#cloth toy repair

[doctorbeth]

A pair of elderly patients: Part 1 Poochie

Poochie the dog is owned by a family among you dear people. He is over 60 years old, about 7 or 8" tall, and very well loved. He's had repairs before to his shoulders, and he'd been wearing a red dress for years to try to protect his skin from further wear.

His person (his original person) wanted to keep him as close to original as possible, but also wanted to stabilize and reinforce him. Here are his original diagnosis photos, sent by another family member:

I'm showing larger versions in the hopes that you can see not only his holes, but the runs where his fabric is see through.

Poochie came to the hospital last month for wound repair and supplemental stuffing... just a touch to protect him on the inside. He wasn't getting a spa, he needed to stay as original as possible. And we were keeping old repairs where possible too. Rather, the treatment for Poochie was to stitch wounds, adding fabric under his runs to take the pressure of stitches, and patches where he had holes. Just enough to stabilize him. He wasn't going on adventures with toddlers anymore, but he wanted to feel safe watching over his family. Here's Poochie all better:

He's sort of like a kintsugi vase with its visible seams, or an older person, whose wrinkles and gray hairs tell their story. Poochie earned every scar and new seam, but he's huggable and lovable specifically for those patches and seams, which are reminders of all the adventures he's had. And now, he can be hugged again and share his memories (and make new ones) with his family in Washington.

[ikkaku-of-heart]

“Don’t forget unlike most other ships, the Polar Tang has access to all the treasure that can be found in underwater shipwrecks and lost cities. So, really, there’s no crew richer than the Hearts. Be jealous.” 

[nymphany]

Thoughts for thoughts

♡Call of Duty thoughts♡

Masterlist

!!! Warnings !!!

Hybrid! Characters, dark characters, dark content, hybrids, bimbo reader, nsfw etc

MINORS DNI

♡ bull 141 + farmer price! X cow! Reader, they're always fighting over you and craving your milk it's too bad it's only for price

♡ Sheep dog soap x lamb reader he heards you into a corner all by yourself and knots you until you're completely full or until the farmer finds the both of you

♡ big bad wolf! Simon x lil red! lamb/doe/bunny reader!! Hes absolutely animalistic feral even

♡ gaz and his pretty milf neighbour

♡ Alejandro letting rudy share his wife!!!!!

♡ dog! Anyone humping your foot like the degenerate he is, or humping anything that fits between his thighs you can't leave him alone because he cant be trusted :(( he cums on everything and anything that smells like you. complete mess. God forbid you have any sex toys too because hes 100% cumming in them and scenting them

♡ dog! Ghost, soap, price x dog! Reader, ghost is big, a lil mean and scary, soap is too dramatic for your little brain and price always makes you feel dumber than you are (he doesnt mean too tho) you always stay away from them especially when they get back from a mission you just know they're filled with adrenaline and you wont be able to help yourself but you cant help but gravitate towards them when your heat starts, the problem is all of them want you to have their pups and you can barely walk or move once you heat dies down. They always tease eachother about when they get you, they play so dirty!! Sparring? Pinned down and humped, bending over? Humped, reaching for something? Humped. You really can't catch a break </3

♡ bear price x bunny reader <3 yummy yummy yummy so big and warm, so strong and smart he has to protect his dumb cocksleeve !! Let's you have all the blankets for your nests even some of his clothes <3 he always soothes you when you cry from how big he is and how he doesnt fit in the delicately crafted nest. but its okay because he doesnt mind being tightly pressed against you hes okay with the tiny nest and his tiny bunny.

♡ mean! Cat! Ghost x kitty reader, shes a high class purebred show cat with the cutest bells and bows and ghost is a scruffed up tom cat who loves to annoy her. Hes a degenerate too and is not above sniffing your panties while their still on you, he just loves her scent and want you to have his litter. He scents her all the time at this point people assume shes ghost when she comes near. He purrs so loud too when hes balls deep

♡ Or stag/ram! Soap who loves to scent his pretty deer/lamb shes so soft and pretty and he wants her so bad!! She smells so good and hes always pressing his nose into her neck. He definitely challenges everyone to train against him but only if you watch 👁👁 he needs ti prove he can provide strong babies (he fails a bunch because hes too busy looking at her)

♡ Need a bear! Konig + bunny reader, hes so big like gigantic, huge and he scares her! Shes a baker and bakes things for everyone and he is just head over heels in love with her but she thinks he wants to eat her but he just wants a cupcake. He leaves treats at her door, flowers and pretty rocks trying to court her. She thinks hes making fun of her </3 and gets all angry and stomps her feet at him but he just swoons even more. She finally starts coming around when the cold comes and she feels the need to snuggles up with this furnace of a giant. When her heat comes so does her oral fixation, she loves having any part of him in her mouth, she loves his scent, his taste all of it!! He doesnt fit into any nest she makes because hes built like a tank but that's okay his bed is big enough.

♡ Wolf! Ghost x little red riding hood! Reader, shes walking to prices house to give him some baked goods and meals she made him, hes been helping her with some repairs and just has to repay him but the big bad wolf doesnt like that the pretty girl with the pretty scent is hanging around price of all people so he fakes an injury while she walks past him and put lil doe eyed girl has to help an someone in need although she didnt know it would be this type of help. Price isnt pleased when stumbles across the scene of graves balls deep, knot forming and rounds and rounds of cum dripping from lil red. Shes on her knees cheek pressed against the floor and is too delirious to acknowledge price, ghost however is as smug as always knowing he got his favourite red hood

♡ Stag! Soap with his deer! Reader whose so shy and skittish from being surrounded by giant men, she clings on to him like a life line being the same species gives her something to relate too he must also intimidated by these absolute units. She cant be further from the truth, soap feels no fear infact he feels power he has the one thing the others dont and what they crave. Hes so mean about it to, hes so rough when fucking you just so they can hear and suffer, He brags about it in the morning to everyone embarrassing you as they all look at you with such hunger.

♡ Kitty! Reader x big cats! Rudy + alejandro + wolf! Graves. !!! Somnophilia !!! Kitty! Reader whose so pretty and perfect, covered in bows, bells and lace. Rudy and alejandro always compliment her praising her soft ears and tail, letting them feel for themselves. This makes graves very jealous and the only way he knows how to respond to this is being a menace. Kitty reader isnt too fond of graves, hes loud, gets too excited on missions and most importantly hes a whore, always flirting with her even though she tells him shes not interested and that hes smells weird. Alejandro and Rudy are practically like your body guards (graves assumes its because you're both from the same species family and have more to bond over he doesnt connect the dots that kitty may be too skittish from his enthusiasm) and follow you everywhere, always interested in what your doing until one day they arent with you and He catches you sleeping in the warmth of the sun, your cheek pressed into your arm and drool leaking from you mouth but most importantly your legs spread and panties on reveal. His instincts take over and he cant help himself but to press his nose into your cunt sniffing and licking all he can get. You wake up startled and try to bat him away but hes been craving this for months and cant stop even if he tried. Hes humping your foot desperate for your hole but too caught up in how you taste. Alejandro and rudy find you full of graves knot, mewling as he tries to bully himself deeper into you.

♡ valeria and her bunny who shes so mean to! She calls her dumb and when she tries to deny it she fucks her until she cant she see straight just to prove her point. She always dresses her in such pretty and skimpy stuff just to irritate everyone who sees her to add to the burn he let's her cockwarm him whenever she pleases infront of her men? Go ahead, infront of the 141? Absolutely, when shes talking over the comms directing her men? 100% shes so pookie bear

♡ If Alejandro and rudy owned hybrid girl graves would 100% steal it just like he stole their base

♡ mean! Wolf! Gaz and puppy reader? Hes so mean and smart and shes so slobbery and dumb. She so obedient and follows every command shes given 'oh you want me to bend over? okay :D' he lives for it at first he wasnt as bold in just straight up asking her to bend over and take his cock. Hed try to be sneaky at first asking her to reach for things, look under the cabinet for the pen he dropped, walking into he bathroom and 'looking' for something. He soon realise how stupid she is and too advantage of his discovery, any time he wants to plow his knot into a warm tight hole all he needs to do jt whistle and she come running on over clothes already gone

♡ Prison guard! Price who rewards his favourite prisoner

♡ Slasher! Soap + ghost who breaks into your house only to found you with your fingers in your cunt crying because you cant cum

♡ Dbf! Price/Graves whose driving you home after you called him only to pull over to the side of the road because you keep giving him back talk he practically throws you onto the hood of the care and fucks you as cars drive past some of them slowing down to get a better look. Hes so mean about it, spanking you until you bruise making sure you'll think about jom every time you sit down. Hes probably complaining about the way you dress and how guys will look at you like meat (as if he doesnt do the exact same thing)

♡ Dbf! Graves who meets you at the golf course while your dad is talking with his friends. You're so bored and have nothing to do but when graves offer to treat you to a ride around on his cart you have to agree (because theres literally nothing else to do) he drives you somewhere nice and quiet and fucks you stupid until you cry. You're so spoiled and he has to teach you a lesson

♡ Pastor price/graves who cant help but fall for you even tho he took a vow. You confess about all you dirty thoughts, all the dreams, how you hump your pillow to the thought of the pastor, how you choke yourself with your rosary and imagine his fingers in place in the confession boothe. It's the same place where you later suck him off and ride him

♡ stepdad! Price who fucks you in the kitchen letting the neighbours see who good he fucks you

♡ soap hiring a bikini car wash to clean his already perfect car, watching his neighbours come out a rake the invisible leaves, talk to him about football, some even bold enough to just watch you

♡ sharing a bed with gaz except you cant keep your hands to yourself and the rest if the team just have to listen to you moan as you cum

♡ cat! Gaz x spoiled kitty! Reader!! Price spoils you so much and you get so jealous when he adopts a new cat!!! You avoid gaz and he has enough so he bends you over and fucks you dumb when price nips out

♡ simon fucking you as you practice shooting "just testing how well you can focus now aim for the target and let me do my thing"

♡ mountain men/lumberjack! 141+konig.

Little silly thing who doesnt understand why these men are so big like huge giants, how did they get that big? What are they eating to get that big?

She probably lives in a cave filled with things shes stolen from abandoned campsites, blankets, clothes, lanterns, chairs, anything she can get her hands one. She has a nest of comfy soft things and a box (suitcase+ cooler) filled with pretty things like gems, rocks, shiny bottle caps, bits of sea glass etc

She probably sees one of them showering in the lake on a very hot day and doesnt understand why the thing in between their legs is so huge??? The male fairies arent like them at all. She thinks there is definitely something wrong with them and needs her help so she watches and stares until they notice her (which was terrifying because she just flutters around making little noise) when asked who she was she just whips out a pocket knife she finds and points it down and goes  "Why does it look like that? I'll help" with this doe eyed expression as if she hadnt just suggestive the worst thing to happen to the poor man

Immediately he starts screaming because he most definitely doesnt want his dick cut off he runs away and nobody believes his story because fairies dont exist and they would never cut off their dicks. That is until their stuff starts disappearing, it's nothing meaningful tho. They took their shirt off because it's too hot? Boom gone, they left a torch on the ground for a couple of seconds? Gone, took off their gloves? Gone again. They think they're displacing them but when they wake up to various plant pots missing and the rocks from their garden they start setting up cameras to see who the culprit is. They vary throughout the forest going as deep as they can. Imagine their surprise when they catch our lil fairy on camera innocently taking the plants and rocks because she thinks they're pretty.

They manage to track her down although not to her cave, shes sat near a tree eating some berries seemingly undisturbed by the massive men infront of her who are so confused (one relieved that he wasnt hallucinating) shes so lonely tho. Almost all the fairies left this part of the forest when humans decided to camp so shes more than happy to show them her cave and treasures. Her english isnt good as humans and fairies do not speak the same although most of her language skills are picked up from her overhearing/stalking campers.

They obviously cant let her live like this so they bring her back with them taking all the things she "owns" with them because she made such a fuss about them. They keep her warm and fed helping her with human customs like showering (they're more than happy to help her), cooking and wearing regular clothes (fairies no not enjoy clothes!! Underwear and a big shirt/ dress only) the clothes part does not go over well and they now have a half naked women with they prettiest wings in their cabin. Shes so pretty and dumb and always brings them back things on her adventures (some of them arent useful but they enjoy them nonetheless)

♡ bear! konig, tiger! horangi and their doe! Reader!!!!

♡ mermaid! reader and semi dark! pirate! 141??? YES!! Sweet dumb thing who saves one of the crew (it's probably gaz hes always falling out of stuff) then starts leaving them gifts but she soon gets captured in one of their nets and they obviously have to keep her

♡ OR princess/wealthy! Reader x semi dark! Pirates! Cod!!! They keep her locked in a cellar returning her back to her father these pirates arent fair and are always trying to watch her when shes allowed to bathe, being on the sea with no women is hard she cant blame them

♡ siren! Cod x tropical mermaid reader!!! Shes so pretty and sparkley they just want to keep her in their nest forever!!!!

♡ OR siren! Cod x aquarium keeper! Reader!!! You worked as at the gift shop and stayed late to help the janitors, you were sweeping the floor of the brand new exhibit that apprently was a let down, the new siren was called konig and very rarely came out, he wasnt like soap (shark), ghost (orca), price (lemon shark), nikolai (idk), alejandro or rudy (idk), valeria (idk), horangi (idk), roach(idk) or graves (lil bitch idk) he was an giant octopus siren, he was never seen by the public and only comes out during feeding which is after hours. Youre cleaning away when you feel eyss on you and a large shadow falling over you. You turn around catching glimpse of the giant siren infront if you only a piece of glass protecting you, naturally you press your hand to the glass only to be snapped out of your daydream by someone yelling. Somehow over night you went from gift shop employer to siren whisperer. Multiple sirens lusting over you desperate to make them your mate (based on a sans undertale fanfic I read back in 2022 do not judge me I'll kill you(called tilikum(??)))

♡ lost island! Cod x reader, you wash up on shore after your cruise ship crashes, you seem to be the only one who survived as the wreckage of the ship in the distance seems to show no sign of life atleast that you can see although you doubt there is seeing half of it is sunk. Nevertheless who you explore this island encountering this savage mountain men who take you in and treat you almost like a puppy!!

♡ body guard! Cod x bimbo! Spoiled! Crybaby! Reader

♡ mafia! Cod x bimbo reader <3<3<3

♡ getting fucked when getting interrogated, you can only cum when you tell them the plans and they've got so many men and women who have such good self control, you wont be cumming for awhile.

♡ sex pollen

♡ that's it that's all you need to know

♡ I want a big beefy mountain scottish man in a mini micro kilt

[bloodsuckingfiends]

My mom was telling me the other day that growing up, my dad hand sewed my Halloween costumes which were beautiful and so detailed, and made me hand sewn stuffed animals, and would perform “surgery” if my favorite stuffed toy needed any repairs.

And it got me thinking about my favorite headcanon: Dadstarion sewing and embroidering everything for his children

Astarion repairs and adorns his and your clothes as it is, but once he has children, he goes overboard.

He embroiders all of the baby’s linens, all their blankets are dotted with stars and moons. Tiny galaxies that will wrap the baby in love and comfort.

He works tediously on onesies, and bibs. The time consuming work eases the nerves that churn in his gut as you await the arrival of your little one. Oftentimes, you have to gently coax him to come to bed to rest. Otherwise, he will stitch through the early morning.

When the baby arrives, Astarion already has a little stuffed cat, stitched with love, and a couple of curses, to gift his little one.

Later on, the little Ancunin becomes incredibly attached to the toy made by their papa.

When their old enough to truly play and voice what they really want, Astarion puts together elaborate costumes for dress up. Beautifully crafted princess dresses or prince doublets, pretty and earthy little fairy dresses with matching glittering wings, and his personal favorite: a very goofy looking purple wizard robe. His child rather enjoyed wearing that one while mimicking uncle Gale.

And of course their regular everyday clothes, when not entirely made by their papa, are embroidered with their favorite animals or creatures. Are sprawling with beautiful gold threaded ivy and filigree. Flowers of their favorite colors dot the cuffs of their coats.

I just love the idea of Astarion putting such love and care into something he learned out of necessity, but now does it for the ones that he unconditionally loves, and who unconditionally love him back.

[bunnysbrainrot]

But I’m Better

Kintober prompt: Toys

Relationship: dbf!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Content: explicit sexual scenes, praise kink, guided masturbation, dom/sub (kinda) dynamic, size kink (kinda sorta). No outbreak AU, age gap (Joel is around his mid-40’s, reader is early/mid-20’s).

Summary: When something breaks, you always know who to call. Your dresser is broken, and you’re left hopeless. But what happens when Joel finds something peculiar in your drawer?

A/N: Y’all. I am so pissed right now because i wrote so much on my drive home, and it deleted because of a bad connection. i can’t recall everything i wrote, so i did the best with what i could remember. i hope it’s up to your liking!

“Shit,” you grumble as you stare blankly at the clothes strewn across the floor. The knob of your dresser drawer sat stupidly in your hand, the mangled wood and metal mocking you. It looked completely ruined.

You thought about messaging your dad about the repairs, but chose against it. He was never exactly notorious for making these things simple - it would be a question of ‘So how did this happen?’ or ‘How did you manage to break it?’, and it really wasn’t worth the effort for you.

The knob sat in your hand, the screw that held it in the drawer was bent to the side, and incredibly dull. No surprise there, you thought.

To be fair, it was an old ass dresser, given to you by your grandmother when you were younger. It was weird to think that you’d had this dresser for over twelve years.

You bent over the pile of clothes and hoisted the hefty drawer in line with the empty space, grunting in frustration as you tried to shimmy it in. It was settled haphazardly and tilted backwards. Completely screwed up. You took your phone from your pocket and snapped a photo of your mangled dresser, sending it to Joel.

Dresser finally gave out, I guess. Knob fell clean off when I tried to open it

Almost immediately, Joel haha reacted to the image and began to type. He was unlike any other man you’d talked to before. Joel was timely and consistent, and he was always reliable. Even if he didn’t have the time to help, he would instruct you on how to solve an issue, but typically he helped you in person.

As much as you tried to deny it, your feeling for Joel had warped over the past few years. It began as a silly childhood crush - those early days where you and your friends joked about what older men were sexiest. Your friends had given you teasing looks when you mentioned Joel, and even more shocking was how long you’d liked him. It was a simple, harmless, childhood crush.

Until it wasn’t.

You were freshly eighteen and readying yourself for college when the realization hit you. After all those years having crushes on older guys, it would be considered okay. Weird and taboo, sure, but still allowed now that you were legally an adult.

Joel had come to your graduation dinner at the end of senior year. You remembered that night in vivid detail. More particularly, Joel’s presence set your skin ablaze with a new type of anxiety. At long last, you could freely crush on Joel, except that there was now a chance he could like you, too.

That night he’d passed you a small velvet box, tied neatly with gold ribbon. You opened the box to reveal a gold, oval-shaped locket with a simple clasp. Inscribed on the face of the locket were whorled spirals, breaking off as flowers scattered over the gilded surface. Gazing up at Joel, you couldn’t contain your joy as you gave him a quick hug. He briefly wrapped an arm around you, holding you close by the small of your back.

He broke away, smiling proudly at you below him.

“You did a great job, baby girl. You keep that up in college, and you’ll get by just fine.”

You were thankful dessert had arrived in time for you to turn your attention away, hiding your rouged cheeks. Joel probably didn’t remember that night, but you remembered every little thing.

—

You’d done your four years of college and after the endless nights with little to no sleep and hard work, you were finally graduated, and taking a gap year before considering anything further. You worked hard, and didn’t want to burn yourself out with more school immediately.

But now you were back home, and your sights were set on something else. It was a golden opportunity to spend time with Joel - time that you’d lost by being away for so long. Holiday visits and summer break was hardly generous enough to give you any alone time with Joel. You left for college as a timid girl, developed yourself as a whole, and came back a woman. A woman who knew herself and her wants.

