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dilatorywriting · 3 months

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Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 4]

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 7.2k

Summary: It is very, incredibly important not to get attached to someone who will no doubt be leaving you high and dry to die stranded on an island any day now—be they man or fish. And you are definitely, definitely following that rule. For sure.

🌶️ Obligatory Warning for Mild Spice

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

The next morning, there was a conch shell set beside the familiar offering of half-mauled fish.

The insides were a shining, pearlescent pink—smooth and sleek. You picked it up curiously and turned it over in your palms. You’d never seen such a complete one before. Normally they were at least a bit dinged, cracked here or there along the thin edges. But this one was practically perfect. It sat heavy and warm in your palm, and you brushed a finger along the rough ridges.

You looked up and the Siren was lounging at the shoreline, waiting expectantly.

“Thank you,” you said. “It’s really pretty.”

He preened, the fins along the side of his head fluttering wide and colorful. You huffed, amused, and set the shell neatly at the forefront of your slowly accumulating corner of Things. You’d rebuilt the little shanty shelter that he’d had his seagull minions pick apart into useless nonsense that first day together, and it wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep some of the sun off your shoulders at the height of the afternoon and would probably (maybe) hold up under a bit of rain. And that pleasantly cozy hovel of yours was where you’d been keeping your Stuff. The best sticks for poking at the fire, a rock that you’d found with a dip in the middle that made it sort of, almost a bowl if you squinted hard enough, bunches of drying beach grasses that you’d been tediously twining together into bits of rope and other nonsense. That sort of thing.

You placed the conch shell on the roof of it, prodding at it with the tips of your fingers until it sat just so. Like a figurehead on a ship. The crown jewel on your little mess of ferns and driftwood.

“What do you think?” you asked, turning back to the Siren. “Really brings the room together, huh?”

He puffed something under his breath and rolled those amethyst eyes of his, but there was a curl to his lips that looked far more amused than irritated.

You trudged back over and plopped beside him in the sand, the soft, low roll of the waves playing against your toes.

“Today feels like it’s going to be gross again,” you sighed, squinting up at the sun overhead in distaste. The big ball of glowing fire had barely crawled its way over the horizon and already it felt like the world was beginning to steam.

The Siren curled his claws around your ankle and tugged.

You arched a brow at him and he pushed his stupidly, perfectly shaped ones up right back. Like he was positive that he could out stink-face you with ease.

“It’s too early to swim,” you complained.

He tugged again.

“I can’t be in the water that long. You’re going to turn me into a prune.”

He said something back, mouth quirking in irritation, and you focused hard on the shape of it. His expression smoothed with that familiar, near-eerie perception of his and he was reaching forward to dig his free fingers into the sand at your hip.

‘Don’t know what that is.’

“It’s like a—” you frowned, waving your hand around your head. “Y’know. A fruit, that’s gone pruney. A prune.”

He looked at you like you were the dumbest human he’d ever met, and to be fair you very well could have been. You doubted it was an extensive list. And even if it was, you tended to have a proclivity for landing near the top of those illustrious sorts of rankings either way. At least that’s what your Captain saw fit to remind you ad nauseum.

So, like the very mature and intellectually competent person that you were, you kicked a mess of seawater right into his face. And then the Siren was screaming something silent and mad that had all the goosebumps on your arms popping up to say hello, and he was dragging you into the shallows ass first. You skidded along the wet sand and landed in the white surf with a laugh that you had to swallow real fast. Because if you drowned in three inches of water just because you couldn’t manage to not choke to death on a giggle fit, you’d never forgive yourself.

That night, you were lounging by the fire with a belly full of seared snapper and the Siren curled just as contentedly only a few feet away. His fins were splayed out across the damp sands, and you couldn’t help but compare them yet again to some of the finest, spun silks you’d ever seen. Even when they’d been pinched and shredded beneath the prickly teeth of your ropes, they’d still been lovely. But now that they were near-fully-healed, the spread of them was truly impressive.

And they were. Almost healed, that is. You could barely make out the trailing, scar-puckered lines of even the biggest tears anymore. Which was good! Great, even. Because that meant he’d be able to begin his journey home soon, didn’t it? And then at least one of you would manage to get away from this barren mess of rocks and sand.

There was a thump against your thighs that had you jolting back into focus, and you looked down to see a pair of familiar, gem-cut irises staring back in the dark.

The Siren was glaring up at you like there was a Purpose to his sudden loss of personal boundaries, and you blinked down at him in confusion. After a long moment of nothing but your silent gawking, his brow started to pinch and the skin around his eyes went tight with irritation. The fins along his ears rippled like a pissy cat raising its hackles in preparation to lunge, and you cautiously placed a hand against the edge of one. The grumpy fluttering stopped all at once, and if you were a touch more sun-poisoned you would say that those delicate, purple pins relaxed against your palm. Either way, you were clearly on the right track. So you let your fingers trail down towards his temples, and then to the salt-curled waves of his hair. His eyes slipped closed with a pleasant rumble that you could feel all along your skin, and you puffed in half-hearted irritation. Prickly, fussy, bastard man.

You weren’t really sure what he wanted, but for now the gentle scratch of your nails against his scalp seemed to do the trick. After a few cycles of lazy petting, you let your fingers catch in some of the softer, pale hair beneath his fins. It was a bit tangled—possibly from all that frilly posturing of his—and you carefully began picking apart the small knots there one by one. Once those were cleared away, you found yourself with little else to do but sit and play with the newly freed waves of lavender-tipped gold. You tucked one strand over the next, twisting the familiar pattern of a simple braid beneath your palms.

“Deuce grew his hair out at one point,” you chattered idly as you wove those silky locks together beneath your fingers. “That’s someone from my ship, by the way. Deuce. Anyways. He thought it’d make him look more rugged, or whatever. But he just ended up looking like some rogue, sea elf, and everyone was teasing him about how he’d gone for ‘windswept sailor’ and ended up with ‘foppish, little lordling.’ So he chopped it all off again.”

The Siren hummed, and you could feel it against the pads of your fingers.

“Which was a real shame,” you continued. “Because obviously I spent all that time learning to braid it, but also because it actually looked pretty nice—OUCH! What is your problem—"

You yanked your hand away from his sharp teeth and cradled your smarting fingers to your chest. Because the stupid fish had bitten you! Not hard, or anything. Just a little nip. But it’d still hurt. If less as a genuine injury and more as a sting to your pride.

The Siren spat something quick and harsh under his breath, turning up his nose like you’d been the one to err here, and not his wandering fangs.

“What?” you huffed, reaching out to flick at those purple fins in irritation. They twitched against the side of his head to smack at your fingers. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I not allowed to call anyone else pretty, your highness?”

The Siren rolled his eyes with a look that screamed ‘well, duh,’ and you forced your irritation to override the little, bursting bubble of fondness in your chest. So silly, so silly. This ridiculously primped fish of yours.

“Well, too bad,” you grouched, tugging at the end of that half-bound braid. “Just because you win ‘most attractive specimen on the island’ doesn’t mean you get to tell me to pretend I’m blind on top of being deaf. Let me have something, you prick.” And it wasn’t like it was much of a competition—seeing as the entrants were you, him, and the octopus (if you were being generous). Less of a contest and more of a merciful slaughter, perhaps. A kindness that you were even allowed to share the same stage at all.

The Siren muttered something low and amused under his breath, the amethyst in his irises twinkling with the crackling, orange light of the embers beside you. He reached up to twist his claws along your palm and snatch the hand he’d so viciously nipped—bringing it down to eyelevel to observe it more closely in the dim glow of the fire. There was a steady trickle of blood bubbling up along your thumb. Honestly, not much worse than a papercut. Nevertheless, his brow quirked at the soft trail of red and his gaze jumped up to yours with a pointed sort of curiosity.

“What were you expecting to happen? Humans are fragile,” you huffed. “At least more than you are. It’s not like I have scales or things to keep me safe.”

His mouth tucked down on a frown, and his tail swept irritably back and forth through the sand.

“What? It’s not like you didn’t know that,” you tried, awkward. Because he ate stupid, little flesh bags like you for breakfast. Surely he ought to be well aware that there wasn’t much there. Just skin, and muscle, and all the gory, gooey bits beneath. Just like how you knew what it felt like to bite into a piece of bread, or the crunch of an apple. Solid enough to survive in its own right, but something that would give beneath your teeth easily enough that calling it anything other than ‘delicate’ would have been a gross exaggeration.

He turned your palm this way and that, brow pinching down more and more with each fresh prick of crimson. His tail beat against the sand and his talons curled up and away from your skin—like he was worried just touching your fragile, little, egg-shell of an exterior would burst it.

“It’s fine,” you blurted out, still far too confuddled over his progressive panic. You pulled your hand away from his claws and popped your finger in your mouth. “See?” you garbled around the faint taste of copper. And then pulled it out with a pop to show him the slowing trickle. “Totally fine. Just a scratch.”

The Siren watched that little bubble of red with all the vigilance of a hawk eyeing its super, and then he was snatching your wrist back between his talons and dragging your hand down towards his own mouth. And oh my God, this was it. He’d finally decided to eat you after all. What was it? Had your oh-so-breakable human foibles finally pushed him over the edge? Or was it the blood? Were Sirens like sharks? Driven to hungry frenzy by the very scent of your—

There was a gentle, wet warmth along your skin and you blinked through your hysteric descent into adrenaline-manic-mania to see the Siren carefully cleaning the blood along your cut, just as you had only moments before—his tongue running smooth lines along the teeny wound until the sore skin was tingling and spotless. Granted, his endeavors were carried out with a great deal more delicacy than your earlier example of just shoving your whole finger into your mouth like a gremlin, but…

“Uhm—” you spluttered, too gobsmacked to come up with much else. “You—ah—you don’t have to—uh—"

The Siren grumped something at you that you could feel the shape of against your palm, and then returned to diligently wiping away each new drop as it appeared. It was a strange sort of sensation. Not bristly like a cat’s tongue, but certainly not all human. There was a sting to it—something hot and prickly. Poison, maybe? Or… something. Whatever it was, it had the hair on the back of your neck rising to attention and a shiver working along your shoulders. He kept at, silent and meticulous, until finally—finally—the bleeding slowed to a stop. He hummed and turned your palm this way and that, looking over the drying nick in your skin like an artist admiring their work.

Once he was content with whatever it was he’d been searching for, he tucked your hand back along the fins at the side of his head and butted up against your palm in as blatant of a ‘get back to work’ as you’d ever seen.

You swallowed the weird mess of something that had clawed its way up to tangle your tongue and dug your nails back against his scalp just to give yourself something to do other than—than—

“I hope you don’t expect me to do that for you,” you babbled, still far too out of your head with What In The Fuck Was That to do much but gawk like an absolute imbecile at the fact that he’d actually, factually, just—

The Siren rolled his eyes and reached over to drag the point of his talon along the sand at your hip.

‘No need. Already healed.’

You barked out a startled laugh and tugged at the ends of his hair. Your fingers caught at the edge of the braid you’d been weaving, loosening one of the twining sections, and he was hissing and swatting your hands back into place—poking around with his dark claws at the little end you’d fussed with until it was exactly how it had been. And then was dragging your hands back to the half-woven bulk of it with a pointed snarl that was clearly an order to finish what you started, human. Or else.

“Okay, okay, jeesh. I’m on it.”

The Siren trilled low and rumbling under his breath, and beneath the weight of your palm it almost felt like the steady drone of a cat’s purr. Warm, and pleasant, and comfortable in a way you couldn’t quite place. The thin strands of chain-twined-rope you’d woven to make his necklace pressed into your thighs with a scratchy tickle, and the pretty piece of sea glass at its end reflected the low light of the fire in a kaleidoscope of purples. His fins flicked against your fingers in a steady tempo, and when you gave in and pinched one he was rolling onto his side to shove the full weight of himself into your lap. You whined, and bitched, and complained about suffocation, and the stupid bastard of a fish just smacked his tail indignantly against the wet sand and draped over you even more.

Seven, he was such a nightmare. And you were going to miss him so, so much.

The next day passed in much the same way as the one before, and the day after that, and the day after that. And as pleasant as it was, you couldn’t help but feel like the headsman's axe was hanging over your neck. Always there—just a breadth away from falling.

You were fixing your Siren’s hair—redoing that braid of his that he insisted you tuck into his golden locks each and every morning—and normally he was quite responsive to your prattling. Flicking you with his fins and curling his tail along your ankles as you rambled. A silent, steady way of expressing his interest when you couldn’t hear his own responses in return. But today he was… distant. Amethyst eyes locked on the grand expanse of the ocean before you with a forlorn sort of expression on his face. The water was still and quiet today, with sunlight bouncing off the low, rolling waves in a pretty glimmer like the glow off his own, shining scales.

