, and his grip on you tightens slightly. He mumbles something incoherent, his eyes still half closed as he pulls you flush against his chest.

You let his breathing guide you into sleep. Comforted just knowing he’s here, providing you warmth and not pushing you away. You fall asleep for only a few hours but soak in the moments of tranquility. Ready to tackle this mystery tomorrow.

[ch0wen]

need to bring this back up since aaron did first

[ch0wen]

[ch0wen]

something something, save a horse…

[ch0wen]

Tangerine x fem reader where she finds out he’s an assassin, can it be angst fluff and smut? 👀

Thank you for reaching out … I think I just ended up writing part three of Cover !!

[ch0wen]

Cover - Part III | Tangerine x Fem!Reader | 18+

warnings: smut mentioned, (minors dni), cursing, & violence

to catch up - Cover - parts one & two

———-

Tangerine's large hands wrapped around the diner's ceramic mug full of his muddled-grey tea. Warming himself while also trying to still his shakiness. He was having a tough time attempting to conceal his nerves. He avoided eye contact to retroactively stall the dreaded discussion.

“So,” you started, “Tangerine and Lemon. Fruits. Why choose from that category?”

Across from you, the man looked physically and mentally relieved that you hadn't leaped right into the hard questions. A smile wriggled under his mustache,

"When we were younger, Lem and I loved to watch American cinema. We would get inspired by a lot of ‘em. We played the games they did, tried out the sports, and picked up similar traditions.

One day, during a rare, hot English summer, I suggested starting a lemonade stand. My brother reacted with, ‘lemons are too tart! No one even likes sour drinks. I don't want to sell rotten lemons,' and I would remind him that you can turn a sour lemon into a sweet delight with a little bit of sugar. Shit, you should've seen his face when I ended up persuading him and he tried our first attempt at a batch. We got the measurements so wrong!”

His eyes shone as he spoke. He seemed to have been slowly opening up. Laughing into his hand and playing it off as a scratch to his face before dropping it to the table's surface. He was earnest as he told of his boyhood. Intriguing you with his storytelling, and leaning toward him as he continued on.

"Anyway. He would tell me that I'm like the sugar. That I make things better. But frankly, I can be a rotten arsehole to him. And by now, maybe he has forgotten about those silly childhood praises, but I never did. Those were the times, especially at the beginning of our career, when he made me feel wanted. He's good at that. He doesn't even require me to be the sugar in our brotherhood. He's naturally a genuinely good man.

I do need to tell myself I am useful, and deep down, I may not believe that to be all true. But he reminds me. He’s good at making people feel understood and cared for. He is true to his codename. He's a lemon, and everybody loves ‘em.”

Absentmindedly, you played with his finger twitching on the sticky table. He curled his hand properly around yours to hold.

———-

The hours passed and the diner went through waves of people. Coming and going, in and out, like clouds in unsettled coffee. Breakfast rush, stillness, then lunch chaos. To the both of you, the other was the focal point. Everything else just felt like a static buzz.

“I can't help but notice that you haven't asked the question. Basically the entire point of this morning."

"I didn't want to force it out," you finger at the sugar packets, like skimming a mini record collection. Attempting to downplay your interest. “I wanted us to get there without having to press it.”

A grateful hum of, “You are a peach," transitioned into a sigh, "but I suppose you deserve to know that I am a contracted assassin."

———-

It was only half past two in the afternoon when you both emerged from the diner. You made sure to avoid the eyes in the queue of the waiting patrons. The large tip, Tangerine thought he dropped into the checkbook unseen, should at least ease the hostess's agitation about your prolonged stay. You stand facing each other on the bustling city sidewalk.

The silence felt heavy after hours-long conversations. You studied each other. Your chance to fully take him in, in a different perspective, a new light. You were wary of how to leave this after the time you just spent together. The things he depicted. The part of himself that he had fanned out. He seemed to have bore it all. How do you grapple with that while having to part ways?

