#voyager is really good. please watch voyager

[pumpkinrootbeer]

voyager has everything. sexual tension between every member of the crew, a strange emotional support little man they picked up off the street, a captain pushed to the brink who constantly has to betray her own morals to try and save everyone in the end, a girl who like. becomes a weird non corporeal space entity and just like. evaporates into space and that's the last we see of her?? borg. an ensign who: has invented warp 10, saved the ship single handily multiple times, has zero rizz, is somehow always working, a senior member of the crew, died at least twice, and despite all that never gets a promotion. lizard sex, dubious ethics, if HIPAA wished to be a real boy, steven universe fusion, boy AND girl failures, and coffee in that nebula.

[maliciousalice]

Finally Startrek Prodigy s2

[yeeterthek33per]

Get Her Back (Lucy Bronze x Reader)

A/n Requested

Warning(s): SMUT 18+ MDNI, Suggestive (duh), mild jealousy (squint a lil, its fine).

The sweat was starting to feel a little grosser today.

With the heat wave ripping through England perfectly on time with your international break, it seems that training became more the stuff of nightmares with the sun unbearable on your already tanned skin.

It seems that brought out the more interesting behaviours of your teammates because they were looking for ways to distract themselves from melting into the pitch or tile flooring of the changerooms.

Even with air conditioning, the room was ridiculously stuffy, twenty-three sweat dripped female football players crammed into a single ten metre by ten metre room.

That being said, the topic of exes came up amongst the lot of you.

Even worse, your ex.

Specifically, the one alotted to the cubby next to yours as they ribbed both of you.

"Weren't you and Lucy together, Y/n?"

Your cheeks flush and you roll your eyes good naturedly.

"Yeah, and?"

The girls ooo at you, and ever the shitstirrer, you poke said girl in the leg with your sock covered foot.

"Not much to talk about."

She raises a brow, a small smirk challenging you almost, knowing well you're only poking fun at her.

"Oh, come on now, there has to be something to talk about. You were together for so long."

Scoffing, you wave them away, getting ready for a shower finally.

You'd both previously taken it in stride, having dealt with their teasing while you were dating.

The fact your relationship hadn't ended all that badly, being blamed on the fact that you were just both separate for far too long, playing on different sides of the continent, was never really your strong suit.

So, it doesn't surprise you when the cocky behaviour comes out too.

Lucy, ever the flirt, jokes quietly in your ear when the attention shifts from you to Alessia at the quiet mention of a possible new relationship.

"Not much, eh? And here I was under the impression that I was the best you've ever had."

You snort, elbowing the older woman with a small glare.

"Please, far from it, Bronze."

You had half a mind to laugh at the offended look on her face.

There was no way she believed that, but now you had to stick to your guns because you'd never hear the end of it if you'd actually told her the truth.

It does something to her because the moment you're all returning to the bus, she's planted herself directly next to you, sitting in the aisle seat.

Raising a brow at her sudden insistence on being in your presence, which, if she even notices the look, she doesn't acknowledge it.

Settling in for the two hour or so long bus ride back to camp, your earphones go in, and your head leans back to rest your eyes for a minute.

It seems you don't get very far, though, because a hand on your knee stops you on your nap voyage.

Glancing down, you confirm your assumption in saying that said hand is connected to your seat buddy.

Though it seems she's not actually even looking at you, she's talking animatedly with Millie and Rachel (*a/n I am aware shes R worded from internationals but I'm not accepting that just yet y'all*), who are sat across the aisle and one seat behind, and shes turned in a way that blocks their view of you.

Replacing your earbuds, you think she's just being overtly touchy today and you don't bother her with it, not minding too much, the warmth a nice contrast to how the last year or so being single had gone.

You wake up about an hour or so later, removing your earbuds and notice the chatter has died down a little, Daly Brightness now chatting between themselves and Lucy turned back to face the front, eyes glued to the laptop in front of her, watching a rerun of House M.D. (idk it fit)

Her hand hasn't removed itself. It seems it's a little higher than it was, thumb moving of its own accord, gently stroking the bare skin below your shorts.

With the air con blasting through the bus, her hand feels almost scaulding against you, your skin burning underneath the gentle caresses.

Whether she noticed you're awake or not, you're not sure, but if she did, she doesn't do or say anything other than leave her hand right where it is.

You can't find it in you to mind.

--

That doesn't last very long.

It's almost three days later into the training camp and nothing more than simple touches besides what happened on the bus has happened between you.

Although, it's like there's these little touches constantly. You know they aren't accidental. If the five years you spent with Lucy were anything to go by, you know her well enough to know there isn't ever a touch that's accidental.

She's always on alert, head swivelling when she's walking, always cautious of her hands and who's around her.

With you, there's supposed absent-minded brushes of your lower back. Her fingertips occasionally grip your arms during training rondos. A squeeze of the shoulder here and there.

She doesn't let you sit on your own like you usually do, as someone who prefers to nap quietly in the front of the bus, her hand always finding it's place on your knee once more for every day of camp.

Nothing else changes, though.

It starts to drive you a little crazy because you'd gone every training camp for a year without dealing with this.

You hadn't minded initially, but it’s getting on your nerves now.

Not because you're uncomfortable or anything.

You, reluctantly, admit to yourself that you just aren't all that over the brunette, and her touching you like this isn't helping your cause.

You're rather annoyed it's only taken three days before she's got you wrapped around her finger again, heart racing at that damn smirk on her face when you guys talk or you even just so much as glance her way.

It takes all of three days before you confront her about it.

--

"Okay, what the hell is with you?"

"Eh?"

Lucy had been in the middle of her rec gym session. Particularly in the middle of doing her core workout, so she'd been in a plank stance when you'd stormed into the empty gym, half startling the defender.

Still, she looks up at you from her position on the mat, half confusion, half focused frown.

"Don't you 'eh' me, you know what I'm talking about."

"Kind of busy, princess, I have no idea-"

"That! Princess! When was the last time you ever called me that? Not just that, the touching, the thigh grabs, the-"

"Look, I'm a little preoccupied, as much as I'd love to have this-"

"No, I want an explanation, Lucy."

She groans as she drops the plank, mildly annoyed she'd have to have another crack at her record later.

"Okay, you want an explanation."

"Yes."

She stands, stepping towards you with determination.

"You said I wasn't the best, right?"

"What?"

"Now you're the one pretending, y/n. You have every idea of what I'm talking about here."

Of course you do. You're not telling her that willingly, though.

"I really-

Her hands find your waist, backing you into the mirrored wall behind you.

"You said I wasn't the best you've ever had. Who else could've loved you the way I did? Who else made you shiver and writhe underneath me the way I did?"

Her voice lowers as she tilts your head to look up at her.

"Who else could make you cum the way I did? Tell me, Princess."

The way your cheeks redden only serves to egg her on. Her gym attire today was only futhering that though, sports bra and shorts, sweat sheening her abdomen, one you had once unabashedly stared at for all of your relationship.

Now, though, you fought every instinct and craving in you to glance down.

It doesn't matter because her lips curl up into a knowing smirk at your internal battle.

Spitefully, you snap back.

"What makes you think you're the only one to do any of that?"

For a second, you see her confident demeanour faulter, but it returns but a second later.

"Because you wouldn't still be so affected by everything I'm doing. Nor would you let me keep doing it. I know you, Y/n. If you'd been even mildly uncomfortable with anything I was doing, you would have bitch-slapped me back to Belford."

She's right.

You'd never tolerated anyone doing anything you didn't want or ask for, always the first to call someone out on their bullshit.

She continues.

"The fact that you're in here, yelling at me about how much I'm driving you crazy-"

"I did not say-"

"You don't have to, Princess. I know your tells, I know when you're flustered, frustrated, angry, upset, sad, elated. I know you. And you know that. The fact you're in here, now, tells me everything I need to know."

For once, you don't know how to respond.

So you don't.

You just tug her down by the nape of her neck.

Damn Lucy and her sexy ass cocky smirk and her back-of-her-own-hand knowledge of everything about you.

Damn the way her lips meet yours halfway, anticipating the move.

Damn her fingers, digging into your hips, lifting you into her arms and settling under your thighs to press you into the wall.

Damn Lucy and her ability to make you fall right back into her like she'd never left you back in Manchester.

Despite your best efforts, you never really could get one step ahead of her.

She pulls away, much to your whines.

"So are you gonna answer me honestly, or do I have to do something about it."

You play coy, a small eyebrow raise, despite the mild heaving in your chest.

"I am the best you've had, no doubt."

"Prove it."

--

Despite your stubbornness earlier, you'd have no qualms telling the whole world you were truly and wholly Lucy's.

You'd scream it from the rooftops.

That she was the best and only one who could fuck like she does.

Especially right now.

"Such a good girl for me, Princess. You always have been."

It's a little stuttered between thrusts, hips meeting yours with every utter of the words of the sentence.

Her hand around your throat, gently squeezing, makes your head spin as she thrusts the strap into you deliciously.

Your eyes squeeze shut, ears zoning in on her panting, the way the bed squeaks under her ministrations, the far too obscene sound of skin on skin.