You trailed off, fingers falling from his finished braid to twist in your lap. And he just kept staring. Fins half-pricked along the side of his head and gaze heavy with focus.

You swallowed around the tightness in your chest and forced a smile. You hopped to your feet with a merry, little bounce and reached down to pat him on the shoulder.

“It seems like a nice day for a swim,” you said, and ignored how you could feel your nerves eating through the words. The wobble of them in your throat.

The Siren startled, as much as someone as grandly majestic as he could really do such a thing, and turned your way with a fondly exacerbated huff. He held up a hand, like he was expecting to drag you along with him into the lulling tide, and you shooed away his fingers. His brow pinched and his mouth turned down at the corners.

“For you, I mean,” you clarified. Like your blatant stepping away from the water’s edge wasn’t an obvious rejection in its own right. You turned back out towards the ocean beyond your little cove. “Your fins are doing a lot better, aren’t they? You could probably stretch them a bit, right? With how smooth the waters are today.”

He hummed, considerate, gaze skirting out to track your own. You swallowed around another ball of prickling ice in your throat and kept your grin buoyant and encouraging.

And then he turned back and offered you his hand again.

You frowned, confused. “I can’t follow you out there.”

He rolled his eyes and leaned forward to dig his talons into the damp sand.

‘I will swim with you.’

A pause, where he reached out to poke at your ankle with a pointed jab, jab, jab before finishing off with a—

‘Like always. Stupid.’

“Oh, yeah? Well, I won’t be so stupid when you ditch me halfway out and I drown in the riptide,” you harrumphed and his eyes narrowed grumpily.

He dragged his claws through the sand in short, angry jerks.

‘Won’t leave.’

“Uh-huh,” you drawled, swallowing stiffly again when that curl of awful something tightened behind your ribs. Hoping you could manage to choke it down. It sat heavy and unpleasant on the back of your tongue, like food gone off.

He underlined the ‘won’t’ with hard, pissy strokes.

“How about this,” you tried, because man oh man, you couldn’t do this. It was going to turn you into a ridiculously weepy, clingy mess if he kept talking (writing?) like this. “Prove that your fins work well enough to keep you up and alive before I risk it. And then we can go from there.”

The Siren huffed, sending the longer ends of his hair flipping out to the sides. But those gem-cut eyes of his kept flicking out to sea, and you could see the tip of his tail twitching back and forth—like he was itching to just leap forward and swim. The fins along his ears pricked up again, and then he was turning his nose up at you with some petulant comment under his breath and diving forward into the surf. He smacked his tail down with a splash!, drenching you in a mess of salt and seafoam. You spat, and hacked, and scrubbed the water from your eyes.

“Great way to prove you won’t try and drown me!” you called, hands cupped over your mouth and still spluttering around lingering saltwater. He reared up quick enough to swipe another wave your way before slipping back under, and you laughed through the spray of mist.

You settled yourself back in the sand, ankles crossed and chin pillowed in your knees, and watched the shadow of him dance just beneath the surface—starting in his familiar, looping circles before slowly venturing towards the mouth of the cove. He paced along the breakwater, pectoral fins cresting above the waves to glint bright and sleek in the light of the morning. And then he was darting forward with a great beat of his tail, spraying salt behind him as he dove towards the depths. You waited, anxious, as one moment faded to the next, and then—finally—there was a burst of frothing bubbles as he broke the surface with a great, curling leap—fins flared wide like the wings of a great bird and scales shining like jewels. It was nearly effortless, how he crested over the water. Diving back down in a mess of spitting mists with a flick of those long, trailing fins. He leapt up again, twisting in the air to crash down on his back and it almost looked like he was dancing. You could see the white flash of his grin even from all the way where you were sat. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him so happy. Truly, a sight worthy of every grand tale you’d heard of the Sirens of the Sea.

He circled the mouth of the bay at least a dozen times more—fast, and wild, and breaching the waves in a burst of seafoam like he was trying to give every pod of dolphins out there a run for their money. Gradually, he began to lose steam, and those grand leaps melted into soft curls of his tail in the tide. And honestly, this was the part where you expected him to sink beneath the surface and glide off into the sunset. You braced yourself for it—for the moment that golden head of his would vanish beneath the water and never pop back up again—but instead he bobbed closer.

The Siren rolled in with the waves, panting, and flushed, and looking like someone coming off of a marathon. The muscles all along his torso were jittery with the strain of it, and he looked positively exhausted. Ecstatic beyond compare, but exhausted. He slipped up the damp shore with wobbly arms and came to a stop at your side before very gracelessly and rudely flopping the entirety of his sopping wet bulk onto your person and squashing you into the muck.

You squawked, rightfully indignant, and he just puffed against your neck and let his tail smack harder against your flailing legs.

“You’re going to crush me!” you wailed, shoving at his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes and curled his fins along your hips—spreading himself out in the sands like your complaints held no merit whatsoever. You could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against yours, and the rabbit-fast thump-thump-thump of his heart. His skin was so warm. You could even feel the heat of it off his scales, which you hadn’t even thought was possible. Weren’t all fishy, scaly things supposed to be cold? Slimy, and gross, and like poking a wet blob of some unmentionable gunk scraped off the hull of a ship? Instead it was just… smooth. Glass-polish sleek and all warm muscle twined along your much, much smaller self.

You cleared your throat and turned to blow a frustrated raspberry against the sand.

“You do realize if you break all my bones that there isn’t going to be anyone to cook your stupid fish for you anymore.”

The Siren grumbled something against your shoulder that almost felt like the breathy puff of a laugh, and then he was collapsing all over again with a sigh that ruffled all the soft, short hairs at the nape of your neck. He scrubbed his cheek against the curve of your throat and you froze. Because it almost felt like—was he purring?

A deep, low, tremulous thing that you could feel rumbling against your skin. Like laying a hand against a mast strung too tight in a storm. Or maybe more like that one time you’d found a stray cat lounging in the sun by the docks—the sweet, old thing chirping softly beneath your palm in a lulling drone that tickled all the way up your arm.

The Siren’s purr wasn’t quite like either of those things, but perhaps a mix of the two. Dangerous but warm, powerful but cosseted. More predator than pet, and, well, that’s what he was, wasn’t he? And honestly, it was pretty nice. A language you could feel rather than hear, something just for you.

So you let yourself relax beneath the weight of his scaly bulk with a sigh that wasn’t quite as aggrieved as you would have liked, and his tail twisted another loop around your calves. His fins spread around the pair of you like a roll of fine silks, and while the texture wasn’t exactly soft, they were delicate enough not to feel suffocating or coarse either. Sleek and cool to the touch, and maybe the thickness of canvas. And there were just so many of them. Long, and trailing, and ruffled along the edges like the folds of a fine-boned fan. Your weird, purple blanket. If Riddle ever found out you’d been using a Siren as bed linens, he’d probably have an aneurism and scrub you in one of the scullery buckets for a week straight.

It was stupidly easy to fall asleep like that—wrapped up in lavender and plum, with the thrum of his heart next to yours. You napped all through the afternoon, and only woke up once the sun had set over the horizon.

You blinked awake to stars in the sky and a strange, scratchy sensation at your hip.

The Siren had apparently finished up whatever little bout of insanity that had made him think you’d be the perfect impromptu pillow. He hadn’t gone far—or even anywhere at all really—but he was propped up at the hip now instead of crushing you into the shore. His hand was resting just beneath the hem of your shirt, right over the origin of that bizarre, ticklish feeling. You blinked again to clear the salt and sleep-grit from your eyes, and realized it was his talons. Not ripping, or tearing, or rending. Just very, very carefully tracing a set of shapes into your skin. The same three symbols, over and over. Up, and down, and up, and curled.

He traced those shapes again, and again, and again. It was almost—you’d think it was letters, if not for the strange, swirling pop of them. Almost like the words he’d written in his own language all those days ago. His claw dragged along the skin there in the faintest prickle, leaving slowly growing streaks of red in their wake with each repetition. You opened your mouth, ready to ask him what exactly he was so painstakingly etching into your hip, and paused.

You’d realized over the past however many weeks you’d been marooned on this little crescent of sand and stone that maybe Sirens weren’t all you’d thought them to be. And that maybe you really didn’t know much about them at all. Something about the slow, cautious way that his claws were tracking along your skin made you think that this was another of those things that you just didn’t get. And going by how quiet he was, how stalwart and careful he was being not to let the knife-sharp curves of those talons dig too deep or do anything other than trace back and forth, and back and forth, it might be something… Something important. Or at the very least something that you had no business bothering him about.

Least of all if he’d be leaving any day now.

So you tossed your head back on a very loud, very dramatic yawn and used the ensuing stretch to gently swat his hands away.

He didn’t look put out by your ridiculous show of flopping around and scooching out of his grip, so that was good at least. You sat up and rubbed at your eyes, and he just kept staring. Kept to his place in the soft, wet sand not a foot away and eyes sharp in the lowlight of the evening.

“Well,” you chuffed on another yawn. “I’m starving. Dinner?”

The Siren rolled his eyes and dipped his chin in what could perhaps generously be classified as a nod. He reached up to flick at the mused braid in his hair with a pointed scowl—twisted and tangled from the salt of the sea and his earlier rambunctious tomfoolery. You sighed, overly put upon, and hefted your way to your feet.

“Yes, yes. And I’ll fix your stupid hair.”

Another nod, this one far more pleased, and the Siren settled himself neatly back into the low roll of the waves to watch you work.

The next morning when you clawed your way back into consciousness, the Siren was already awake and staring off into the distance.

The fins along his head were pricked in that same, focused way from before that made you think of a hound dog catching a scent. There was a strange sort of energy about him—not quite nervous, but certainly not anything comfortably at ease either. Unsettled. Jittery. The end of his tail flicked against the sand, and the fins along his spine curled and arched to an unsung tempo.

You followed the path of his leer and didn’t see much of anything yourself. Just an endless stretch of blue in all directions with the occasional white crack of a wave breaking along its surface.

His tail smacked at the muck again and you felt something tight and stupidly, stupidly selfish curl in your stomach.

You swallowed it down, just like you’d said you would. Because you’d meant it when you’d told him he deserved his happy ending, and you weren’t going to let the rotten, nervous thing growing in your guts stop him from having that. Not that you could even if you wanted to, but it was the principle.

“…are you going to swim again today?” you asked, and one of those fins swiveled in your direction. You came to stand at his side and curled your toes in the sand to keep yourself steady. “You should, you know. To make sure everything is really all fixed.”

The Siren tore his gaze away from the sea to cant his head at you with a sharp, suspicious narrowing of his eyes.

You held your hands up in defense. “I’m just saying. You want to be able to go home, don’t you? Back to your pod?”

He frowned, tight, but his glare flickered back out to the mouth of the bay like he couldn’t help himself.

After a long, long moment, he reached out and dug his claws into the sand.

‘Not safe yet.’

You arched a brow. “Oh, come on. I’m sure it’s fine. If anyone could make it back, it’d be you.”

He turned back your way and arched a brow, looking entirely unconvinced.

You huffed and crossed your arms. “Don’t get all modest now. You’re the most obnoxiously proud person I’ve ever met—fish or otherwise. I’m sure you can do anything you set your mind to.”

His brow pinched again, and there was something almost like worry sparking in those amethyst eyes of his.

“Look—” you said, reaching out to plant a palm against his shoulder. “If it doesn’t work out, you can always just come right back here, okay? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

You weren’t going to think about how nice that sounded, and how absolutely, bitterly selfish it was to hope that he’d turn right back around and head back. You weren’t.

The Siren’s brow pinched and he turned back to the open water, fins rippling against his sides and mouth twisted down at the corners.

You tugged at the braid in his hair.

“Don’t make me tie you back up again just so I can drag you out.”

He scoffed and spat something at you that looked like it was properly bitchy, and it had your lips quirking on a smirk. But prissiness or no, he’d started to let himself slip down against the surf, to lull deeper into the shallows and flare his fins at his sides for balance rather than a show of irritation.

You swallowed the last, lingering bite of dread at the back of your throat and offered him a winning smile.

The Siren huffed, and right before he sunk all the way into the water, he set his talons by your feet and scribbled—

‘Do not do anything stupid.’

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved off. “Sure.”

He underlined the ‘do not’ with a harsh sneer that could have made paint curl and the fiercest of generals quake in their boots, and you burst into peals of too-fond laughter.