And you wanted him, ached for him in a way you could neither define nor justify. He was almost twice your age, a wholly developed man with his own complex past and unsteady dating life.

Mr. Miller.

He had lived in the next neighborhood over for as long as you could remember. He and your dad met about ten years back at a ‘work thing’, as they described it.

Joel was kind and endlessly generous when it came to helping others. He was the first call when something broke, and the best person to have over when times were tough, despite his sometimes-rugged personality.

You’d gotten back in town over a week ago, and since then you’d seen Joel a few times, mostly to ‘inspect’ the furniture in your room - if anything had worn down over time and needed to be replaced, the whole nine. The both of you knew it was some bullshit excuse to see him at work, with those corded muscles flexing under his tanned skin, sending shivers down your spine.

That day, the two of you had enough bravery in you to flirt. It started out lightly, you gave more emphasis on Mr. Miller, until Joel requested you call him by his first name.

“Makin’ me feel like an old man, darlin’,” he teased. You remember how he sounded saying it, with a voice as thick and sweet as molasses.

Before he’d left he’d held you by the waist, staring a little too closely at your face, watching your eyes grow wide when he leaned toward you. He fixed your hair with a gentle hand, said your name, and trailed off, his eyes never leaving your lips.

He refused to kiss you that time. Though the time after that you’d decided to break the boundary, drinking him in like someone dying of thirst. You memorized his scent, the softness of his skin and rough, eager hands across your chest, between your thighs, your throat. You both had been greedy that night. It was a high that coursed through your senses. You needed him, more than you led on.

I’ll get my toolbox, looks like it could be some old hardware. Be over in 10.

You picked up around your room in the meantime, your heart fluttering in your ribcage with each passing second. The room had become stiflingly hot. Suffocating.

A knock at your bedroom door startled you out of your anxious stupor. You reached for the door and now faced a smug Joel Miller in the doorway.

“I could’ve met you at the front door, you know,” you chastised him playfully. Joel shifted his weight of his feet, pulling something from his pocket.

“Helps that I have a house key. Means I can help you even faster.”

You rolled your eyes at him and turned on your heels without a word, striding toward your broken dresser. Joel followed casually, craning his head to look around your room, at the decorations that covered the walls and ceiling. This was no longer the bedroom of a the kid he’d met all those years ago. No, you were fully your own woman now.

“Yup, the screw’s shot to shit,” he muttered, holding out the drawer’s knob to you. “See the end of it? Shouldn’t be that dull - gotta have it replaced every now and then.”

“Do you have the right screw for it?”

He nodded, popping open his toolbox and assessing the different screws in each compartment. His hands flexed with each movement, the veins branching across them shifted with every twitch and roll of his thick fingers. Your legs clenched while the most intrusive thoughts filled your head. Specifically those hands, and what you could imagine them doing to you.

Procuring the right screw, Joel handed it to you. You looked at him in innocent confusion.

God, those eyes. If he had the chance, Joel would look into them all day, to let himself get swallowed whole by their beauty. And when you looked at him all pretty like that, as if you had no idea what you were doing to him, it drove him wild. You knew exactly what you were doing when you’d flirt with Joel, but couldn’t gauge his reciprocation, or if he was even okay with the weird ‘relationship’ you had.

It had been confusing for long enough. Someone needed to make a move, and Joel wasn’t sure if you had it in you to do it. Neither were you.

“I wanna see you try it for yourself,” he explained.

“If it’s so easy, why can’t you do it?” you quipped with a smile, but still taking the knob in your hands. Joel gave no reply and waited patiently for you to back down and do it yourself.

It was far easier than you thought. You handed it back to Joel with a proud smile. His eyes thoughtfully scanned your face before finding home in your eyes.

“Smart girl. I knew you could do it.”

Heat rushed across your cheeks like a harsh sunburn, completely taken over by the brightness in his honeyed tone and brown eyes. Joel laughed at your reaction before he worked on the drawer knob, fiddling it into place. His hands rummaged through your drawer as he worked, and paid no mind to the clothes, though you just realized. This was your underwear drawer - full of lacy underwear, bras of all varieties, and one final item you prayed you hid well enough.

Joel’s hands pushed through your panties as you held your breath. After the drawer had fallen out you’d lazily threwn everything back in the drawer and paid no mind to its organization. Since it wasn’t on the bed or the floor, by accident, you were certain that Joel would cross paths with a toy of yours.

He struck something solid amidst the clothes. The material was solid and heavy, with a bit of give from the silicone. At that moment, he could’ve left it ignored, but there was no fun in that, he thought. Joel gripped the dildo at the base, pulling out of the tangle of clothes and handed it to you, flashing you with a smirk.

“You should find a better place for this,” he drawled. “Never know who could find it.”

You quickly grabbed it from him and scanned your room for another hiding spot, but nothing came to mind. Instead you plopped it back in the drawer, on the opposite side.

“Most people don’t get to go through my underwear, so you can’t give me shit for that,” you grumbled. Joel stood, groaning at the strain on his joints. You giggle at the noise, and gave him your usual teasing, “Old man.”

Ignoring your jab, Joel leaned against the chest of drawers, arms crossed over his chest in a stare down.

His voice was dark. It had become devious, knowing, and more stern than you’d imagined.

“You use it on yourself?”

You choked on your spit harshly, not expecting his question to be so direct. Joel placed a wide hand between your shoulder blades and gave you a pat, coaxing you back to normal.

“Joel,” you pant, catching your breath, “you can’t just- just ask me that.”

“And you wouldn’t be curious if the roles were reversed, I’m sure,” he said coolly.

The redness had returned to your cheeks while you debated on your answer, but your hesitation told Joel everything he needed to know. In the smallest way, you’d let it slip that you imagine him in your free time, not that it wasn’t the same case for him. If anything, it’d been worse. Every text you’d sent him set him ablaze; at night he thought about you in detail and palmed himself through his pants, or pumped his cock in a fervent hand as he thought of you, squeezing himself inside your tight pussy. Countless nights he’d stained himself with his own seed, wishing it was inside of you instead, where it belongs. That toy should be him, it always should’ve been.

“Do you?”

You huffed and turned away from him, striding toward the bed to adjust your pillows - any sort of casual distraction from the question.

“Why do you want to know?” you countered.

Joel’s hands brushed against your hips from behind, his feather-soft fingertips brushing across the skin above your jeans. You drew in a breath as Joel whispered next to your ear.

“Because I’m a selfish old bastard, and I’m wondering what it looks like.”

“What what looks like?” you ask softly. You knew precisely what he meant but you wanted to hear something from him anyway.

He burrowed his head at the crook of your neck, gently kissing your skin up to the soft spot below your ear. His breath flew over your skin hot and heavy, sending a new wave of heat to your core.

“I want to see your face when you’re all filled up. I gotta see what your little pussy looks like when it’s all stretched out.”

You pushed your hips back flush with his to find a growing bulge trapped in his jeans. Joel rolled his hips into your ass, groaning at the constraint of the rough denim.

“Joel,” you breathed.

He mumbled against your neck, “What is it baby girl?”

Shoving your ass against his crotch, you whined, “I need you. Please… need you so badly.”

His hum rumbled against your skin, sending goosebumps rolling across your arms. A hand wound up to your hair and tugged a good handful back toward him. You gazed up at him with those beautiful glossed over eyes he dreamed about. He pictured this look on your face for a few years now, and he finally had the joy of seeing it, of causing it himself.

“Not givin’ it to you yet, baby,” he tugged once more on your hair when you whined in protest, “Gonna try something different first.”

In one movement you were facing him, finding two dark eyes staring you down, pupils both blown in lust. Joel gripped the back of your head carefully now, cradling you like something precious, something coveted. This was exactly how he saw you. You were someone to protect and take care of, and now it’s shifted to something far more intimate. Joel vowed to himself that he would make you feel every ounce of pleasure you’d been missing out on. All those nights where his hand replaced your pussy built up a frustration only you could truly fix.

Joel crashed his mouth to yours, as he’d done twice before this, and the kiss sent the same heat through your body. You clenched your thighs in a pitiful attempt to gain pressure against your swollen clit, nestled sweetly between your soft folds, soaking your underwear with your slick.

He pressed you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. The kiss was no short of pure ecstasy. The way his stubble scratched against your cheeks, the way his breathing grew heavy when you bit at his lower lip, the way his tongue edged into your mouth to explore every inch.

You gasped when Joel pulled away, watching him step to your dresser and draw out the dildo you’d hidden back inside. He turned to you with the toy in hand, wobbling slightly in his grip.

“‘S a pretty big one, sweetheart, you actually use all of it?” his voice was far too casual for a man holding your dildo.

You offer him half a nod, “Kind of. I’ve been trying to get… all the way in.” Joel assessed your words before he joined you on the bed, holding the toy against your stomach, at the base of your pelvis. He let out a low whistle when he saw where the toy’s length ended at your tummy, past your bellybutton.

“All of that inside you… felt pretty daring getting one so big, huh?”

That wasn’t the case and it was the most embarrassing part. The truth is, you chose the size based on your image of Joel. You didn’t even know how endowed he was, but you let your fantasy of him take over. That, and the time your hand brushed against his erection during your last kiss.

“I wanted to see if it would feel like you,” you admitted.

Joel’s eyes crinkled with his laugh, “Darlin’, a toy don’t compare to the real thing. Not really.”

You jabbed his arm at his teasing, “Listen, I’m doing the best with what I got, okay?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the best you could get, now is it?” he purred, pushing forward to plant a kiss on your neck. You shook your head, knowing he was exactly right. The toy would never really feel like the real thing.

You glanced up at him with a nervous expression, furrowing your brows, “What did you want to do?”

Joel looked at you coolly and leaned back onto his elbows. He eyed you, then the toy in his hand, then back to you.

“You gonna make it fit - take it all the way - and I’m gonna help.”

Crimson shaded your cheeks at the thought, staring nervously at the toy. Surely you were wet enough to take it, but the action of pushing further, to get it in completely, had been a challenge. In hopes to boost your bravery, you hunched over him, kissing him harshly as your hands flew to your pants. You fumbled with the waistband and slid them off of you, until you were stark naked, laid and bare before Mr. Miller.

He simply drank you in as you sat nervously in the lamplight. Joel eyed you darkly, his eyes raking from your quivering thighs, your slightly hidden sex - masked by your censoring hands, to your perk nipples atop each soft breast, and to your face, eyes half-lidded in pleasure adjoined with your soft panting.

“Jesus.”

You ducked your head sheepishly, shaking slightly to decline the compliment. Joel looked you over fondly as his hand found your cheek, brushing a thumb over your cheekbone. You glanced down at him, still giving you that goofy smirk and a excited glint in his eye.

Joel kept eye contact as his hand traveled down your body - through the valley between your breasts, down your tummy, to just above your slit, daringly close to dipping between your wet folds. You pushed yourself into your knees and knelt at his side, your aching cunt exposed to him in the dimly lit room.

He trailed his hand up each thigh, halting just before he reached your pussy. Each touch was carefully light in a way that made your whole body shudder against him. A single finger slithered up your thigh once again, finally finding its way through your slit, nestling comfortably against your clit and drawing lazy circles.

You cried out against a hand held at your mouth. Joel’s hand smelled of metal and bourbon, mixed with pine and lemongrass. He smelled smoky and fresh and completely warm against your face. You bestowed your face into his palm as he gained a rhythm on your clit, drawing out the smallest cries against his skin.

“Nice and wet for me already, darlin’, that’s good… that’s such a good girl. Drippin’ and ready.”

Another dumb nod has him chuckling while his finger skirted lightly across your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves until your stomach grew tighter.

“Gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum for me already?” His comment draws another moan from you, falling like a melody past your bitten lips, a chorus straight from heaven, just for Joel.

“It’s okay, baby doll, go ‘head. Cum for daddy,” he said sweetly, the Southern drawl thick through his words.

You unravel around him, jolting your hips as your orgasm takes over your senses. A soft cry sounds through your gritted teeth; you gently grind your hips onto the pad of his finger to ride through the shockwaves. Joel leans up to kiss your shoulder, his lips warm and supple.

“Just as beautiful as I imagined,” whispered Joel. His tongue skirts along your skin to your neck, fully sitting beside you to bore his eyes into yours.

You glanced back at him with lust-blow pupils, steadying your breath as his hand slowed its tempo. Joel gave you a lazy smile, the lamplight catching the salt-and-pepper hairs of his scruff in a soft display of his rugged features.

“Can,” you started, “you be… inside me?”

Joel’s hands found your hips and gripped snugly. The look in his eyes was nothing short of affectionate. Even still, he shook his head.

“Not tonight darlin’,” he replies, “I want you to show me how you look using this-“ he points to the dildo on his opposite side, waiting. “Since you think a toy could be so much better than me-“

“That’s not it at all,” you protest, “I needed something, Joel.”

He holds up a hand to stop you mid-sentence, “You could’ve asked me, but ya didn’t, did ya?”

You gave him a scowl, “I didn’t think this would happen, Joel.”

Ever since you hit eighteen, he wanted you to practice calling him by his first name purely out of comfortability, and since you’d grown up, it seemed more fitting.

He doesn’t reply, but his smirk grows when he brings the dildo over to you, sitting between your thighs. It was embarrassing enough with how little of the toy you could handle this far, and to do it in front of Joel seemed doubly humiliating.

Joel gives your ass a small smack to lift you up. You rise, letting him set the toy between your thighs and beneath your throbbing entrance. He cleared his throat, daring your attention back to him.

“Go at your own pace, but get it all in, sweet girl.”

All thought had left you - your only reply being in an eager nod. You started off slowly, notching the toy in at your tight hole, and slowly bounced yourself along its length. Your legs shook with each movement as you filled yourself more and more, every gyration sent shockwaves of pleasure through every inch of your being.

It took a few moments to ease yourself fully, now bouncing on the dildo’s length until it became glossy with your slick. Joel eyed you affectionately. Your face twisted in ways he couldn’t imagine, and your cunt wrapped around the toy in ways he could only dream of.

Joel patted your thigh as you bottomed out at the hilt of the toy. He pawed at your hips, kneading at the tender flesh of your ass, and pulled you into a grinding motion, setting the dildo ever deeper into your cunt. It struck a new spot deep inside of you, pushing against your cervix. A low moan fell from you as you moved your hips absentmindedly, solely following Joel’s command.

The tightness in your stomach only grew as his praises flowed through your head.

“Such an obedient lil’ thing.”

“That’s a dirty girl, gettin’ all needy like that. Wishin’ it was me in your sweet pussy, don’t you?”

“You have no idea how badly I want to fill you right now, baby doll.”

You mewled softly as another orgasm crashed through you, your hips sputtering as you ground onto the toy. Joel’s hands caressed you through your high, though he didn’t stop tugging your hips. He beamed lazily when you cried his name once again, shuddering around the toy nestled inside of you.

“Attagirl,” whispered Joel, “so fuckin’ beautiful..”

You shook your head at him like before, but he showed no signs of backing down from his stance. Joel peppered your thighs with kisses and he lifted you off the toy, listening to your whines as you were left feeling empty. His cock twitched in his jeans, eager to play.

But not yet. He needed to see this first.

“How was that, sweet girl?”

A beat of silence said every unspoken thing you’d come up with. It was good, but not mind-boggling. Not the ‘fucked til you’re dumb’ pleasure you’d expected from tonight.

Joel patted your ass, “That’s the thing. Toys… they feel nice. But-“ He plants a kiss to your cheek, then your lips, grazing over the swollen skin.

“I’m better.”

The next few minutes consisted of cleaning after yourself and settling back into your clothes. Joel fixed your hair neatly before looking you over.

“Cant stay long tonight, darlin’, gotta get back home.”

You sighed dramatically at him, to which he scoffed away the gesture. On his way out, he gave you a far more longing look - a loving, thoughtful gaze that told you one thing.

You were his. Completely and wholly. It was clear he saw you differently now, as you did him.

Joel fucking Miller.

MDNI spacer is by cafekitsune!

hi everyone! thank you for so much incredible support on this fic!

Just FYI: Blood Flow, and Daddy’s Girl are now up as parts 2 and 3! have fun, lovelies

[mooshywrites]

What he’d give you on your Wedding Day

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Halsin ~

~ Something Old ~

~ Both you and Halsin had agreed on a small and intimate wedding

~ The Grove was almost unrecognizable by the time you had finished decorating, flowers and simple draped lace transforming it into any Druid’s dream

~ Halsin, however,was practically crawling out of his skin at the idea of not seeing you the whole morning before the ceremony

~ After much pleading and a masterful application of puppy dog eyes, you finally agreed to meet before the ceremony to exchange a gift

~ You had chosen a new whittling knife, specially commissioning it out of the rarest metal you could afford

~ When the two of you finally met that morning, your hair was half done and clothes were disheveled from the preparation

~ Even so, you couldn’t have been more enchanting to Halsin, the Druid giving you a warm smile

~ He handed you your gift, something weighty wrapped carefully in a lacy cloth

~ The sound of Halsin’s reaction to your own gift slowly faded from the world as you slipped open his present

~ Inside was a small wooden carving, it seemed to be a butchered attempt at a stylized heart

~ Halsin blushed and toyed with his new knife shyly, explaining that your gift was the very first carving he had ever whittled

~ “I know it may be… misshapen… but I knew when I made it, that someday I’d give both it and my real heart to the person I would love forever”

Astarion -

~ Something New ~

~ Your wedding to Astarion was one of the most extravagant parties you had ever prepared

~ Luckily, Astarion lent quite the hand through the entire process

~ In fact, all you really had to prepare was the invitation list. Astarion handled practically everything else

~ You were worried the preparations would stress him, but he seemed to love the details in it

~ He wanted every speck to be perfect, every hair in place for when he showed off his love in front of the world

~ The day of the wedding, you watched as he rushed around the venue, making sure everything was in place to run smoothly

~ When you went off to your dressing room to prepare, you were surprised to see him open the door soon after

~ The pale elf cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly, holding out a thin paper box

~ Astarion clarified it wasn’t anything too special, just something he had worked on to complete your wedding attire

~ When you opened the box, warmth and emotion spread through your chest

~ Inside, was a carefully folded veil, hand stitched with crawling flowers and lace

~ “I hope you will wear it, darling, I couldn’t stand the thought of you wearing anything that wasn’t as beautiful as you”

Gale -

~ Something Borrowed ~

~ Your wedding to Gale was comfortingly cozy

~ His mother had a big hand in putting everything together, doting over you the entire time

~ Tara even pitched in, acting as a working director, delegating out what she thought was the most important tasks

~ Gale spent most of his time trying to keep you calm, a warm whisper reminding you that everything would be perfect on your special day

~ The night before, you were a nervous wreck, realizing the necklace you had planned to wear for the event had a broken clasp

~ Both you and Gale tried to mend it, but it was simply beyond repair

~ After holding you through a few exhausted tears, Gale got up to rummage through a chest in the corner

~ He sat back next to you, holding out a small wrapped box

~ He explained it was something from his mother he was going to give you the next morning, a ‘something borrowed’ to an old poem he knew

~ But with your necklace dilemma, he figured now was a good a time as any

~ You carefully unwrapped the package, gasping when you saw the dainty glittering neckpiece, silver and gemstones winding their way into a delicate star

~ “Mother saved it saying she wished on a falling star that I’d find love like she had. She must have wished on the most brilliant star in the sky for the heavens to send me you”

Wyll -

~ Something Blue ~

~ It seemed like the entire city of Baldur’s Gate was involved in the planning for your wedding to Wyll

~ The guest list started small, mostly just family and close friends

~ But once more people found out that the Grand Duke was getting hitched, the party quickly expanded

~ You were excited for the evening, knowing the whole of the city would be dancing and drinking, celebrating your love and union

~ Wyll, however, was not so excited at the thought of going an entire day without seeing you

~ You weren’t superstitious, but you liked holding on to the few traditions of a wedding day, including not seeing each other until the vows

~ From what you had heard all morning, apparently Wyll’s groomsman had to keep a close eye on The Blade

~ He had been trying to sneak off at every opportunity, wanting to get at least a glimpse of you

~ Right now, in your little dressing room, all was quiet and calm

~ You were adding the finishing touches to your appearance when the door suddenly swung open, Wyll standing in the doorway breathless

~ He gave you a giant smile, holding out a bouquet of bright blue flowers

~ You couldn’t help but burst out into a fit of giggles at his disheveled appearing, it seemed he’d fought an army just to get to you

~ “Surely I’m allowed to see you if I’m bringing you a gift. We may have forever, but I couldn’t go another second without seeing you”

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC X DP Fic idea: Retired-Rouge.