Tangerine didn’t keep you speculating. His handsome face sported a pleasant smile as he stepped forward to hug you. The embrace lasted only a moment, but it felt that he didn’t want to let go -

Like he was trying to hold you still. Keeping all those secrets that he poured out over the cooling cups of coffee between the two of you. Pressing them in close and sealing them behind tight lips. To him, when you walk out of his sight, you’ll take his story with you. The moment that he lets you go, the truth gets out. Exposed are all the mysteries on the inside and his safety. The scary reality is that he potentially jeopardized his and his brother’s lives to answer your curiosity.

Except, that was just your mind racing again. Tangerine's hug lasted for a minute and in a beat, he was pulling his shoulders back to look down at your face. And then he pulled you in for a kiss, the breath-stealing and tangling your hand in his hair, kind.

———-

The date with Tangerine was like an omen that you wouldn't be able to get the pair of assassins out of your life. Every day, something happened that would remind you of them. One of your little students would ask for a bandaid. You'd hear a song that played in the diner or a familiar theme song that Lemon definitely was humming. You’d find yourself grinning.

Little reminders would pop up here and there. Until one-half of the duo started turning up here and there when you’d least expect or anticipate it. It was a gradually natural formation of a budding friendship with Lemon and an eventual relationship between you and Tangerine.

Your romance with the latter was like any 2000s Rom. Com. daydream, except for the consistent reminders that you were dating a killer ——

Your boyfriend would show up unannounced with fresh flowers and a splat of blood on his neck peeking out from under his collar.

Written-out jokes from Lemon were handed over with a roll of his eyes but the ghost of a smile on his lips. Signaling that he has already heard the ridiculous gag that his brother came up with.

He’d be up early and missing in action during the day, but made up for it by staying late on date nights.

He always found time to call you between the sporadic periods of action while on the job. Just hoping to chat about your day so far or what he wanted to do to you later. Your mind runs with what exact situations he was calling in the middle of, whenever he was out of breath or your conversations were cut short with crashes and shouts.

You could sense when he exerted too much energy after those particularly long workdays. He tended to be quieter, or his body weight pressed impossibly closer on top of yours as his cock pushed in deep, or when Lemon would physically need to drag him into your apartment and throw him onto the couch.

Regardless of his fatigue, once you got each other going - either by massaging his sore neck, his rough thumbs grazing over your exposed thighs, or knee rubbing against his bulge as you bandage up a cut - He basically reverted back into stealth mode. Targeting his focus on only you. It felt like he existed to get you off. Wanting you to come on either his mouth, fingers, or pounding dick. He may have been exhausted but he wouldn't lose stamina until you were finished.

Nine times out of ten, whether after a hotel rendezvous or candle-lit dinner over a pack of instant potatoes and Kraft Mac and cheese, you’d find yourselves snuggled up in bed. You were always left stated after a good fuck from Tangerine. Hands, tongues, and whispers danced in the shared tranquility of your space. You were making special memories with the limited time you found with him.

———-

It went on like this for years. Each day felt like you peeled away another layer of a fruit's skin. Discovering a new trait or trick of your boyfriend's. You anticipated something exciting when he flung open the apartment door or your bedroom window. He never ceased to thrill and fulfill your every need.

And that one Tuesday in Spring was no different. He strode up to your car after class let out, seizing your waist from behind. A spin to your hips in his grasp had him close enough to breathe into your ear,

"Fly out to France with me, yeah?"

———-

[ch0wen]

Single mom reader x tangerine!!! They meet on the train and he protects the baby and her! Happy ending please 🙏🏼

“Please, Char-Char. Eat something other than those chips,”

You plead with your six-year-old as his stained fingers reach into a bag of barbecue chips. His hand blindly dodges the pre-sliced apples and celery sticks on the table. A divider that separates your seats.

You attempt to move the bag away from him after he ignores you, and this causes him to whine. His tiny hand swats at yours from taking the junk food away. You’re quieting him as you glimpse around the train car. Worried you both will disturb the other passengers on this late-night trip or that this may lead to an outburst of his.