“Okay, okay. I promise. Swear.”

He nodded, firm, and finally—finally—sunk beneath the surface with a grand, sweeping beat of his tail.

He circled the whole of the bay once, twice, thrice, and then set out past the breakwater with another of those bounding leaps that looked like something straight out of a painting.

You sat and watched the rolling waves until the sun was high in the sky, and then long after it had begun its creeping descent. Fat and sluggish over the horizon, dripping gold along the water like the strokes of a paintbrush. Until there were no shadows in the tide, no purple fins popping up from beneath the surface to smack at your ankles. There hadn’t been for hours now. The glint of his tail had slowly grown further and further away, and you’d been staring out at nothing for longer than not.

You stood with a sigh, legs wobbly and prickling with static as you stretched out of your scrunched up crouch.

You moved towards your little shanty hut and carefully readjusted the conch at its helm so that it sat just so. You stepped back with a soft nod and began your familiar trek towards the other side of the island, dutifully ignoring the stutter in your steps and that tight, miserable something twisting in your guts that you refused to name.

It was fine. He’d be home soon, surely. With his pod—his family. Which was what you’d wanted. And now… well, you had to go catch some dinner for you and your octopus. And there was no use waiting around.

You fucking sucked at fishing.

Which was a lesson learned with miserable, sopping wet consequences. You sat in front of your stupid fire, ringing out your stupid, soaked shirt, and sneezing in the chill of the night air. You’d never been responsible for hauling in food on The Rose Queen, and the Siren had basically been feeding your stranded ass from day one (whether intentional or otherwise). And so now here you were. Fishless, friendless, and freezing.

You sighed, miserable, and carefully made your way back to the familiar, little tidepool in the crags. You knelt down by the teeny pool of water there and the octopus inside was immediately scurrying for cover. When no tasty treats rained down overhead like the gift of some benevolent god, it slowly creeped its way out from beneath the stones with a trudging sort of paddling you wanted to call pouty.

“Sorry, little guy,” you huffed. “I don’t have anything for you today.”

You reached forward and the octopus panicked—trying to flee so fast that the poor thing wound up twisting itself in knots. Its stubby tentacles curled and flailed uselessly in its puddle, and you tutted in sympathy. You scooped the blob into your palms and immediately four sets of tentacles were curling around your fingers like a lifeline. Its little suckers pulled at your skin with sticky smacks as it tried to burrow away into your skin. And Sevens—OW! What the Hell!

“Chill, chill!” you squawked, trying to wrangle the thing more securely into your hands and stop it from pinching the flesh clear off your bones. “I’m just—would you—look, I don’t want to drop you, okay? So would you just—"

The octopus screamed, and you didn’t even think that was possible. You could feel the sharp, yowling vibrations of it all along your fingers and a few of the gulls nesting along the rocks took off into the air with a harried flurry of feathers and scrabbling claws. Their wings thwacked the back of your head and you swatted them away with a shrill scream of your own. Why did everything on this stupid island have to be a no good, dramatic, serenading, piece of shi—

“Fine!” you shrieked, feeling your molars ache with it. “Begone!”

And hurled the thing as far as you could over the edge of the rocky shore. It landed in the water with a lackluster plop of fat bubbles and immediately darted away like a prisoner fleeing captivity. And not, you know, the benevolent hand of the very lovely pirate who had been feeding and caring for it all these weeks.

You kicked angrily at a mess of pebbles, and then swore loud and furious when all it did was scuff up your toes and prick bruises into your heels.

You trudged back to your stupid, little hovel and collapsed miserably into the sand.

Here you were, trying to be noble, and kind, and give all of these ridiculous sea creatures the second chance at life that you would never have. And what did you get for it? An empty stomach, an aching heart, and gravel in your fucking feet—

“Well,” you chattered to yourself. Pleasantly poisonous and tendons jumping in your jaw, “I suppose at least it can’t get much worse.”

Which should have been the universe’s signal to do something truly petty. The skies opening overhead in a torrential downpour. Your little, stick home collapsing under the sheer weight of your patheticness. A crab scuttling up from the depths just to pinch your toes. Something like that.

Instead, there was a gentle breeze that tickled your cheeks and coaxed you into looking out over the horizon.

There was something there—something in the distance that you couldn’t quite make out from where you were curled up suffering in the sand. You sniffled past angry tears and scrubbed the back of your hand over your nose, and then let that touch of wind guide you forward on wobbly legs. You had to climb all the way up the salt-slick rocks to get a good look at it. But there it was. Not too far at all actually.

A ship.

Large, and wooden, and cresting through the low rolling waves with all the ease of the monstrous vessel it looked to be. There was a silver insignia emblazoned on its side, but it was still too far away to make out the particulars. But you didn’t care, because it was a ship. An actual, factual ship.

You waved your hands high over your head and shouted at the top of your lungs.

And holy shit, holy shit—maybe the universe didn’t actually hate your poor guts. Maybe there’d be a happy ending to this whole thing after all.

You watched in the distance as an anchor dropped, and you had to stop yourself from tumbling off your rocky perch in your excitement. One of the small dinghies was lowered into the water and a gaggle of crew climbed down to man it. Slowly but surely, that little boat grew closer, and you sprinted down to the shoreline to meet it.

A man with short, dark hair climbed over the side and met you halfway. His eyes were soft, and brown, and kind, and he offered you a warm smile when you nearly tumbled straight into him in your haste—catching a hand around your arms and helping keep you upright.

He said something polite that you assumed was the usual sort of greeting and intrigue into how exactly you’d managed to find yourself in this state of affairs, and you hastily made to explain your situation as you always did.

‘Thank you—I can’t hear, but I can write and read—And I—’

Your train of thought cut off sharply, and your rambling explanations with it. The brunette was already nodding your way in sympathy and rattling off instructions to his crew. They were all decked out in slightly differing variations of the same, white and navy uniform. With golden buttons and sashes glinting in the low light and silver pendants pinned to their breast pockets. Your doe-eyed savior turned back your way and offered you his arm with another of those sap sweet smiles that lit his cheeks in a merry, rosy pink.

You hesitated, throat bobbing around something tight and cold that curdled along the back of your tongue.

Twining songbirds, wings frozen in flight as they soared up towards an endless sky.

The intricate, little emblem stared back at you proudly from its place on his chest, and you couldn’t help but think of the Siren who’d only just left your cove a few hours before.

‘Not safe,’ he’d demanded, dragging you away from the wreck so frantically you’d nearly drowned from it. ‘Not safe.’

The brunette’s smile wavered at your hesitance, and he wrapped his hand around yours to tug you into the boat.

You climbed in on wobbly legs, because—what else were you supposed to do? Stay stranded on this little patch of sand and stone until you starved to death or went mad from loneliness? Run? From sailors with swords on their belts as long as your arm? To hide on an island that you could traverse in its entirety in a half hour or less? You were always one to happily snatch up the weird and wonderful opportunities life could present to you and run them into the ground, but now… What else was there?

You were settled against one of the small, wooden benches and the brunette shucked off his jacket to drape over your shoulders and the silver songbirds glinted in the low light. He offered you another of those warm, warm smiles before turning to call an order to his crew.

You sighed, miserable, and slouched against the siding—fingers dangling down to brush along the surface of the water.

‘Do not do anything stupid,’ your Siren had said.

And you’d really been hoping to last more than twenty-four-freaking-hours before inevitably breaking that promise, but it seemed the universe really was out to get you after all.

[TAG LIST - CLOSED]

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#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #vil schoenheit #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #vil shoenheit #Siren!Vil #Mermaid!Vil #Fantasy AU #Monster Mayhem Vil Part 4

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vampiefemme · 6 months

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞! ** 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: modern au; ellie moves to a big city to escape the past. she goes to her first lesbian bar, where she meets you.

cw: porn with…a whisper of plot; alcohol use, fingering (e!receiving), strap-on sex, bottom!ellie, slightly sub!ellie, she’s whiny here

Ellie’s never been to a lesbian bar.

It’s surreal - banners of colorful pride flags are strung across the room, some of which she can’t even identify. Distressed and faded posters are plastered on the stone walls, advertising drag shows and queer punk bands with names like The Cranky Dykes and T-Girl Social. Nearly every patron is tatted or pierced, and there’s more platform boots and fishnet clothing than Ellie’s ever seen in one place before. Before she’d moved to the city, Ellie had lit up with excitement at the thought of visiting a lesbian bar. But now, in her worn Harley Davidson tee and a pair of jeans with unintentional rips at the knees, she feels very much out of her depth.

Steeling her nerves, she internally reminds herself that this is exactly why she’d moved in the first place - she needed new experiences. She needed unfamiliarity. What she’d left back in Texas was her normal, and she planned to build a new normal here. One that was the antithesis of everything she’d known before.

The bar isn’t completely packed, but she does need to push past dancing, sweaty bodies, girls sucking on each other’s faces, and chatting cliques to get to the edge of the bar, where more clusters of people are calling out drink orders and thrusting wads of cash tips at the bartenders. By some miracle, an empty barstool presents itself after a drunken patron with a mohawk stumbles out of it, and Ellie swoops in to snatch it before someone else does. She sits there for a good few minutes, trying to capture a bartender’s attention, until someone shuffles up beside her and sticks a hand out to wave one over. And, of course, they notice immediately, heading over with a towel slung over their shoulder. Ellie sinks lower into her seat, cheeks burning.

“I’ll have a spicy marg,” the woman beside Ellie says, voice projecting loud enough to hear over the clamor of music and chatter. The bartender nods, then goes to step away, but the woman next to Ellie stops her, speaking with that attention-commanding voice.

“What are you having?”

The bartender’s gaze shifts to Ellie, still hunched over and beet-red in the face. She flushes impossibly redder when she looks up at the woman who’d just ordered, realizing that the question had been directed at her.

“Oh,” she blurts, posture straightening. She glances at the woman, anxiety flaring, then back at the bartender. “Um, an old fashioned. Please. Thanks.”

Just as quickly as they’d come, the bartender disappears again, off to pour precisely-measured shots and mix cocktails in shiny silver shakers. Ellie’s hands are in her lap, fiddling restlessly, when she finally forces herself to look up at the woman who’d practically had to order for her.

You smile at her when she meets your gaze. Though she’s trying to be subtle about it, you can feel the way Ellie drinks in your every feature, eyes flickering over your face, then your body. It’s obvious that she likes what she sees, because she has a hard time looking you in the eye again.

“Thanks,” she says. “I’ve been trying to order for a while.”

“So I saw,” you respond, but not unkindly. You take a moment to look her over, although you’d already done plenty of that before you’d even approached her - you had seen her from across the bar, looking forlorn, her leg bouncing beneath the edge of the bar as she tried (and failed) to order herself a drink. Her lack of confidence is what piqued your interest; it was hard to believe that someone that gorgeous wasn’t oozing arrogance and self-importance. She’s all lean muscles and shaggy hair, her forearm decorated with a sprawling fern tattoo. You could already imagine yourself running your hands through that hair, kissing the length of her sharp jawline, pulling those narrow hips up against your own.

At a lesbian bar, a hot girl who couldn’t carry herself with confidence usually meant one of two things: she’s fresh out of a breakup, or she’d never been somewhere like this. You’re determined to find out which of the two applies to her.

“What’s your name? I haven’t seen you here before.” You angle your body to face Ellie, popping your hip out as subtly as you can.

Ellie, determined to keep her eyes on your face and not the curve of your hip or the delicious sliver of cleavage peeking out of your square-neck top, peers up at you from behind her bangs. “Uh, yeah, I’ve never been. I just moved here. I’m Ellie - what’s your name?”

You tell her your name and she repeats it slowly, like she’s tasting every syllable. “Pretty.”

Your drinks arrive before you can fumble for a response.

“Spicy marg, old fashioned,” the bartender lists as they slide your drinks over the smooth wood of the bar. Ellie murmurs her thanks and you nod at the bartender before they disappear, your hand curling around the glass.

“Cheers?” You tip your drink towards Ellie. She clinks her own glass against yours and the two of you take your first sips, the bitterness of the alcohol burning its way down your throat. You feel it settle in your stomach, warm and satisfying.

“So,” you begin, licking jalapeño and lime-tinged tequila from your lips. Ellie’s eyes follow the movement for a moment before she catches herself and looks away. “Where’d you move from?”

Ellie smiles shyly. You watch her index finger trace the rim of her glass. “Texas.”

“Oh?” One of your brows lifts. “And what made you want to move here, Texas?”