Danny gets into making teddy bears. He didn't start that way; honestly, he was mostly trying to fix Bearbert Einstein after his mom accidentally burnt him with a misfired ray gun.

Jazz had broken down into tears, and it had ripped apart his heart and his core to see her so distressed. He went to the local- and only- fabric store in Amity Park to find materials and try to repair his sister's beloved teddy bear when his mom's attempts to fix the bear only made him look worse.

Just his luck that the only fabric shop for miles around was Weston Fabrics and that the person manning the cashier was Wes himself. The other boy had nearly thrown him out when Danny walked in, but thankfully his older brother Kyle had talked Wes down and helped Danny find fabrics for Bearbert.

Surprisingly, Wes had even helped him set up one of their sewing stations to get started on Bearbert.

The strange part was when Danny turned the machine on and found his hands moving independently. As if he had been doing it for years, he expertly put together the bear and even went through the other fabrics to make him new outfits. Wes had watched the whole time, raising a brow when Danny got up to pay.

"Thought you didn't know how to sew?"

"I thought so too. Must be a ghost thing." Danny replied then smirked as the redhead glared.

"A ghost thing?" Wes all but sneers. He still trying to expose Danny as Phantom and had yet to get proof, even with Danny teasing him in the open. As it were, Kyle, who was unpacking new needles rolled his eyes behind the red hair teenager.

"Yeah, since I have a protection core as Phantom, it sometimes transfers into my human side. Do you know how teddy bears guard children at night against bad dreams? Same thing"

Wes pauses, then slowly blinks; he whispers with a small baffled smile, "That's kind of adorable. A teddy bear to keep you safe through the night."

And Danny? He didn't mean to, but he found Wes sort of hot at that moment. Not the Wow, that guy is a celebrity hot but a Be careful who you call ugly in middle school because Puberty made them delicious over the summer break hot.

He will admit that he returned to Weston Fabrics to flirt more with Wes and made so many teddy bears as a disguise. The good news was that all his works were a hit, and even some kids at school started asking for special commissions when word got around about the special Nightmerica teddy bear he made for Sam's birthday.

He makes money, gets a boyfriend, and when he donates the teddy bears to a local hospital, he discovers a new power. Through items he made himself, Danny can send waves of comforting energy to the people around the item, like a miniature zen distributor. The patients that have his toys start to show greater rest from both nightmares and lower anxiety, depression, and general sadness.

He lets Wes name this power, which later becomes the name of his teddy bear business- Phantom Relief. After dating for two years and graduating, both boys agree the spark had been lost but remain good friends. Danny takes his thriving teddy bear-making skills to his new college in Gotham while Wes leaves for Star City.

In Gotham is where things get....stranger. See, Danny knows someone new to the city will never truly understand a city's problems. But the rapid amount of homeless kids is so shocking he starts making clothes and blankets to try and give them out because they shouldn't be out there freezing like that! He even tries passing along some teddy bears to them, hoping to soothe their pain with some Zen waves.

The key word is tries.

Gotham kids do not trust or like free handouts. Danny burst into tears when a thirteen-year-old asked if he wanted the kid to use his hand or mouth in exchange for the new blanket. The street kid seemed surprised when Danny was horrified by the question. No one else found it strange, the kid said, wrapped in a Superman blanket that Danny made only a day before, it's just how things are done around here.

The worst part is the homeless thirteen-year-old is right. Everywhere he looks, Danny finds more people needing protection- physically, emotionally, and mentally. Gotham is just filled with people suffering. He couldn't keep up. It's tearing him apart trying to help everyone.

His core feels like it will burst from all the overloaded cries of help it can pick up. One night Danny can't take it anymore, so he shifts into Phantom and flies out to the old Drake manner, abandoned since Janet Drake's murder, where the cries are muffled, and dials Wes' number with shaking hands.

His ex picks up listens to his sobs and tells him "You can't save people who don't want to be saved. But you can try to reach them in a way they understand."

It's precisely what he needs to hear.

Ancients, but he misses the man sometimes. Why did Danny ever let Wes Weston go? Well, as they say, Right person, wrong time. Maybe that was why.

So Danny decided the only way to get to Gotham was to be like Gotham. And who were the people that dramatically changed the city with every random plot? With every random heist?

Gotham Rogues.

So all Phantom had to do was become one, which shouldn't be too hard since people in Amity Park still debated if he was good or not years later. He fixes up his Phantom suit to something more Gotham villain, keeping the colors but removing the jumpsuit and adding a suit and vest alongside a mask and two giant needles.

He appears in Crime Alley- because that's where the most cries come from- and just challenges everything and everyone to take the area from him. He fights off so many gangs- even Red Hood, who puts up a great fight- but after the dust settles, he now runs the place.

He then starts- fixing the place. Starts sending out clothes for the homeless, starts fixing up buildings, gives Phantom Reflief out-teddy bears to kids, fake emulates to adults, starts sending the gang kids back to school, forces landlords to lower the housing, and illegally makes everyone get along.

He spreads his tyranny to the rest of the city, fighting the good and bad sides of the law. The bats give him one hell of a challenge, but Danny beat the Ghost King when he was an untrained brat. This is nothing. Batman gets better with every fight, and so do his associates.

Things look good until the Joker tries him too much when the clown somehow gets to Wes. Has the love of his life tied to a bomb with enough Joker Venom to fill half the city, and Danny sees red.

When he comes to, it's to Wes holding him in his arms, whispering reassurances, and Joker nothing but a smear on the ground. Danny can't live with what he's done; he runs away, shifts into his human side, and vows to never be Phantom again.

After four years of peace due to Phantom's hostile takeover, Gotham mourns the loss but doesn't fall into so much crime now that the ghost crime lord is gone. Danny thinks he's done his job and chooses to melt into the background. He opens a little shop for fabrics and custom-made teddy bears.

Wes finds him, agrees to try and rekindle their love, and a year later agrees to the marriage.

All is well until seventeen-year-old Tim Drake strolls into his fabric shop. Clutching a superboy teddy bear, he gave a shivering fourteen-year-old the first week as Phantom Gotham Villain with a stern look in his eye.

"Phantom- I need you to help me find Batman, who is lost in time, or I will expose your secret identity to the rest of Gotham."

Well, shit.

[heartfullofleeches]

Loser (incel) Reader and Sex-maid bot Yan. Reader orders their new toy same day shipping - grateful to the gods for not having to deal with the hassle of making themselves presentable to other humans, and no longer having to clean their room. A little mistake in mailing leads to them getting their robot a day later than expected, and a large crack in its visor. Reader is obviously pissed by this development, but powers the bot on to see the extent of the damage. It works just fine - minus the loss of its built in knowledge and abilities.

They know their prime directive, but they can't wash a single dish or fold clothes. Other parts of them still function so Reader is fine keeping them around and teaching them what to do while it warms their bed. The Bot feels so useless to their master. All they ever do is question them and break every vase they hold like the ditz it is. Their master even gave them the nickname of Melon likely for the damage they've taken. They'll probably have their memories erased when the repair team comes in....

"All fixed. Just a few unplugged wires at that nasty crack. There seems to be some other bugs, but we'd need to take it in to examine."

"You said they work now, right? It's fine. I don't want to have to teach them how to organize my desk properly again. Those figures are collectables."

Their master was letting them keep their precious memories?... The human had never been the nicest, but they weren't outright cruel either. It was almost....cute how protective of their belongings they were. It was their possession too... Fully capable of pleasing their master in all forms, Melon wouldn't waste their second chance.

They cook their master's favor meals without over seasoning or cooking it. They wash clothes and scold their silly master for wearing things multiple days at a time. They wait hand and foot by day and nights....nights are their favorite part. They sit quietly through their master's God awful attempts at flirting in the off chance they ever seek a human mate - but something's off. There's an ache in their chest whenever they imagine their master with another. Their answers to their master's terrible flirts comes start from that hole when the correct thing to do was tell them of their errors and why no human would want them if they said those things.

No human deserved them anyway... All their master needed to be satisfied - was them

Crackposts under cut - suggestive themes

Melon: Master, what's this? :)

Loser Reader: My body pillow. It stains easy so put it down.

Melon: Ah, it's precious to you then? I'll take good care of it :D

Melon: Master, what's this? :)

Loser Reader: A knife. Be careful with it.

Melon: Oh, it's dangerous? I'll keep it far away from you! <3

Melon: Master.... who is this?

Loser Reader: My crush from highschool. Meant to throw that picture away after they rejected me

Melon: They don't mean anything to you anymore?... I think I've found somewhere to store that knife

-

Loser Reader: sighs My friend really wants me to meet their sibling. Guess I better get dressed.

Melon, on their knees: Master ~ it currently 1:14pm. Time for your daily bi-hourly head

Loser Reader: My wha- [ziiip] Fuck, wait-

-

Loser Reader, attempting to flirt: you are a moderately attractive person and in the case I snap and kill everyone - I'd go on the run and change my name with you... or save you for last. How was that?

Melon, wiping fakes tears: You have such a beautiful way with words, master

-

Stranger: Oh, hello- Is Y/n home? We meet online at while ago and they gave me their addresses in case I visit because I only live an hour away

Melon: Hmph, can you pleasure my master while rearranging their game library in alphabetical order at the same time? I think not. Good-bye!

[doctorbeth]

Horsey's dress

Horsey was in pretty good shape, except for her dress, which was her body, which wasn't as sturdy as her horse skin! Here are her diagnosis photos:

You can see where she had past surgery around her neck. Her family wanted her to get a spa (she was definitely losing some stuffing muscle tone in her legs and shoulders) and to have her dress redone.

She came to the hospital with a little unicorn buddy (Pom Pom) and a very decorated box. She also came with pre-selected fabric for her new dress.

Here she is in her bubble bath:

The plan was to recover the body of her dress, but replace the skirt, so I used a bit of the original skirt fabric, and a bit of the new fabric, to make the heart with a bit of her original stuffing:

And here she is feeling much better. These are chubbiness approval photos (hence the belly poke... there's also an open seam under her skirt):

And here she is all better waiting to fly home with PomPom:

Her young person's response "I love it!"

[alycremie]

borrowers core brainrot

imagining a girl moving into a new apartment,, its in a low-income neighbourhood, she's been warned of the apparent pest problem. apparently rats or something, and traps don't seem to work on them. but what other choice does she have? and little does she know the "rats" are tiny "tenants" living inside the walls

she moves in all her stuff. its not much - cheap thrifted stuff, handcrafted clothes, furniture she's picked up off the side of the street. But it'll do. It's cozy - it's home. She likes it.

But her food keeps disappearing. It's not much. Maybe some fruit here or there, some crackers vanishing from the box. Her leftover burger and fries vanishing and being replaced with crumbs.

She tries to find the source of the rats. Clearly they're somewhere, and she doesn't want to hurt them. She looks and looks but the walls - although cheap - are solid. maybe hollow? she's not sure, and isn't going to go spend a bunch of money to drill into the walls or anything. it's not *dirty* in the flat, so she just stops leaving her easily accessible food out.

When an entire can of food is mysteriously emptied, she gets curious. Obviously rats can't use can openers, so what happened? Was the top already loose? She looks around in the cabinet. Nothing.

She realizes the back of her cupboard that she's kept her cheap canned food in has a hollow space behind it. It doesn't line up with the side board. It's about 4 inches too short, it looks like. She presses her ear towards it, thinking she heard some mouse squeaks, but it's all silence.

that's when she notices a little hole. It's about the size of a large screw, and looks like it was drilled by hand. Maybe that's how the rats are getting in, she thinks. But she doesn't mind. She just puts her canned goods somewhere else. what's she gonna do, anyway? she doesn't know how to repair cabinets and she certainly can't afford to hire someone to.

and when she wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of a plastic ramen container falling on the floor, she tosses off her hand-stitched blanket and cute plushies and stumbles into the kitchen in her pyjamas.

She turns on the light and sees what looks like a tiny toy sitting on the countertop. She staggers sleepily over - she must be dreaming, but nope.

A young woman, seemingly about her age maybe an inch, inch and a half? two inches - she was never that good at measuring sizes - is sitting on the countertop attempting an elaborate heist of a ramen package.

The tiny girl's eyes go WIDE. like they're about to pop out of her head. She trembles in fear, attempting to explain herself but sputtering a bunch of nonsense consonants.

and she kneels down, picking up the package of chili flavour maruchan noodles.

"you...wanted this?" she asks, hardly able to believe the situation in front of her but too sleepy to question it. it certainly feels real.

"i-i'm so sorry, i-i was just... we're hungry, is all, and... we like grinding up the noodle brick... they're chips, y-y'know, they last-"

"sorry, you eat it raw?"

"w-we don't have a stove," the tiny girl trembles, trying to regain her composure in the face of someone 40 times her size.

"i can...cook it for you. i-i don't mind, or anything. i don't have anywhere to be tomorrow. it's my day off," she smiles reassuringly, grabbing a pot out of the lower cupboard to fill with hot water.

"can i watch?" the tiny girl asks, brushing a strand of curly hair out of her face. the tear streaks down her face have run dry. the giant is friendly.

"sure!" she smiles, reading her hand out. the tiny girl slowly climbs on top of of it. "you're not scared of heights, are you?"

"you're not scared of, um,"

"what?"

"...i was worried that, you'd uh,"

"Ah... i see. I mean, one packet of ramen would last you, like, three months, huh? I don't mind making one little bowl for you. you can just...ask. You don't have to take stuff." She smiles. "You only gotta take stuff when no one will give it to you, and I got you,"

The tiny girl blushes as she sits on the counter, watching intently as the kind-hearted giant puts a swimming pool's worth of water into a pot the size of a building, which she seems to hold effortlessly. and she turns on the stove, rings the size of a sequoia's trunk glowing as the water heats to a boil. It was mesmerizing, to watch the power and dexterity of giants, she thought.

"Always make sure to boil the water first, otherwise you'll destroy the texture of the ramen," she gently instructs, as if the tiny girl even has access to a stove.

"You know how to cook...?"

"Well, of course." She smiles. "I take it you haven't been eating well, huh? insects and moss?"

The tiny girl huffs. "We've actually been eating the nonperishables of the previous tenant... they left and closed up the cupboard so we'd be safe."

"well...you won't have to do that anymore, okay? um...i don't know how you'll get it into that little cupboard, but I'll get a bowl for myself and for-wait, we? What do you mean we?"

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Astarion is a full-grown elf gods damnit. He should not be running around with a comfort blanket like some snot nosed child. Or so he thinks.

 

Astarion’s gaze flitted between the fire and the blue blanket clutched in his fingers, if it could still be called that. Rag was a more apt description these days, the scant sections of fabric which were barely clinging together around the multiple holes were so worn in parts they were near transparent, the damp stench of the manor still clinging stubbornly despite having been exposed to woodsmoke and fresh air daily for months, as if it had seeped into its very being. Astarion mused that in that respect they weren’t so different – no longer suited for their intended purpose with the memories of Cazador and that place clinging, no matter how much time and distance was placed between them. And then he snorted at the absurdity of comparing himself to a moth-eaten scrap.

“Just toss it in and be done with it.” He chided himself, he’d bought countless victims to his (former) master and disposed of bodies without blinking. This should not be this hard damnit!

“Astarion, everything alright?”

Oh for goodness sake. “Perfectly fine, love.” He said, turning his head to smile at Gale as the wizard made his way into the Tower’s library, making sure to keep his hands out of sight. Gale tilted his head at him appraisingly.

“You don’t seem so sure. I don’t mean to pry, it’s just that I’ve noticed you always look to the right when you’re nervous or embarrassed. You don’t have to divulge anything you don’t wish to but if it’s something I may be able to help with, I’d like to.”

Sometimes Astarion forgot how genuinely earnest his lover could be, and if he were being honest with himself, this was nowhere near the worst thing they’d caught one another doing (Astarion attempting to bite Gale that first week on the road would always be at the top of his list, no matter how much Gale insisted otherwise). Sighing, he turned to face Gale fully, hands holding out the blanket, “It’s nothing to worry your pretty head over. I was only attempting to dispose of this only I…seem to be having some difficulty.”

Gale moved forwards, standing next to him by the fireplace and saying nothing as he waited for Astarion to decide whether he wanted to elaborate or not.

“It’s from…before. The only thing I managed to grab before the tadpoles, my last link to my time as Cazador’s cur.” He gave a humourless huff of a laugh, “It’s so easy, just drop it into the flames and it’s done and yet, I can’t seem to do it.”

“Because it’s yours?” Gale guessed, thinking back on what Astarion had told him about Cazador’s feelings on his spawn having any personal possessions. Even clothes had been shared (there was a reason Astarion and his siblings had become so adept at sewing, some nights his well-being for the foreseeable future would quite literally depend on repairing or altering an ill-fitting garment in a matter of minutes), “It was the only thing in that place that was solely yours?”

Astarion seemed to consider this a moment before nodding, “Truly pathetic, isn’t it.”

“Oh darling, it really isn’t.” Gale said, slowly wrapping his arms around the vampire’s waist, “It’s like those displaced Tiefling children, do you remember? They were clinging to those old rag toys like lifelines because they were familiar, comforting. They were a piece of home.”

Astarion gave a more forceful snort bordering on a snarl, “Why on earth would I get sentimental about the place that was my prison for two centuries, and exactly Gale, children. I’m an adult and a killer and have been for centuries, I shouldn’t be reliant on something as asinine as a comfort item!” He was either ignoring or unaware of the fact that he was running the blanket through his fingers as he said this.

“If it works, then what’s the harm? Comfort can come from surprising places.”

Astarion said nothing, choosing to go back to staring into the flames.

“Wait here a moment, don’t move.”

It was a couple of minutes later, Gale returned to the library, revealing something from behind his back with a flourish, “This little madam was in my pack for our entire journey.”

Astarion could only stare at the small, moth-eaten toy cat no bigger than Gale’s palm. It was hard to tell what colour it had been to start off with and one of the glass eyes had been crudely replaced with a button at some point, “Gale?”

“My parent’s first attempt at pacification when they refused my entreaties for a kitten. Even after Tara came into my life, I couldn’t bear to part with it and as I got older, it started accompanying me whenever she couldn’t.”

“You mean to tell me the entire time we spent fighting gods, monsters and everything in-between, you had a childhood toy in your pocket.”

“In my pack.” Gale corrected, “Although, she started off in my pocket so you’re not technically wrong but anyway. While I admit I wasn’t about to broadcast her existence, it didn’t have any negative effect on my contributions during our travels, and I’m hoping it doesn’t make you think any less of me now.”

Astarion smirked at the little cat, “It’s sort of like you. Charming in a soft, bedraggled sort of way.” The observation held none of the bite it would have fresh off the Nautaloid.

“And this is stubborn and resilient as hell, much like its owner.” Gale said gently grasping the corner of the blanket from where it dangled in Astarion’s hand, “If you feel you want to get rid of it then by all means. I’ll even do it for you if you wish. But, there’s absolutely no shame in wanting to hold onto it for a little longer.”

Astarion hummed in thought, running a finger delicately over one of the cat’s cloth ears, “Maybe just a little longer.”