You feel helpless when it comes to managing him. You’re young, on your own, and unsure how to tackle half of the maternal responsibilities. You continually give in to avoid making things worse or because of the pleading looks he makes with his big brown puppy dog eyes. A trait he gets from his father. Unfortunately, they’re both good at using the shared feature to their advantage. Your ex using it for more manipulative means. And you know you need to stick your foot down, or Charlie will never learn. He’ll end up just like his father.

You attempt to sound authoritative, “That’s enough for now.”

Charlie drops his iPad as he grasps for the bag. The tablet tumbles and bounces onto the ground, yanks his earbuds out of the headphone jack, blasting the Spider-Man cartoon he was watching.

“Stop it," He cries.

You're stronger than a child, so you get the crisps out of his hold. You twist it closed and slide it into your tote bag on the empty seat next to you.

“Eat some apples, and then you can have a bit more, okay?”

You lean over to pick up the iPad still lying in the aisle. Breaking the eye contact with your disobedient toddler. A hustling man nearly trips over your arm, but he catches himself. He’s careful not to step on you or the device. After a pause to assess what he narrowly sidestepped, he bends down to meet your hand and pick up the iPad.

“Careful,” his eyes flit around your face. “Here you go, love.”

You feel your cheeks warm at his stare, “thanks.”

You have a moment before hearing the thunderous sound of rushing footsteps. He seized the iPad in both hands and swung it around to slam into the hurried man’s face. With the force of his action, he falls messily into the seat next to Charlie. The other guy is dazed but retrieves a knife as he clambers off the floor. The now-seated, friendly stranger kicks the knife out of his hand. Then punches him in the face in one swooping motion.

Not even seconds after the pursuer fell to the ground, another man ran up the aisle. He scoops up the now unconscious man and gives the seated stranger a salutation before dragging him off.

Now what the hell was all of that? Do they know each other?

With a few blinks, it feels like you just imagined that entire scenario because the car has been cleared out, and the other passengers remain quiet and sleeping. Except that friendly, handsome stranger is still seated across from you. He’s looking sheepish as he tries to steady his breathing,

“Mind if I hang around for a second? Need to catch my breath,"

You confirm he can stay with a bobblehead-type nod.

"That git started shit with us in the front of the train. Pardon my French.”

He jerks slightly in the seat when he finally notices Charlie gaping at him with wide eyes.

“Oi. Sorry mate, I didn’t crash into you, did I?”

Charlie, unbothered and unharmed, continues to stare at this man. You watch his eyes flick down to glimpse at the stranger’s bruised knuckles. Then your boy seemingly recalls the heroic act of violence he witnessed seconds earlier as his eyes dart to the now-empty passageway and back on Tangerine,

“Are you a crime fighter like Spider-Man?”

Tangerine’s lips spread into a smile as he adjusts to face the intrigued child.

》 》 》 》 》 》 》 》 》 》 》

He spent a half hour describing to Charlie these wondrous tales of the adventures he’d been on with his brother. Who, you both learned, is nicknamed Lemon.

Lemon joined in on the storytelling, and sat in the seats across the aisle, halfway through, adding in amusing ad-libs. Charlie laughs at their narrations, and you ponder what happened to the man's body from before.

Thankfully, they censored most of the violence and gore from their tales that they probably got up to. You notice the wonder and amazement lighting up Charlie's eyes. He gazes at what he believes to be the human embodiment of a superhero.

》 》 》 》 》 》

“Hey, treat your mum right, chap. She’s got a long journey with you,” he ghosts his hand over Charlie’s face to mimic the action of pinching his chubby cheeks. He earned a playful squeal from Charlie as he threw his body back into his seat. You beam down at your boy before looking up at Tangerine, who is staring at you ardently before locking eyes. His hand self-consciously rubbed over his flushing cheeks.

He glances towards the doors. Probably expecting that Lemon was going to come barreling in any minute.

“Miss-“

“Y/N.”