“For one, I’m gay.”

“Thank you for stating the obvious.”

She lets out a little laugh, and the sound makes you want to grin - you take a sip of your margarita instead.

“I just… Couldn’t be there anymore,” she elaborates. “It wasn’t right for me. I needed to start fresh.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, letting Ellie’s words sink in. Clearly, something severe enough had happened to make her want to shed her life in Texas like an old skin. And this lesbian bar, filled with every unique kind of queer this city had to offer, was part of this new version of Ellie - the version she’d chosen to build from the ground up. You’re struck by how brave Ellie must be for that. And yeah, maybe she’d struggled to order a drink for herself, but that didn’t take away from her bravery - not when she’d willfully chosen to uproot her life, a decision most people could never follow through with.

“I’m impressed,” you say honestly. “And I hope the city gives you what you’re looking for.”

The corners of Ellie’s lips twitch, and that pretty blush fights its way onto her cheeks again. You’re about to say something when you hear the first notes of one of your favorite songs thumping through the speakers, a few other bargoers cheering to express their own excitement.

“Dance with me,” you say to Ellie, reaching forward with your free hand to grab her forearm. She looks up at you like a deer in headlights.

“I can’t dance.”

“Doesn’t matter, just follow my lead. C’mon.”

“I don’t know if—”

“Didn’t you come here to try new things?” You curl your fingers around Ellie’s wrist, and she lets you pull her to her feet. You’ve made a good point, and she doesn’t argue again - just follows you to the dancefloor, where dozens of others are already moving to the beat of the music, hips rolling, heads nodding. The lights pulsate in the vibrant colors of the rainbow, the crowd painted shades of sunset orange, hot pink, deep indigo. You sip your drink and start to dance, turning to face Ellie; she’s gaping at you, unmoving.

“Come here,” you say, having to shout over the music. Ellie steps closer to you as you move to the rhythm, hips swishing. You’re wearing a pair of flared pants that makes your ass look incredible, and after Ellie finally starts to dance along with you, you turn around to bring your backside closer to her. As if by instinct, Ellie’s arm loops around your waist - she presses her palm into the front of your pelvis, rolls her hips against your ass. You grin, wide and self-satisfied, as you lift your drink to your lips again - only to realize it’s almost gone. You make a mental note to head back to the bar after this song, but for now, you enjoy the last few drops of your margarita, revelling in the feeling of Ellie’s hand, strong on your hip, as she presses ever-closer into you from behind.

Ellie’s in awe of you.

The way you’d strolled up beside her at the bar, posture proud, buying Ellie a drink and flirting with her like it was easy, natural. The way you’d let your eyes wander over her figure, not shy at all about the lust in your gaze. The way you’d dragged her to the dancefloor and ground your ass back against her, smelling like lime and tequila and something headier, something distinctly you.

Now, after two strong drinks and several songs-worth of dancing with you, Ellie’s so turned on she feels like a live wire, sparks erupting from her every nerve.

On the dancefloor, Ellie had looped her arm around your hips, leaning in so close she could smell the liquor on your breath. You’d needed to fight down every urge to kiss her first - you weren’t even sure if she’d ever kissed another woman before, and you’d already done enough to pull her out of her shell for the night. But Ellie had leaned her forehead against yours, noses brushing, eyes fluttering shut… And your mouths had crashed together in the sort of kiss you’re going to have a very hard time forgetting.

After making out in the crowd like that for god knows how long, you’d invited Ellie back to your apartment. Which brings you to your current predicament: Ellie’s backed up against the front door, your hand under her shirt, fingers dancing over every inch of her deliciously solid abdomen. If Ellie’s inexperienced, she’s doing a fabulous job of pretending she isn’t. But you’re not sure just how innocent she is now, as she moans unabashedly into your mouth, your hand squeezing her tits over her sports bra.

“Hey,” you breathe, pulling back from the heated kiss you’d been sharing.

“Mm?” Ellie blinks at you, dazed. You want to ruin her.

“Is this okay?” You peck at her lips, then her cheek. “We don’t have to… Do anything. Not if you don’t want to.”

Ellie’s bangs are gorgeously tousled, and she looks at you like a kicked puppy - all round eyes and furrowed brows, worried you’re taking something from her. “But I… I want to.”

“You sure?”

Ellie nods.

“Have you ever been with another woman before?” Your stomach twists at the directness of your own question, but you really want to know. Need to know. A bar hookup might not be the best way for her to pop her cherry - or, at least, her gay cherry.

Then again, it’s not exactly unheard of in the community.

“Yeah. I have,” Ellie says, her hand reaching out to grab your hip.

You find yourself wanting to pry, dig deeper for more information, but there’s no real reason for it. She’s not entirely new to this. She wants you. That’s all that really matters, right?

So you take her to your bedroom, let her undress you with shaky, calloused hands, kiss her slow and sweet while she unbuttons her jeans and kicks them aside. You help each other undress until you’re both naked, and then you’re stumbling into bed, your legs straddling Ellie’s hips as you kiss down her neck, stopping to suck pretty purple bruises into the sensitive skin. Ellie makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper, sending another white-hot jolt of arousal through you. Your cunt is spread over her pelvis, and you grind down against her like that, letting out a pleased sound of your own.

“God, you’re so hot,” Ellie mutters, watching you roll your hips as you kiss down to her chest. She reaches for your tits, squeezes them in her palms.

“Yeah?” You smile, sharp and wolfish, down at Ellie. She looks at you like she can’t believe this is happening - like she can’t believe you’re real. “Gonna let me fuck you, Ellie?”

She moans at the obscenity of the question, nodding quickly. “Yes, god, please fuck me.”

“Mm,” you hum, “need to get you ready first, baby.”

Ellie’s breathing is ragged, her hips lifting, seeking friction. You climb down her body until you’re settled between her legs, pulling her knees apart to give yourself access to her center. She’s fucking soaked - you bite your lip at the sight of her, clit swollen and puffy, labia shining with arousal.

You start with one finger, dipping into the wetness pooled at her entrance and spreading it up to her clit, drawing sharp breaths and staggering moans from Ellie’s kiss-bitten lips. Every sound she makes has you yearning to hear more, more. You slide your middle finger into her clenching hole and groan when you feel her walls open up smoothly around the digit. She pulses around you, hot and slick. When you begin pumping your finger in and out of that tight heat, Ellie’s noises become even more drawn-out, even more frantic - you look up at her and find her eyes already on you, dark with lust, a desperate, pleading expression etched onto her face.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” you coo at her, revelling in the way her pussy tightens at your words.

“I–nngh, fuck–I need…” She trails off, jaw clenching.

You fake-pout at her, puff out your lower lip in faux sympathy. “What is it? What do you need?”

“Need more,” Ellie pants out.

“I can give you more, sweetheart,” you reassure her, “all you had to do was ask.”

So, you give her more. You slip another finger inside of her, press the heel of your hand against the sensitive nub of her clit; your fingers curl upwards in the warmth of her cunt, finding that spongy, sensitive spot that’ll make her see stars. She whines - actually fucking whines, high-pitched and desperate, as if to say yes, right there.

“Shit, oh my god…” Ellie’s hands are clutching the sheets, knuckles blanched. “‘M so close.”

You don’t let up, and it only takes a few more moments of your careful ministrations before Ellie’s falling apart, a mess of jolting hips, strangled gasps, and a rush of wetness. You watch her come undone, wishing you could committ the sight to memory. After, you lick your fingers clean.

While Ellie’s spent and recovering from the height of her orgasm, you shuffle to the side of the bed to reach for your nightstand. You roll open the drawer, rummage around, and return to Ellie’s side with a tiny bottle of lube and your strap, the harness made of powder pink fabric. The brunette sighs contentedly when you lean over to kiss her, swiping her sweat-damp bangs away from her forehead.

“You taste so good, did you know that?” You press another kiss to the corner of Ellie’s lips, feeling the way they twitch into a smile.

“I really doubt it,” Ellie says.

You scoff. “Don’t doubt my taste.”

“Mm, okay. Fine. I believe you.”

Fighting your own smile, you move back to sit on your heels, cheeks heating when you notice Ellie’s eyes roaming over your naked body.

“Need something?”

Ellie nods, then sits up and pulls you in for another kiss, her hand on the back of your neck. “I want you to really fuck me now.”

“Oh yeah?” You grin at her, your hands making their way to her tits and smoothing over her pebbled nipples. “Think you should learn some manners, Ellie. How about please?”

Her expression goes soft - eyes rounding, mouth pursing.

“Please,” she says, and her voice is so sweet, it might rot your teeth. “Please fuck me.”

And who are you to deny her what she needs?

As it turns out, Ellie’s pussy was made to take strap. She’s leaned over, face down in one of your pillows, her ass propped up perfectly to give you access to her cunt. Still soaked from her last orgasm, she hardly needs any lube, the strap pushing into her all the way to the hilt without any resistance; she keens when you’re fully seated inside of her, a sound that makes your own pussy throb with need. Every noise she makes is pure heaven - you wish you could record them all, listen to them when you’re in bed at night with your hand between your thighs.

“Fuuuuck,” Ellie cries out when you hit that sweet spot with the tip of the strap, her head shifting to lean on one side, allowing you to see the look on her face - the roll of her eyes, the way her lips part to let out each of her gasps and moans.

“How’s that feel, princess?” You ask as you pound into her from behind; you admire the way her back arches deeper, like she’s encouraging you to fuck into her further and further.

“S-so good,” Ellie stutters weakly.

“Yeah? Doing so good for me, baby,” you pant. Every slam of your hips against Ellie’s ass makes her grunt, a pleased little sound, short and needy.

That tiny grunt turns into an impatient whine when you pull out of her entirely, a lewd, wet noise accompanying the motion.

“Why’d you stop?” Ellie asks, voice small. She cranes her neck to look back at you and the expression on her face is absolutely pathetic.

You give her ass a playful smack, admiring the way it recoils from the contact of your palm. “Want you to flip over. I need to see you come again, you looked so pretty the first time.”

She does as instructed - she’s already so good at following directions, you’ve learned. When Ellie’s on her back, her face, neck, and chest tinged red with equal parts arousal and exertion, you lean in and whisper praises to her, lining the strap up to her entrance and pushing into her again.

“Hold your legs up, sweetheart,” you instruct, pushing her thighs up until they’re folded against her body. She nods, panting, and lifts her hands up to hold her legs in place. You slip deeper into her like this; Ellie goes cross-eyed, lips pursed into a pretty “o” shape as you fuck her senseless. It doesn’t take much longer for her to get close again, and when her legs begin to shake with the effort of holding them up for you, you tell her to relax.

“Play with your clit, hm? I want you to come.”

Ellie nods. “Y-yeah, I can do that. For you.”

“Just for me?” You grin.

“Mm, just for you.”

Her hand shakes as she brings it between her legs, drawing sloppy circles over her clit with her fingers. You keep fucking her, hips snapping restlessly, every lewd squelch of her cunt making you gush wetter and wetter. But as desperate as you are to come, you’re more focused on Ellie - the way she bites her lip, her entire body tense with her impending orgasm. She warns you before she finally tips over the edge: an endless chant of right there, I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come, oh my god…

You’re not sure how long you lie there on top of Ellie, still buried inside her, before her breathing finally rights itself again. You spend that time kissing all over her face and running your hands through her auburn hair, untangling a few knotted locks in the process. You’re both covered in a thin layer of sweat, bodies glistening, but neither of you seems to mind. Content to lie there together, you rest until Ellie pulls you in for a kiss - one that turns needy and sloppy not long after.

“Can I taste you?” Ellie asks between kisses, her lips shiny with saliva. She says it with such hope, like she’s not sure what you’ll say. But you’re still drenched between your legs, inner thighs sticky with it.

“There’s nothing I want more right now,” you confess.

So Ellie finds a place between your legs, mouth latching to your clit like it’s muscle memory. You curl a fist into her hair and guide her every move, murmuring instructions, which she follows like the good girl she is. The night continues that way - all whispered pleas and tremoring orgasms, tangled limbs and slick-coated fingers, until the two of you finally doze off, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

And Ellie thinks she’s made a good decision, moving here. Trying something new.