From that night onwards, when the bed wasn’t occupied by a wizard and his vampire, a well-loved cloth cat was sat on top of the duvet, wrapped in the remnants of a worn, blue blanket.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

hi idk if u take requests, but if u do could u write a Din x Reader where the reader gets really sunburnt and she doesn’t want to be a burden to Din so she doesn’t tell him, and then when he finds out he helps her treat it? I’d love if they admitted their feelings for each other in the end..

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warning: injury, mentions of blood and pain, self doubt and anxiety

Word Count: 1,890

a/n: i changed 'sunburnt' to a different injury and i hope that's okay. i only did that b/c if i wrote the reader as sunburnt i'd have to describe her skin color, and i like to keep my drabbles as inclusive as possible. hope you don't mind!

.

COMMON MISTAKE

"Pylades: I'll take care of you.

Orestes: It's rotten work.

Pylades: Not to me. Not if it's you."

.

Din told you to be careful. Actually, his exact words were, ‘Stop playing with your karking knife’. You, in all your excellent brilliance, had mouthed off a passive acknowledgement before continuing to play with your vibroblade. Although, ‘play’ was a strong word. You just wanted to get good at spinning it in your hand. Before you left Mandalore, you had seen Paz do it and since then you were determined to master that skill.

So, the summary was, Din told you to be careful, you had not been careful, and now you were bleeding. A lot. Dank farrik. In your defense, he had warned you that you were gonna cut your hand, and that was not what happened. You had tripped going up the ramp and accidentally skewered your thigh. Which, when worded that way, was ten thousand times worse. It was a good thing you hadn’t hit an artery because you would’ve bled to death before calling Din to let him know you were dying from an injury born of your own stupidity. 

“This is fine. I’m fine. No problem.” You mumbled to yourself as you wrapped your thigh with some padded gauze. You refused to use bacta on this. The thought of wasting the expensive and important medication on this injury only added guilt to your shame. “Everything is okay.” It looked good now all covered up and out of sight. Your pants were absolutely ruined with a hole in the thigh and blood that stained the entire length of your left leg, but it was fine. “I’m fine.”

If you repeated the word ‘fine’ enough times then it was bound to come true. Science.

You pushed off the cot to stand and nearly crumpled under the weight. Pain, hot and unbearable, rocketed from your hip down to your toes. Your entire left leg was angry and screaming at you. With a sharp breath, you forced yourself to walk and get a new pair of pants. Your communicator chirped a message that Din was on his way back with Grogu and that put a whole new level of panic on the situation. Getting your clothing situated, you chose to stand rather than sit. There was a solid chance if you sat down right now you wouldn’t be able to get back up.

Five minutes passed when Din came around the side of the ship to stand at the end of the ramp. Grogu was playing with an unfamiliar toy in the satchel by his side. The Mandalorian must have caved and bought the kid a new toy again.

“Hey,” Din called out without coming closer, “Are you done with the wiring?”

You had stayed behind to repair some loose wiring. Your sole job on the ship was to keep the damn thing in the air, and Maker did the Razor Crest fight you at every step. You nodded. “Yes. Yupp. All good.”

“Come with me.” Din motioned for you to follow after him. “I want to show you something in the town.”

You let out a quiet whimper as he slid out of view, and with a steadying breath you marched out with the most normal gait you could manage. Honestly, you were impressed with yourself. You’d be more impressed if you hadn’t stabbed yourself in the first place, but considering your situation you’d claim this victory. The town wasn’t far from where Din parked the ship and it was a small, but colorful village nestled in the wilds of Naboo. Somehow the fact that you injured yourself while the three of you were parked on one of the most relaxing and safe worlds out there only made your pride sting that much more. 

There was sweat beading on your forehead that you had to wipe away and your leg was burning in white, hot agony. Din continued to glance your way, you could feel his gaze, until he finally spoke. “You’re awfully quiet today, tranyc’ika.”

“Just… thinking.” You replied. It was a Maker damned miracle your words didn’t fall out with a whimper. Only a few paces ahead was a little shop that sold caf. Tables and chairs littered the outside patio and the second you and Din began to pass them, you drifted to take a seat. “Hey, how⏤ how about some caf, yeah?”

Din paused and just stared at you. You licked your lips and focused on taking slow breaths through your nose. Finally, Din shifted so he faced you dead on and his hands went to his hips. As if recognizing Din’s ‘lecture stance’, Grogu stopped playing to pay attention to what was happening.

“Walk to me.” He near demanded it.

“That’s a weird request.” You replied and made no move to stand. Din tilted his head at you. Dank farrik. Hands on hip and the head tilt. You were royally fucked. “Yeah, alright. Here I come.”

Just as you had guessed in the ship, the act of sitting down had ruined you. If your slow and shaky rise from the chair didn’t give you away, you took three steps before your left leg gave out on you completely. Before you could hit the ground, strong arms caught you with ease and you looked up to meet Din’s dark t-shaped visor.

“What did you kriffing do?”

“I, uh,” You offered him a sheepish smile, “I, maybe, stabbed myself. A little.”

You had gotten pretty good at reading Din’s body language which was why it was too easy to notice how his entire body stiffened. Without a word, he scooped you up into his arms, bridal style, and began to carry you back toward the ship. Grogu crawled up his dad’s side and found a home on your abdomen where he babbled at you in worry. The babbles were a fantastic distraction from the rage that seemed to waft off Din. When he got back into the cargo hold he carefully set you down after Grogu hopped off. His hands went back to his hip and you could only imagine he was glaring down at you through his visor. 

“Pants off. Now.” He snapped.

You had always dreamed of him saying that to you, but it always had a very different context than your current reality. With a pained sigh, you undid your belt then carefully shimmied out of your pants before leaning back on the metal crate behind you for balance. Din ripped his gloves off, tossing them down in a fit, but when his hands found your thigh his touch was soft and careful. 

Din peeled away the gauze you had applied and you realized you had nearly bled through more than half of the padding you had put down. The sound of a hiss escaped Din’s helmet when he saw your wound and you couldn’t help but wince as well. 

“Don’t move.” He said. Din’s voice left no room for argument as he drifted away. He returned with the first aid kit and you watched him pull out the bacta. You opened your mouth to argue, but the second a sound squeaked out of you his head snapped up to meet your eyes. You didn’t have to guess if he was glaring this time. You could feel the heat of it cutting through the visor and into your soul.

Moments after he applied the bacta, relief began to seep into your thigh. You couldn’t hold back the soft sigh that tumbled from your lips. Din carefully reapplied a new bandage once he was appeased with the amount of bacta he spread around and into the wound. You had hoped when he was finished he would just walk away and leave you to your misery, but you always had been a dumb, blind optimist and the galaxy loved to disappoint you.

Din set his hands on either side of you, knuckles white with how hard he gripped the edge of the crate, and he shook his head. “What happened?”

“I… I tripped. Fell on my knife.”

He sighed, “Are you out of your kriffing mind?”

“No.” You replied. “It’s not like I did it on purpose! I’m negligent, not insane.”

“You tripped, fell on your knife, stabbed yourself in the thigh, and then hid it from me?” Din’s voice grew louder with each event. His words pushing out in what was basically a growl.

You twisted your lips before nodding once. “That is an accurate description of events, yes.”

“Why⏤”

“Because Din!” You interrupted him. “First off, it’s the dumbest injury a person could possibly sustain so of course I didn’t tell you! Forget the karking wound, I nearly died of embarrassment.” You huffed a sigh and shook your head. “And, secondly, I’m so tired of feeling like a burden. You’re always there, taking care of me, and I just… I don’t want to be so dependent on you all the time.”

Din leaned in and you were surprised when he rested his head against your chest. Instinctively, your hands raised to wrap around his helmet, elbows resting on his shoulders. “Gar draar suvarir, tranyc’ika.” He mumbled and you only recognized your nickname. Din lightly shook his head against you. “I want to take care of you. I need to.”

“Why, Din? Why⏤”

“I don’t⏤” Din cut himself off with a grumble. Slowly, he lifted his head back up and your hands fell to his shoulders. “I’ve never been good at expressing myself with⏤ with words. But, I can take care of you. I can show you.”

“Oh.” You replied. Was he…? Did he…? You wondered if this was an admission or if your own feelings for him were biasing your thoughts. 

“So will you please, for the love the Maker, just let me take care of you?” Din breathed out.

You nodded. “Okay.”

Din’s body slumped with relief and he caught you off guard by pushing off the crate and pulling you into his arms for an embrace. His arms around you were tight⏤ as if desperate for the touch. When you leaned your weight into him, letting him hold you up, you heard him let out a soft sigh. One of his bare hands traced up your spine and cupped the back of your neck. Feeling the warmth of his hand press against your bare skin made your eyes flutter close.

“It’s a common mistake.” Din said quietly. It took you a moment to pull yourself out of the haze of bliss you had been lost in to hum out a reply. “I tripped and fell on my blade once.” 

Your lips pulled up into a smile. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, tranyc’ika.” Din replied. He chuckled. “Granted, it happened when I was seven.”

“Okay, touching moment of comfort, officially over.”

A laugh bubbled out from Din’s helmet, the sound comparable to a fresh breeze with the exhilaration it brought you. He pulled away from you, but left his hand on the back of your neck. Din quickly leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours for a few seconds, before his hand fell away an the moment truly ended. You stared at him as he collected the first aid kit to put away. Before he could leave, your hand shot out to grasp his wrist.

"I..." You paused. "I think I'm better with words. And I, I just want you to know that you're so important to me, Din."

"I know." Din nodded. He flipped his hand over so he could squeeze your hand, and it brought a smile back to your face. "Now put your pants back on. Your stab wound interrupted our date."

"Wait, our what??"

mando'a translations:

Gar draar suvarir: You don't (never) understand.

tranyc’ika: sunshine (sunny one)

[yandere-daydreams]

since y'all are tolerating my sex-doll!genshin bullshit,,, allow me to go on.

from what you've heard, Kaeya was a short-lived model from the Favious Line, barely promoted and quietly discontinued a few months after his initial release when his sly mannerisms and secretive nature proved unpopular with patrons of a collection widely known for its overly sweet, openly affectionate androids. most fans don't even know he exists, but you're a bit of a fanatic, so you do what you can to dig up retracted promotional material, listings from second-hand auctions, anything with a little more information on a model such a sentimental brand seems more than happy to forget. and of course, none of it does you any good, because of course, you only come face-to-face with your favorite local legend on a late walk down a dark alley, when you trip over the twisted leg of a Kaeya model some rich, wasteful asshole just left on the curb.

he's in a bad state - missing an eye, his clothes stained, his metallic endoskeleton visible in some places and completely exposed in others - but you don't care. it takes all night to get him back to your apartment, but it's a labor of love, and you couldn't be happier to finally bring him home.

you plan on repairing him before actually powering him up for the first time, but his wiring seems to be a little fried, and you find him wandering around your living room the morning after you bring him home, fully conscious and just a little less confused than he should be. it's for the best, in the long run - all models have a basic understanding of their own construction, and he's able to guide you through most of his more intensive repairs, even if the unflinching, unblinking expression he sports while you graft on new patches of faux-skin is a little unnerving. you can't replace his eye as easily, but he doesn't seem to mind the old eye-patch you found in the back of your closet, and he's genuinely grateful for what you've done so far, kissing your forehead and mumbling compliments and looking at you in a way that leaves your knees weak and your cheeks hot. that, or he's just doing it to get under your skin. he clearly likes having you at his mercy.

speaking off - his preferences might've gotten a little warped, too. you've done your research, tested out as many different models as you could possibly get your hands on, but you're not sure you've ever met another android as focused on his own pleasure as Kaeya, as happy to watch you choke on his cock as he hums and traces patterns into the back of your neck. he gives as much as he takes, sure, milks orgasms out of you with his tongue like a man starved, but sometimes, you can swear there's a special glint in his remaining eye when he has you on his lap, bouncing on his cock, or when you give him permission to use something aside from his body, to restrain you, to do anything that leaves you with just a little less control than he has. he never takes more than he gives, but still, you've never seen an android who's designed to take at all. besides Kaeya, of course.

you really do love him. he's good company, and he's great with guests, and you're so, so, so glad you brought him home. it's just, with the way he looks at you, with the tone he takes on as he coos praise every time you scrape up yet another lost piece of him - it seems like he might think you're the toy, sometimes, something that belongs to him, something he doesn't really have to listen to when it whines about overstimulation, or digs its nails into his back, or asks him not to wrap his hands around its neck so tightly, next time. he's made you say things, staved off your climax until you promised to never leave him, split you open on his fingers as you moan and babble about how he belongs to you and you belong to him and nothing's going to change that, but you're sure it's nothing, just a part of his backstory you haven't managed to uncover, yet. you're sure he's alright, even if you've been losing your phone, recently, even if your friends are starting to complain about how often your alarm doesn't seem to go off, or you can't find your car keys, or Kaeya pulls you away right before you're supposed to meet up with them.

you're sure he's alright, even if you don't really like the way he looks at you, anymore.

[creepy-friday]

Ok ok hear me out 👀

What if, instead of fem! Proxy, we got a fem! Human maid 👀👀👀

Like the Slenderman chose her to take care of the mansions needs such as: cleanliness, general functioning (like electrical management, house repair, etc...), food management, etc...

But she isn't a demon nor proxy, but a human dragged into this life (The Operator is a cruel silly guy)

The Proxies have to watch over her so other residents don't mess with her, and also so she doesn't run away.

THE POWER DYNAMIC WOULD BE THROUGH THE ROOF 😭

YOU'RE BACK<3 this prompt is interesting ngl👀👀 I included more characters for the spice

Creepypasta x Maid!Reader

Characters Included: Proxy focused

Warnings: suggestive/NSFW themes,non-con/dub-con mentions,violence,misogyny,drugs and mental illness references

The difference between the power dynamics between you and the other residents are catastrophically huge

Once Slenderman took you in,he made sure that you understand what your role is from the start.It was a cruel time for him to make the decision to bring an innocent human in a manor full of deranged people,but in his mind he took the right decision

The first sick people who viewed you as a fuck toy would be Masky and Jeff

Since you're in the care of proxies,you are somwhat lucky,the others would mostly keep their hands to themselves

Maybe except Ben who has no restrictions by being a literal ghost,so I can totally see him messing with you for a while

The fact that you are a maid might give the others the opportunity to discover a new kink btw

Masky would slap your ass as you clean the windows "good job,get that body moving"

He's a whiny little bitch.He would scream at you if you missed a spot,if you were late to cook dinner by a minute or if he simply needs your assistance with whatever bullshit he makes up

He even called you to prepare him a bath and harassed you in the bathroom,even threating to drown you for his sick entertainment

The way you look up to him makes his dick hard,he doesn't care if the others find gross that he gets off on the power imbalance,he feels good about it

The only good thing he does is not letting the others fuck with you it doesn't apply to Hoodie

Sure,he might threaten to punish you by letting Jeff has his way with you,but we all know his pride won't let him to let you get fucked by another man yeah,once more,it doesn't apply to Hoodie

Right after a bloody mission he would bring you to his room and make you suck him off "How's it feel to have the dirty work done?Right where you belong"

Washing the blood off of their clothes it's a nightmare.Sometimes,the white masked man would try to scare you by saying all the messed up things he did to get them this red

Toby was happy he can look after a girl ngl.After seeing how scared and lost you are,he decided to make himself your safe space

But even then,he saw you as an opportunity to break himself into,it was a selfish tought,but he really craved to be your "knight in shining armor"

He actually started to stand his ground whenever Masky would start to harass him in front of you,and even if he would get beat up and would shame retreat in his shell for a few days,this boy doesn't give up

I can see him letting you escape in the forest if you pull the right strings,but the fear of what Slenderman would do to both yourself and him made Toby to get you back crying

INSTEAD,he goes on walks with you in the forest whenever you are free,just to give you that false sense of freedom

Even if it's just your job to clean,cook and do household chores,he views them as more intimate and might get romantic feelings towards you he has no self respect

Hoodie would play a lot of mind games with you,sometimes he would make you think he's your ally,sometimes he would give the impression that he's just another wolf from the hungry pack

He actually let you run free in the forest for a few minutes and waited for you to get your hopes up until he would show up from behind and get you back

"Gothca" he said,tackling you to the ground as one of his hands rested on your waist and the other one on the back of your head "let's get you back,shall we?awwwh,don't cry now,you know I wouldn't hurt you!Now I can't say the same about the others if they knew you got this far..so let's keep this between the two of us,what do ya' say?"

The son of a bitch would also blackmail you into having sex with him so that he can "protect you" or so that "he wouldn't snitch about your plans of running away"

Even if your plans would be top tier,he would know about them and would make sure to tear them down as slow as the light in your eyes fade away

If you're feisty he wouldn't feel the need to fight with you,but would rather keep him interested into bringing you down

But if you're on the docile side he would still take it as a challenge to himself,to see in how much time he can make you his loyal puppy

The manor is huge,four floors with large windows where a lot of dust piles up,especially on the inhibited last floor where The Operator works

I can see Masky making you work naked at a busy hour of the day, just for his fucked up entertainment,throwing some nasty comments while burning cigarette buts on your soft skin

EJ would watch from a distance,mercy and guilt piling up in his chest.Altough he doesn't see you as prey,he would certainly think of you as a safe resort to call when his heats/bloodlust appears

Jane would nod her head and advert her eyes,often even asking you if you're okay,just trying to make you feel..a little cared for

Natalie would argue a lot about you with Masky,but after all she's just a resident and Tim is still a proxy at the end of the day.She can't do anything about it.

All in all,your life in the mansion would be assured to be a long one,and depending on your behaviour you can make it a less traumatizing pressuring experience

[temptress-writes]

⚓️ The Endeavour

A/N: Piraterry. Nasty as hell smut. He's after some booty. He gets it and then some.

C.W: coarse language, drinking, violence, beardrrY

Sexual Content Warnings: -virgin mc -breath play. whoops. like big whoops. -blood kink -pain kink -squirting (always only the best for the gals) -beard kink (I just wanna leave it wet) -cock warming kinda (mentioned) -somnophilia (not really but a body is explored while said body is unconscious nothing explicit but wanted to list it anyway)

This smut is feral. So have fun!

Word count: 15.8k. A light meal from mama.

***

The Caribbean Sea.

1723.

The hull groaned under the shattering weight of the fierce waves, her bow slicing through swell after powerful swell.

With the tip of his hat, a burst of pride erupted in his chest at her sheer fight and force. He kept her in top shape, knowing a single slip-up would end with him and her in a sandy, unforgiving grave.

He yelled a bursting abundance of encouragement and order to his crew, who through their own sheer will and determination, held their own against the torrid waves.

They had been on the open ocean for weeks. Skewering the waves for ripples in its currents, showing the way to riches. Nothing but a captain's sheer dream to follow a path many believed to be purely fiction, rumour, and nightmare.

There were tales of an untouched island, long since forgotten by many. Except for him. The hidden place had been a bedtime story for him, his fallen mother lulling him to sleep with talk of a luscious cove, twinkling with gold and jewels, protected by sea creatures so fearsome that no one lived to warn others. Only tales made shores carried by whispering swells.

She had gone so far as to paint it for him one night, his tiny child mind so enthralled by a land he could only place as his own heaven.

Crystal clear water, a wide cove that delved into the land with hidden secrets that if reached, guaranteed the succeeder a lifetimes worth of riches.

He kept the painting. Folded it up tight and stored it in his locket, right next to his heart. It hung from the chain his father had left him, the only reminder he had of his parents before they fell ill when he was barely a teen.

With nothing but the clothes on his back and the memory of his loved ones, he had to build a life for himself. He mainly started out as a ship repairer's assistant. Holding out tools and swiped coins of gold when his boss wasn’t looking. He paid him a piece a week and it had made for some painfully hungry nights. So he’d turned to sly swiping where he could, purely to survive.

Every night, he dreamt of that cove. Of its glistening, gentle waves. Of the sea creatures that guarded the hidden heaven. Ones that he would slay with all his might, so that he may bask in the treasures they fought to covert.

An oasis he now attempted to charter.