The wet sounds of your own cum and arousal on the silicone toy strapped to her hips.

It's all overwhelming and only serves to send you further into the oblivion that she's got you in right now.

Your moans are loud, biting your lip to hide them from bouncing off the walls of the hotel room.

Lucy, it seems, has made it her mission to put an end to that, because her hips snap a little harder against you, and her other hand moves to play with your clit, thumb pressing into it leaving you helplessly canting your hips to meet hers.

"Bet no one else could make you cum as hard as I do."

It throws you closer to the edge faster than you expect, and your mouth drops open fully.

"Look at me."

It's a single statement from her that makes your eyes snap open to look at her above you.

She's leant over you, just about bracing herself by your throat, and the constriction just pulls you further into her.

"Good girl, I want you to watch as you cum on my cock, pretty girl."

You don't even have to ask because she's got you over the edge before you can say "Please let me cum."

Trying your hardest to focus on the rapid way her strap disappears inside you, the feeling of the head rubbing your insides and pressing into every sensitive spot inside you.

One final breathless moan leaves you digging your nails into the sheets below you, thighs quivering around her, and she lets you pull her down onto you.

There's a gentle rock to her hips, letting you come down finally, a slow to the pace she'd set hours earlier, making you orgasm over and over until now.

When she goes to pull out, you stop her.

"Don't move yet."

She chuckles softly, pressing kisses to your collarbone and neck.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby."

She settles back on her haunches, though, pulling back with a small groan of appreciation of where your hips are joined.

"God, you're so sexy, taken me so well, haven't you?"

You whine softly, cheeks flushing somehow further under the praise.

She slowly withdraws, dropping the strap off the side of the bed, settling between your legs once more, head level with your hips now.

"I'm not sure if I can anymore, Lucy."

"You can, baby. One more for me."

Her mouth lowers to your cunt, the sensitivity making you buck a little in overstimulation.

Her tongue laps at you, taking in every drop of you with a small breathy groan. It dips insidd you, pressing you open again before moving back to wrap around your clit and suck.

She'd missed this.

She'd missed you.

And she tells you as such once you cum on her tongue again moments later.

You're shaking around her head, hair firmly grasped between your fingers, which finally manage to pull her away from your far from overstimulated clit as she kisses her way back up your stomach, chest and finally meets your lips.

It's soft, slow, and loving, and the taste of yourself on her lips makes you whine into her.

When you pull away, she steps up off the bed, leaving you shivering under the air conditioning, sweaty, sticky, and slightly embarrassed at how quickly you'd jumped back into bed with the woman, even after a whole year gone of not touching her.

That all disappears when she reappears from around the corner with a water bottle and a damp cloth, letting her wipe you down, letting out a small wince when she bumps your clit again.

"Sorry, Princess, I'm trying to be gentle."

"S'alright."

Your words are starting to slur as a wave of exhaustion hits you.

--

She's coming back from cleaning off the toy and disposing of the cloth when she spots your knocked out form on the bed, splayed out on your stomach, still naked as the day you were born, snoring softly into her pillow.

A soft chuckle leaves her, and she settles back into the mattress beside you, to which you immediately cling to her form, and her arms wrap around you, head tucked under her chin.

Lucy knows she's not over you.

Truthfully, she knew the whole time.

She'd tried.

Tried going on dates.

Tried finding solace in other women but none of them were you.

All she could think about in Barcelona was how much she missed you.

Being with you, touching you, kissing you, feeling you.

Everything about you.

Even your soft, scolding tone every time she left her boots by the door in the walkway or when she accidentally left your new toy out on the bedside table for your nosy nephews to find and turn into a rocket ship. (It was still clean, fresh out of the packaging.)

That day, you'd been especially red in the face when you spotted what little Jonathan was holding and had smacked a muffled laughing girlfriend of yours upside the head.

She'd missed the days you'd drag her out on evening walks along the streets. On long drives to the water's edge in Southport.

To walk along the pier and just talk about anything and everything. Or to just enjoy the silence away from the chaos of your lives.

The way you'd always have your arms open and ready when you'd both gotten home from a particularly rough game or training session.

The warmth of your hugs after freezing games in the night, despite having been out on that pitch yourself.

She might be Lucia Roberta Tough Bronze to everyone else, but she could let her guard down around you.

That was the best thing about you, she reckons.

How easily you crumbled her tough façade.

How soft she was with you.

She always loved you for that.

She still does.

The thought unsettles her a little.

Despite the fact you're naked in her hotel room bed, cuddle into her. She’s not entirely sure what this means for both of you.

Just that she wants you back more than anything.

She'd move back to England if you asked.

She knows you would never ask her of that, but she would anyway, she decides.

You meant everything to her. You mean everything to her. Still.

When you awake hours later, still curled into her sleeping form, pressing small lazy kisses to the underside of her jaw, they're pressed with soft loving words of affirmation, knowing it's what she needs to hear, even if you hadn't declared your relationship resumed just yet.

Though, you do that a couple hours after that, with your fingers curled inside her, asking her to be yours again.

--

[celestial-blight]

Star Trek Prodigy is just another one of those shows that loves the Star Trek franchise, and I will DIE on the hill that it's hands down the most gorgeous show in the franchise.

The fact that they brought back cetacean ops from Lower Decks is just incredible.

The fact that a... ahem.... mysterious returning character from Next Generation is a central figure for the plot is just so heartwarming and sweet and I love that they made him an insane dork!

The fact that the whole show is a Voyager spinoff, one of the LEAST popular Trek shows, is possibly my favorite part of the whole thing.

Anyways, Season 2 was really good, better than Season 1, and honestly Season 1 was way better than I remembered it being on a rewatch. Very much recommend if you want to see some of the most imaginative sci-fi out there! Please watch it so we get a season 3 ;-;

[shuadotcom]

Main Dish | HJS (M)

☐ Summary: When lunch ends up being inedible, Joshua has to pick something else to eat.

☐ Pairing: Joshua x Afab!Reader

☐ Genres & AUs: Smut, fluff, established relationship!au, absolutely porn without plot

☐ Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

☐ Warnings: Profanity, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, pet names (baby, baby girl, sweetheart, honey, good girl), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting

☐ Words: 3.2k

☐ Note: This fic is brought to you by my lack of cooking skills and my insatiable need for Joshua. It was also written for @kpopsblackcreatorsociety Bon Voyage Bingo event! The bingo square/prompt for this fic is camping.

Thank you @horanghater for being my beta ily 🥰

☐ Net Tag: @kflixnet

“Please don’t go off, please don’t go off, please do-”

BEEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEEP

“Goddamnit!” Working as fast as possible, you grab the pan from the hot stove top, removing it from the heat. The blare of the smoke detector rings out through the apartment and you have to act quickly to open all the nearby windows, waving away the smoke in the air with the dish towel. 

Once the smoke mostly clears and the alarms have subsided, you survey the scene in front of you. Grumbling in frustration you eye the now burnt tofu on the stovetop and let out a disappointed sigh. You had just wanted to cook something fun and new for your boyfriend. He’s been camping with his friends for the past week and you figure he would appreciate a home-cooked meal but, as usually happens with you in the kitchen, it turned out to be a disaster. 

You weren’t a cook by any means, but you knew how to get by with very basic skills. Boiling eggs, making stove-top ramen, and using the air fryer slash toaster oven you had begged for on your last birthday. 

All of the essentials of cooking. 

Tonight, the plan was originally to try a new pan-fried tofu recipe you saw on TikTok because it looked yummy. Instead of looking like the wonderfully golden-fried nuggets that they were supposed to resemble, all that sits in the pan in front of you now are uneven little pieces of charcoal. 

Great. Wonderful. Amazing.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen, gnawing at a hangnail in distress, you didn’t even take notice of your boyfriend watching you from the entrance of the room, admiring how cute you looked in your little lounge clothes and apron. His entrance had been drowned out by the blaring of the smoke alarms.

“Don’t chew on your nails, honey, it’s not good for you.”

Joshua’s voice is much louder than the music you are playing from your phone on the counter and you nearly leap into the air when you hear him.

“Jesus, Shua! You scared the shit out of me!” Clutching your chest, you reach over and pause the sound from your phone.

He chuckles as he approaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing you in for a hug. 

“Sorry, baby. I couldn’t help it.” He apologizes, but the smirk on his face shows he’s not really that sorry.

Joshua places a kiss and your waiting lips and your annoyance at being jump-scared fades. He smells like outside and a little bit like sweat, but underneath that, he still has his usual warm, homey scent that belongs only to him.

You let him take your breath away a little while longer, arms wrapping around his neck to bring him closer. He rests his head against yours when you pull away, his eyes tired but still sparkling down at you.

“How was your guys' camping trip?”

“Well, Mingyu found a spider in his tent and tore the whole thing down trying to get out, Soonyoung got sunburnt and fell into the lake, and Vernon forgot his allergy medicine and spent all week sneezing.”

“So the usual shenanigans?”