“Oh, Y/N. Y/N, listen, why don’t you give me a ring once you’re settled at your destination. I'd like to know if the rest of your trip with Charlie goes well. Without any goons like me bothering you.”

Tangerine leans over and looks to Charlie for permission before tearing off a small piece of his ditched coloring page. He scribbles out a number using a purple crayon and skates it across the table to you.

“If you'd like, of course," He smiles bashfully before rising and smoothing out his suit.

You grin back, now craning your neck to maintain eye contact with him, “I will.”

[ch0wen]

༝ ˚ ༝ My Lady is the Sea ｡ ˚ ༝ - Prince Eric x Fem!Reader | NSFW

𖠳 ᐝ warnings: brief smut, 18+ (minors dni), unprotected sex & cursing

Sea salt tickles your nostrils as you step out onto the wooden dock. Nose twitching like a bunny to rid the salty air from your sensitive nerves. You glide forward only a few feet, and your left shin knocks into a wooden pole. A barricade lined the perimeter of the landing. Fencing that stops you from falling into the unknown below. An oil lantern illuminates a portion of the dock and the gradually darkening surface of the deep. The expansive waters lurk just beyond the fading arc of light. Your body gently sways with the sounds of the waves stirring.

Instinctively, you flex your hold on a roped handle. A heavy, disgusting mixture of beer and spit sloshes in the bucket that you have been entrusted to dump out. Polluting the ocean, you think. An unfortunately common attribute of living in a coastal town. It's second nature to dump and forget. Water appears to be along every horizon you look to. It surrounds you, yet it's ever-moving. Continuous. Traveling away.

How you wish you could be out there now. Just like your father had moons ago. Oh, the precious things he gifted you with when he returned to the marina! The carefully selected treasures. He always seemed to know which new object would earn an excited squeal from you because of its sparkles or funky shape. Whispers at bedtime of now fictitious-sounding tales on how he acquired them. To you, his trips were like storybooks. Too embarrassing to admit, you used to go to sleep late into your teens with visions of exploration dancing in your head. Dreaming of the uncharted waters and cloudy faces of the friends you'd make. He'd promise to you, that you would soon be old enough to explore the world with him.

But you couldn't truly treasure the last retelling of his adventures because no one foresaw he would leave it on a cliffhanger. He never came back. Your mother forbade you from speaking of his expeditions as time passed. "Don't go towards the beyond." "This is your home." "You're safe here." she chided. Here, on land. The hope soon ended with the stories. You grew accustomed to the familiar. You were raised here. It's all you have known. Is it worth it to leave at this point?

However, there are instances when you fall back into childlike wonder. In the quiet lulls, similar to the brink of falling asleep, you can't help but contemplate what else the waters hold past their horizons.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

A faint, muffled tune begins inside and wafts out into the silence. The merry-sounding song envelops you. You blink out of the reverie to adjust your vision in the darkness.

You can hear the pub's piano, in desperate need of a tuning, as you push open the door. A gaggle of men are singing a sea shanty in the dining space. They look disheveled but have dancing smiles. You can't help grinning as you watch these men celebrate life.

“Just docked," Gwen, your co-worker, calls from over her shoulder. She fills up two cups and then slides them over the bar top towards one of the waiting men. He slaps a few coins down and moves back to the crowd, like rejoining a school of fish.

Gwen wipes up the liquid he left, “I heard one of them holler that they came in from the Carribean.”

“I feel like that's only the third ship from around there this season."

"How do you manage to even keep track? There have to have been hundreds of vessels that have passed through here."

You blushingly shrug at her knowing smirk. Teasingly, her fingers reach out to flick at your slightly tarnished necklace. A chain made from Spanish silver with a locket bearing some type of ruby gem.

Leonardo was the one who had graced you with this last year. He was a buccaneer. He and his crew docked in town for a fortnight. He was charming and proud. In the tavern, he was always drunkenly boasting about the treasures he had found. The people he'd fought. The Lords he'd impressed. The people he'd fucked. He was so fun.