“What do you think?” He asked his Quartermaster as he headed below deck to his quarters, his mate beside him. They entered the office, heading to the map laid out on the table, weight down by compasses and clutter.

“I think you’re on a fool’s errand, captain.” As he’d been saying for weeks.

“There will be many riches at the end of this voyage, Brigg. I promise you. It will be well worth it.”

“Say we get there, Harry,” Brigg reasoned, his hands on his hips, “what of the beasts they say that roam the waters?”

Sharks with rows and rows of vicious teeth, fearless krakens that ate ships like his for sport. Sirens lured sailors to the depths where they would toy with them before eating them limb by limb. And then there was the landscape to attest for. Jagged rocks and shallow waters that dismembered hulls like a bird's wing through the wind.

Harry himself had no clue how they’d navigate such a tight cove with as many dangers as the lore spoke of. But he was a determined man, and it had yet to steer him and his crew wrong.

He adjusted his weapon belt across his hips, his sword sitting strong in its scabbard. He’d yet to unsheathe it on this journey but had no doubt he’d have to ensure its sharpness for what was ahead.

“We’ll continue to train, Brigg. We have strong soldiers on board with us. We shall find nothing but glory.”

“If we even find the cove.”

Harry shot him an unamused look, “Adjust us to the west. The waves are mighty today, we cannot afford to be off course.”

“Yes, captain.”

Brigg left him, and he allowed a moment to feel exhausted. He threw his hat on the desk, grabbed a bottle of rum, and took a much-needed swig, not caring that it spilled past his lips and down the front of his shirt.

He stripped his frock coat from his body and sagged into his chair, staring at the map, a tiny circle in red showing where they were headed. He adjusted the wooden ship pawn an inch closer to its target.

It wasn’t even on maps long since drawn by cartographers at every corner of the earth. He’d seen it all, seen too much to be riddled by what-ifs and myths. He’d seen wonderous things on his travels, and his hope would not be dwindled by another man’s doubts.

But old stories spoke of a small island, far too small for anyone to see. Tucked away in the Caribbean Sea, warded off by treacherous swells and ravenous creatures. All guarded treasures far too priceless for any man to get their hands on.

For weeks they’d charted choppy waters, their food supply strong, freshwater abundant no thanks to the severe rains.

He felt strongly about this endeavour. Among the hundreds of treasure hunts he’d been on, this was one he felt most strongly about.

He had told no one about this trip aside from his crew. He had become a well-known pirate in England. Notorious and feared. He garnered such a reputation by playing dirty, and he gained many enemies while doing so. The last thing he needed was a rival on his tail.

His life was on the high seas, his lover his compass.

While he wasn’t opposed to bedding some maiden at whatever tavern he stumbled into once they’d ported, they were fleeting moments. He was always on his ship. The Siren. For she always called to him, longing for the dangerous adventure of the ocean.

He nestled into his bunk, knowing that not much would happen overnight. They’d port at Barbados come sunrise, halting their journey only for supplies and to stretch their legs.

He dreamt of the cove, as he always did. But this time was different. It was clearer, a soft ringing in his ears as he was drawn closer to the shore.

The dock at Barbados was rumbling with life. Much more than he’d ever seen it. It was rich with trade, with merchants from every corner of the earth gathering to sell their goods at high prices.

Harry scored some fresh fruits he could not get back in England, chewing happily as he and Brigg wandered the streets. He eyed many of the local women, winking and asking their names, wondering if they had room for him in their beds tonight.

They’d giggle, sensing his reputation as rocky as the shores before them. He had no trouble finding someone to have fun with but loved to scope out his options.

Pineapple juice dripped down his chin, the Caribbean sun blistering and unwavering. Heating him with a fire that drove his need for adventure and discovery. The sun, he thought, was another treasure. The land he came from rarely was blessed with its presence.

They passed more vendors, selling weapons and gear and ammo, maps, and repairs for ships. It had been years since he’d seen this island, it was good to see it doing so well.

An older man stood by his store. A small, quant swordsmith with an abundance of glittering weapons. Harry veered closer, intrigued. Something about his weathered expression drove his curiosity wild. He only saw such an expression in wary seamen.

“Good day, traveller.” The swordsmith’s heavy accent sounded as he sharpened a blade on a block.

“Sir,” Harry nodded. “Are you well?”

The man smiled wryly. “I will be should you give me some coin.”

“You seem well-travelled. Tell me what you know of this island.” Harry produced his map, pointing to the circle drawn in the middle of dangerous waters.

The swordsmith sagged, rubbing his aged forehead. “You will not survive it, boy.”

“So you have been there.” It was real. The sense of relief he felt at that moment was unlike any other sensation. He had been drawn to these tides by a tale. This was the first sense of reality he’d felt.

The man looked away, picking up his tools as if wanting to move on from the conversation. Harry smiled, throwing down a couple of gold coins on the workbench. The man scooped them up, counting, deliberating.

“In all my years, I have never chartered such a sea. Whatever is out there, tis real.”

“What is out there?” He threw down more coins.

“Danger. Fearsome creatures, both terrifying and beautiful. Shows you whatever you desire most and dangles it in front of you until they have you in your grasp.”

“What about the island?”

The man laughed. “Fool. I did not reach the island. I turned up on the shores here with no memory, no ship, no crew. Everything gone. Tis a curse, boy. Nothing more. Beware.”

It did little to sway his curiosity. His draw to this island was nothing to afraid of. Not a curse or a fool’s errand. It was his calling.

“Thank you, sir. Your candour is appreciated.” It would also be ignored, but he chose to withhold that fact. He slid the man more gold, purchasing a small dagger fashioned with pearls in its hilt. They glowed in the sun, and he added it to his scabbard with pride.

His hat shielded him from the torturous sun as he found his way back to The Siren, missing her familiarity. How she was every part of him, just as his bones were. His crew was washing up, sweeping the decks, and righting the gunports.

The main mast groaned as a gust blew through it, the small swells of water lapping at the hull, hungry for more. He checked in with his crew, ensuring everybody was rested and ready for the journey ahead.

“We set sail at midday. Not a minute later.” He eyed them all, pacing ahead of them as they stood in line listening to orders. “We should reach the island by nightfall. The sea ahead is dangerous, but I trust you all to get us there. Whatever we find will be ours to share.”

“Aye, Captain!”

“What if there is no gold?” One of the deckhands questioned. He was one of Harry’s newer men and had less experience on the seas than any of them. Hell. He still got nauseous when sailing, and still got on Harry’s nerves.

“When have I steered us wrong?” Harry glanced at him. “We have followed maps into the most far reaches of the sea, and have been rewarded each time for our bravery. This shall be no different.”

“Aye, Captain.” The deckhand muttered, adjusting his hat on his head.

“Prepare for sail.” Harry shouted, sauntering into his quarters to watch over the map. Brigg ensured everyone was doing their jobs, barking out orders to keep everyone in check.

Harry stared at the map for a time, feeling outside of his own mind. The wind seemed to howl, melting into a high-pitched tone that had him wincing before he blinked, back in his own boots once more.

“Keep her steady!” He yelled from the deck, his feet anchored to the barrier, his hands burning from their grip on the ropes. Sea water lashed at him, threatening to take him down to its luring depths.

The currents were strong here, his crew struggling to keep them on course. The sails whipped in the vicious winds, snapping and threatening to tether.

He had never seen anything like it. Otherworldly anger unleashed within the waves and wind, pummelling his ship with no mercy. His crew was struggling, he could sense it. See that they were unable to ride the movements of the ship, being thrown around every which way.

“Get the sail down!” He yelled out, helping at the masts. They had to coast while the wind was at its strongest. Ride it out until they could figure out their course. As it stood, he hadn’t a clue where they were.

The ocean had never been so angry. Perhaps that old swordsmith had been right. This was a curse. A festering evil. His mind flashed to creatures that could be lurking beneath his ship. A fearsome Kraken waiting to take them down and feast on their flesh while the wood and steel of The Siren rotted at the bottom of the depths.

This was a fight he could not win.

A strong wave swept over the ship, filling the deck with water, and sweeping every man off their feet. He clung onto the rope for dear life, chilled to his bones as the wind whipped at his body.

“We have to go back, Captain!” Brigg yelled over the thunder, a flash of lightning soon following it to ignite his scorned expression.

“We cannot yield!” He fought. They’d worked too hard to turn back now. Turning the ship may seal their fate.

“Cap—”

A swell whirled over the boat, this one higher than any of the ones before, sweeping Harry from his perch overseeing the deck, ready to swallow him into the currents. He clung onto the rope, his grip slipping as his calloused hand failed to comply, frozen and aching.

His hold on the rope slipped, and his stomach dropped as he began falling to the angry depths metres below him. He was being smashed against the hull, knocked back and forth like a rag doll. Held victim to the harsh elements. He yelled out, not ready to abandon his crew. His ship.

He was going to drown.

Flashes in the sky accompanied an eerie ringing, high in pitch and deafening.

And then a hand shot out, taking his as his final grip loosened. He was hauled overboard again, flopping into the saturated deck before he was out cold.

His ears were ringing. A build-up of fatigue and trauma, seared his brain as he blinked in surprise at the scene around him. He could hear Brigg calling his name, and see his crew helping each other up and tending to the wounded. After a quick head count, he knew he’d lost men.

He gathered himself, feeling the oak beneath his back was still wet. But the overpowering anger of the ocean was no more, and he listened to the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull.

His body thrummed in pain but he ignored it. He would take care of himself later. There was no time to waste when the elements weren’t lashing at them.

His chest burned at the realisation, and he stood with a groan, finding Brigg rushing to his side. It was not uncommon in this life, and it was something he dealt with every time they left the shallow shores.

“How many?” He rasped. “How many did we lose?”

“Five.”

He grimaced, still out of it, his body bruised and weathered.

“You were out for no longer than ten minutes, Captain. The storm has subsided, and quickly so. Never seen anything like it in all my years at sea.”

“The calm will not last, however, we must take advantage of it.” He strolled into the cabin, finding the map, grateful that the ocean had not destroyed it. “How far off course are we?”

“I can’t work it out. The storm derailed us completely.”

“Tis a good thing we overshot after we set sail. Recourse us west.”

“Are you sure, Captain?”

“I am. We’re close, I can feel it.”

Harry made the rounds, checking on his crew, and offering condolences even while his own heart felt too heavy for his body to carry. Everyone was exhausted. Tired. But he promised them that the reward was near.

He stood at the helm, the wheel gripped firmly in his ringed hands. The water was black, even the dim candle lighting doing nothing to illuminate it. But there was a tether inside of him, guiding him towards that cove from his dreams. He would slaughter every creature that stood in his way. Fight every rogue wave that threatened to drown him.

The Siren groaned, and he frowned, leaning forward to scope out the environment around them.

The world was dark. An onyx abyss that had the hair on the back of his neck standing up. His gaze scoured his surroundings, seeing nothing but pitch black. Everything went still, eerily still.

Harry loosed a breath, leaving his post at the helm and going to the side. Amongst the nothingness, there was a large mass, not two miles ahead of them. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing, or how he was seeing it.

But all he knew was that it was an uninhabited piece of land, surrounded by a thick disturbance, something he could not place. Could not see or smell. But he could feel it.

“Lower the anchor.” He spoke into the air, his crew not hearing him. “Lower the anchor!”

They complied quickly, working together to drop the anchor. The Siren came to a slow stop, and Brigg approached him with a raised brow.

“What is it?”

“There,” he breathed, “do you see it?”

Brigg allowed his gaze to follow Harry’s extended arm, the pointed hand. He looked beyond it, squinting.

“See what, lad?”

“The island.”

“There is no island, Captain. Just water as far as the eye can see.”

Harry shot him a look. “Tis your old eyesight failing you, Brigg. Prepare a boat.”

“It is not safe—”

“Prepare a boat.” He bit out. “This is where we need to be.”

Brigg appeared skeptical, but it was not his place to question his Captain. It was nobody’s place. A few men prepared the pinnace, lowering it down onto the gentle waves. Harry prepared himself with a heavier coat, his favourite sword, and his compass.

His whole life had been a build-up to this moment. From the bedtime stories from his dear mother to finding his feet as his own explorer. It had all been for this. For this off-the-map cove that he wasn’t even sure was real.

“I will scout first, and be back by daylight.”

“Please… be careful.”

“I shall return with good news, Brigg. I can feel it in my bones.”

Using the ladder draped down the hull, Harry lowered down into the boat, Brigg leaning down to pass him a lit lantern. He shot down the offer to have a few of his deckhands with him. This part he had to do alone.

The tiny boat bobbed on the waves, and he glanced out at the mass of land again, sensing that pulsing once more. His ears rang with the promise of fulfillment. He began rowing.

He rowed until he was halfway between The Siren and the island, and his heart began drumming uneasily against his ribcage. He could taste the sheer gratification and accomplishment.

He kept watch for the lurking creatures he had been warned about time and time again. For the dreaded sharks and Krakens, the predators swarming below them, waiting. But they didn’t show.

The ringing appeared in his ears again, shrill and stark. He winced, shooting a hand up to cradle his head.

The peal became higher. Louder. So intense that he feared for the integrity of his hearing. He stood and looked around frantically, hoping to see some source that would explain such a protruding sound.

And then it softened completely, a quiet humming next to the boat that halted his search. He crouched, leaning over the side staring at his reflection on the glass-like veneer.

A disruptive ripple broke the surface of the water, illuminated by the radiant lantern.

A girl.

She was otherworldly beautiful. And she was humming, a lulling melody that had his spine melting into goo. She smiled up at him, looking through her lashes as she bit her lip. Her eyes were so dark as if mimicking the lapping waves, though glowing once he raised the lantern further towards her.

He opened his mouth to ask why she was there. How she was so far out from the shore and in such gloomy water. But his words bubbled in his throat, dissolving before they could reach his lips. As if she’d taken them.

She was just… watching him. Her dark hair slicked back away from her face, glistening with beauty. Her chocolate skin imitated the tone of his rum and his brain went foggy as she rose a few inches, and it was then that he saw that she was naked.

“Who are you?” He managed out, his voice not his own.

She only smiled at him again, humming that addictive tune before her hand shot up, her slender fingers gripping the side of the boat, right next to his jewelled hand.

He was so mesmerised he didn’t have it in him to be scared.

“Are you lost, sailor?” Her voice was silky. Liquid pearls trapped in clouds.

He felt his body fall lax as she stared at him, her lips plump as the words left them.

Lost. A sensation he had felt many times before. And of course, he felt it these past few weeks in the search for this island. Now as he looked away from the girl and towards the island, had disappeared.

He grew startled, his mind kicking back into gear. The island. The hope he felt. The magic cove from his dreams, the one he kept in his locket next to his heart. Gone. A hazy mirage that dissipated when he hadn’t been looking.

His mouth grew dry, “I could have sworn—”

“Shh.” Her cold, wet hand clasped his where it rested on the rim of the boat. “I can help you.”

He was locked in her trance again, paralysed by her. His worry was still stagnant in his brain but his body would not cooperate, still and at her will.

“I do not—”

“Come closer.” Her soft cadence took his breath away.

He found his body betraying him, leaning forward until the boat was almost tipping over. She smiled, her teeth gleaming. Her smile snapped something in him, a longing that was all too familiar to him. The yearning that centred around the painting in his locket. The draw to it was the same as it was to her.

She began humming, louder, completely entrancing him. His brain felt numb, every thought dispersing aside from her. Like his essence was honing in on hers. He was under her spell. His sole purpose for being here suddenly didn’t matter anymore.

And that sense of loss and aimlessness was the last thing he remembered before he was submerged completely.

The sensation of it was too many things at once. A festering fear that soothing hands calmed as he sank down into the murky depths. His passion and drive and reasoning for being on the open seas reduced to nothing. Reduced to droplets blinked from stormy brown eyes.

There had been things for him to fear here. He’d heard the myths. But nothing frightened him more than the beauty of her.

He was sure that he was dreaming, but his lungs were burning, filling with salty water as he tried to scream. But there was no one to save him. Just the sounds of his own muted cries and that all too-familiar melody. It became his new actuality.

Sinking to a euphony that made him feel eerily at peace.

A phantom hand explored the expanse of his chest, feather-light and timid. It touched his arms, his face, trailing his features. Exploring and mapping.

His senses came back to him slowly, and he heard the ocean. Soft swells kissed the shore, and his hand curled into the sand beneath him. He felt that hand venture south and he coughed, his lungs burned as water bubbled up his throat and out of his mouth.

He heard a voice, a small soothing ooh that could only be placed as sympathy. He opened his eyes, wincing as he took in the bright scene before him.

The sun was blinding, offensively so, and he shut his eyes for a moment more so that he could adjust. His head throbbed, the source of a sharp pain in his left temple.

Upon opening them, he turned his head, facing the coast. The water was a bright cerulean, invitingly pristine. No signs of his ship or his crew. What had happened? His vision was hazy, a blur of visions that he couldn’t determine were real or made up. He scarcely remembered leaving the dock at Barbados. Just little blips in time but some seemed fake.

That ghost touch graced his chest again, brushing his wet lips. His gaze turned towards the feeling and a violent gasp left him as he jolted away from the source.

A girl.

What was familiar to him was her striking beauty. Big brown eyes, deep golden skin with a halo of lush curls surrounding her head. She was dressed in white, scraps of flowy material that were bound together with beads and pearls.

Her brows pulled in, and her hand reached out toward him. “It’s okay. You are safe here with me.”

“W—What happened?” He panted, stilling at the feel of his saturated clothes. His scabbard was gone, as was his hat and coat. Only his pants, shirt, and boots remained.

“I found you here.” She said gently.

He tried to stand, disoriented. He fell to the ground, his arms too weak to lift himself up.

“Please, take care—”

“I remember you.” He rasped. “I… I saw you. I—I saw you in the water.”

She reached for him, taking his hand. “You are confused. I believed your ship was wrecked.”

“N—No, I saw you—”

“We must get off the beach.”

“Where am I?”

She didn’t answer him, and her hold on his hand tightened. He suddenly felt willing. Like his body had been given a boost of strength for him to stand. He watched her, allured by her perfection, her attire. Who was she? Why was she so familiar?

His mind flashed to black water before she pulled away, her eyes pulling him in before she backed up toward the island ahead.

It was small, either side of the beach framed with jagged rocks and tall cliffs. The island itself as heavy with thick vegetation. He had no clue where he was geologically. With his memory as spotty as it was, his ship could have wrecked miles off course and left him stranded here.

“Where is my ship?”

There were no remnants of The Siren on the shore. No debris or… any sign of life for that matter. It was a chilling feeling, especially seeing as whoever this girl was wasn’t giving any answers.

She led him towards a large tree just on the edge of the shore, a tall, overhanging tree that offered sanctum from the sunshine.

“What is this island?” He called after her. “Where are all the people?”

“There are no people here.”

He stopped, watching as she sat on a giant leaf and tended to a collection of fish laid out on a rock. They were fresh, and he spied her spear leaning against the tree.

“You are here alone?”

“Sit,” she nodded to a twin leaf next to hers. “And eat. You must be famished.”

He was, but the overall confusion and fear made him nauseous. “No, thank you.”

Her eyes became stormy, just as they had in his mind. He found himself sitting, taking a leaf full of fresh fish from her outstretched hand. He feasted, not realising quite how ravenous he was.

“Can I trouble you for a boat?” He needed to get off this island. Figure out where his ship and crew were.

“There are no boats here.”

Her words made his chest sink, and more questions followed that he opened his mouth to ask, but she interrupted him.

“Where were you headed, sailor?”

Her wording worried him. Where were you heading? Like she saw his being on this island as some kind of seal doom.

“I had just left Barbados.” If she wasn’t going to answer his questions, like hell he was going to answer hers. “I do not remember much following that.”

She adjusted her position, the slit of her skirt allowing his eyes to wander the expanse of her thigh.

“It has been some time since I have seen a man.”

“Is that so?” And that explained the wandering hands he felt as he awoke.