With a chuckle, Joshua nods, looking you up and down. “Basically, but I’m having a much better time now that I’m back here with you.” He leans down to kiss your forehead and you still let yourself get flustered by his sweet words, even after three years together. “And what’s going on in here?” He asks when he finally pulls away, eyes looking over your head at the charred remains of your lunch.

“Nothing, just me fucking up in the kitchen again.” Pouting, you cross your arms, wincing as Joshua steps up to the counter, inspecting what’s remaining of the tofu.

“Ah baby, they don’t look that bad…” He uses the chopsticks you left nearby to poke at a piece, raising it to his face and sniffing it.

“Shua, don’t-” Before you can stop him, he pops it into his mouth, chewing extra slowly. Your boyfriend, always so sweet to you and considerate of your feelings, looks like he’s in physical pain as he crunches the food, his nose wrinkling with each shift of his jaw. With a sigh you walk over and grab a sheet of paper towel, holding it up to his mouth. “Spit it out.”

“It doesn’t taste terrible…” he mumbles between chews, eyebrows furrowing as he does.

“Joshua, just spit it out!” At your insistence he does, expression apologetic.

Joshua watches you take the rest of the tofu and throw it away, shoulders slumping in defeat. He moves across the kitchen to stand behind you, wrapping you in his arms. 

“Don’t be upset, baby. It’s just some tofu.”

“But I fucked up lunch for you! I just wanted to make you a homemade meal since you’ve been eating over a campfire all week.” Joshua coos at you, pulling you tighter against him.

“Aw, sweetheart, you didn’t have to do all this in the first place. I think we both know that you would’ve been better off ordering something. There’s a reason I do most of the cooking, remember?” He laughs, his tone teasing.

Gasping, you spin in his hold, round eyes staring up at him as you pout for what feels like the twentieth time tonight. “Joshie, are you saying I can’t cook?!”

Faltering, Joshua’s eyes dart back and forth, strategically planning his next words. 

“I - I didn’t mean that you can’t cook, Y/n. I just -”

“I’m kidding, Shua. Of course, I know I can’t cook.” He’s clearly relieved, rolling his eyes at your giggles. 

Joshua leans down to pepper your face with kisses, holding you close, ignoring your feeble attempt to escape his grasp.

“I guess it’s a good thing then that I wasn’t even thinking about what I’d eat for lunch.” He places a final kiss on your cheek before pulling back to gaze at you.

“You weren’t?”

“Of course not. How could I even begin to think about lunch when all I could think about was tasting you again?” Joshua smirks at you, laughing when you scoff, your turn to roll your eyes at him.

“How did I know you wouldn’t even be a little bit subtle about wanting to have sex as soon as you got back?” 

“Because you know how addicted I am to you and how much I think about you.” You and Joshua are chest to chest, his hands tracing your body, fingertips pressing lightly into your curves.

Joshua’s voice has already lowered an octave, eyes flickering to your lips. You’re in no way surprised at how quickly Joshua turned the situation from silly and domestic to horny, but you’re not bothered in the slightest, more than happy to fuck your boyfriend again. A week has been far too long of a time to go without Joshua’s cock inside of you.

“Oh, so you were thinking of me on your trip? Thought you’d be too busy grilling meat and playing games with the boys.” 

“Baby, I’m always thinking about you, but especially when we’re not together.” Joshua ducks down, his nose brushing yours. 

“And what about me were you thinking about exactly?” You whisper, holding your breath as you await his next words.

“Well, I was thinking all about how sweet your cunt is and how I couldn’t wait to come home and devour you.”

Somehow you hadn’t registered that Joshua walked you back until the counter pressed into your lower back, trapping you between it and Joshua’s firm body.

“Hmm…then I guess lunch is served whenever you’re ready to eat,” Tilting your head up, your lips brush against Joshua’s. You shift your leg forward, knee brushing against the crotch of his sweatpants. A grunt slips out of him when you make contact with his half-hard cock and he surges forward, lips meeting yours in a feverish kiss. 

Joshua’s soft lips move against yours, his hands cupping your face to keep you close. Your hands trail up Joshua’s thick arms, tracing every ridge and dip of muscle. You’ve never been shy about how much you enjoy the new gym rat era he and a few of his friends have entered, making sure to be very obvious about the way you appreciate the new muscle he’s worked on gaining. He also doesn’t hide just how much he loves how the bulkier version of him turns you on, your boyfriend flexing for you so the muscles tense and loosen a few times under your fingertips.

Those same strong arms move to hold your waist, holding onto you as he swallows every pant and tiny whine that you let out. Joshua’s tongue wraps around yours and sucks, the kiss descending into lewd territory as Joshua grinds against your thigh still wedged between his legs.

The kiss feels like it goes on forever, which is in no way a complaint. Joshua’s hands wander all over your body, hands skating down to grab at your bare thighs and up to your ass, grabbing a handful to bring your hips impossibly closer. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you are, feeling your cotton panties clinging to you with each shuffle of the fabric. 

Joshua seems to read your mind as he finally moves a hand under your apron and into the waistband of your shorts and panties, his finger grazing your pussy making you jolt and buck into his hand.

“Would you look at that? You’re fucking drenched just from my kisses?” To illustrate his point, he pulls his fingers from your shorts, holding the wet digits up to showcase your juices to you both.

“Fuck, yeah, I need you so badly. I missed you so much.”

Joshua hums, popping his fingers into his mouth, eyes closing as he sucks them clean, savoring your flavor. The scene is enough to have you rubbing your thighs together, easily recalling just how good his tongue feels when it’s on you.

“Mmm, I missed you too, baby. And speaking of, I’m starving, so I think I’m ready to eat now.”

Joshua plants his hands on your hips and turns you around so his front is pressed against your back, walking with you out of the kitchen and around to the island, leaving kisses on the back of your neck as you go. When you reach the side of the island that you usually sit to eat at, Joshua’s nimble fingers untie your apron and lift it over your head, tossing it to the floor. Your shorts and panties come next as he slides the fabric down your legs, letting them pool at your feet.

Your boyfriend makes a sound of appreciation at the sight of your bare ass, big hands squeezing your cheeks before landing a firm smack on one of them. He helps you up onto the island, sitting you near the edge. Joshua pulls up a stool in front of you, spreading your legs wide, and letting out a low whistle.

“Look at all of this, so messy and sloppy all for me.” Joshua leans forward and places kisses on the inside of your thighs, inhaling your scent as he does, small moans rumbling in his throat.

A few whimpers slip out of you with each kiss over your hot skin, Joshua’s breath hitting your core only serving to make you wetter. Joshua loves eating you out, always talking about how good you taste and how much he loves the way you smell when you’re dripping for him.

He doesn’t leave you waiting for long this time (another thing Joshua loves is to tease you, but he seems to want you bad enough to spare you this time) as his tongue finally licks at your clit, the muscle flattening and adding much-needed pressure. 

A squeal of Joshua’s name tumbles out of you as he licks a fat stripe from your hole to your clit - once, twice, three times, each go making you twitch underneath him. Your legs almost snap shut, but his firm grip keeps them open.

“Nuh-uh, keep your legs open, baby girl. I haven’t even started eating my meal.”

Your eyes stay trained on him as his hands grab the back of your thighs, pushing them toward you. You lie on your back in a more comfortable position, hands trembling as they hold onto the front of your shirt in anticipation.

“I’ll never get tired of eating you out, you know that? Never get tired of how fucking sweet you taste on my tongue.” To further his point, Joshua’s thick tongue slips into your pussy, lapping at your gummy walls, letting his nose brush against your clit.

“F-fuck!” Your hands dart down, fingers threading through his brunette strands, tugging at the root as he tongue fucks you on the kitchen island. 

Every grunt and groan that Joshua lets out is deep, deep enough that the vibrations can be felt throughout your whole body. You can’t help but thrash underneath him, loud obscene slurping sounds fill the room as he works. Joshua’s hands keep your thighs pinned down, preventing you from nearly falling off the counter while his face presses closer to your cunt. 

He eats you out like a man starved, a week without your pussy proving to be much too long away for him. The tip of his tongue is still buried inside of you, flicking at your walls at an almost impossible speed. 

Fire begins to quickly pool in the pit of your stomach, nails digging into Joshua’s scalp which only spurs him on more.

“Shua, b-baby so good!”

“Mmph?” You can’t quite hear what he says but it sounds like it has a questioning tilt at the end.

“‘M gonna cum!”

That must’ve been what he was getting at because he picks up the pace and moves his hold on you to the sides of your thighs and makes you wrap your legs around his head. Joshua uses this new angle to force you to rock your hips against his face, leaning into you so far that when you glance down, all you see is the top of his hair which you’re still holding onto for dear life. 

Rolling your hips you go with his movement, desperately riding his face. Joshua lets you, his tongue drilling into you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

When you do cum, you stiffen almost painfully as heat spreads through your body, your thighs squeezing around him like a vice, holding him in place. Your boyfriend happily continues lapping at your sensitive core, murmurs of praise accompanying his coos of delight.