When your birthday happened around the time he was in town, he came stumbling into the bar with this necklace. He said it was nothing and that he had dozens of more valuable findings in a chest on board his ship. But he never showed you to prove that to be true. However, you did thank him ever so graciously that night.

He sailed out a day later. No harbor was his home. You're used to this life working as a bartender in a popular trading port. You see hundreds of thousands of faces. All of these handsome men ranged from sailors to buccaneers. They all share with you the amazing stories of their lives. They fascinated you. Inspired you. Seduced you. - You can't help but be attracted to the rugged, good-looking, and ambitious type.

A man unexpectedly calls out from the crowd towards the pair of you. His voice grabs your attention like a Siren's song. There were too many bodies to place where it was coming from in the mass of people, but you swear you briefly saw a hand in the air on the left side of the room.

“My lovely bar maidens, a round of your finest ale, please, yeah?"

“Right away, sir,” you nod curtly while pivoting obediently to fill the dregs.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

The rosy-cheeked, rowdy men cheer even louder as you approach with their fifth round of booze. Their attention has been won, not by the promise of refreshments, but by the beer sloshing over the rims and onto the pair of bouncing breasts carrying it all.

Low whistles scatter around the table at your cleavage while you lean over to set down the ale. Mucky hands grabbing for the foaming tankards. You catch a handsome man staring through the limbs. He gives you a dimpled smirk. His eyes betray him as they glimpse down to what you can assume is your chest. Well, he's no better than any man.

Your retreating form hears the same voice from before exclaim, “Here is to another voyage through uncharted waters! I am grateful for all your hard work, boys. And thanks to Grimsby for laying off the scolding because we're three days past schedule."

You're back at the bar. A crewmate, with a red kerchief pushing back his straw-yellow hair, heaves an overfilled mug in the air toward the handsome man,

"And a special thanks to our Captain, whose mother would keel over from learning the adventures her dear boy has taken us on. Prince Eric!"

"Prince Eric," they unanimously cheer!

Together, as they collide their drinks, fat drops of the golden liquid splash onto Prince Eric's tunic and wet his chest. The strings of his shirt are untied. Making the neck loosely hang open with his chest hair on full display. Your eyes are drawn to it. Tracing the outline of his defined pecs through the thin fabric. You're no better than a man. Worst yet, he notices you staring. His stare seems to darken, and he motions his mug towards you as a 'cheers' gesture before returning focus to his companions.

Clearing your throat and dirty mind, you turn back to tend to one of your regulars, a local fisherman slumped over on a stool at the end of the bar.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

Eric strides over as you scrub up the beer rings on the bar, left by the patrons who previously occupied the empty stools. He fluidly pulls one out to sit and drums his fingers along the wood. Blue eyes staring you down for a third time tonight,

"Can I get you anything?”

“I think I should take a breather. My crew is too enthusiastic to get me drunk.”

“Sounds like you're having a bad night." He threw back his head and let out a loud laugh. Admittedly, it was too big of a reaction to that poor joke attempt. You wring out your rag into a nearby bucket to hide your smile.

You wait for a beat before sparing him another glimpse. He’s staring at your chest again. You feel the exposed skin warm under his look. You’re tempted to peek down to see how much this corset is causing you to spill out.

“Did you get it locally?

“Sorry?”

"The necklace," he half-gestures towards you.

You clasp at the pendant, "Oh, this."

He nods with his eyes fixed on your chest a moment longer before moving up to your face. His cheeks are flushed and eyes hooded, assumedly, from the pints he and his crew have slung back. You're moving toward him, holding out the chain to let him get a closer look.

“I think it’s from the Spanish Islands. A pirate passing through last season gave it to me.”

His large hand reaches out to replace yours. “It’s beautiful. I have an eye for treasures like this.”

He's so close like this. You watch his eyes flick around the locket, his fingers tracing over the gems, and the way his dark curls fall as he tilts his head to examine.

“Silly me to think anything else. Here I thought you were just checking out my chest.”