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skeletoninthemelonland · 5 months

Note

oouughh her…

she do be biting tho

SHE CAN BITE ME TH-

#VHHB BHFAAABH ADAAGUUGH HH BARK BARK MWWEEROOWWW. .sorryMEEOOORAAAAAAAAAAAAAG #VANINA EXOCANNIS VANINA EXOCANNIS VANINA EXOCANNIS #mind going bananas;#NO CUZ SHE IS SO COOL #AUGH #GO SHARP TEEF EXOCANNIS GO #giving her all my belongigns #thank you so much fern for showing her to us #inbox #fusionsprunt

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somanyratsinthewalls · 4 months

Note

Congratulations on 700 followers Mo 😖💗....I really LOVE reading your fanfics☺️

I was kindly requesting Navy hummingbird and sloth please

Eeeek thank you so much for reading! I hope you like this one! (Honestly? I kind of wrote this with the thought of it being Burning Hearts, my Law series, adjacent.) Needy Law is so cuuuuute!

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Prompt/Trope: Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac x Somnophilia

WC: 1900

Warnings: oral, sex pollen affects, somnophilia without discussion but let’s assume they have (don’t worry we’re cool!) unprotected sex, p in v sex, prone bone, creampies and breeding baby!

Happy Anniversary, Baby (18+)

— —

Law was a composed man. Over time, you had managed to worm your way through his hardened exterior to reach his nerdy, compassionate, caring center. Even as he opened up to you, he was still methodical about most things, including sex. He had the motions to make you orgasm down to a science at this point, making sure you were pleased far more than worrying about his own release. He always pulled out. He was the doctor who prescribed your birth control for god’s sake but he insisted on being careful anyway. Even if you begged him to finish inside, he was stubborn. You would never complain about your relationship with Law, he was just the way you liked him.

Law was up early one morning going over paperwork at his desk. He couldn’t sleep any longer and didn’t want to wake you from your peaceful slumber by tossing and turning, so he decided to get some work done.

After an hour or so of being engrossed in his work, Law glances at the calendar hanging on his office wall. Todays date had little pink hearts drawn around it in gel pen, by your hand of course.

“Oh shit.”

Law had forgotten about your anniversary.

He had to think of something fast, preferably before you woke up. You were always telling him he worked too much so he couldn’t imagine the ass-chewing he would receive if you found out he forgot your anniversary.

“Flowers…” He mumbles as he rises from his desk and leaves his office. He headed down the hall to the large closet you had converted into a makeshift greenhouse for your beloved hydroponic garden.

He rips open the metal door and is hit in the face with moist air and the refreshing smell of greenery. The walls and center of the room were completely covered in carefully curated small plants, vegetables, flowers, and ferns. Law steps in and closes the door behind him.

“She likes yellow…” Law mutters to himself as he finds himself overwhelmed by all the flowers around him. He was a doctor, not a botanist, he had no idea what any of these plants were so he just decided to choose something in your favorite color.

He walked up to a large bush on the left side of the room that had unique-looking yellow flowers blossoming all over it. He thought this would be as good as any so he reached out his hand to pluck at the stem of one of the blooms.

Just as he wrapped his tattooed fingers around the plant, the flower released a puff of yellow pollen right in his face. Law jerks backwards. The particles fly up into his sinuses and causes an uncomfortable tickle.

“Ah- ACHOO!” Law sneezes violently which triggers the rest of the flowers on the bush to release their own supply of pollen into the air, clouding his vision and irritating his nose further.

Law covers his face and rubs his eyes, trying to brush any remaining flower pollen off of him.

“Must be some kind of natural defense mechanism… fuck that.” Law gripes as he wipes the last remnants of the pollen from his tired face.

Law catches his breath and chooses to abandon this particular, aggravating plant. He spies a rosebush in the corner of the room. He knows what those are for sure, and as long as he doesn’t prick himself on the thorns, it should be less of a challenge to harvest them.

Law walks over to the rosebush and begins snipping off the beautiful yellow blossoms, keeping the stems just long enough to put in a vase. Once he had around a dozen roses, he left the greenhouse room to find suitable container for the flowers in the kitchen.

Rooting around in the kitchen cabinets, Law struggles to find anything nice enough for an anniversary bouquet.

He wipes sweat from his brow and realizes that he’s been having to do it every few moments… why was he so sweaty? Was the boiler on the fritz again? He made a mental note to check the furnace on the ship after he gave you your gift. Law ignores the heat creeping up through him and continues searching the cabinets.

He is pushing coffee mugs aside just as he notices the warm feeling become even more intense. Sweat was beading at his temples.

“Fuck…” Law grunts and abandons his quest briefly so he can pour himself a glass of water. He chugs the entire cup in a few gulps and slams it back onto the kitchen counter. His jeans felt tight now. He looks down. His dick was fully hard, straining against the thick fabric of his pants.

“What the hell…” Law had no idea what was happening to him. He was normally so in control of his faculties, but he now found himself painfully erect for no reason at all. He felt more droplets of sweat trickle down from his scalp to his neck. He grips the countertop and hangs his head, breathing heavily.

It had to be that plant. He had no other logical explanation for the ache in his crotch and the uneasiness he was feeling in his head. The water didn’t help. He needed your help. You knew everything about the plants in there and would know exactly what to do to make the effects stop.

Great, Law thought. Not only did he blow off your anniversary, he might have severely injured himself in the process… once again he wins the “Shittiest Boyfriend in the Grand Line” award. You were going to kill him, and at this point Law was so uncomfortable that he would probably let you. He abandons the flowers strewn across the kitchen counter and heads to your shared bedroom, desperate to find a cure to his ailment but also apprehensive of your reaction to his idiocy.

He pushes open the bedroom door and quietly slips in, so he wouldn’t startle you if you were still sleeping. Before he has a chance to even form the words he wanted to use to explain himself to you, he was stopped in his tracks by your sleeping form.

You had tossed all the covers off your body since Law had left, and you were laying on your back snoozing peacefully. Arms stretched over your head, Law’s bright yellow t-shirt emblazoned with his Jolly Roger was the only article of clothing you had on. You looked so serene, lost in your dreams, little snores escaping your parted dry lips… but Law could only focus on one thing. His t-shirt had ridden up and your thighs were spread, perfectly exposing your naked sex to him.

Law felt his entire heartbeat in his cock now. Your plump, outer pussy lips looked so delicious, so kissable, and all Law could think about now was burying his tongue in you as you slept. Without thinking, Law unzips his pants and steps out of them when they fall to the floor, hissing as his dick finally has more room to breathe. He was no longer in control of himself, he could almost smell you from across the bedroom. He needed to have you now.

He shouldn’t! The last of his sanity was pulling at his brain, begging him to just wake you up and ask you how to diffuse the effects of the flower’s pollen… but your naked cunt before him was just too much to resist any longer.

Still feeling hot, Law strips himself completely, hat included. His hands tremble with need and tension as he tries to delicately settle himself on the bed between your legs, not wanting to wake you up. He would have a small taste and then let you rest… just one little lick…

He couldn’t help it. He immediately latched his whole mouth around your sex and laves his tongue up from the bottom of your hole to the top of your clit.

“Hnnnhhh…” You whimper and shift in your sleep.

“Mmmm…” Law groans into your pussy as your sweet taste helps alleviate some of the pressure he was feeling in his body. He can’t help but hump his hard cock into the mattress below the two of you, no doubt leaking pre and staining the sheets.

Law notices you begin to stir and squirm underneath his touch, so he gently places his hands on your thighs to keep you still while he lapped at your pussy as if he was desperately parched and your body was an oasis. Becoming increasingly aroused, more of your slick leaked out of your hole into Law’s mouth which he greedily slurped up. The familiar flavor of you made his eyes roll back. He needed more.

Law pushes himself up and positions himself on his knees between your legs. He grabs his cock and strokes it a few times harshly before lining himself up with your weeping hole.

“I’m sorry baby…” Law whispers as he pushes himself into you.

“Oh…” You sigh and your eyelids start to flutter.

Without giving you time to wake up, Law sets a punishing pace with his hips and hammers into your wet cunt. Your breasts bounce freely underneath Law’s t-shirt and you rub your eyes involuntarily.

“L-Law?” You sleepily say as you gain consciousness and realize he’s on top of you and balls deep inside of you. You thought you were just having a sex dream but you were shocked to find your partner waking you up with his cock.

“Needed you now… Had to take you… You looked so fucking good and I just couldn’t stop…” Law grunts out as he thrusts into you with everything he has.

“Fuck… feels so good…” You whimper out, sleep still heavy in your mind.

“Shit, I’m gonna-“ Law huffs out before you feel him press hard into you. You then get the unfamiliar feeling of him shooting a heavy load inside of your walls.

“D-did you r-really just-“ You stutter. You feel his member still twitching and hard inside of you.

“Fuck why won’t it go down?” Law grits his teeth.

“W-what?” Before you had time to question him further, Law picks you up by your waist and man handles you onto your stomach, spreading your legs again to make room for him. He pulls your hips up and presses his dick inside you again, your tender hole seeping white liquid out and coating him.

“Shit! Law!” You moan as you feel him hit your favorite spot from behind. He picks up a brutal pace as he fucks you. “S-slow down, babe!” You try to push a hand back on his abs to quell his fervor. “I’m gonna-“

“C-can’t… I can’t! Fuck!” Law huffs as he grips your hips impossibly tight, surely leaving marks. You had never seen this animalistic side of your boyfriend and you couldn’t help how much it turned you on. You felt yourself hurtling towards the edge of orgasm embarrassingly quickly for someone who had just woken up.

“AH!” You yelp into the pillow below you as you cum, hard.

“Yes baby, this pussy is so fucking good, squeezing me so tight…”

You were a babbling mess as Law’s heavy thrusts send you into overstimulation.

“Gotta fucking fill you again, want you to drip for days…”

You whimper in response.

“Yeah you’re mine baby, all mine… gonna stuff you so fucking good… FUCK-“ Law almost shouts as you feel more hot liquid filling your insides, surely leaking out around his member.

Law rides out his second orgasm with a few more deep thrusts before he collapses over you and nuzzles his face between your shoulder blades.

Finally feeling relieved, Law pulls out of you tenderly before flopping on his back next to you on the bed, out of breath. You turn to your side and snuggle into him as he wraps his arms around you.

“Happy Anniversary?” Law says tentatively.

“Happy Anniversary indeed. Was that my present?” You giggle.

“I cut you some flowers, left them in the kitchen, though.” Law says as he strokes your hair.

“Wait… what flowers?!” You raise your voice as your head shoots up off his chest.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece anime #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #one piece smut #law x reader #trafalgar law #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar d law #trafalgar one piece #one piece law #law one piece #law x y/n #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law smut

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mydearesthrry · 5 months

Note

Would you ever write about Harry’s love language being physical touch ? I feel like you would write him so cuteee like him all needy and clingy and wanting to feel her all the time and even biting her because he just gets so consumed by his love for her 🥰

a/n: this was fun. thank u for the request! <3 new universe if u lot like this one?

warnings; nothing, fluff, brieffff suggestive content

“hi starlight,” harry murmured as he threw his keys onto his desk, smiling tiredly at his girlfriend sitting on his bed. “what’re y’doing?”

“studying,” she sighed, “my english midterm is next friday.”

“mm, i see. need any help studying?”

“really?”

harry chuckled, toeing off his shoes and pushing down his jeans down his legs, walking over to his bed. bending down to Y/N’s face level, he placed small kisses on the expanse of her cheeks, up to her cheekbones and down her ear towards her neck, placing his chin on her shoulder. her free hand that wasn’t holding a pen came up to wind into his hair, scratching softly at his scalp.

“you okay?” she mumbled, trying not to break the peaceful atmosphere.

harry hummed, inhaling deeply which led the scent of her body wash through his nose, covering his body in coconut scented chills. “jus’ missed you, s’all. practice was really bad today.”

“wanna talk about it?” she asked, placing butterfly kisses on the side of his head, his face still burrowed in the crook of her neck.

“i’d rather not, if that’s okay. jus’ wanna unwind and have some peace with you.” he admitted, head moving up from its place of solace in her shoulder, pressing another kiss to her lips before patting a hand on her back, silently telling her to move up in her space. the second she did, he slid between the small space that was left between her sitting figure and the headboard, situating himself with his legs splayed around her body.

“lean back, pretty girl,” placing his hands on her shoulders, he softly pulled her back, her head resting just below his head. “okay, what’re we studying?”

“um, just some quick facts about the odyssey, that’s what we have to analyze for the english major course.” she explained, waving her hand dismissively.

harry nodded before placing his chin on the top of her head, his arms wounding around her waist and his hands sneaking under her shirt, scratching softly at the skin of her stomach.

“god h, can you get any closer?” she laughed, not moving from her spot against his front.

“no. i actually need t’be in your skin,” he said sarcastically, although the genuine undertone didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. “i can’t promise i’ll be much help, but i’ll be here for cuddles and to cheer you on?”