“So fucking tasty,” Joshua sighs as he pulls back, finally taking in air through his mouth. He glances at you, watching your chest heave as you catch your breath. Without a second thought, with your hole still clenching around nothing, Joshua shoves one of his thick fingers into you, drawing a gasp out of you. 

“Shua!?”

He has the audacity to blink up at you, faux innocence on his face along with your juices still shining on the bottom half of his face.

“What? I want seconds.” He shrugs, adding a second finger which has you cursing, senses on overdrive. Joshua’s plush lips are back on your clit, sucking the nub into his mouth, ignoring the way your nails dig into his hair again, tugging on his soft locks. 

“Ngh, Josh-Joshua! Please!”

“Please what, baby?” He mumbles, lips still suckling on your clit, your legs quivering as they rest on his shoulders. His fingers have no trouble finding that soft squishy spot inside of you that has your eyes crossing, the squelching sound of your wetness ringing in your ears.

“I’m - I just…” You trail off when your boyfriend curls his fingers, the overstimulation derailing your train of thought as you feel another orgasm hurdling toward you. Joshua smirks up at you, loving the way he can literally watch as your brain short-circuits for him - because of him.

His lips go back to your clit, suctioning around the bud. His fingers delve into you faster, your velvety walls hugging his digits, coating them in more of your sticky arousal. Sweat beads at your hairline and tears prick your eyes as Joshua throws you into another orgasm, electricity coursing through your veins and a choked, desperate cry of Joshua’s name tumbling from your lips. 

“Yeah, just like that, good girl.” He purrs against your overworked pussy, slowly dragging his fingers out of you. You whimper at the loss, only for the sound to be replaced by a loud wail, Joshua’s slick fingers rubbing rough, frantic circles against your clit. 

“Shit! Fuck, Shua I’m - fuuuck!”

“Come on baby girl, one more. Make a mess all over the fucking counter.” The pads of his fingers drag against your clit, body arching as you flail your hands, scrambling across the marble of the counter looking for something to ground you.

The sensation borders on painful, the sensitivity too much to handle as the pleasure builds and your muscles spasm. When you cum this time, it knocks the wind out of you, your eyes rolling back, your mouth open in a silent scream. Joshua leans down, eyes watching with glee as you squirt all over his hand and arm, getting your mixture of arousal on his shirt. He even cranes his head down, mouth open to drink up the remaining spurts of your release.

He rubs lazy circles over your puffy clit, letting you ride out the rest of your orgasm until your hoarse voice begs him to stop and he does, but not before wiping up as much of your wetness as he can on his fingers and popping them into his mouth once again.

“Fucking hell, Shua!” You huff out when you’ve finally sucked enough air back into your lungs.

“What? I told you I was starving.” His cocky grin earns him a half-hearted kick to his shoulder using the minuscule amount of energy you have remaining. He catches your leg, placing a soft kiss on your ankle before he straightens up and sits back to admire your ruined state.

“Are you going to help me up or leave me here for the rest of the day?” 

“I should eat all of my meals in the kitchen, but I suppose I can help you down.” Joshua laughs at your half-hearted threat to kick him again and offers his hands to you. He helps you sit upright and slowly slides you off of the island. 

When you’re back on shaky feet, you move to pick your bottoms up, but he stops you by pulling you against him.

“Wh-”

“Oh, you don’t need those. I’m gonna order some lunch for us, but I need dessert before it gets here.” He presses his hips forward, his rock-hard dick pressing against your ass. Joshua once again envelops you in his warm embrace, lips skirting against the shell of your ear. “That okay with you, baby?”

Between the orgasms he pushed out of you only minutes ago and the dip in his voice, wetness collects between your legs again, pussy clenching at the thought of Joshua fucking you for real.

“That’s more than okay with me,” you rasp, clearing your throat. “I’m feeling pretty empty myself and am dying to be stuffed.”

[feitanii-ll]

巛—𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘 𝗪 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗞—⫸

[[ knight !reader x royal !link scenarios ]]

you've been assigned to him for as long as you could remember. people have observed your bond, and it's quite obvious that you're the only reasonable match— the only one he's willing to let take care of him. you wouldn't want to change that fact either, but taking care of link comes with an unfathomable amount of responsibility. such as...

★ "put down that damn frog!"

you're the closest you've ever been to a heart attack at this point. taking the prince out on a voyage where there were monsters lurking about was the last thing you had wanted to do, but unable to resist his insistent, silent pouting, you couldn't exactly denyhim what he wanted.

he's cute when he's curious, which is everyday. you let him roam around with his large observational book, studying and taking notice of whatever shroom or flower was blooming by whatever random tree.

speaking of a tree, you figured to set up a small campsite under a large tree not too far away from the castle. there was a fire going in a pot, and the boy had been throwing random food stuff inside and hoping for the best dish to come from it. you watch with a soft smile— that is, until it deflates as you spot a few bokoblins a little too close and sigh, standing up.

"Stay here." you mumble softly, to which the boy smiles and nods, eyes glued to the way you reach up to grip the handle of your sword, pulling it up and out of its sheathe.

yoi don't take long— really you don't. the bokoblin type was blue, more than easy to take down. you don't even break a sweat until you begin walking back to the tree, only to feel your breath hitch and your heart stop. that damn monster of curiosity (or, link) was holding a poor frog over the pot, probably more than ready to drop it in for Hylia knows what.

your shouting startles the boy, making him go wide-eyed and sheepish as you storm up to him. you take a second to glare before snatching the creature from his hands and setting it back into the small body of water that he was most likely snatched from.

"seriously? I was gone for five minutes." you protest.

his face goes expressive,

'it's for science!' he signs

"I know, link... you always say that." you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, opening your eyes to see him flipping frantically through his research book before holding it open, shoving the open page in your face.

a silly healing elixir that he had been mentioning non-stop. it was probably the reason he was so adamant about tagging along.

"yes, my liege, I know about the elixir. but if you want it so bad, why don't you just simply buy one?" you suggest, exhaustion in your voice.

his face scrunches in disgust at the idea, throwing the book down before signing again,

'too far. want to experience creating it on my own'

you look from his hands to his face, being met with his saddened eyes. if he were anyone else...

"fine..." you mumble, to which he silently celebrates, "just, not in front of me, please?"

'thank you.' he steps closer, and you smile.

'no problem'. you sign back.

* * *

★ "please be careful, my liege." you voice to the blonde prince.

he'd gladly tell you that he was fine if his hands weren't currently full. if anyone else saw how you and link interacted outside of the castle, you're sure you'd be killed for your crimes.

maybe it wasn't a good idea to let the prince of hyrule use your sword and swing it around however he pleased, but in your professional opinion— he's a natural.

"you're doing great!" you smile, shaking your head as he was caught up in his own little world. and he really was. so great that he couldn't heat a word you said. holding a weapon just felt so natural to him, and he absolutely loved it when you offered it up for him to use during leisure time.

his swings are heavy and lethal, but it's obvious to you that he isn't pacing himself. the movements are so natural that he doesn't even comprehend the strain it's putting on his body— not until his swing is stopped.

link looks down at his tightened grasp on the handle, but looseness it as he realizes that you had caught his wrist. his disgruntled expression softens significantly as he looks up at you in awe and embarrassment as you hold his wrists with one hand, and remove the handle the handle from his grip with the other.

"that's enough," tour voice rings through his head as you chuck the sword to the side, face growing serious as you keep holding his wrists, "you alright?"

he can't respond with occupied hands, and so he nods, heart pounding at your serious expression. he wonders what he's done wrong, or what should be wrong, until he begins to feel an ache in his back and shoulders, making him wince. you notice.

"I know that feeling... it's why I stopped you." you explain whilst removing your hands from him. "you're good, but you're straining yourself. you're not fit for that type of intensity."

he mouths a small 'oh', and you sigh, frowning as he rubs his aching shoulder.

"it's alright... I've got something to heal you right up."

the male smiles softly, nodding in appreciation. you were always taking care of him like this. but your encouragement for him to get a little rough and rowdy is why he liked you so much. though you wanted him safe, you weren't constantly sheltering him. he hated that.

he taps your shoulder, to which you turn to him,

'sorry.'

you smile and shake your head, "don't apologize. you did really good my liege. wonder what you'd be like as a knight, actually." you chuckle.

he smiles back, letting the butterflies float around in his tummy.

* * *

★ "what do you think you're doing?"

you felt like you've done this... a lot. for the umpteenth time, you've caught the prince walking around the castle grounds, barefoot, and draped in a softened blanket as he attempts to protect himself from the nighttime breeze.

the look he gives you is one of disappointment as he thinks you're going to take him back inside, but he's pleasantly surprised when you shake your head and simply rest a hand on his shoulder, guiding him forward.

"Don't worry...I'll sit with you."

he smiles, clutching the blanket tighter. beyond the wall, he can spot the swaying of the grass, the wispyness of the clouds in the deep blue sky, and the stillness of the ancient guardians that settled into the ground. he truly loves his kingdom, and you can see it true. he walks until he reaches a spot that makes it easy to see the vast land and takes a seat on the edge of the castle walls.