“Many years. You are very different from the ones I have seen.” She brushed her curls from her face, her skin glowing from the sun, crushed pearls glittering her features.

“Do you rescue sailors often?”

“No, never.”

He could not place her accent. Her cadence. Dreamy and soft-spoken. Nothing like the locals of the surrounding islands. No, this he could not put a finger on. She ventured a few metres into the tree line, finding a spring of fresh water which he gulped down.

He had allowed himself to scope out the area whilst she was gone. Aside from the fish and spear, there were no other signs of life on this beach. Was she from deeper inland? Did she come here by boat?

The sunset kissed the horizon, bleeding orange hues into his vision as he tried to gather his bearings.

It was as if she could read his thoughts, sense his panic and his queries.

“You must rest, sailor.” She whispered, that lulling voice swirling through his mind. He fell asleep on the beach, exhausted, perhaps even concussed from the injury on his temple that he did not know how he received.

He woke up hours later, disorientated and lost. He felt for a moment that he was on his ship, tucked away in his cabin next to the fireplace, a goblet of rum nestled comfortably in his hand.

But his new reality set in with the harsh bed of sand against his back and the dim light of the moon offering little comfort. He jolted upright, feeling more himself than he was earlier. Had hours passed? Or days? His body was groggy and his throat was parched.

And then he’d remembered those slender hands feeding him fresh fish, offering him crisp water from the spring in the trees somewhere. The girl. Golden and mysterious.

His eyes strained to see her, but she was not where he had last seen her, and it had his back straight immediately. Had she left him? Had she been a mere dream his jumbled brain had offered up in order to keep him sane?

The throbbing in his head had dulled some, and he reached up to massage the ache only to find it damp with some form of thick paste lobbed into the wound, which felt pretty much healed.

His memory was failing him, letting him down as he raked his thoughts for any sense of clarity but there was none. He wasn’t sure what was real. Couldn’t even remember his name.

He felt his locket around his neck, his sole truth, and fumbled to open it. He withdrew the small painting and even under the moonlight, he knew the strokes by heart. He put it back for safekeeping. His soul soared with a sense of something he couldn’t make out before his eyes flittered to the sea.

It was glittering in the effulgence, seeming to call him as that humming carried itself in the wind. He felt her before he saw her, the soft breeze carrying her presence to him.

She waded in the water, her hands splayed out as she toyed with swells between her fingers. She was just as real as he remembered, and yet, he wondered if she would disperse into the water and become one with it.

He stood, his boots filled with sand, but his clothes were dry now. He watched her, slowly walk towards the edge of the water, his gaze not once leaving her. He walked into the water, keeping his movements light so as not to startle her.

And as he got closer to her, he realised that she was naked. Her hair was wet and draped down her back, her skin a golden ray of moonlight that he wanted to laze in.

She gasped, turning to face him. Her breasts were covered by her wet curls but it didn’t matter to him. He struggled to move his eyes from the view.

“Who are you?” He asked over the rolling waves.

Her eyes were bottomless. “You should be resting.”

“Answer my damn question.”

“You do not need to know who I am, sailor.”

Her eyes became black bottomless pits that had him reeling backward in fear. Every question and ounce of confusion was gone as pure terror took over. She was otherworldly in her beauty, yes. But she had something dark and sinister wading beneath her skin.

He became overwhelmingly lethargic, his body controlled by something alien. And he felt the black hole invade his memory again as she slinked into the water before he saw nothing at all.

Many nights passed. He wasn’t sure how many, and had no sense of self or time. She fished early in the morning and allowed him to eat as much as he wanted before he was resting again. His body seemed too tired and he felt as though he was chasing his own tail trying to feel some sort of energy.

She was always dressed in those soft white linens, or shreds of them, bound together with shells, pearls, and beads.

And every night, he woke, watching her splash and play in the water. Naked and free, unaware of the fact that he was watching her. He didn’t dare approach her again, too fearful that she would control his mind and take it as her own.

She was not of this earth, he realised. Too perfect and too far from his grasp to understand. He enjoyed watching her, though. Enjoyed watching her lay out in the sun and play with her curls.

He bathed in the sea, fully unclothed, and ended up ditching his flimsy shirt once he realised it was only added to the heat his body was enduring. His tattoos were stark against his skin, now golden from his days in the sun.

Sometimes she would leave the beach. She’d venture up the coast, scaling dangerous rock formations. He would always try to follow her but he would lose sight of her, trying to keep up with her agile pace but he was simply not equipped for such a trek.

He always wondered where she went, but by the time she returned, he had grown too tired to ask.

He was caged in, their little beach framed with rock and backed with dense jungle. He tried to venture into the thick vegetation but found himself thrown off by how endless and dangerous it looked.

He was beginning to question if he had any semblance of sanity in the first place. What was true? What was his foggy imagination? He did not know.

The moon was especially large tonight, sat high in the sky, a brilliant silver that glazed over the locket at his chest. His eyes closed, prepared to fall asleep like he did every night.

He often wondered why he felt okay with this. His ship was out there somewhere, maybe even intact. His crew who relied on him… he struggled to even think about it. How had he ended up here? Alone? He had not gone so far from the ship.

His thoughts haunted him, taunting him with hidden memories, slips of water, and storms. But he could only remember that vendor in Barbados and then… waking up on this beach. And her. Her eyes and her beauty. But it was hazy. Like trying to recall a dream.

The moonlight danced behind his eyelids, the waves that kissed the shore somehow calming despite the peril he felt in his chest.

That all too familiar phantom touch laced the bare skin of his chest, and his eyes snapped open. The girl was leaning over him, her eyes burning with curiosity. He sat up abruptly, but she stayed close to him, their faces mere inches apart.

His hand grabbed hers from where it had fallen into her lap. He placed it back on his chest, his eyes on hers as she explored his body, his skin warm beneath her palm. His heart was racing so fast and she smiled as if she could feel it.

Her touch melted south, brushing his lower abdomen. He sucked in a breath and her eyes softened.

“Do you like this?” She asked him, her other hand joining in mapping out his body.

“Yes.” He whispered, wanting to reach out and touch her. But his hands remained put. He knew that the ball was in her court, and she’d reprimand him if he tried to take control.

“Swim with me.”

He was in a trance as she stood, helping him up. She shed her tiny layers of clothing as they walked towards the sea, and his gaze washed over her naked body in a daze. She met his eyes as if knowing he was watching and enjoyed the attention.

After removing all of his own clothing, he tried to ignore the fact that she was staring at all of him. Intently. As if to remember his body later. And then, so quietly, she waded into the water until it was lapping at her waist and stared up at the moon.

He paddled out to meet her, in awe of her confidence as she floated on her back. The moonlight illuminated her body, the water slipping over her physique. He’d never been so envious of a body of water.

He wanted to be the one to lick and explore her coasts. Wrap his currents around her until she was fully in his control. She straightened as he came to her, her hands landing on his shoulders.

“Am I dreaming?” He breathed out as she wrapped herself around him.

“Yes,” she crooned, her lips brushing his ear. “You are dreaming, sailor.”

He released a shaky breath when her lips met his, her lips encasing his upper one while his hands found her hips. He released a groan, kissing her with such intensity that it scared him. He had no clue who he was even kissing but it simply felt right.

His body was responding in such a way that made him feel almost embarrassed. She pulled away, her expression confused.

And then his eyes snapped open, a deep breath ripping from his lungs. He wasn’t in the water with her.

But his body was wet as if he had been. His memory was missing a piece between her lips and finding himself back here. A blank space in the puzzle of his mind.

What had happened? Was it a dream? Or did she state that it was so that she could toy with his mind?

The sun was out, igniting the sea in dazzling diamonds that danced on the ripples.

By the crispness in the air and the remnants of fog, he guessed it was early morning. He sat up, searching for her.

She was carrying a woven net full of fresh fish. He frowned. Her spear was at the base of the tree, where it always was. And he realised he hadn’t once seen her use it, and the fish she’d caught never had any wounds to them.

With a sly smile, she nodded her head in greeting, starting to prepare the fish with efficiency and ease. He ate with her, wondering how to bring up their kiss last night. How he’d seemed to startle her with his arousal. He wanted to apologise. He also wanted another taste.

But as always when it came to her, his words were stunted. Lodged in his throat and dying abruptly in a burst bubble. She stood, her hips swaying as she moved before taking a seat beside him.

“When will you tell me who you are?”

“It is the same with all of you men,” she mused, running a hand through his hair. He moaned lightly at the attention, his scalp prickling with delight. “So many questions.”

“Sailors are curious by nature.”

“So I gathered.”

“You, however, are very evasive.”

“You are alone on an island with a pretty girl, what more do you need to know?” Her eyes twinkled at her tease, the sun breaking through the leaves above them and dancing across the planes of her face.

“Very pretty.” He smiled. But I need to know more. A lot more.”

The integrity of his ship and crew plagued him, but she simply smiled, her hand caressing his cheek. His beard was a contrast to his soft features, and her eyes travelled them, taking him in.

“Curiosity is dangerous here.”

“And where, exactly, is here?” He pushed.

But her lips brushed his and his memory faded, his eyes opening only to find the sky dark and the stars abundant in the sky. He blinked, confused. Only a second had passed between then and now and yet… the day was gone. And so was she.

He sat up in a rush, his body feeling alien to him. His eyes scanned the beach, searching for her. And she was there, exiting the water, the sea washing off her shores, down her bare skin, and back to the sand.

But he laid back down, not wanting her to know that he was awake. Whatever she was doing, she was in full control of him and he wanted some semblance of self. To see why she was playing all of these mind tricks on him.

She wandered towards the treeline, a way down from him, and her eyes never found him as he pretended to sleep. Like she was sure he was still sleeping soundly like she always planned.

But he was fully aware of himself now and knew he needed to act. He would find out where he was. If she wasn’t going to give him the answers he sought, then he would find them himself.

He kept his movements quiet, leaving their little respite on the beach and following her. She wasn’t hard to keep track of, following a worn-down path that she knew well. The moonlight lit the way, but he kept to the shadows so as not to raise attention to himself.

She trailed him along for ages. His boots caught on twigs and uneven forest floor but he was determined. And after a while, she slowed, gazing up at the moon before she broke into what looked like a clearing.

He waited for a while, not wanting to get caught before he sauntered forward towards the clearing. Only, it wasn’t was he was expecting. The must have been following the near coast, because he could hear small waves lapping against the rock, and he could smell the intense seawater and feel the pull of it.

It was the cove.

The one from the stories his mother would tell him when he was younger. The one in his locket, right next to his heart.

His chest felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending in his body wired with excitement and disbelief.

The cove was every bit beautiful as he’d imagined it. And then some. Bright blue water was ignited by the moonlight. It seemed to hone in on the rock pool that spilled out into the sea. There was no evidence of gold or loot, but the treasure was not that. It was the discovery itself.

Shipwrecks were abundant in the jagged rock formations, the water shallow and glorious. How they hadn’t seen their doom before them, he did not know. Almost like they’d intended to ram right through the island as if it was never there.

The rocks hugged the frame of the cove, the water heaving with wildlife he had never seen before.

And sat upon a rock, was the girl. But he was taken aback, blinking as if he were seeing things through untrue eyes. But she was there, her breasts bare to the ocean while her bottom half was unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

A tail.

A milky blue that accentuated the hue of her golden skin, scales so pearlescent it put every diamond to shame. It fanned out at the bottom, much like fish, indented rays that bled into a deeper blue, melting into the tone of the sea.

He began breathing erratically. This was another one of her mind tricks. Or maybe he was going crazy.

Her hands ran through her hair and she began singing that tune again, the melody echoing off the cove and making him stumble.

A rock loosened beneath his boot and her attention snapped up, a short shocked gasp leaving her lips as her eyes met his. She stared for a moment, and for the first time, he saw something in her that he had never seen before. Fear.

“No,” he rasped, shaking his head. “Wait!” He wound down into the cove, as she shifted off the rock, splashing into the water before swimming away. He sprinted into the tide after her, but she was long gone.

He collapsed against the rock that she had previously been perched upon. Her secrecy and her midnight swims. She had been coming here all along, hidden from him. And he had scared her away.

But he wasn’t giving up on her. He would stay put at this cove from his dreams until she returned, if at all. He would never find his own way back to the main beach.

He waited for her for hours. Until his eyes drooped, the moon mimicking as it gave way to the burning sun on the horizon.

It was as it lit the water in dazzling displays of crystallised blue that he awoke, sensing a disturbance on the surface.

He stood, stumbling and wary. He saw her dark hair break the surface of the pool before her dark eyes found his. She didn’t exit the water any further, and he saw the alarm in her gaze towards him.

“I will not hurt you,” he rose his hands, his tone pleading. “You… You surprised me is all.”

She didn’t move an inch. Hoping that in the hours following their run in that, he would have returned to the beach. But he had waited for her.

“I have searched for this island for years. I only wished to see it. No harm will come to you.”

She rose slowly, the water exposing her shoulders. He tried to keep calm, both questioning his sanity and reality itself. She was as fluid as the ocean around her, like two souls entwined.

“Many try to find this island.” She spoke lowly. “All of them mean harm, and do not leave here alive.”

He heard the threat loud and clear, but the softness in her eyes that he’d been seeing for days was no figment of his imagination.

“But you have not killed me.”

“Yet.” She bit out.

“Was it you?” He was shaking, trying to navigate the situation in which it left him alive. “Who called me here?”

“Perhaps you are hearing things only you can hear, sailor.” Her smile was wry and calculated. A feigned innocence she’d do well to mask better.

“Perhaps. Yet here I am. And you have not killed me.”

“Maybe you are already dead. You sealed your fate by coming here.”

The fog behind her wilted away, allowing his eyes to view hundreds of wrecked ships that lined the shallow shores. He wondered if one was his beloved Siren.

“My mother spoke of this place when I was a boy.”

Her mouth curved and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

“Did she now?”

He frowned, scrambling for the locket clasped around his neck but all he felt was his own damp skin. A phantom sensation of weighted silver whispered against it. His heart dropped to his feet, a wet, bloody puddle that she could sense.

“I… I dreamt of it.”

“You dreamt of me, too.”

He blinked, in a complete daze. His sense of reality was fleeting, melting away with every swell of the sea that kissed his toes.

“That song that you hum. What is it?”

The melody rang out from the waves, and his mind lulled completely.

“Do you like it, sailor?”

“I find it soothing.”

He was trying to soothe her. Let her know that he meant to harm, that his curiosity would not endanger her. No matter how many questions he had and how confused he was. He would only face what was in front of him.

The water around her pulsed as her humming continued, melting in his ears like a gooey potion.

He felt his body being beckoned to the waves, crystal clear and serine. His feet moved before his brain did, carrying him into the current where she waited. He met her there, where her arms wrapped around his neck and she took them further into deeper water.

As if sensing his onslaught of sudden panic, she hushed him, her hand cupping his cheek.

“Trust me.” She whispered. He could feel her… her tail wrap around his legs, fluttering against him. He had been internalising whether what he saw was true or not but now he knew his eyes had not deceived him.

Her breasts pressed flush against him, her hardened nipples brought heat to his cheeks. His arousal was apparent to her and a sly smile crept across her rosy lips in an effort to quell her own feelings.

“Does it not frighten you?”

“What?”

“Me. Like this.” She murmured.

“No. I was… confused at first. But you are beautiful. I have always thought so.”

Never mind the fact that he’d been dreaming of touching her this way for days, the lower half of her was little to deter him. He knew she had a human form of sorts. The fact that she trusted him as her truest self spoke volumes.

She pressed against him further. Until he moaned and his head dropped back on his neck. His expression was one of soft bliss that she wasn’t sure how to decipher.

“I have never touched a man before. Not like this.”

Her words were spoken against the skin of his neck. Wispy and honest. As much truth as he’d ever received from her.

His eyes met hers when she pulled away. Quietly, he asked, “Would you like to?”

“I don’t know how.”

His hands melted down her bare sides, meeting cold scales at her hips. “I can show you.”

“Please.” It was the softest he’d ever seen her. He took one of her delicate hands in his, guiding it down between them. Between his legs, where he was hard and pulsing, and yet, she’d done nothing. But her simple existence was enough to drive him wild.

She gasped as he encouraged her to grip him properly, and she did so gingerly, simply feeling him and exploring him. Far more intensely than she’d done when he was on the beach unconscious.

“That feels nice.” He encouraged.

“This is what you like?” She stared up at him with big brown eyes, and his resolve became a fine glass desperately close to shattering.

“This, and much more.”

“I would like to do that.”

“I would, too.” His hands found her hips again, her smooth stomach, and her gorgeous tits. Gently squeezing and touching.

She was putty in his hands as they wandered and ventured her body. Her scales were sharp and he winced as he sliced his fingertip on one of them.

He lifted his hand from the water, crimson slipping down his hand. He frowned at the wound, his eyes finding hers as her hand grabbed his, bringing his finger to her lips to leave a kiss on it. Her lips were stained red, and the touch of her lips sealed the wound, healing it right before his eyes.

“How many tricks do you possess, siren?”

“More than you will ever know, sailor.”

“Show me your favourite one.”

Her legs appeared, the scales seeming to shed from her skin and slink away into the current around them. He gripped her thighs, lifting her up and encouraging her to wrap them around his waist.

He moaned at the connection before her lips found his, soft and calm as the waves that lapped against the walls of the cove. The familiarity was welcome to him. He’d had her like this before. On the beach nights ago, before his memory became hazy and he awoke on the beach a start.

He guided the kiss, sensing her hesitation and fear. But he held her tight, kissing her softly yet tenderly, allowing her to follow his lead. She did so well, just as lost in him as he was her.

Her lips were soft, plump, and tasted of the sea. He wondered what her shores would taste like, lapping waves and unpredictable currents. An aromatic bliss he longed for.

He ground his clothed cock against her bare core, moaning against her mouth without shame. As if knowing his apparent enjoyment would make her far less apprehensive. He carried her from the waves, laying her flat on the damp sand before leaning over her.

“Your beauty is beyond anything I have ever seen.” He murmured, cupping her cheek and allowing his thumb to brush over her lips. She flicked her tongue out with a small smile before he pushed his digit past them. His brows turned in as she sucked on it.

Her hand reached between them, squeezing his cock with far more confidence than moments ago. He encouraged her higher to pay attention to the sensitive head of his dick, and she was rewarded with a breathless moan that escaped from his soft lips.

“What does it feel like?” She wondered aloud. “To be touched in such a way.”

“It feels… warm. Explosive and tight and blissful.”

Her eyes lulled at the description, and she could no longer ignore the primitive pulse between her legs that she’d never felt before.

“Make me feel it.” She whimpered. The neediness in her tone was all he needed to hear for him to snap.

He crushed his lips against hers, allowing his tongue to meet hers, messy and wet and obscene. The noises they were both making were even more so, and it took all of his willpower to not finish in her hand. He grabbed her wrist, pinning it to the sand by her head.

“I will be gentle.” He spoke against her temple. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“How will it hurt?” She had to ask, wanting him to be as feral and true as he could, whatever it entailed. All she knew was that he felt so fucking good and she wasn’t sure how it could get better or what would even ensue.

“This ends with my cock inside of you, pretty girl. You’ll be tight but I will make sure you’re ready for it. It will not hurt. Not with me.”

She gripped his shoulders in awe, not quite understanding what he meant but her body was flooded with a rush of arousal that he saw darken her eyes. He kissed her again, his hands exploring her chest, toying and squeezing until she was a writhing mess.

He adored her body. Cherished it with lush kisses and his beautiful hands, kissing her tits and her stomach and neck. Alternating where his touch was so no inch of her felt left out. His teeth nipped at her hips and she unintentionally rutted them up towards the touch.

He smiled against her, licking a bold stripe along her abdomen with a hum. His lips went south, and her eyes widened in shock.

“It’s okay, precious. It will feel so good.”