“that’s perfect baby, thank you.” she giggled back, burrowing herself deeper into harry’s hold and getting comfortable against the soft material of his hoodie.

“love you, sweetheart.”

“love you, h.”

——

harry awoke to harsh beams of light assaulting him through his windows, a groan ripping from his throat. reaching out an arm behind him, he was met with cold sheets, making him turn his head in confusion. he was expecting the warmth of his girlfriend, but she was nowhere to be found.

until he heard the shrill sound of her laugh.

a grin covered his face as he ripped off the duvet from on top of him, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed to leave the room.

trudging down the stairs, he pulled his sweatpants up and tied them, just barely covering his fern tattoos. “starlight?”

“good morning sunsh- niall, stop! get away from here!” she scolded, slapping his hand away from the bacon she had bubbling on the stove.

“starlight!” niall whined, all but stomping out of the kitchen. “your girlfriend’s bullying me.”

“definitely not bullying you,” she defended, looking at the back of his head accusingly with a spatula in her hand. “hi baby, how’d you sleep?”

“would’ve been better if y’were in m’bed when i woke up,” harry grumbled, making his way into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her waist. “hi.”

“hello again,” she grinned, pressing her lips to his chastely. “missed you.”

“was jus’ sleeping,” he murmured against her. “but i missed y’too.”

“what are we doing today?” he asked, moving his head up but leaving his arms wrapped around her.

“uh, i’m not sure,” setting the spatula down, she rested her hands on harry’s arms, running her nails up and down the expanse of his biceps. “i really, really have to study today. i keep putting it off to hang out with you so i haven’t done any since wednesday. its sunday and my test is on friday!”

“okay baby, we can study if y’want. go to the library maybe?” he offered. they had a rule that the library was the one place that they had to study in, which meant no distracting kisses or cuddles. it was the one place harry promised he wouldn’t go on his phone in, and for his girlfriend, that said a lot.

“really?! you hate the library!” she gasped, eyes twinkling in excitement. it was true, he really did.

“really, starlight. if y’need the study time, you’ll get the study time. as long as i can be there with you.” he promised.

“ah! i love you, i love you,” placing small kisses all over his face, harry giggled and turned bright red. “i love you so much!”

“love you too, sweet girl,” he smiled and grabbed her face in his hands. “love y’so much.”

a gleam set itself in y/n’s eyes, twinkling with adoration. “you’re so pretty.”

“oh shut up,” he rolled his eyes, ducking his face into her neck and biting teasingly at the soft skin.

“harry!” she squealed, giggling as she tried to push him away, feeling his teeth pinch at her skin over and over again. “am i a dog toy?”

“mhmm,” harry hummed, placing kisses over the fading bite marks that were left behind. “m’favorite toy.”

“hey! no shagging in the kitchen!”

“fuck off, niall!”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry edward styles #hockey player!harry styles #hockeyrry

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clandestineloki · 1 year

Text

Cold Flower (NSFW)

A/N: My public apology for going dormant on Tumblr for nearly 5 months.

tw: jotun!loki dom!loki, sub!cottagegirl!reader, loki’s cock is big but his size kink is bigger, corruption kink, praise kink, manhandling but very cutely if i may say!!, unrealistically fast paced because loki is horny ) >:D

read it on ao3!!

================================================

The grass tickles your ankles as you step through the bushes, careful not to step on any pretty flowers in your path.

Sunset is nearing, and you've only gotten so much as a few ferns. But you don't mind. The forest will bloom when it wants to, and even if you haven't collected any flowers for your work you're having a wonderful time looking around at all the birds and the deer and the butterflies and nature; just getting away from the busy life in the village is enough of a treat.

Stepping through a clear patch, you look around for any deer traps. What deer traps? The ones that have hidden nets that burst out from the ground like flytraps and scoop up any poor being that just happened to be there, leaving them trapped up in the air by a rope tied to a tree.

Now that you think of it, a clear patch in the middle of the forest means one thing: a deer trap has been set off already.

Right above where you stand.

Realizing the danger of being anywhere near a threatened or harmed deer, you’re ready to bolt out of the woods when you look up, and see a net that’s filled with leaves, branches, and stray grass reeds.

And dangling out of the net is a leg— a leg that looks less like a deer’s… and more of a person’s.

You gasp in horror. Someone’s caught in it!

Running around the tree, you find the rope suspending the trap buried in the ground. You rummage for your shears and hastily cut it, grabbing the rope to pull it down with your weight and let the trap sink to the ground slowly.

When it does, you run over, cutting away as much of the net as you can, digging through the leaves until you reach someone covered in an enormous fur cape.

You gingerly pull it back, and stare in awe.

It’s a man, with dark hair and sharp features, no doubt very handsome despite the scratches and cuts he’s sustained. The linen top he’s wearing is littered with twigs.

Softly, you brush away the twigs when you touch his wrist and freeze.

And quite literally, because his skin is as cold as ice.

Almost as if he were a corpse.

“Sir! Sir! Please wake up!”

When Prince Loki’s eyes open and adjust to the glare of the sun— and the silhouette blocking it out— his breath hitches.

Is this Valhalla? Am I… dead?

Surely, he must be. For above him kneels the most beautiful girl, almost shimmering in the golden light, it’s definite that you’re an angel.

“Hello? Sir? Can you hear me?”

An even lovelier voice for a radiant woman. He nods, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness!” You lean forward, brushing away twigs from his face and cloak. “I thought you had died! I hate those deer traps, they’re dangerous and they're so hard to see! It almost killed you! Are you alright?”

“Yes- Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

It’s as if he spoke without thinking, eager to hear more from your pretty lips. You catch your breath, kneeling back down, and he sits up to get a better look at the captivating face of his savior.

“How long have you been up there?”

Loki brushes his hand against his cheek. “I'm not quite sure- ah-”

He hisses when his fingers graze a wound on his temple, and he retracts his hand to find a few specks of scarlet.

“Probably not long, I'm still bleeding,” he shows you his hand, and you gasp.

“Oh, no,” you take a closer look at his face. “My house isn't far from here, I can help you clean up and get some rest. You must be exhausted. Are you alright with some porridge and biscuits? They're all I have the ingredients for and the farmers’ market is a bit far so I'm sorry if...”

Loki honestly can’t concentrate on what you're saying. He nods along, but he's rather focused on you.

As he tags along behind you as you retrace your steps to your home, Loki whispers a thanks to whatever Gods led him to be graced by your beauty in this moment, regardless of the circumstance. He had just been hunting for sport, unaware of the trap that had pulled him up into the tree so suddenly and rendered him unconscious.

Now, he's found something— no, someone— better; a much more rewarding, delicious little prey.

“I just realized I haven't introduced myself."

Loki looks up just as you say your name, timidly holding out your hand. He takes it after a moment.

“Loki,” he replies, once he finds it in himself to speak.

“Like the prince?"

He recoils a bit in surprise. “Yes- Yes, like the prince. Uh-"

“How are you feeling?" you ask, dabbing the cloth lightly against his wrist.

“They don't hurt if I don't move."

“Okay. Let me know if it does.”

Loki nods, watching you silently tend to his wounds, before he hisses softly.

You flinch, pulling away. “Oh, I'm sorry-"

“You really don't know who I am?” Loki asks.

A second passes as you look down at him, brows furrowing as you sit down next to him on your bed.

“I can't recall. Sorry, have you ordered flowers from me before?"

“You run a flower shop?”

“Yes, that's why I was in the woods. I was looking for fresh flowers and came across you up in that trap.” You tilt your head. “What were you doing in the forest, anyway?"

“I was... hunting for deer, and the last thing I remember is hearing something above me snap.”

“Hunting… Is that what you do for a living?”

“Well, no. My brother and I do it for sport."

“Oh."

Loki stares at you blankly. “My brother, Prince Thor."

You nod.

Loki chuckles. Your pretty little head hasn't registered it.

He leans in close, brushing his lips against your ear, and whispers very slowly:

“I'm Prince Loki."

And the reaction he gets is the cutest. Your lips part as your eyes widen, to which he grins.

But he doesn't expect you to fling yourself off the side of the bed and onto the ground, bowing down to him.

“Your Highness!” you squeak. “I'm so sorry, I didn't know!! I-”

“Darling, please," he chuckles, shaking his head. “That isn't necessary-"

“I'm so sorry, I'll get some tea, do you want anything from the market? Please, allow me-”

Loki bends down, lifting you off the floor in a princess carry and sets you down on the bed.

“Please, don’t stress yourself. You saved my life.”

He takes your hand, kissing it softly as he smiles up at you.

“Thank you, pretty angel.”

Your eyes widen as you stutter out tiny breaths. Norns, aren’t you the most adorable?

“I don’t think you believe me.” He stands up, pretending to be offended by your silence.

“No!” you cry . “I mean- I do believe you! It’s just- I was surprised, I didn’t think-”

“Didn’t think what? A prince would just be out in the woods for no reason?” He laughs, leaning down to you. Before you can respond, he chuckles again. “That’s alright,” he steps back, “you just need a little… evidence.”

Loki closes his eyes, and lets himself shift into his true form: blue skin, dark green patterns across his biceps. He hears the tiniest gasp of amazement from you as the magic also heals his wounds and cuts (and hopes that he’ll hear more of those cute noises very soon).

When he’s done transforming, he opens his eyes and stares down at you.

Dear Norns.

He knew he was already taller than you in human form, but this was just delightful. You’re much tinier than him, staring up at his stature with those wide doe eyes of yours.

“You are-” you blink a few times in shock. “You are the Jotun prince.”

He smiles even wider. “That’s right.”

“And… I… just saved the Jotun prince.”

He starts laughing, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Clever girl.” He knows he’s downright cruel, teasing you just because you’re so cute. “And do you want anything in return for ‘saving the Jotun prince’?”

“Well, I don’t know-”

Loki walks closer to you, and stands between your legs as he drops his cloak to the floor and leans down, drawling his next words very slowly.

“You deserve something… special. Something downright… pleasurable as a reward for saving my life. Something that you’ll remember for the rest of yours.”

He chuckles darkly when your breath hitches in realization.

He wants to make love to you.

“What?”

He pushes you down on the bed, trapping you in with his large body as he takes your wrists in one of his hands.

“You’ll feel undeniable bliss. I’ll take you over and over and over again until I’m sure you’re truly satisfied, because you’re such a sweet little angel saving my life and cleaning me up and looking so fuckable.”

You mewl, no doubt keening from his dirty words. He cups your chin.

“All you have to do is say yes. You don’t even have to do anything~”

His thumb brushes over your quivering lips, and push into your mouth. Loki grins as you look up at him, nodding slowly.

“Use your words, angel,” he teases, pulling his thumb away from your mouth.

It takes you a few moments to catch your breath. “Okay…”

He wanted to make you beg. He wanted you to say please, please fuck me so he could flip you over like you weighed nothing and take you over and over again like you’d asked but the way you whimpered withered away the last of his patience.

He had to make you his.

Loki captured you into a passionate kiss, muffling every last sound your pretty lips made so that only he could hear. He pulled away only to push you down on the sheets again, forcing his tongue into your mouth as you twitch in his hold, unable to comprehend how dizzy you are from just a kiss.

The two of you pull away for air as his dark green irises watches your eyes glaze over with submission. He grins, unbuttoning his white button-up and tosses it elsewhere.

He grins as you stare at his chest. Your tiny hands reach for him, tracing over the markings and patterns.

Loki hisses, taking your hands in one of his. You whimper as he stares down at you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “Did that hurt?”

“No, no.” His voice softens as he leans in, kissing your nose gently, his other hand pushing your dress up your thighs. He kisses your cheek, then presses his lips against your ear. You shiver at his ice-cold breath.

“It doesn’t, angel. It’s just that if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to resist flipping you over and pounding you into the sheets until you’re dripping with my cum and you can’t think.”

He pushes his knee against your crotch, making you squeak like a pathetic little mouse. Loki grins.

“I will be doing that, mind you,” he teases. “But I simply have to get a taste of your pretty juices first~”

Your skirt bunches up against your twitching hips as Loki stares down at your dripping cunt.

“Oh," Loki chuckles. “You're already wet for me, angel, isn't that adorable~?"

You mewl, bashfully covering your face as he grins at your embarrassment.

“Stop teasing..."

Loki shakes his head, pouting in mockery. “Only if you stop being so cute when you're flustered. But until then…”

He places his hands on your thighs, pulling you closer to him as he lowers his face to your mound.