"this is nice..." you sigh as you sit beside him

he nods, and your eyes glance over to him incase he's ready to talk back. and he does:

'I think I enjoy nighttime the best.' he signs, glancing between you and the beautiful view amongst him, 'sometimes, i think about running. I want to explore.'

you heart aches

"I know, my liege... I'm sorry you feel trapped." you whisper

to your surprise, he laughs softly, shaking his head, 'not trapped... just hidden potential'

you smile. such a purse and positive response. his head turns to face you, eyes so blue that you can't help but observe them thoroughly. he scoots closer beside you, careful, as to not fall, and rest his head on your shoulder.

"I think..." you wrap his blanket around him tighter, "I think we were definitely meant to be this way, my liege." you whisper, and watch as his eyes flutter shut

but not before he nods in agreement, and your heart tate spikes at what he says next.

his hands don't communicate, no. nit this time. instead, you're blessed with a sound ao angelic, so soft that you'd dread if you accidentally missed it.

"I think so too..." he whispers.

* * *

[charliehoennam]

angel part 2

pairing: louis bloom x f!reader

summary: louis and his newfound crush slip deeper into their attraction after the 'wet dream'.

warning: this fic contains dark themes such as stalking, dubcon/noncon, smut and others. Read at your own risk. 18+ ONLY.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

The early morning sunlight begins to stream into your room. Its beaming warmth stirs you from your deep slumber.

Your head is pounding. The room feels it's still spinning around you and your mouth is drier than a desert.

Water would be really good right now, but you're not ready to get up yet. Your limbs still feel heavy and sore.

As consciousness slowly permeates back into you, you realize the soreness concentrates down between your hips. You lay in bed and think back to the dream you had.

You're riddled with confusion. You've had plenty of hyper realistic dreams before, but this felt different.

It felt so real and so good that you wish it had been real. You brush it off deciding to believe you're just so hung up on your neighbor. Being single for as long as you have been, his kind gesture and his piercing blue eyes are incredibly hard to not find so attractive.

You could still feel his warm breath on your skin. His hands felt soft and rough altogether gliding over your supple thighs and groping at your breasts. The memory of his wriggling tongue in your pussy already has it growing wet again.

You must've been really wet in your sleep judging by the stickiness on your sex. It seemed sort of clean; it must have rubbed against your bed sheets or something. It explains the small crusty stains on the cotton fabric.

Looks like you'll be doing laundry today. You needed to anyways. The stack of dirty clothes that you'd been ignoring during the packing process has piled up.

Louis watches you stir around in your bed from where he's stood behind his dull green curtains.

"So pretty even when you wake up," he thinks to himself.

He's so hypnotized by you, he doesn't even look down at the bowl of cereal in his hands as he eats calmly wondering if you know.

He watches your hand slide down between your legs to feel around, blissfully unaware as you search for any residue in your sore pussy.

His stare is relentlessly fixed on you. He can't look away, not that he even wants to. His heart drums faster in his chest along with his thoughts.

Does she know? Did she wake up? Is she going to touch herself? Did she enjoy it?

Inebriated with intrigue and curiosity, he stands frozen with one wide creepy eye peeping out from behind his curtain.

His mouth dries with anticipation, hoping you would touch yourself at the thought of being fucked by him. He can almost hear his blood rush in his head as his breath catches in his throat. He wishes he could hear every sound you make.

Lou doesn't even notice he's holding his only breath as you investigate your body, running a hand over your sore breasts and swollen pussy, when he sets his cereal down on the flower table by the window.

"I can't believe it," he thinks to himself. "That little filthy whore liked it. Can't get enough. Just the way I like it."

While you're asking yourself how this came to be, wondering if your little wet dream became a masturbating sleepwalking session, Lou's got his pants and belt open to unleash his heavy twitch dick.

With every recollection of your soft skin, the taste and the warmth of your pussy, his precum oozes from his domed head, allowing himself to smear it over his veiny member adding to the lube of his spit.

He can imagine how sweet your moans must sound. He would give anything to hear them while defiles your innocent body, plundering for the mind-numbing high.

It brings him to the idea of setting up cameras in your apartment, which doesn't sound so bad.

How come I hadn't thought of that before? He questions himself mentally, being the perverted voyager that he is.

He makes a mental note to plan that later. His mind is too impaired to churn out the details for that. Right now, all he can focus on how your hand is still between your legs.

As you think back to every possible explanation, your mind seems to only concentrate how realistic your dream felt.

You could smell the musky cologne of his body. You could feel his cock pushing and pulling in and out of you. You could feel his tongue wiggle between your folds once he was done pounding it ruthlessly.

The more you think about it, the more you ache for your neighbor.

The thought of him fucking you into your mattress drives you reach your heavy arm to your nightstand and pull out your vibrating friend.

The soreness of your limbs and the throbbing headache aren't enough to silence your pussy's craving. And it yearns for Lou.

Lou watches with a dry mouth hung open as you grind the humming cock against your pussy, drenching it with your slick to push it in.

You lick your lips and moan as you let the vibrator tease your clit, imagining Lou's face so clearly hovering over you as his dick penetrates your cunt.

The thought of the heavenly sounds your bodies would make as his hips snap against your sweaty hot skin.

You imagine threading your fingers into his silky hair as he buries his face between your legs, his tongue invading your core. The intensity of his thick-browed gaze up at you, gripping you with greedy hands and hunger as his mouth works it's wonder on you.

The watch on Lou's wrist rattles softly in the quiet of his apartment as he tugs his dick; his only little compliment to your performance.

With your legs spread wide, you push the vibrator into your slick slit and begin fucking yourself into your own bliss.

You're so fucking horny and drenched that the squelch of your pussy overcomes the vibrations of your toy. You're so hungry for cock and so pretty unknowingly putting yourself on display, holding one leg back to your chest as you fuck your pussy.

You're moaning, gasping and kneading your breast while Lou struggles to not cum just yet.

He wants to wait to cum with you. He wants to cum together because you're his. You were meant to be his and you have to cum together. He needs to feel - or at least pretend enough - that he's right back in your vice of a cunt, dicking you down raw.

His breath hitches as you get closer together and closer and closer until the pulling tension finally snaps in your cores, sheathing you both euphoric waves of pleasure.

"Fuck," he sighs looking at the curtains he'd just stained with ribbons of pearly white cum.

He really needs you again.

He wants more. He'll always want more.

Looking back out the window, he sees you slowly getting to walk to the bathroom and exit from view. He correctly assumes you've gone for a shower, but he needs another round.

With the camera hooked up to the tv, he finally sits back on his couch with your panties in hand. He presses play and begins to watch his work of art from the previous night, he threads his cock into your panties and begins to stroke his length.

He takes a bit of time to notice all the little intimate details of your home that reflect your tastes. Stroking his softened cock to its hardened state again, he makes notes of most of the things you love.

What a lucky little angel you are. He should be watching the news to see what his team's managed to capture without him. Yet here he is, prioritizing you. Worshipping you. You just don't know how truly special you are...yet.

Louis's head falls back as the vulgar images and sound lull him into bliss.

He remembers how pretty you looked. So exposed just for his eyes. All and only his even if just for a while.

Louis's chest heaves as he stares at the TV. You look so peaceful in your sleep. He wonders if he'll ever get to sleep beside you.

While Lou jacks his cock off to the dirty homemade video with your panties hooked around his cock, the fresh scent of the dark brew in your coffee pot wafts through your apartment, infiltrating your bathroom as you wash yourself in the shower.

The warm water rinses away the soreness of your body as you sit on the ground under the running shower.

You close your eyes to enjoy the soothing calm of the shower. Your mind begins to wander. What is it about him that has you so hung up on him?

Sure, he's attractive. He's no LA fitness model. Just a thin, young man with a deadly smile, luscious brown lock and piercing unyielding eyes that could burn a hole tight through you.

He looked fairly common, but there was still something there within that brought a chill up your spine until the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

To be entirely honest, you can't tell if you're attracted to him or scared of him. But whatever it is, it's pulling you like a magnet.

As he waters his treasured flower, he notices across from his window that you're gathering clothes and bedsheets, preparing a laundry basket as you nestle the laundry soap and softener upon the piled fabrics.

He sees this as an opportunity to get closer to you presenting itself. And given the mess he's made on the curtains and your stolen panties, he knows it'll have to be laundry day for him as well.

The complex you share has a community laundromat for the tenants. He presumes that's where you're going, he needs to get there before you do. He needs you to think it's all a mare coincidence.

He watches you wide-eyed as you set your basket down on the couch.

Your toast's popped up in the toaster.

He sighs in relief, knowing now he has enough time to gather his laundry and soap to race to the laundromat to get there before you do.

He stumbles through his apartment, gathering whatever he can find to toss aimlessly into his laundry basket. Then he gathers the curtains from his window to dump them into the basket, along with your dirty lace panties.

He kinda hates that he ruined them. Now, he'll have to wash them and that will wash away your precious scent. No worries, though. He'll just steal another next time and make sure he keeps that one sealed and cleaned to sniff whenever he craves your pussy.