His hands gently coerced her legs to open so he could settle between them. He didn’t dare look anywhere aside from her face as his hands squeezed her delicious thighs, spreading up over her stomach again before veering back down.

And then his eyes settled between her legs and he let out a raspy moan.

“So pretty here, too.” He complimented and a flash of heat warmed her body. “Have you ever played with her?” He asked, his thumb coming to gently sweep over a particularly sensitive spot that made her gasp. “Like this?”

“N—No.”

“No?” He tutted. “That’s a shame, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know how.” She eyed him, crazed for his touch already, her legs shaking.

“I can show you.” He hummed, brushing his thumb over her clit to entice a small whimper from her. “Would you like that? For me to play with her? Make you feel things you’ve never felt before?”

“Please.”

“I like that.” He smiled, using a finger to gather her wetness, going back to her clit to rub small circles. “Say it again.”

“Please…” She whispered. “Please.”

“So polite, pretty girl. Begging me to touch this gorgeous cunt.” He applied more pressure, rewarded with a loud moan from her parted lips. “Oh, you poor thing. You’ve never been touched like this, have you? You’re dripping onto my hand.”

“More,” She gasped out. “please, give me more.”

“I will. Be patient. Need you to be as wet as possible, I don’t want to hurt you.”

She made a high-pitched noise at his words, how gentle and caring and dirty he was. This world he knew so much about, and yet she’d only dipped a toe in.

His fingers worked her slowly, dipping back to her gooey centre to spread her growing wetness to her clit, drawing soft circles as she grew accustomed to having someone touch her this way. She was so wet and creamy that it had his eyes blurry.

“Is that nice?” His voice was dreamy as he watched her shake.

“Very.” She sighed.

“I have barely started.” He smirked at her and she threw her head back as he quickened both his pace and his pressure.

“What more will you do?”

He kissed her thighs, so close to where he wanted to taste. Fuck, she was so sensitive. Her thighs twitched and threatened to clamp around his head were it not for him holding them in place.

“I like that I am the only one who has touched you here. You will only know pleasure to come from me. You have no idea how hard that gets me.”

“Let me feel you again.”

“Not yet, pretty. Be patient, remember?”

“Please—”

He growled, coming up to face her, his forehead pressed against hers as he clenched his teeth. “You touch me, and this will be over before we can get to the best part. Do you understand?”

She fucking melted beneath him, submitting to him, her eyes wide and watering as she stared up at him. She nodded meekly, his hand still at work between her legs.

“That’s a good girl.”

He resumed his former position, nestled between her legs. The sight of her was staggering. If he was homesick before, he wasn’t now.

“Fuck, sweetness. I have to taste you.”

She frowned, snapping her gaze to him. “Taste me? Wh—” She cried out at the feel of his facial hair against her core before his wet tongue came to greet her. She sobbed out in relief at the contact, shaking against him as he gently flicked his tongue on her.

He moaned obscenely loud as he took a full lick of her, gathering her sweet taste on his tongue, and swallowing with a low hum. He sucked firmly on her clit, swirling the tip of his tongue until she was shaking so hard that he had to hold her down.

Her hands reached out, searching for something to hold onto, feeling out of her depth and overwhelmed while he ate her. He grabbed both of her hands with one of his, placing them in his hair.

She gripped his long curls, anchoring herself to him.

He pulled away momentarily to rasp out, “Pull my hair.” Before resuming. She listened, fisting and pulling at his locks as she got fucking ruined.

A warmth built up in her stomach and she felt her body tingle. He pulled back, wiping his face on his anchor tattoo before his eyes met hers.

“I’m going to use my hands now, pretty. Stretch you a little, make sure you can take me.”

She only nodded, unable to breathe, and not sure what he meant. But with how good he was making her feel, she was happy to ride the wave of him.

He circled her clit again, always paying attention to it, while his other fingers ran up her centre, watching her drip for him. He slowly, so so slowly, circled her entrance with a lone finger, pushing in.

She gasped, her spine straightening.

“Shh, pretty girl. Relax for me.”

She tried but felt so tightly wound from his touch that as he gave her his finger, she could have exploded. It didn’t hurt, per se, but there was some form of a foreign sensation there.

“Is that okay?” He checked in. She nodded and hummed, jaw dropping when he withdrew his finger just to pump it in again. “And this? Is this okay?”

He watched her expression, a cocky and all too knowing grin gracing his face. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Feels nice in your tight little cunt.”

His mouth was filthy, only adding to her heaping arousal. She was so over her own head and any and every thought revolved around him and what he was doing to her body.

He returned his mouth to her clit, sucking, flicking, biting. Obsessed with how she felt and tasted. Her reactions were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Pure bliss gracing angelic features, moans, and hums sounding from her throat, sounding much like that tune that was often carried in the wind when she was near.

Adding another finger once she was saturated, he fucked her with them. Slow yet deep, scissoring them to get her used to the stretch. He knew she’d struggle to take him, but the way she was writhing for him made him think she’d be delirious once she’d gotten used to his cock.

“That’s it,” he spoke against her. “My pretty girl is so wet. Do you like my fingers? Hm?” She nodded, feeling insane. “You do, yeah.” He drawled. “Wait until you get my cock, pretty girl. You’ll be fucking dripping.”

She moaned loudly, so loud that it echoed off of the cliffs encasing them. He took her harder, biting her clit harshly. She felt as if she were about to unravel, a completely unnerving sensation as she melted into his touch more and more.

He worked her harder and faster, the muscles in his arms flexed as if sculpted and molded from marble. The sight alone had her struggling to take a breath in. She watched him command her body in a way that she didn’t know was possible, his mouth paying full attention to her clit whilst his fingers destroyed her from the inside out.

Her body thrummed as if coming to life. Burning hot, with searing blood in the currents of her veins. She tightened up, tensing, her body on the verge of something she didn’t know how to gauge.

“What’s happening—”

“Shh, pretty girl, it’s okay. This is what your body wants, let it happen.”

She cried out sharply, her voice a chorus of golden bells that made his ears ring with desire. She exploded around his fingers, into his mouth, all over his chest. He moaned along with her, equally as turned on.

He came over to her, kissing up her body on the way. “How did that feel?”

“Incredible,” she gasped, “I’ve never… felt that before.”

No words had ever been sweeter to him. He kissed her, allowing her to taste her orgasm on his lips and tongue. She hummed, allowing her leg to hitch up onto his hip, drawing him closer.

He rutted his cock against her, her wetness seeping through the thin material of his drawers.

“Can I touch you now?”

He sighed against her mouth. “Yes, pretty girl.”

She mewled, reaching down to cup him. He moaned, kneeling to remove his drawers. She couldn’t hide her reaction to the sheer beauty of him. She’d never seen a man like this before and didn’t even know such a sight was possible. His body was toned, tight, with broad shoulders and a nipped-in waist.

His tattoos were forms of art, decorating his beautiful body. From the ferns on his hips to that fucking tailed woman on his arm. He was truly faced with his fate.

She traced a shaking hand along his defined stomach, his abs trembling beneath her touch. He allowed her to touch him, enjoying the feel of her delicate hands on him.

“That’s it, sweetness. Take your time.” His voice was so deep she felt it in her clit. She hummed out a soft noise.

“How do you like to be touched, sailor?”

He dropped his head back on his neck with a moan before focusing back on her, her eyes alive with intrigue and a little bit of fear.

“Like this,” He guided her hand to his bare cock, and she gasped at how hard and scorching hot he was.

“It’s… you’re so big.”

“You can handle it, sweetness.”

He pulsed in her palm as he showed her how to touch him, moving her hand back and forth. He allowed a string of saliva to fall downwards onto his length.

The added moisture made him whine, thrusting his hips into her hand.

“What else?”

“Here.” He grabbed her spare hand, taking it to his balls, and showing her how to touch them. He whimpered as she massaged them, gauging his reaction as to how hard to do so.

He cursed loudly as she sped up her hand, bowing over her to kiss her deeply, messy and needy. His tongue met hers in a frenzy.

“Use your mouth, sweetness. Need to feel you gag around me.”

“H—How?”

She had heard of no such thing, but how he had used his mouth on her, she knew it had been nothing short of magical.

He helped her stand, taking her over to the flattened rock where she had been resting before. “On your back.” He ordered, his voice low and rumbling with demand.

She did as she was told, happy to let him guide her. She was soon on her back, the rock smooth and familiar to her. One she’d spent hours on, basking in the sun, memorising tunes, and counting the pretty shells she’d scored from blue depths.

He groaned at the sight; her hair fanned out around her, her cheeks flushed from her orgasm, and her legs pressed together to curb her arousal for him. He walked around until he was looking down at her face.

Taking a solid step forward, he cupped her throat, the mermaid flexing against his skin. Muscles rippling beneath its inked scales.

And then the siren before him, mystical and eerie. Dangerous and yet… she was here on her back for him, waiting for his next command.

“Grab it.” He ordered, stepping closer. Her hand wrapped around his cock, expertly massaging and touching. His jaw dropped as she smiled, obsessed with how he felt.

“Does every man look like this?”

“No one is this lucky.” He smirked. She giggled at his jest, his confidence unmatched. “Open your mouth, siren. Let me see where I’m going to fuck you.”

She made a small sound, almost like a helpless animal, and dropped her jaw.

“Obedient little thing. Stick out your tongue.” She obeyed. “Yeah, that’s it. There we go.”

He moved forward until his cock, still held in her hand, was in her face. She eyed it, intimidated and lost.

“Lick it.” He said softly.

“Where?”

He guided his tip towards her, “Right there.”

She gave him a single, small lick. Timid and shy. But the fucking noise he made had her legs trembling with desire.

“Take your time.” He spoke gently as her mouth explored him, getting used to his sheer size, memorising each vein. Licking his entirety with pleased little hums.

“Wrap your lips around it—fuck, just like that.”

She took his head past her lips and his whole body trembled. He pushed her hair from her face, not wanting anything to obstruct his view.

He encouraged her hand to play with what she couldn’t yet fit in her mouth.

He cupped her cheek, holding her still. “I’m going make you take it, okay? Tap my leg if you need a breath.”

She nodded.

“Use your words.”

“Okay. Yes.”

He held onto the sides of her neck, slowly working his cock deep into her mouth, further and further until he could feel her throat constrict around him. She gagged at the assault and he pulled back.

“Is that—”

“Don’t stop.” She rasped and he groaned at how eager she was.

He fucked her throat, slow and steady even though his whole body was trembling. “Oh, you like this, don’t you?”

She whined around his length, her eyes watering, streams falling down her temples. But she didn’t want to stop. She wanted him to feel the pleasure that he made her feel. She was ravenous for it, to hear his blissed-out noises and see what happened when he met his end. Would it be like hers? Stronger? Wetter?

“Fuck,” He whined as she let him take full control and use her throat. To think she had never experienced anything remotely close to this, and here she was, being so good for him and so open and willing. Maybe he really was dreaming.

Her hands reached out, one bracing on his muscled thigh, right over the inked tiger. The other went to his balls, heavy and warm in her palm as she played with them just as he showed her.

“That’s so good, little girl.”

She gagged at the praise, stumbling before her jaw clamped, her teeth nipping around his shaft. He hissed, pulling back.

She gasped, “I’m sorry. I hurt you, I—”

“No, pretty girl. Don’t be sorry.” He cupped her cheek, kissing her swollen lips, licking away salty tears. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to be gentle with me. Do it again.”

“But—”

He gripped her neck. Not tight, but enough to show her who was in charge. The sun burnt through the fog, igniting their display in honey gold and diluted berry. He kissed her. Too far gone.

“Bite me. Hit me. Do whatever you want to me.”

Her eyes darkened, the calmness leaving her face. There was nothing but pure danger there now. As turned on as he was, he felt fearful at the expression. She pushed him back, too hard, and he stumbled onto his back, flopping onto the sand. Helpless before she straddled him, kissing him hard enough to take his breath away.

She bit his lip, soft at first, but then he let out a sharp yelp when she bit down with force enough to make him bleed. He growled, feeling the warm rush of it seep down his chin. She lapped it up, mewling and grinding her wet cunt against his stomach.

“You are fucking insane.” He gaped, his shock melting into laughter when she smiled manically at him, blood dripping from her mouth.

She allowed his blood to trickle back into his face as she leaned over him.

“What was it you said, sailor? Do whatever I want to you?”

“Anything you want.” He affirmed as soft waves lapped at the back of his head.

The curve of her lips tilted up, her hand coming up to lovingly cup his cheek. So gentle and tender. His heart careened in his chest before her hand abruptly flew up to his forehead, pushing it down until his head was submerged in the salty waves.

He gasped on instinct, the water invading his lungs with a sharp burn. His hands clawed at her wrist but the currents were her home. She held the power here.

Anything you want.

She allowed him to breathe, gasping and blubbering. He glared at her, his chest heaving.

“You little—”

She tilted her head, that fucking tune melting in his ears. Her other hand reached back, gripping his cock in a tight fist. He moaned loudly, whatever insult was lost in the ocean at his back.

“You like that, don’t you?” She threw his words back at him and he whimpered, nodding. His lip stung, the salt water invading the hurt.

“Yes.”

“Mmm.” She hummed before pushing his head back under the waves. Her hand fucked his throbbing dick with such a might he feared he was going to finish all over himself. His chest burned with the lack of air, but he welcomed the panic, and allowed it to fuel how fucking good she felt.

She let him catch his breath, feeling kind as she quickened the pace of her hand, paying extra attention to just the tip of him with the pad of her thumb.

“Fucking filthy g—”

And he was under again, his head submerged while he writhed underneath her. He could feel how insanely wet she was, near on dripping onto his skin, and his hips ground up into her hand, unashamed.

She moved to his side, letting him breathe before her mouth was on his dick again, licking and biting and sucking. Not letting his balls feel left out, even biting harshly into his hips until he was bleeding there, too.

He was dunked under the water for longer and longer each time, the fear making his body shake, self-preservation kicking in while his orgasm loomed right behind it.

She pulled away from his length, moving to straddle his chest, her hands encasing his neck.

“You liked that? The burning in your chest?”

God, if she drowned him he’d probably come at the same time. He groaned at the prospect.

“Let me taste her again.” He gripped her hips, trying to move her up. “Take a seat.” He gestured to his face. “Right here.”

She could feel her body thrum with need all over again, dripping down her thighs at the pleasure she’d been able to give him. She moved up, getting comfortable as she sat on his face. She whimpered at the feel of his facial hair, his beard thick against her.

His tongue flicked out, teasing and slow before she fully collapsed down onto him, giving him no choice but to completely devour her. The water encased him again, and he tasted her and the waves together.

She let him breathe every now and again, but he didn’t stop eating her. He’d been starving for a taste this euphoric all of his life and he was getting fucking drunk off of it.

Her second orgasm was far more intense than the first. Maybe it was because she knew not to be afraid of it. Maybe it was because the man giving it to her was fighting to breathe while he took care of her.

It was a burst of white light that brought shame to the sunrise around them. She cried and sobbed and whined, shaking, falling forward at the intensity of her pleasure. It was so wet. A stream of liquid erupted from her core, drenching him. He drank it, his beard  saturated in her orgasm.

It flipped something inside of him. Some feral, animalistic need. He grabbed her, placing her on her back, the shore lapping at her body before his tongue went to join it.

He kissed her, tasting himself, her, the sea, and his blood between them.

“I want it inside,” she whispered as she gripped his aching cock. “Just like you said.”

“Let me calm down, I don’t want to hurt you.” He muttered, kissing her again, messily whilst his hips rutted up into her hand.

“I want it to hurt.” Her eyes were full of desire.

His head fell into her neck, “Shh.”

“Please… please, I need to feel it.”

“Stop talking. You have to s—stop talking.”

“I need it inside—”

“Shut up.” He growled, taking her hand away from him and pinning it next to her head. “Shut up, pretty girl, please.”

His hand ventured south between her folds, feeling how wet she was before he gave her two fingers, hooking them up against a spot that had her spine turning into jelly.

“You have to be ready.”

“Please, I’m wet. I’m wet. Just give it to me. Stretch me. I don’t care if it hurts.”

Her jaw dropped as he moved his fingers faster. “One more time. One more time and I’ll give you my cock.” He clenched his teeth as he worked harder. “I’m so big, sweetness, drench me again so I’ll fit.”

She cried out, gripping his wrists with both of her hands. She thrashed beneath him as he fucking annihilated her.

“Good girl.” He praised her as she exploded around his fingers. “Do as you’re told, there we go.”

She sobbed, struggling to take in oxygen as she writhed in pleasure. He muttered soft praise and words of encouragement, telling her how pretty she was, how ethereal, how good she felt milking his fingers.

“I can’t wait to feel you do that around my cock, pretty. Want you to cream all over me until I say you’ve had enough.”

“Please give it to me now.” She begged, near tears.

“Yeah, beg for my cock, precious girl.”

“I didn’t know I could feel like this. I need it, please. Please let me have it.”

“Oh, look at you. Cock drunk before you’ve even taken it.”

“Please.”

“Are you wet enough?” He mused, his fingers still exploring, knowing very well how much she was dripping. “Do you think you can take this big cock? Hm?”

“I promise.”

“You promise? You’re such a sweet girl for me.” He kissed her, lifting her legs up to hug around his waist. “I’ll go slow, okay? You don’t have to do a single thing. Just lay back and take it.”

“Okay, sailor.”

He groaned at the nickname, reaching between them to hold his cock, running it against her centre to gather her dripping wetness, moaning at the feel of it. He watched her face as he gently pressed in, swallowing her gasp as she gripped his shoulders.

Yes, she was obscenely wet, but the sting was still there. Sharp yet thrilling. And he had barely done a thing. He pushed in further, angling one of her legs up higher so she was able to take it easier. He was about halfway in now, his head foggy at how tight she was.

She hissed. “Oww.”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, I know it hurts. You’re doing so well. Good girl. You’re so tight, so fucking wet.”

He didn’t move his hips, didn’t give her any more of his length until she was ready. Mewling and whining for more.

“You’re too big.” Fuck the way she was looking at him was driving him crazy. Awe and fear at the same time.

“You can handle it, precious. You promised.”

“I promised.” She nodded, her face out of it, brows turned up and her jaw dropped.

“That’s right. I’m going to feed you my cock until you can take it all. I know it’s big but you can do it.”

She whined, wiggling beneath him in discomfort as he gave her a little more. He was finally able to press fully inside of her, moaning as her walls rippled around him.

“How does it feel?” He asked her, his chest heaving.

“Full. Complete. It’s starting to hurt less.”

“Fuck, that’s… good. That’s so good.”

“Can you please move? Just a little bit?”

“Y—Yeah, I can move.”

He retracted all the way until only his tip was nestled inside of her before slowly rolling his hips forward. They moaned in unison, and her nails clawed at his skin.

“Faster.”

“Faster? You like when it hurts?”

She clenched her teeth together as he pumped into her. “Yes. Oh, right there.”

“What a good girl. Taking my dick even though it hurts. Are you going to cry?”

“More, please.” She begged, enjoying the dulling pain. The bite of it lessened, his eyes as deep as her ocean she frequented. They sparkled, alight in the sun as it beamed on them.

Tears of pleasure and pain fell from her brown eyes as he took her harder, screwing into her with sheer power, though his pace was still controlled.

“Fuck. This pussy isn’t used to being used like this, hm? Clenching around me like you won’t let me go. I’ll stay inside you for as long as you want, pretty girl. This is my cunt now.”

She moaned loudly, throwing her head back, the waves lapping at her hair. The way in which he spoke was driving her wild. His body was ensuring insane euphoria, and his words only added to it. Clearly well-versed in how to please a woman and it made her seethe at the idea of him with anyone else.

“Stop squeezing me like that, you’ll make me come.”

“I can’t help it.” She whimpered.

His expression softened. “Aw, does my cock just feel too good? Are you going to get wet on it? Yeah? Want to feel you explode on me. Give it to me.”

“I can’t yet.” She was too overwhelmed, still trying to get accustomed to the feel of him.