“Well, you do have wonderful tits," he absentmindedly states. He leaves you gaping as he pulls back.

"Thank you for letting me have a look. I'd be rather fond of that if I were you. That's a special gift."

"Y-yeah, but given to me by a not-so-special guy," you shrug.

You sense an awkward pause, but he watches you with a soft, dimpled smile. You motion towards the window out to the harbor, “Which one is yours?”

“The biggest one. Naturally.”

You stifle your giggle and notice a boat at the end of the port. Beautiful and massive.

“Wow, you weren't kidding. What's it like up there?"

"On the boat? You work in a marina. Have you ever been on one?”

“Oddly, no.”

He didn't hide his shock.

“I'm sorry. Are you telling me that summer lover could give you a necklace but decided not to show you his deck?”

“Something like that," you lean onto the bar, "How unfortunate for me, right?"

His hand strikes the top of the bar as he rises from the stool, causing you to flinch.

“Well, that simply just won't do! Do you want to come see mine?"

The lamplight and mischievousness dance in his eyes, "I can give you the grand tour.”

“Will you let me spin the wheel?”

"Only the most skilled helmsmen are allowed to touch," he pouts, then that damned smile graces his lips again, "but I think I may be able to bend the rules for you."

“I’m going on break,” you call to Gwen before following the handsome voyager outside.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

"And, this would be the Captain's quarters."

"Oh, Captain Eric?"

He sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck, "I don't particularly like going by titles. Makes me feel like I'm trying to say I'm more important than others. I swear by my men. We venture out for fun, but I'd be stuck at port without them."

"That is a very noble thing to say, Prince Eric."

"Come off it," he laughs while moving over to a table against one of the walls. Eric picks up what appears to be a rock. He turns the object in his hands before showing you.

"Fossilized sea stone. Found it off the coast of my home island."

He places the textured stone in your open palms. The unexpected weight of it doubles you over, but Eric catches you. His hand lingers on your hip.

He proceeds to tell you about the rest of his findings laid out on the surface. You love the way his face lit up. Making himself exhilarated with his own stories. You listen intently and let yourself live vicariously through his retellings.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

Eric locks an ornate chest up as you watch. Sitting on the table now cleared of his glories. “So, are you considered a sailor, explorer, or just a guy with a boat and a lot of time on his hands?”

Eric laughs, "The last one, for sure. Once I turned nineteen, my mother allowed me to venture out and sail with the crew. I've always loved the idea of discovering something new on my voyages. Whether it be places, possessions, or people."

He's moving into your space, "I am happy to have met you, Y/N."

"And I, you, Prince Eric."

"No titles here." He leans in with a hint of a grin in his whisper, "I forbid it."

"Oh, that sounds like a command, and I shall obey, Your Majesty."

He chuffs as you see his eyes drop to your necklace again. His fingers dance along the silver chain before exploring further and grazing over the top of your chest. He makes sure to peek up at you for some sort of permission. Silently, you put your hand over his own to guide him to grab a handful of your breast. Eric takes the cue and squeezes while closing the gap between you with a kiss that immediately heats up. Hands knead your breasts over your camisole-corset top.

"And here I thought you've been admiring my necklace all night. I feel scandalized," you tease while he kisses your neck.

"No, no, it is beautiful! But, these," His calloused hands give a reassuring squeeze, "are really lovely."

Hands quickly work to pull down your blouse to expose your tits. Eric rolls a nipple between his forefinger and thumb. Gasping, you arch up into his touch. Legs instinctively spread wider to allow him in. You feel his dick twitch the moment he presses closer.

A moan growls in the back of his throat as he rolls his hips. Grinding his hard-on into your wetting core while you kiss. Your skin grows hot, his breaths come heavy, and the heat is building between your legs. 

Eric put his mouth to your breast, sucking at your skin in obscene, open-mouthed kisses. Eliciting a low keening sound from you. He withdrew just enough to lave at your nipple, back and forth, over and over, until your pussy thrummed to the same beat.