Grabbing a few more clothes, not really caring if they're clean or dirty, he takes one more glance out the window and see that you're still enjoying your simple breakfast.

Dressed in a pink shirt, he ties his brown locks back away from his face and carries his basket on his hip as he calmly makes his way to the laundry room confident in his plan to win you over.

You finish your slices of buttered toast and coffee before wiping your hands together and quickly rinsing the dishes.

The move must have really taken a toll on you because your body is beyond tired, but you still need to push forward though all you wish you could do is sleep under your covers.

Taking a cold water bottle from the fridge, you walk out of your apartment with basket wearing a simple top, short denim shorts and a pair of flip flops.

As you approach the laundromat, you can hear a machine working already from the hallway. The door is wide open, providing more light into the dull dark laundry room.

Outdated washers and dryers line the the walls of the room - if you can even call it that. It really looks more like a building basement with the lack of windows.

You freeze for a minute as you quickly make out the familiar figure standing with his back to you as he calmly sets his clothes in the washer one item at a time.

After a glance over his shoulder, he turns around his head to flash a smile that attempts to seem more welcoming than devious, though faint worry radiating from your amygdala questions his succession in asserting comfort.

"Y/N, right? The new neighbor?" As if he could ever forget your name.

"Yeah. You're Lou, right?" you reply politely returning the smile.

Without any control, your pussy squeezes around nothing arching for him once again as you're reminded of your dream.

"Are you settling in alright?"

"Yeah, I am. Still have some unpacking to finish, but everything is going well. Thanks for asking."

"Sure thing. Oh, " suggest washer number 3. It works the best if you ask me. Don't bother with number 9. It'll take your coins, but it doesn't work. I personally believe it's intentionally rigged to steal our money."

"Thank you for that. I'll have to keep that in mind," you smile politely.

You wonder if it's actually true or if he just wants you to be closer to him given that washer number 3 is right next to him. Why wouldn't he take the best washer instead?

Brushing off the worrisome questions, you feel like you barely know him enough to make judgements about him, so you walk over to the washer beside his and start loading it up.

"Thank you for the cookies again. They were really good. I almost ate all of them."

He smiles to himself. Almost? That could only mean you didn't eat all of them, meaning there are more of the sleep-inducing cookies that can provide him with another opportunity and hopefully tonight.

His dick twitches at the excitement.

"I'm glad you enjoyed them. Although I admit they're much better when eating within the first two days. After that, they start to go stale."

They don't, but he can't risk you not eating them.

"Guess I'll have to finish them all today. What a sacrifice," you reply ironically flashing a smile at him.

He chuckles at your jokes, trying his best to mimick genuine amusement.

"What an awful way to indulge."

"Did you make them from scratch?"

"Oh, of course" he lies. "They're my late grandma's recipe."

He never even met his grandmother or grandparents. He was given up to adoption at an early age. He lies to add a personal taste; he hopes he can win you over a little with a family-friendly detail.

And he does.

"Aw, that's sweet," you swoon. "Did you learn how to cook with her?"

"She taught me enough to get me by."

"Well, she taught you well. Those cookies were delicious."

Yes, you are. The best thing I've ever tasted, he thinks to himself.

"She taught me how to make a wonderful chocolate cake as well. I'd love to make it for you sometime," he beams at all the possible opportunities that flash through his mind.

"Yeah, I'd love that! I love chocolate cake. But you gotta let me make you something too," you reply feeling a little too spoiled.

"You don't have to do that. I love baking," he hasn't the slightest clue how to make a cake from scratch. Thank God for box mix, though.

"Well, I wouldn't feel so bad about accepting all your treats. Why don't you at least let me take you out then? My treat."

"Are you asking me out?" he smirks locking his eyes on you.

"I might be. Doesn't have to be a date if you don't want to."

Your cheeks flush with warmth as he catches your not-so-subtle invitation.

"Yeah, I'd love that. And I appreciate a woman that isn't afraid to take the initiative."

You smile brightly feeling like you just took a step in the right direction.

"I'm free tonight if you are? I know a great place that serves authentic Mexican food."

"Sounds great to me. How about tonight at 8?"

"Perfect, sweetheart" he grins.

His idea to win you over is actually working, all according to plan.

[midnight-black2]

hii so like i just like so wnated another kai fic where hes like a heavy masochist if thats okay?

its not like something where hes being punished like thtf more js like a gf whos just naturally as mean as him and shes like doing him like harshly while he loses his shit over it

𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏

pairing : kai (from voyagers) x reader

synopsis : turns out all along kai only wanted someone who was just as unapologetic as him to properly ruin him

disclaimers : sub!kai, dom!reader, degradation, masochist!kai, mean!reader, fem!reader, riding, p in v, imaginary condom (wrap it before you tap it you guys !!)

note : i know they're on a ship, don't ask me where they got condoms cuz idk. also, i listened to shut me up by mindless self indulgence while making this, so that's where the title comes from. just know this oneshot has nothing to do with the title, really. also sorry it's so short, haven't been finding much time lately, unfortunately.

everything you did or said was incredibly, utterly insatiable to kai. the way you walked, head held high with brimming confidence. the way you spoke, you seemed to have this little twang at the end of every sentence that made everyone fall captive to you and your ways. whatever you said, normally went. why? well, in short, most were a bit afraid of you. you'd never really physically hurt anybody, but it was what you said. backhanded comments, snarky remarks, they all came naturally to you. with kai? even more natural.

that's why he liked you so much.

you were even meaner than he was, and it was pretty rare, especially when you live on a ship in the middle of outer space. he would go absolutely animalistic whenever you inflicted a little pain on him. no matter the time. but especially when you two were fucking.

you had your right hand firmly (not too hardly) wrapped around his throat. it restricted his airway, but god did it feel so good. your left hand was placed on his hips, preventing him from moving. you bounced up and down on him effortlessly as he let out choked groans and whimpers.

"please," kai begged. you quirked a brow, curiosity piqued.

"please what, kai?" you asked, in an (faux, yet convincing) annoyed tone.

"t-tighter please." you weren't quite sure what he meant, until it suddenly clicked.

"you want me to choke you...harder? oh my god you're such a whore," he whined at the name, throwing his head back. you were amused, so you did what he asked. you rolled your hips a little, and watched the way he shuttered.

it was peculiar, to say the least. not many people put up with you like kai did. you were conniving, defiant, and independent more often than not; at least ever since everyone stopped taking the blue.

he smiled, through it all, he smiled. he was genuinely smiling at the pain. a stupid grin plastered across his face as he was being utterly slutted out. you laughed, mockingly, but you laughed. everything you did seemed so condescending.

he loved it.

you finally pulled your hand away from his throat, and he was sent grasping for air immediately.

"looks like you've bitten off more than you can chew, hm?" you smirked down at him, speeding up your body. you squeezed the flesh of his waist unknowingly, as you let out a groan. his eyes opened, and he was quickly overwhelmed by the sight of you. looking so smug, complacent.

"fuckfuckfuck," he murmured out, almost incoherently. you could tell he was getting close.

"you want to cum, don't you?" you queried, a mean smile on your face.

"yes, please," he answered, nodded frantically.

"then beg." he whined for the nth time that day. he hated (loved it) when you made him beg. it felt so degrading.

"please, y/n. please, i need you. so so bad, let me cum, please," he begged, as you bounced up and down mercilessly.

"good enough, i guess," you said, though unconvincingly. "we'll come at the same time. just make it for a bit longer." he didn't even know if he could do that, but God so help him, he would try.

"three," you began.

"two."

"one." and as if a switch turned on, you both came in unison; kai's mouth agape in a silent moan of pure ecstasy. you let out a string of curses, some directed towards kai, some not. hell, you weren't even sure what you were saying anymore.

and kai was certain, that might've been the hardest he'd ever came, ever.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐤𝐲𝐚-𝐢𝐬-𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐥

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

[mizuki80]

Chapter 5: United as one

Warning: Blood

Word count: 2.6k

Note: Chapter 5 is here! Hope you all like it! Sorry for the grammar errors, will most likely go back and fix them. Also, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

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Chapter 5:

After the eventful family dinner, everyone had gone to her chambers. Visenys finds herself walking alone in the dark halls of the Red Keep and she makes way for her apartments. As she entered and was about to close the door, Aemond slipped past the small crack.

“I do not wish to see, or talk to you,” Visenya said as she tried to close the door on him but failed as he pushed back, now entering her room.

Aemond felt heartbroken hearing her say those words to him, “I’m sorry,” he said watching as she turned away from him

“I do not think I am the one you should be apologizing to,” Visenya said, turning to glance at him with a disappointed expression.

“I lost my temper.” Aemond said

“Lost your temper….” Visenya scuffed “Did you have to insult my Aunt…” looking him in the eye “Your Sister, the heir…. Just for a jest someone did to you when you years ago.” Visenya said angrily “You may hate them if you wish but they are my family… You insult them, you insult me.” Visenya said, stepping closer “What happened to you?...” she said as Aemond remained quiet “Did your father or mother’s negligence growing up really affected you so badly?”