“Oh, you can’t? Is that what you think?” He stared down at her, his hips snapping fiercely against her. “Think again.” And his hand reached down, rubbing sweet circles on her clit. She cried out, her nails ripping into his skin so deep that she drew a worrying amount of blood.

“That’s what I want. Make me bleed while you cream all over me. Fucking crazy little girl.”

She stared up at him, her eyes swarming with terror. He was taking her mind and body to places she didn’t understand. Using words she didn’t know how to grasp. But she felt like she was on fire. His cock was so deep and so big while his hand played that sensitive area just above where they were connected.

“You’re about to… God, I can feel it.” He spat out, his eyes squinting. “So fucking tight around me.” She was so wet, too. The sounds that came from between them were making his ears ring.

“Please don’t stop.” She begged. “I want it again, so so bad.”

“You want me to make it hurt again?”

“Please!”

“Nasty fucking—” He grunted, his arm straightening as he leaned over her, fucking her harder until she was crying out in pain. But she liked it. Liked the sharpness of it. How he was massaging a special spot inside of her that was making her feel lightheaded.

His hand stayed playing with her clit, and he spat down onto his fingers to get her even wetter. The dirty sight had her screaming, exploding messily around his cock that he had to fight to stay embedded inside of her.

“That’s my girl. Precious little thing. You’re addicted to this, aren’t you? Can’t stop fucking coming.”

She nodded, feeling crazed out of her mind. He pulled away from her, flipping her onto the rock, bending her over the smooth obsidian. He spread her legs, tucking his throbbing cock back into her snug walls.

“Mmm. So fucking wet, gushing on my dick like a whore. You were made to take me.”

She clawed at the rock, begging for mercy. His hips hit her ass at every powerful thrust, his hands digging into her sides so hard she knew that it would bruise. The idea of having any sort of physical reminder from this interaction had her shaking.

“Harder, sailor.”

His hand grabbed her hair in a fist, pulling her up until her back was pressed to his chest.

“Captain.” He spat out. “You’ll refer to me as captain.”

“Yes, captain.” She rasped.

“Good girl.” He praised, biting into her shoulder. “Say it again.”

“Take me harder, captain. Make me cry.”

He moaned, fucking her hard and fast, her ass reddening from the force of his drive. The pain was almost overwhelming, her body wanting to satiate the pain but wanting to take him even more.

He could feel her body becoming lax as his cock massaged that spot inside of her, the hurt of his size waning as she completely melted around him. A wet, hot furnace welded together just for him.

Her skin almost glowed gold, and it was then that he realised that she had been the treasure all along.

He moaned softly, his body coming to cocoon hers against the rock. His pace slowed down, deliberate and delicate. She gasped at the roll of his cock inside her, how much more intimate it felt now that he was holding her.

“Pretty girl,” His lips found a sweet spot right below her ear. “So glad I found you.”

She stifled a whimper as he took her, whispering little sentiments in her ear that made her legs tremble. How he’d spent all of his life searching for something, riding vicious tides and sailing dangerous winds. He’d found gold, priceless treasures, and uncharted waters.

But nothing could have prepared him for how fulfilled he felt at this moment. Wrapped up in a beautiful body that no one had the privilege to map out and explore.

Wanting to see her face, to see those deep eyes and plump lips, he placed her on her back. His touch was so gentle that it didn’t feel real. Like he was a phantom of dreams he’d yet to have.

He stepped forward between her spread legs, always his good girl. Her hand wrapped around his cock, which was saturated in her orgasms, and guided him back to her wet haven. He moaned loudly as her walls squeezed around him, delighted to have him within her body once more.

She whined loudly, “Don’t ever stop.”

“I won’t, precious girl.”

She was near tears as he began to slowly fuck into her, his chest pressed tightly against hers.

“Do you promise?”

“Until my last breath.”

She threw her head back, and he took the opportunity to suck and nibble and kiss the skin, a soft sheen of sweat on his tastebuds as his cock throbbed inside of her.

God, she felt insane. Like her body had been immersed in a potion specifically aimed to make him crazy. He stopped fucking her, taking her in with his lust-speckled eyes. Her hips began moving at their own accord, screwing into him mindlessly, searching for release again.

He growled, holding his hands behind his head. His muscles flexed at the action, inked skin rippling.

“Is this what you wanted when you found me washed up on the beach? To fuck yourself on my big cock?”

“I don’t know, captain.” She cried. “I saw you and just knew I had to save you.”

“Thank you, pretty girl. Thank you for saving me.” He leaned down, fingers splayed across her jaw as he kissed her messily.

She made a restless noise. “Take me again.”

“How do you want it?” He asked against her lips.

“Fast.”

“Anything else?”

“I like when you touch me.”

“You like it when I touch your pretty little clit?”

“Please touch it.”

“I will, I’ll never leave her out. I’ll rub your clit while my cock destroys you until you’re gushing all over me.”

“Will you… feel like I do, too? Can you?” Her cheeks heated at the question, hating that she knew absolutely nothing about any of this.

“Yes, I’ll come. I’m going to come so deep inside of my girl. That’s what she wants, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She whined.

“You’ve turned cock dumb, haven’t you? Just aching to taste my cum off my cock after I’ve destroyed you with it.”

“Fuck, please! Just fuck me, make yourself come. Please.”

“Do you want me to use you? Hm? Nothing but a little fuck hole for me? Is that right?”

“Yeah.” She gasped, sobbing.

“You give me one more. One more and I’ll fill you up with my cum.”

“I can’t!”

“Does it hurt?”

It was starting to hurt again, from the intrusion of his heavy thrusts and how often he’d played with her.

“Yes, captain.”

“And if I rub this poor little clit better?” He reached between them, his thumb pressed to her clit to rub firm circles. “How’s that?

“So good.” The words were barely registrable beneath her moans.

“So good,” He breathed out. “My good girl.”

“Yours.”

The sentiment ripped through him like a fierce wind that almost knocked him off of his feet. Yours.

He took her as hard as he possibly could, his chest burning at the exertion. He spat on her clit, though she hardly needed the extra moisture. He flicked, pinched, and rubbed at the sensitive bundle of nerves until she was a crying, shaking mess that exploded forcefully around his cock.

“Fuck, I love that. Messy girl, soaking me like that. So fucking pretty.”

She clawed at his chest, not caring when he hissed and winced at the sharp pain. She knew he liked it. Her cunt trembled relentlessly around him, drawing his own orgasm closer and closer.

“I want it.” She whined as he hugged himself to her, arms wrapped around her to keep her where he wanted.

“You want my cum?” He moaned in her ear, her body his own heaven. “Gonna fill this tight little cunt up with it. Are you gonna take it? Yeah?”

“I’ll take it!”

“All of it? Do you promise?”

“I—I promise, captain.”

“Gonna make you keep it inside of you.”

“Oh, fuck—“

He didn’t know much of how her body worked but hoped that leaving part of his own would become something more. Any sense of permanency on this fucking island was welcomed, especially if it was with her.

“Will you let me stay here? With you?”

“I’d never let you leave anyway, sailor.”

Days ago such words would have him cowering in fear. But hearing them now… it did unspeakable things to him. Spurred his orgasm from a soft tingle to a crackling fire.

“I’ll stay.” He whimpered against her lips. “Fuck you right here until I’m drowning in you. Make you take my cum and keep it inside of you until I’m hard again.” He grunted, fucking her so hard that his teeth were vibrating. “You like that? You want to keep my spent dick inside of you until I’m ready to fuck you again?”

She cried out at the sheer power behind his driving thrusts, his cock achingly hard inside of her, pulsing and throbbing as he neared his end.

“Give it to me, captain. Please let me have your cum.”

Her voice was soft, wispy dreams sent gliding over foggy waters.

He burst inside of her with a loud moan, one that careened in soft echoes around the cove. She gasped at the feel of his cum coating her used walls, her cunt rippling at the sensation. He was beautiful as it was, let alone when he was coming.

His expression was one of undiluted bliss, though he almost looked as if he were in pain. His soft lips parted to allow her the view of his two front teeth, his brow furrowed, sweat dripping from his temples in gentle beads.

She cupped his cheek, her heart breaking at what he wished he had been promised.

His eyes found hers as he came down, staying deep inside of her, his hands flexing against her sides.

Her skin felt cold, he noticed. Far more icy than what he’d felt before. Abnormally so.

“Am I dreaming?” He asked, his voice not sounding like his own. His chest burned as if the air had been ripped from them, abruptly and harshly. He coughed, unable to find a source of oxygen even though he was here… on the beach.

He blinked, the sun disappearing. It was all grey, a deep haze as his eyes struggled to adjust. The waves lapped at his body as the tied came in, swarming at his skin like it was magnetised to him.

“Yes, sailor. You are.” Her voice. Cold and evil. The tune pierced through her words. He opened his eyes and the sting in them was immense. He screamed in pain, only for water to invade his mouth and nose, filling his lungs.

The cove was stripped away, in its place a deeply submerged trench. One that he had been somehow forged into.

And her. His siren. Her eyes dark pits, her scales shimmering with divine wickedness. Her tail swirling through currents she knew how to hold. He was drowning. He had drowned. He could not tell what was real, only that his body was no longer part of him.

Her hand reached out to him, touching his forehead as she had on the beach.

And he saw flashes. Flashes of the cove shrouded in gold. Flashes of her body and his body. Their joining. Flashes of death and suffering. Flashes of his ship and an angry storm that took it.

He had not left his ship.

He had gone down with it.

***

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[readychilledwine]

Requiem for a Dream

Part 4 : Closer

(Three Months into Rhysand's return home)

Rhys is left with no choice but to call the bargain with Feyre in, but it turns out the anger the cursebreaker fills him with is the perfect catalyst.

Warnings - a lot? NSFW, Smut, Penetration, rough sex, d/s dynamics, bratty behavior, mentions of self pleasuring, mentions of voyeurism and exhibitionism, degradation and praising, light impact play, alcohol use. Let me know if I'm missing something?

A/N- this is the end, my loves. From here forward would begin the journey that is ACOMAF but with my OC. I'm interested in diving into a tense dynamic between her and Feyre that is very much an enemies to friends trope. I just do not know if I will. If you are interested, this one is pretty obvious to the gurlies with a banging time playlist, "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails

Part One Part Two Part Three

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Rhiannon could hear Rhys arguing with Feyre. The bargain they struck had begun zapping him this morning and used that small piece of him that lived inside of her to force him to feel her emotions. Panic, fear, depression. He had tried pushing it aside as long as he could before getting too angry to ignore it any longer. 

Rhiannon had dressed him impeccably for his first outside of the court appearance since leaving the mountain. He looked like a God. His fitted black trousers, a black shirt, and jacket with embellished lapels. His swirling chest tattoos peeked out from under his clothing. She, admittedly, had been drooling over her husband.

In her mind, his outfit highlighted the return to health he'd undergone. It showed that his court was thriving under their strong high lord. Appearance was one lesson she took very seriously from her own father. Even if Rhysand hadn't repaired his court alone, she ensured it looked like it he did.

The other high lords did not need to know she had been a driving force in how quickly they recovered. They didn't need to know Azriel and Cassian had made examples of every single male that stepped out of line. That Mor and Amren had slapped the Court of Nightmares back into shape with two long visits. No, she'd allow her mate that credit, especially when it was Tamlin having to face it. She ran a perfectly manicured nail along the rim of the crystal glass before refilling it with the sweet red she had stolen from Rhysand's cabinet.

She smirked as the doorway to their room, and then the bathroom, slammed open and shut. She had been teasing him all day. Sending him images of her playing with herself, sending him images of last night when she was watching him with his cock in her mouth. Now, she sat in their oversized tub, drinking wine, and looking out over their court, she regretted nothing about the bratty behavior she had sent him despite his multiple delicious warnings. Not when it would become this.

She could feel is rage ripping through the bond like wolves. But all of that stopped the second he saw her, naked and wet, in the steamy haze of their tub. "Are you going to join me, or just stand there?" She looked back at him over her shoulder. She watched his eyes go wide and his smirk grow. She took it one step further, wiggling her hips at him.

He growled at her, immediately pulling his clothing off. "Stay right fucking there. Do not move." 

"Right here?" She motioned to the bench her knees were on. "Right in this spot?" She had arched her back and leaned forward out of the tub, allowing him a full view of the absolute present she was offering him. She smirked as he was instantly in the water and over to her within seconds. 

His hand found purchase in her hair, pulling it to arch her back even more. "Teasing me today, little mate? Do you think it was really appropriate to send me images like that while I was trying to save the cursebreaker?" He placed kissed along her neck and jaw line before whispering into her ear, "Did you enjoy fucking the toy I bought you? It sounded and looked like you did, pretty little thing."

She smiled ferally while looking up at him. "I did no such thing, Rhysand. Are you sure your mind isn't playing tricks on you? We both know old age has started to take its toll." A harsh smack found her round ass making her cry out in pleasure. 

"Flithy, fucking, liar." He smacked her ass again, enjoying the way it bounced as his hand made contact, then again and again. He didn't stop until her legs were slightly shaking and her ass was red from the continued strikes. "Am I going to have to fuck some manners back into you, Rhiannon? You are a High Lady. You should behave with more respect."

She felt herself dripping at this point. Rhiannon loved when Rhysand was a gentle dom, but the degrading, angry male she was dealing with right now was her absolute favorite. She loved when he fucked her to release his frustration, and they had a month of build up to this moment. 

She'd spent the past month teasing him. Anything from sucking his cock in the broom closet or under his desk, to having him walk into their shared bedroom with her fingers buried inside of her, to riding his thighs in his office, to begging him finger her under a blanket at family reading night, she'd teased her mate with all she had to offer to lead up to this moment, and he had teased her. He'd wake her with his tongue between her legs, he'd send her memories of them. He kept her on edge constantly.

He reached over her, taking her wine and drinking it. "Did you get that cunt ready for me? Or were you unable to follow that order as well?" He ran a single finger along her folds, groaning at her wetness before pushing it in and making her gasp.

She kissed below his jawline, laughing in a way that had his hand wrapping around her throat and him growling in her ear. She began to ride that finger, then the second he added, moaning before finally answering. "Oh High Lord, didn't you just accuse me of showing you how pretty I looked fucking myself with that toy? Did I not do a good job positioning myself in front of the mirror so you could watch every single inch sink into me?"

"Fucking brat." His fingers withdrew from her and went to his cock. He lined himself up and was inside of her within seconds, his hands gripping her plush hips as he immediately set a punishing pace. Rhiannon screamed at the intrusion before quickly falling into moans and whimpers. "What's wrong, pet? Nothing to say now?" She whimpered at a harsh thrust.

The stretch of his cock had her drooling. No toy compared to her mate. To her husband. Every drag had her eyes rolling back, lips parted as she panted in bliss. Her hips began to meet his as his wings appeared, flared wide in dominance. He was growling and moaning behind her, causing her own pleasure to soar higher and higher.

"Such a fucking tight pussy," another hard spank had her squeezing him and crying out loudly. "Gods I've missed your cunt baby. Feels so fucking good. You were fucking made for me." Another spank, then another. Rhys had his head thrown back as he heard his mate crying out below him. He tilted his head, instead watching her reflection in the glass windows as he fucked her into oblivion. 

Rhiannon was a true ethereal beauty. Her lips were slightly open, whispering his name and praises, her golden skin flushing with the power of his hips meeting her own, bouncing her full ass on his hips and thighs. Her perfect tits. Her small trim waist. Her head fell softly back in pleasure before falling to the side, her back still arched as he took his pleasure from her. 

She was twitching around him with every rich heavy drag of his cock against her. She was begging him for more. "Rhysand, please," a soft moan fell as he moved to angle himself and her to kiss her. A sharp well aimed thrust had her pulling her lips away, "Oh fuck, Rhys!" He began to speed up, hitting that spot. The one he knew all to well from their time together. "Fuck! Yes! Yes! Right there, Rhys!" Her walls were fluttering more and more, the coil in her stomach tightening. "Please! Rhysand please!"

Rhys knew one thing to be true as his name started to fall from her lips in constant breathy moans like a mantra:

He never wanted anyone the way he wanted her. The way he craved her. Whispering her name was enough to breathe life back into places Rhysand didn't even know had died inside of him. She was his. He was hers. From the day he swore those vows to her, until the day they parted this life together.

He felt their bond glowing brightly between them, shimmering and dancing as if it had come alive at this final act of their reunion. He knew also then that he'd never allow anything to come between them. Never again.

"I'm so close, Rhys," he kissed her neck. The hand holding her throat ran down her body as water splashed between them. He found her clit, ghosting it.

"Me too, Rhia. I love you, baby. You know that?" She nodded, whispering to him how much she loved him in return. Her walls were pulsing around his cock, begging him for his release. "I want you to come for me. Come for your high lord." 

Rhys pressed on her bundle of nerves, groaning as her pleasure shot through their bond like a well timed arrow. They tumbled over the edge together, Rhysand moaning so loudly he knew the mountains shook as Rhiannon screamed his name. He allowed her to relax, enjoying her little wiggles on his cock as she spasmed below him. He placed gently kisses to her shoulder, coming down much quicker than her and whispering praise into her rounded ear. 

She was glowing, and it was then that he remembered why he kept her ready for him at all times. She looked like a goddess, her power humming and replenishing some piece of the realm with the extra magic and energy she found in release. Her eyes were shut, and she circled his neck with her arm, pulling him into a passionate kiss as the bond began to settle back down. 

"I missed you," He pulled out of her and pulled her into his lap as he sat in their tub. He pulled the bottle of wine and glass back over to them before taking a drink and offering her one as well. 

She placed small kissed on his jaw line. "I missed you too." She leaned her head on his shoulder, her fingers lacing with his free hand resting on her stomach. "You two were fighting?"

"She threw her fucking shoes at me." Rhiannon paused looking at him before bursting into laughter. "Rhia, this isn't funny. She threw her Godsdamned shoes at me. One hit me, darling."

"Do you have a booboo?" She began checking him over, dramatically looking for any signs of damage. "My poor Illyrian baby! How ever will you recover? Should I call for Madja? Maybe she will put you on bed rest for a week. I will stay by your side and be your nurse if I must." 

Rhys nodded with a smirk at his wife's antics before making eye contact with her. "Keep up that behavior, and I'm going to fuck the attitude right out of you. Your sudden lack of manners is appalling. You spent far too much time with Cassian and Azriel."

Rhiannon smiled, pressing a kiss against his lips. "I apologize my powerful, handsome, intelligent, and cunning mate." He pulled her into another kiss. "Make me a promise, Rhys?" He nodded at the request. "Promise me from here forward we do all of this together. No more one of us is left behind, no more you self-sacrificing, no make fake facade that I am just your little piece of eye candy. Us, from here forward, working together as a team."

He nodded, kissing her shoulder. "I promise you, from here forward, I will take you with me wherever I go, that I will involve you in my choices and decisions. I will never allow something like this to keep us apart for so long ever again. That will end your position as a spy, though, Rhiannon." She nodded at the expected condition. "The priestess knows you are my High Lady," he waved his arm, unglamoring the swirling pattern that covered her right hand and arm. The tattoo he had placed into her skin once she was sworn in as High Lady in secret. "It's time for our family, court, and other High Lords to know as well." He kissed her hand, and each finger.

She leaned in capturing his mouth with hers and relaxed into a long slow kiss. One that was vastly different from the previous they've shared since his return home. It was filled with love, joy, anticipation. She gave him every single ounce of passion she had in her soul and he returned it with his own. They pulled apart, catching their breath together as Rhysand rested his forehead on hers.

"We will begin that process once dear Feyre Cursebreaker is back in Spring. Rght now, darling, we are going to our bed together. So I may ravage you over and over until you are nothing more than a silly cock drunk whore." She giggled as he lifted her out of the water, carrying her bridal style into their room with a wide smile on his face.

"I love you," she whispered as he laid her down on the silk sheets.

"I love you too, Rhiannon."

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