“... I'll enjoy fucking you until you submit to me.”

Your eyes widen as he licks your folds very slowly, and you whine shakily.

“Prince Loki..."

Loki grins, kissing your pretty cunt wetly and pushing his tongue into your dripping hole. And your helpless whimper of pleasure as he devours your pretty pussy whole is the cutest and most captivating noise he's ever heard.

He draws it out of you again, and again, and again, drinking every bit of your slick, even if poor little you are just getting wetter and wetter.

You're panting now, and Loki is equally as short of breath, only ever breaking away from you to watch your pretty face scrunch up so cutely. Loki licks his lips, nibbling on your thighs and making you squeak and tremble in his icy grip.

“You're such an adorable little angel," Loki grumbles. "Makes me want to eat you up like a little mouse, hmm?”

He holds you down firmly as your moans tickle his ears. The way your little hole squeezes around nothing is just so cute, he just has to stuff you full after he makes you come far too many times than you can handle.

“Aww,” Loki chuckles as you whimper breathily, thighs thumping helplessly against the bed. “Little angel can’t take it anymore?”

He brushes a blue finger against your dripping folds, sinking into your hole for the millionth time making you squeak and sob in sensitivity.

“P-Please…” you mumble, glazed eyes pleading for a moment of rest.

He sighs, forgetting you’re just a pure little thing having her first time, and gently scoops you into his arms to press a few kisses to your cheek and whispering your name.

“Have I thanked you enough already~?” He teases, and you nod, nuzzling into his hold though you shiver lightly.

Loki’s heart skips a beat. He feels you cling to him tighter and he feels your little ass grinding against his cock.

“Well,” he muses, “I believe my kingdom will be overjoyed to find that an angel like yourself saved their prince, hmm?”

“Huh?” you ask, still pleasure-drunk as you settle into his lap, as if you perfectly fit in his hold.

“I said,” Loki chuckles his icy breath tickling your face, “My kingdom would be overjoyed to find a pretty thing like you saved the royal prince, wouldn't they?"

“Mhm..."

“And they'll throw a week-long celebration...” he continues, trailing kisses from your cheek to your shoulder. “All for you~”

“R-Really?” you gasp as he begins sucking on your skin, sure to leave marks after. “A whole week? That's too much-!”

Loki laughs against your shoulder, holding your hips down so he can feel your hips grind against his cock. “Nothing is too much for a perfect little angel like you~"

Loki licks the bite mark he's so carefully placed on your skin, then looks up at your glazed eyes and twitching pout.

“Would you like to come back with me to the palace?"

The look of confusion and bashfulness across your face makes his cock twitch against your bare folds.

“Me?! With you?!"

“Do you abhor the idea of that?”

He knows he's being mean and he knows you don't hate the idea, but Loki just can't resist seeing you so embarrassed and stuttering to apologize.

“No! I didn't mean that! I was just surprised-"

Loki shakes his head with a little chuckle, and brings you closer to his face to kiss the crease between your eyebrows.

“I know, I know. I was just teasing."

“Don't be mean like that!”

Loki laughs darkly when you cross your arms.

In a flash, he’s got you on your hands and knees before your pretty head can even figure out what’s going on.

“And if I do, what are you going to do about it?”

You shiver at the dark growl in his voice.

You're so far deep in this haze all you can see is blue.

“Your highness-!”

Loki presses your chest against the bed, leaving your pretty ass on display, purely his for the taking.

“You’re just a little mouse that can’t hurt anything, hmm? Just so innocent, and weak, and ready to be ravished.”

A cold, thick finger traces your wet folds, and you whimper, burying your face in the sheets as he tickles your hole until you’re shaking with need.

“Maybe I’ll take you back home with me… and make you my wife.”

Loki shoves his finger all the way in, knocking the wind out of you because you swear you can feel him in your tummy.

“Your- Your wife?” You ask, voice higher and breathier.

“Yes~” he mocks your airy voice. “My pretty wife, who won’t have to get her pretty hands dirty ever again, who I’ll take care of, and protect, and fuck every single night.”

Loki curls his finger, reaching that sensitive little part in your cunt that effectively leaves you a mumbling, drooling mess on him.

When he’s gotten you wet enough, he draws his finger back (to his cute little angel’s momentary dismay) and forces your thighs apart with his body, the head of his cock twitching against your folds.

Loki will forever remember the gasp you let out when you feel just how big he is.

“Do you want to be fully mine? Do you want me to fuck this little hole of yours with my cock until you’re screaming for me?”

You whine at his dirty words, slurring something that sounds like a yeah, and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

“Really?” he chuckles, fingering your little hole one more time to slicken your folds. “Do you think I’ll fit~?”

And with the dirty wet noises that tickle his ears as he sinks all the way in he gets his reply.

“Oh?” Amused, he runs an icy finger up and down your bare back. “She can take it, after all. What a good girl~”

Loki barely gets the praise out before the prettiest whimpers fall out of your mouth like sweet honey, your poor cunt clenching down on him as your voice gets higher and breathier by the minute.

“Please-” you hiccup, turning to look at him with those pretty teary eyes.

His vermillion eyes stare you down cruelly as he grinds his hips down into your ass, making your head fall onto the sheets as you slur out a moan.

His cock feels so heavy inside you and by the way he laughs quietly you know he knows just how big he is compared to you.

And the way he pins you down harder lets you know he loves it.

“Oh, you just feel so good around my cock,” Loki groans, pulling back and thrusting into your leaking little pussy.

Poor you, already sensitive beyond imagination as this handsome blue prince ruins any other man for you with the way his cock stretches you out better than anyone ever will.

Not that anyone else will get the chance to. Loki’s decided it: he will take you home to the palace and make you his wife, and everyone will bow before their new princess.

Loki can't resist you any longer. He beats your poor cunt like the beast he is until you're whimpering and bucking against him helplessly.

“Feels... weird..." you shudder and gasp, tears leaking from your eyes as he sinks deeper into you, his huge cock hitting all the good spots inside you as your pleasure takes over your senses.

“Oh, is she close? Is this perfect little cunt going to come all over me?”

Loki's dirty words make you whimper and nod dumbly.

“Yeah," you sob.

Loki laughs at how blissed out his little saviour is and stops,pulling out slowly and groaning when he hears the sinful squelching as your juices drip onto the sheets. He turns you on your back, pinning your wrists to your sides, and captures your lips in his as he sinks into you once more.

“I missed these pretty lips," he smirks into the kiss, taking you for himself.

“Y-You just kissed me a few minutes ago..." You sigh dazedly, though you love the attention he's giving you.

“Still can't get enough of you. You're just so sweet~" Loki licks your lips, thrusting harder and making you squeak and link your fingers through his.

“Say my name."

“Loki...”

“Gods," he throws his head back, almost moaning at how submissive you sound. “Surrender to me, darling."

His hands snake down to the back of your thighs, lifting them and pressing them to your chest, quickening his pace.

Your eyes scrunch up as you nearly scream in pleasure, wriggling away as if you could escape from him.

“Surrender to me, angel~" he grins, kissing your neck and marking you up. “A pretty angel like you deserves to be pampered like this every day. Imagine that? You'll never have to lift a finger, I'll do all the work, I'll do all the fucking.”

Loki accentuates that last word with a hard thrust into your hole, making your eyes blur over with tears as you mewl helplessly in the Jotun prince’s tight grip.

“Awh, don't cry," he teases, kissing your nose when he gets a sinfully great idea.

He stops his movements, making sure he's buried all the way inside you before he flattens his tongue against your soaked cheek and licks your tears away.

You gasp, stunned for a moment before you keen and twitch helplessly, whining loudly as he does the same to your other cheek.

And your poor little cunt just clenches down again.

Loki growls, his primal instincts taking over because you're his ideal mate and you're nothing like he's ever seen. The sounds in the room get filthier and filthier as he loses control and rams into your poor hole.

“What do you say, angel?" Loki asks, letting go of your wrist before his hand makes its way down to your clit, rubbing the little bud and making you scream and tremble in his arms. “Be my- fuck- be my bride? Be my pretty little princess?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, chest heaving as your eyes flutter shut.

“Are you close?"

“Mhm..."

“Cute little mouse," he chuckles, pressing open mouth kisses to your neck as he rubs your clit. “Let go for me now, angel."

It’s a sight from heaven as you orgasm all over him, soaking his cock with your juices and helplessly thumping your thighs against the bed because Loki won't stop thrusting in and out of you.

Loki growls, pinning you to the bed. He stills, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm, thick cum filling you up. It makes you feel even more full than you already do and it makes you dizzy with even more pleasure.

It becomes too much for your melting brain to handle when he pushes deeper into you and you gasp, attempting to kick him away.

A firm, cold hand grabs your ankle and spreads you wider, and you whine shyly when he grins at you with a cruel glint in his eyes.

“Stay with me, darling," Loki teases, gripping your hips possessively and holding you still on his cock so he can finish filling you up.

It feels like hours before he breathes again, but it's only been seconds for him, already wanting another round with you.

But the prince resists, setting your sore legs down slowly and carefully sliding out of your cunt.

You sigh in exhaustion, but your breaths falters in embarrassment when you feel just how much he pumped into you, dripping out of your twitching folds and onto the bed.

A tiny drop even lands on your ass and Loki chuckles at your wide eyes, leaning down to kiss your lips and whisper a dirty promise that he'll fuck you down there too next time.

“Next time?” you ask, lips parting.

“Yes," he teases. " I've decided it, you're never leaving my side, my guardian angel~”

And he scoops you into his side, letting you rest before he has a few more rounds with your pretty hole— then he'll take you back home to the palace and convince you to stay. He'll show you the library. He'll let you lose yourself in the royal gardens all day if you wish! As long as you return to his chambers each night and let him please you the way you deserve to be.

But he's fallen for you already and the whole kingdom will burn in a blaze of sapphire dust if anything or anyone ever keeps him away from you.

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makeitmingi · 11 days

Text

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 2]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.2K

With an iced tea in hand, you unlocked the glass doors of your shop and entered. You turned on the lights, placing your tea on the counter and your bag in your locker. Since you were the only worker here, there was no one else to use the lockers but you.

"Roses, tulips, carnations..." You grabbed your notepad to check the incoming deliveries today. The first thing you did was check on your plants and water them.

"You're growing well." You smiled softly, seeing the plant that you sprout, moving the pot away from the direct sunlight.

"(y/n)?" You heard the familiar voice of your supplier at the back door and went over.

"Good morning, Mr Lee. Do you have any surprises for me?" You giggled. You had a good relationship with all your suppliers, they always helped you bring in quality products.

"Well, besides your usual orders, I have some hydrangeas if you would like." He climbed into his truck.

"Here." He pushed the bucket to show you.

"Oh, they're absolutely beautiful. I'll take them." You smiled. He nodded and helped you bring everything in, he usually knew where everything went.

"Sunflowers aren't selling too well." You shook your head in disappointment, seeing your sunflowers there.

"Sunflowers aren't trendy anymore. Have you seen what's on the internet? My daughter told me that girls are content with just bouquets of baby's breaths now. How times have truly changed, right?" He chuckled with a click of his tongue. You nodded and moved the roses into the refrigerated area.

"It's a minimalist thing, no? Bigger isn't better anymore. No one comes in for traditional bouquets anymore." You sighed, going to the cash register to get the money.

"Tell me about it... And this should be everything." Mr Lee said, glancing over the flowers that he brought in.

"Thank you, this is the payment." You handed the money to him. He nodded and placed it in his pouch.

"Also, Mr Lee. I remember you mentioning that Mrs Lee keep getting her hands burnt when she's working at her restaurant. I made her an aloe balm. This should help soothe the burns." You held the tin out.

"Oh, you're too kind, (y/n). Thank you so much for making this." He patted your shoulder.

"Have a nice day. See you next week." You walked him out.

"See you." The both of you bowed to each other and he jumped into his van before driving off. You returned to your counter and began your work for the day.

"Let's see..." You checked the online orders that you had and printed it out for reference.

Moving to your work bench, you began to prepare the flower preparations for each other. You trimmed the stems, removed the excess leaves and cut thorns away before wrapping them up with either cellophane or tissue paper.

"Hello? Are you open?" The bell above the door jingled. A girl walked into store, carrying a pot with her. You cleaned your hands and walked out to the front.

"Yes, we're open. How can I help you?" You smiled.

"My fern seems to be wilting and I can't seem to revive it. Can you help?" She asked.

"Let's see what's the issue." You escorted in. She placed the pot on your work table and you inspected it. The girl patiently waited, watching you as you checked it.