“You happened!” Aemond said, spitting back “The day you left was the day I lost everything.” he said clearly upset

“Oh please… spare me the excuses.” Visenya said

“Visenya… You were the only good thing in my life when I was younger…” Aemond said cupping her face made Visenya look at him “Father was too sick or was too busy running the kingdom, Mother was too busy tending to Helaena or keeping Aegon in line…” he said “But you…you were there through everything.”

“Aemond… you shoul-” Visenya started

“No, please let me finish…” He said cutting her off “I promise… I will try to get along with my nephews… Let me prove to you that I am still that same person you knew back then.”

“Do not make promises you cannot fulfill.” Visenya said

“I promise you, let me earn your trust, and…” He paused “Love once again”

“You must go…” She said pulling was from him

As Aemond sighed and started to walk toward the door he was able to hear her last words.

“Do not make me regret this.” Visenya said as she watched him walked out

Those words were the one thing he needed.

~Time skipped ~ 

Visenya was awakened by the sun’s rays entering her room. Servants walked in with her breakfast and helped her get ready. Putting her hair back in a half up bun with braids intricately placed framing her face and got her in her riding garments, making her look regal, fitting for a princess.

As she makes her way out of the keep, she is able to see servants running around preparing for the grand feast. As she approaches the dragonpit, she is able to see Aemma standing in front of Vermothor as Silverwing waits patiently for her, letting out a pur like sound as she sees her rider.

“Hello, sister…” Aemma said turning to her twin “You sleep in this morning, very unusual of you.”

“I must be tired from our voyage and the events that followed the day before.” Visenya said as she pets Silverwing. Aemma looks at her sister as if she knows something.

Visenya noticed this and looked at her “What?” she said clearly knowing something is up

“Nothing… I didn't say anything.” Aemma said avoiding Visenya’s gaze as she licks her lips, doing so when ever she lies

“You’re lying…” Visenya said, stepping closer to her sister “You lick your lips whenever you do… Now tell me.”

Smirking at her sister “Are you sure you weren’t up talking to a certain one-eyes-prince.” Aemma said, teasing her sister.

“How did yo-” Visenya said “It wasn’t what you think.”

“I know all the things that are happening around you..” Aemma said “And I saw him walking out of your room with a stupid grin on his face.” Aemma said

Visenya rolled her eyes as she got on Silverwing and left Aemma on the ground screaming for her to wait.

After their flight Aemma and Visenya went to the training yard to find their cousins and Aemond training. They were in separate corners but it appears they are able to co-exist together, which surprised the two girls. 

Aemond was able to see them enter “Are you here to train nieces?” 

This got the twins attention “Yes, would that be a problem uncle?” Aemma ask

“Sorry princesses but…” Ser Criston paused looking at the two princesses “Swords are not proper for delicate flowers as yourselves.”

“Even roses shed blood with their thornes.” Visenya said looking at the member of the Kingsguard 

“I mean not to offend y-” Ser Criston was cut off

“Let them join if they wish Cole, this should be indeed interesting….” Aemond says  directly at Visenya “Dual them…”

“My Prince, I do not think it Wise.” Criston Cole said

This whole interaction was watched by many but especially their father.

“Let my girls have at it Ser Criston….” Their father yelled out from the balcony “I have full confidence in my daughter’s skills in combat.” smirking as he says this.

“As you wish my Lord….” Ser Criston says “Princesses” Nodding at the princess as he raises his sword to them. Everyone in the training yard watches, some disagreeing with the situation, others ammoused. 

As ser Criston gave his final blow, “ I will say princess… you are a strong opponent…” he said looking at the Aemma “But not strong enough.”

“Are you sure about that Ser Criston…” looking at her sword pointing at his stomach then signaling behind him, where Visenya holds her sword on the back of his neck. “You forget… you're fighting the two of us.” Aemma said smirking as they all lowered their swords.

Everyone was silent, until their father yelled out “Well done my darlings, your mother is looking for you…” he said proudly “Must get ready for the feast.”

The twins glance at each other before making their way into the Keep. Everyone in the yard was too shocked at what happened, two princesses defeating a knight of the Kingsgaurd with combat experiences. Aemond was one of those people completely shocked by the turns of events, knew Visenya trained as a child in combat, but he thought that interest would go aways through time.

~Time Skip~ 

Visenya was on her way to the grand hall where the feast was to take place. She wore a beautiful pale blue and cream short sleeve modest dress, complimenting her eyes, with her hair up in a half-up bun with braids framing her face beautifully.

During the feast her family gathered at the front of the room on a pedestal, Houses came to them greeting and showing respect to the King and his family.

As the king stood up with all the strength he had, every house looked “Your presence is greatly appreciated….” he says as he looks around “Be welcome, as we join together in celebration. For the Houses of Old Valyria grow stronger and united as one, a grand celebration will be held. As we all know there will be a tourney and hunt to be held for the uniting of my Family ....” The King paused “A Special treat is to be presented ... .The winner of the Hunt shall be welcome to spend a day with my Granddaughter… The Princess Aemma….” He paused as he motioned to the younger twin “And as for the Tourney…. Whichever Lord or even knight of the great houses before me shall be welcome to spend the day with my eldest granddaughter… Princess Visenya, heir to the Spine Islands.” 

As the King said this everyone in the room started to whisper amongst themselves. The last particular announcement got a certain one-eyed prince’s attention, one who does not “Give a shit for tourneys”.

“Now this is not a marriage proposal, only an acquaintance with the princesses. Now let us dine together.” With that the King sat back down, that took a large toll on his body, but wanting to be with his family he carried on.

As they dined, they were approached by none other than House Stark of Winter fell.

“My King, this is Cragen Stark the New Lord of Winterfell.” the Hand Otto Hightower introduced before taking his seat.

“My King…” Cregan Stark bowed, greeting the King “It brings me and my house honor to be invited to such a joyous night.”

This interaction certainly got Aemma’s attention “Sister…you are drooling.” Visenya whispered to Aemma’s ear

“Shut up!” whispering back causing Visenya ya to giggle

“Your presence ... .is certainly appreciated…. Lord Stark.” the King said

As the feast commenced, everyone danced, Lords fought to dance with the twin Princesses.

“My family holds many riches,” Jason Lanister said with a smug grin a man that is 3x her age “One that will give my Lady Wife comfort for all her days, never will she ever need to lift a finger.”

“I see… well whoever that Lady will be most honored … Oh and I am very sorry about you Late Lady wife.” Visenya gave a forced smile “I believed my sister was calling for me…” Visenya smiled and walked away out of view, and standing on the balcony looking at the stars is solitude.

Minutes later Aemma appeared “I see you are hiding from Jason Lannister… when he could not find you he came after me….” Looking at her twin sister “How could you!” Aemma said jokingly to her sister.

“That man is undoubtedly clueless…. After all the attempts I hinted at him not wanting to converse… he still made an offer to dance.” Visenya said sighing in annoyance

“You still said yes….” Aemma looking at  her sister with a confused brow

“I did not want to seem rude.” Visenya defended “And you simply declined every offer

“Sister, you are simply too kind…” Aemma said as she pulled her sister back inside.

As they made their way back into the celebration, they were stopped by none other than Lord Cragen Stark.

“Princesses..” he greeted the two princesses with a bow“I have not seen both of you on the floor for quite some time..”

Visenya looked at her sister, Aemma was frozen. As if she was dropped off in the North during the dead of winter. “Lord Stark… Yes, we just thought to rest our feet from all the dancing.” 

“I see… if it is alright with…” Cregan paused looking at Aemma then back at Visenya “It would give me a great honor to dance with Princess Aemma…. If it pleases her.” 

Visenya looked between the two waiting for her sister to give an answer, but there was only silence.” She would be delighted too.” pushing her sister forward “Right… Aemma.”

With this Aemma’s trance was finally lifted “Y-yes… I would be delighted too.” She said, taking Cregon Stark’s hand.

Visenya watched as they walked away, Aemma looked back at her one last time before conversing with the Stark.

Visenya stood there watching, not before seeing Jason Lanister make his way to her. This causes the girl to walk the opposite direction away from the man as she looks back to see if she lost him, she then hears a voice..

“A dance… dear niece”

As she turned to the voice she was met with sapphire blue eyes as she looked up, “I- '' she started looking back seeing Jason Lanister bumping into people ``I would.. Be delighted too…. Uncle”  She said as she took his hand… seeing the interaction Jason Lanister simply just stood there.

“You are simply getting all the Lords attention, dear niece.” Aemond said as he danced with Visenya

“I can’t say I enjoy the attention…” she said looking at him “I have yet seen you dance with the young ladies in attendance.” 

“I do not think they would enjoy a dance…” He paused, “they seem to fear me.”

This softens Visenya’s gaze “I do not see why….” She said looking into his eyes “You… are easy on the eyes… even with one eye.” she said

This caused Aemond to let out a laugh “Well that gives me relief…that you do not fear me” 

They smiled at each other, a genuine smile, catching the attention of their mothers. Knowing that there is some affection still remaining.