"Is it very unprincely of me to tell you that I would very much like to fuck you right here, now, in my chambers?"

"You are but a man, my Prince."

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

Your body was thrown across the desk. You don’t know where to put your hands, so they grip and scrape at the wooden surface while Eric fucks into you.

He has a firm hold on your naked waist. Keeping your long skirt hiked up to your stomach so he could watch himself penetrate you. He has a brutally harsh pace going. The delicious feel of the drag and pull of his cock.

Eric braces himself on the desk. A toned arm flexes next to your head. His face is now closer to yours as he changes the angle of his hips. With the newfound support, you feel him speed up his thrusting. He groans into your chest. Playfully biting a nipple before kissing up to your neck. His movements were enough to bring you dangerously close to reaching your high in only a few minutes.

"Oh, Prince Eric," you whine.

"Fuck." His hips stutter. "What's my name?"

"Captain Eric. Eric. Eric. "

A wave of bliss hits you and you screw your eyes shut. It doesn’t take long before both of you reach your orgasms. You hold onto Eric's biceps with all your might, as you scream his name. No doubt loud enough for everyone in the tavern to hear.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

At dawn, you're re-dressed and carefully creeping over the creaky floorboards. Trying not to wake any of the still-drunk crewmates who had found their way back onto the ship.

Catching your eye, the silver locket, sat on the once-empty desk, glints in the daybreak. Eric's back rises and falls. The rest of his bare body is covered by the messy bedsheets. Blissfully oblivious of your exit.

You let that sleeping form be your final image of the handsome Prince and disembark the Royal ship.

[ch0wen]

glancing down at mens chest hair while theyre talking like it's cleavage

[ch0wen]

[ch0wen]

I saw your post with the girl on the bed wearing sunglasses with the caption “y’all want anything from me?” And first of all that made me smile so thank you. Second Tan and Reader cuddles? I’m a sucker for physical intimacy.

“And then that stupid git wouldn’t let him go. So, I had to force his arms to release Lemon with a tire iron,” Tangerine rubbed his callused hands over his exhausted face as his lips curled into a smirk,

“Lem, told me the guy’s right forearm broke in three different places.”

You’re sat on the edge of your shared bed, raking your fingers over his bare thigh as he catches you up on his day. This has become a nightly affair for you and Tangerine. It's a way to make up for lost time by sitting together and talking over little accomplishments or big complications that may have occurred during your shifts. Tangerine always has more of the latter; Seemingly never skimping on the gory details. When it's your turn to speak, he sits close and listens intently to your stories. Even if you think your job as a teacher is comparably not as thrilling.

And although his body is visibly exhausted after his outings, he still listens attentively and offers advice. He likes these spoken reminders that you are not in danger while he’s away. He wants to know you have some normalcy when he faces chaos during his nine-to-five.

“It sounds like you did what you needed to do,” your hand gently caresses his face then brushes the hair away from his hooded eyes as he lays back. His skin slightly pink; Freshly scrubbed from his post-work shower.

“You did great, as always. Now please rest up, honey.”

Wearily, he hums in agreement. His hand grasps for yours before kissing your knuckles,

“Tell that little shit Frankie to start listening during the maths lesson or I’ll give him a good spook at recess.”

You giggle, “He’s five, Tan.”

His eyes are now closed but a playful smirk stays spread across his lips.

You take this quiet beat to rise off the bed and provide him with his much-needed rest. Your finger applies a bit of pressure to the light switch,

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Come back. Stay with me for a moment. I’ve been surrounded by lunatics today. I need some familiarity.”

You’re now snuggling into Tangerine’s muscular and warm arms. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. Breathing you in deeply before letting out a content-sounding sigh.

“Better?”

“Much,” he squeezes you impossibly closer. His chest gradually rising and falling. You angle your head so it’s not pressed into his armpit and reach up to stroke his hair. He mewls a bit before his hold loosens; not letting you go but giving a sign that he has fallen asleep.