"From what I see, the soil isn't draining water properly. It's retaining too much water and suffocating the roots of the plant." You said.

"What? Can that happen?" She blinked.

"Yes, so that suffocation prevents the roots from absorbing the vitamins and minerals. You should mix a well drainage soil of this ratio and move your fern in." You wrote the ingredients down.

"And I can find this at the plant store?" She asked, reading through what you wrote down.

"You should be able to find the components. But if you don't mind waiting, I can mix some for you to take home." You offered. Hearing that, she let out a sigh of relief and nodded her head excitedly. You went to your storage area to grab the different soil components that you need.

"Peat moss, sand and potting soil." You mixed the components into a bag, adding some fertiliser as well since the fern currently lacked essential nutrients.

"For two weeks, put two drops of this plant reviver into the soil even if you are not watering it." You handed her a small vial.

"Thank you. Actually, do you mind repotting it into the new soil for me? I'll pay you." She requested.

"Alright." You took the fern out and got rid of the old soil. You poured the new soil in, creating a well to put the fern in. After that, you loosely covered the roots with the soil.

"Done." You smiled, removing your gloves.

"Thank you. This is actually my mum's plant and I'm helping her take care of it. I know nothing about plants." She said in embarrassment.

"No worries, the plant should be fine from here. If there are anymore issues, you can come back." You chuckled and rang up her bill. She nodded and paid.

"Thanks again." She bowed and walked out of the shop. After that, you went back to preparing your orders. There were some pick ups today so you wanted to make sure that everything was in order for a smoother pick up.

"Hi, I'm here for a pick up?" A guy walked into the store.

"Sure, can I see your order number?" You asked. He showed you the confirmation email and went to retrieve his order. It was a flower box instead of a bouquet.

"Just make sure everything is okay for you before paying." You said, rounding the counter to the cashier.

"Do you mind changing the ribbons to pink too? She really likes pink." He requested.

"Of course." You grabbed the ribbon. With pink flowers, you wanted to add contrast with a different coloured bow but since he wants it to be pink, there was no issue with changing it.

"That's better. Thanks." He handed you his card.

"I wrote the congratulatory message as you stated in request email but if you'd like to write your own message. This is a spare card, on the house." You handed him the blank card.

"Thank you, I don't know what else to write but if I come up with something I'll add it." He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. You hummed and rang up his bill, writing the invoice and handing him a copy, along with his credit card. With a grateful bow of his head, he left the shop.

Before you knew it, the clock hit 1pm, with customers coming in to buy, place advance orders or collect orders they've placed.

'Closed for lunch.'

You sat behind the counter with a tired sigh, taking out your lunch box. Your meals usually consisted of sandwiches or leftovers from dinner the night before.

Which was why Mrs Kim would usually come with food for you, always disapproving of how your eating habits.

RING!

"Sorry, we're closed at the moment." You said from behind the counter, not looking at the door. But you didn't hear the second ring of the door opening again so you stood up.

"Oh!" Your eyes widened in surprised as Hongjoong stood there, looking around the shop.

"Hongjoong sshi..." You blinked, maybe you were dreaming. Maybe your guilt was too much that the male was appearing in your dreams.

"Good afternoon, (y/n) sshi. Is this a bad time? Should I come back at another time?" He asked with a slight tilt of his head, fingers resting on the buttons of his blazer. You shook your head, reaching to get a tissue to wipe your mouth.

"It's fine. What can I help you with?" You came out from behind the counter to properly greet him. He patiently waited as you pulled a chair for him to sit.

"Please, would you like something to drink?" You offered.

"No, I'm fine. Actually, (y/n) sshi, I came to apologise for my reaction during my mother's funeral." He stood back up.

"What? There's nothing for you to apologise for, Hongjoong sshi. I should be the one apologising, I overstepped and said too much. It wasn't appropriate of me." You bowed deeply.

"You didn't overstep at all. Your intentions were good, I reacted poorly." He bowed back.

"No, you're grieving, it's normal." You smiled softly.

"Thank you for understanding." Hongjoong held his hand out but remembered that it was bandaged and cursed under his breath, hiding it and putting his other hand out for you to shake. If you were phased by his injury, you didn't show it. You smiled and slipped your hand into his to shake.

"I should go and let you carry on with your meal." He said once you both let go.

"No, it's fine. You can stay if you'd like." You smiled softly. He let out a small hum and continued to look around your shop, observing all the plants around.

"So, this is where my mother hung out?" He asked, picking up a stalk of rose from your work bench and twirling it.

"Sometimes... She would come for lunch or tea. We would just chat over food." You replied awkwardly.

How much were you supposed to say about Mrs Kim to her own son? You didn't want to sound like you were boasting about your time with her either, that wouldn't do any good.

"I see." He said, placing the flower back down.

"Hongjoong sshi..." You rubbed your arm, unsure of how to continue this conversation.

"Sorry for making you uncomfortable. Just... The truth is, you know a lot about my mother that I don't. You've spent time with her while I didn't so I can't help but feel curious. My relationship with her wasn't as good as she made it out of be." He informed.

"Oh. Hongjoong sshi, it's not my place to judge you or your relationship with Mrs Kim. Whatever relationship I had with her is vastly different from your own." You said.

"You're very kind, (y/n) sshi." He complimented. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment.

"I should go." He stood up.

"Wait before you go. Your bandage, do you want me to help you replace it?" You pointed. Hongjoong looked down and saw the blood beginning to seep through.

"It's fine, I shouldn't take up more of your time." He shook his head.

"Not at all. I can help if you'd like." You offered. With a soft sigh, Hongjoong sat back down.

"I'll go get my medical kit. Be right back." You told him and went to the back room to get what you needed. You also took a salve that you usually used for wound care.

"I'm not a doctor but I am first aid certified and I study medical plants in botany so you don't have to worry." You smiled and took a pair of cutters to cut away the bandages that Yeosang had wrapped around Hongjoong's hand. Hongjoong quietly observed you, not saying anything else while you focussed.

"I made this salve for wounds. It should help with soothing the wounds and healing." You explained, cleaning the blood.

"Do you always make your own medicine?" He asked.

"No, I just make simple stuff. I'm still learning." You giggled, tucking your hair behind your ear before applying a thin layer of the salve over the cuts and wounds.

"Does it hurt?" You looked up at him. He shook his head and you sighed in relief.

"You can bring that home with you to apply when you change bandages. I have some more." You explained.

"You do a better job than my brother." Hongjoong said after observing how you properly wrapped a new bandage around his hand and secured it in place.

"You should remove the bandage after 3 days to let the wounds breathe and dry." You said.

The entire time, you never once asked Hongjoong about how he got injured or acted differently. You treated it like any other scrapped knee and healed him. Usually, people would be scared or ask him how he got injured like that.

"Thanks." He looked at his newly bandaged hand.

"You're very welcome. If you see signs of infection or get a fever, go to a doctor." You advised. He nodded and took the small pot of salve, putting it into his pocket.

Will he use it? Probably not. But he saw how dedicated you were and for some reason, didn't want to disappoint you by not taking it.

"Bye, Hongjoong sshi. I'll see you around?" You blinked at your own words, uncertainty in your voice.

"Have a nice day, (y/n) sshi." He didn't address it, merely bowing his head and leaving your shop. You let out a long exhale, feeling like you've been holding your breath the entire time.

"Ah!" You suddenly remembered the silk handkerchief that you had washed and in your bag.

"Too distracted." You scratched your head and went to the counter to eat a few more bites of your lunch before you had to reopen.

You were not too bothered that you hadn't returned the handkerchief to Hongjoong. Even if you did feel guilty, you had an inkling that you would be seeing Hongjoong again soon. What ate at you more was how foreign Hongjoong spoke about his mother, like she was a stranger that he didn't know.

"Hongjoong, where are you?"

"I went out to run an errand, Seonghwa. Don't worry, I didn't drive. I got the driver." Hongjoong sighed, sinking into the backseat of the Rolls Royce he was in.

"I'm not worried about that. I just wanted to make sure you didn't do something dumb like blow up a building."

"Geez that happened ONCE, let it go... And I'm going to work, I have to go to my club." Hongjoong said, looking at his bandaged hand.

"You don't have to go back to work right away, Hongjoong. The boys and I can take over while you take a few days. You've needed to take a break for a while."

"I'm the leader of Ateez, Seonghwa. I don't need all of you to take over my work." Hongjoong replied.

"But..."

"Yes, my mother died. But sitting around isn't going to bring her back to life. I still have roles to fulfill, I'm not going to let anyone strike us just because I'm down. There are people counting on us, relying on us." He continued.

"Alright. Stay safe then, Hongjoong. I'll see you at the docks meeting at 5pm?"

"Yeah, thanks Seonghwa. I'll see you later." Hongjoong hummed and hung up. The car stopped before Hongjoong's club and the manager came out, opening the door for him.

"Good afternoon, Mr Kim." The manager bowed. The club wasn't open yet so Hongjoong could get some administrative work done.

"Get me a drink and come up to the office." Hongjoong said, walking into the club.

"Yes, sir." He bowed. Upon his entrance, all the workers stopped and bowed down to greet their boss This was the main club Hongjoong worked out of so they were used to seeing him around.

"Give me 10 minutes. No one is to enter." Hongjoong told the guard who stood by his office door.

"Yes, sir." The guard bowed.

Hongjoong entered his office and sat down in his chair. There were some things he needed to do and catch up on privately, without any interruptions. As the leader of Ateez, he had to keep track of the other Ateez members and their work, on top of his own. But the boys always did their work so it wasn't hard on him.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"S-Sir?" Hongjoong heard the timid voice of the club manager outside his door, making him look up from his phone where he was sending messages to Yunho.

"Has it been 10 minutes?" Hongjoong asked back, tucking his phone into his blazer pocket.

"Yes, sir." The male on the other side replied.

"Come in." Hongjoong said. The door opened and the male came in with his iPad and Hongjoong's whiskey in hand. Hongjoong nodded over to the chair and the manager bowed, taking a seat opposite him.

"Update me." Hongjoong took a sip of his drink. The manager began to update Hongjoong on the business.

"We have been thinking of letting our bartending apprentice go. He had been drinking on the job and getting drunk." He informed.

"Who?" Hongjoong leaned forward.

"This is his profile. The next page has some employee complaints and customer complaints that were logged." The manager informed, pulling up the ex employee's profile and handing it over to Hongjoong to look it over.

"I won't read this, let him go. I won't let anyone be caught lacking in my business. One complaint is as good as ten. Make him compensate for what alcohol he took." Hongjoong instructed.

"Of course, sir." The manager nodded, taking back the iPad and going through the other updates.

"Continue to manage necessary manpower and suppliers to the club. Revenue is still good." Hongjoong told him.

"I will. Thank you for giving me this responsibility, sir." The manager bowed from his seat.

"This is the list of VIPs coming. As usual, make sure they are well taken care of." Hongjoong slid over the list of VIP names and the dates that they would be coming.

"Of course." The manager folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

"You can go." With that, Hongjoong waved him off and he left. Hongjoong may seem cold and merciless but he treats his employees right, at least those that do their job well. He is a perfectionist and always wants the best, there shouldn't be anything that's lacking when it came to his business.

"Send Wooyoung and San for that private poker game. That's wheret they'll meet our informant." Hongjoong said to those that were in the group call.

"Oooh, I can get a new suit done." Wooyoung's focus and excitement was obviously on other things.

"What about the governor meeting that's coming up, hyung? Are you going with Seonghwa hyung?" Jongho asked.

"Seonghwa should go with Yunho. They know how to work the charm. Plus the governor's wife seems to favour Yunho." Hongjoong thought out loud, making the other laugh.

"No one can resist that face." Seonghwa chuckled.

"Yunho's ears just turned bright red." Yeosang informed and the others could hear Yunho's yell of protest in the background.

"Wait, what time is Seonghwa hyung and Hongjoong hyung settling the issue at the docks? I want to tag along, I could use some action. It'll be fun." Mingi asked.

"Oh! Me too! If Mingi's going, I want to go!" San agreed. Hongjoong could hear Seonghwa wanting to interject but it was ignored. Hongjoong and Seonghwa could never fight the younger ones, they were simply outnumbered.

"You guys always make a mess when you get involved... This time, call your own clean up crew." Seonghwa hissed.

"You gave in way too easily, Seonghwa ah." Hongjoong laughed and leaned back into his seat.

"I already have enough to think about. I have to pick my battles. Plus, if they can handle it for us, I won't risk getting blood on my new coat." Seonghwa said.

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