As the feast concluded everyone made their own chambers. Aemma and Viseya stayed up talking to each other, laying in Visenya’s bed as she read

“I cannot believe I just stood there.” Aemma said as she buried her head out of embarrassment. Earning a laugh from her sister “Do not laugh!” She said, throwing a pillow at her.

“ It was quite entertaining…I have never once in my life seen you so speechless, and with not snarky remarks to say.”

“You are insufferable.” She said getting up from where she layed “I’m going to bed” Aemma said storming out.

“I didn't mean to laugh!” She said laughing seeing her sister close her door

~ Time skip ~

It was the day of the tourney Visenya sat with her family watching every Lords or knight come from far and wide to compete with each other to simply spend a day with her…. People could have thought it would be for her hand.

Visenya watched as the houses lined up on their horses and loud cheers could be heard from the crowd. The Herald started to speak, naming all the rules of the tourney. And with that he started to introduce every house that is in participation. However Visenya simply was in her own world, she never really cared for tourney, though it can be exciting. 

“The winner of this tourney will have the honor of spending a day with the Pearl of the realm, Princess Visenya of House Bealtheos….” The Herald was interrupted by someone whispering in his ear, expressing a confused look on his face “I have just been informed of a late entry.” This announcement got Visenya to break from her mind.

“Prince Aemond of House Targarian!” The Herald yelled out causing cheers from the crowd

Visenya looked at her sister in confusion as she sat up straight looking back seeing Aemond riding on his horse dressed in armor looking back at her.

The Queen Alicent was shocked on seeing her son enter, His brother Aegon though drunk gave out a yell of cheer for his brother, Ser Criston smirked at the memory of when they dueled together and Aemond saying “I don’t give a shit about tourneys.”

“Well sister, isn’t this a surprise.” Aemma said as she looked out watching the tourney, Visenya simple glance at her

“With this Prince Aemond will now choose his first opponent.” The Herald announce

As Aemond’s horse walked back and forth, he finally stopped, picking out a random Lord from the line. As the tournament went on all of Aemonds’s opponents simply fell off too injured to stand back up or simply died either from impacted or getting pieces of the Lance gorged in them and bleeding out.. The next opponent was Jason Lannister, but as they were about to begin Jason Lannister was making his way to where Visenya and Aemma sat. 

“I would like to ask the favors of both Princesses Visenya and Aemma the Precious Jewels of the realm.” Jason Lannister said grinning at both of the princesses.

Visenya and Aemma simply look at each other before standing up and grabbing their flower crowns and putting it on Jason Lannister’s lance

“We wish you good luck..” Visenya said 

“And hope that you fall off..” Aemma said 

This caused Jason Lannister to be embarrassed and simply back off. 

In the end Jason was knocked unconscious after falling off his horse hard, leaving Aemond the winner of the tourney. 

“I present to you the winner of this tourney…”The Herald said “Prince Aemond of House Targaryen” He yelled out hearing the crowds go wild “And his price for such a battle…. A day with the realm’s Pearl, Princess Visenya of House Bealtheos.” Everyone cheered

Visenya made her was to the balcony looking back at Aemond “You did well my prince” She said

“Thank you Princess” Smiling at her

[perseephoneee]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓥𝓘

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

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a/n: OOF, long time no see. Here's what happened: - I graduated college - I went to a masters certification program - I graduated THAT (not many can say they graduated college twice in one year, but I'm crazy) - My roommate at grad school became my best friend in the whole world. We watched all of Star Trek and the Thor movies. I got distracted writing her an 11k-word Thor fan-fiction. She wrote me a Loki fan-fiction - I came back to my home and ended up moving houses! - Now, all I day is apply to jobs, crochet, and take naps.

And that's what you missed on Glee.

It was to be expected; after all, you never really wanted to get married. Still, coming home from the ball to your grandmother’s expectant expression– it broke you. 

“Well?” she questioned, arms crossed. She wore her evening best, a deep crimson against her now paling skin. “Are we planning a wedding?”

“No,” you mumble, looking at the floor. “He didn’t propose; he…decided against it.”

You expected yelling, insults, and anger radiating from every surface. Instead, your grandmother was quiet. You looked up, waiting for anything. She just looked at you, still. It was so much worse than you could’ve expected. “Grams?” you ventured, biting the inside of your cheek. She just sighed and rubbed her eyes, so exhausted by the encounter that it made you angry. You disobeyed the thing she asked you to do, you disappointed her, and embarrassed yourself in the process. Yet all she does is sigh. “Nothing at all?”

“So much like your mother,” Grams murmured, massaging her temple as a headache grew. “I’m tired, Y/N, I’ll be retiring to bed.”

You felt tears start to prick your eyes, even as your grandmother started to pull away. “Please,” you begged, unsure what you were even asking. Your voice sounded so quiet in the foyer. 

“She could’ve married well; a duke,” Grams was already halfway up the stairs when she said it, almost to herself more than you. “She chose love instead, and look what good it did her.” Grandmother turned towards you then. “She ended up at the bottom of the ocean.”

You didn’t sleep well that night, in between the crying and the screaming into your pillow so no one could hear. When you did sleep, it was drowning. In the ocean. In disappointment. In everything. 

Your father wasn’t of low status, but he was merely a lord. Not a Duke like your grandmother wistfully shared. He was a man of dreams who sought to create. He used to sit you and Ivy down in the garden and map out the constellations. Your brother could never sit still long enough to truly appreciate astronomy. Ivy enjoyed looking at the stars and embroidering them into blankets and other linens. You, on the other hand, were eager to learn. Your father would quiz you on all their names: Orion, Ursa Major, Canis Minor, Draco, and more. The story of Andromeda always made you curious but sad. You couldn’t imagine choosing between your people and your child, and yet you hated King Cepheus for being willing to sacrifice Andromeda at all. 

“She was saved by Perseus, fell in love, and placed among the stars by Athena,” your father would console you when you started becoming quiet and contemplative. 

“Why couldn’t she save herself?”

“It’s not always that easy,” your father sighed, petting your head. “The chains could’ve been too strong. Or maybe she felt that the least she could do for her people was to let herself die.”

Your mother always scolded your father for telling such dark stories, but you appreciated it. You didn’t like things being hidden from you, and ancient myths fascinated you. 

When your parents went on their voyage with your brother to show off your father’s latest invention, you prayed to Perseus to save them from the sea. He was unable to. 

After your third day of wallowing, Ivy entered your room and locked the door. 

“This isn’t the sister I know.”

“I don’t want to talk,” you mumbled, curling into your chair. You had a settee set up by the window to get fresh daylight on your books and observe the outdoors. Ivy sat on your bed, curling up against the pillows. 

“Love, it is not your fault.”

“I was unable to secure a proposal, the one duty asked of me,” you turned to glare at her. “That is the definition of ‘my fault.’”

“You fell in love.”

“Evidently not.”

“I did not mean with Prince Thor.”

You didn’t answer. You just kept looking down at your book, the words being nothing more than a distraction. You had been pondering Thor’s words for days. Loki was, on most days, an annoyance and, on other days, could be quite companionable. Did you love him? You were unsure. You didn’t hate him. Not as much as you would’ve liked. 

“I knew it wouldn’t be Thor,” Ivy sighed, picking at the thread on your bedspread. “From the day in the park.”

You remembered that day. A traveling circus had come to town. Many families brought their children to witness acrobats, magicians, and more. There was even a traveling fortune teller that Loki loudly exclaimed wouldn’t have been able to tell a three of swords from a five of pentacles if it was staring her in the face. Ivy and Thor enjoyed watching the animals perform tricks, but like Loki, you could not stomach watching wild animals in captivity. You didn’t stay for the performance. 

“There was a traveling book merchant, which you two spent so much time at,” Ivy chuckled. “It was the cellist that stood out to me.”

“She played beautifully.”

“She did, but you and Prince Loki were the only ones to appreciate it,” Ivy smiled. “Thor had already moved on to the next shiny thing. You stayed, though, the only one in the ton to be there for the whole set. You’ve always appreciated music, I wish you would play again.” You turned in your seat, looking at your sister. “You stayed there, and Loki stayed with you. He let you enjoy the music because it spoke to you more than anything else at the circus. And when she was done performing, and you lacked a proper way to give thanks, he offered up his own coins.”

“There was nothing special about that moment.” Even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t true. 

“Grandmother is a smart woman, but she has one thing wrong.” Ivy turned her attention fully towards you. “You are headstrong, but most importantly, you are quiet. You are intuitive. Not like me, who enjoys laughter and bright colors. You see brightness where others see nothing.” Ivy almost laughs to herself. “You don’t need someone who can match your strength; you need someone who can match your silence.”

You felt like crying, and you weren’t sure why. Everything Ivy said was true. It always was; she knew you better than you often knew yourself. Confronting feelings, when so often you ignored them to avoid painful attachments, it made you want to suffocate.

“Ivy,” you murmured. She turned to you, the sun in a room inhabited by the moon. “I love you.”

“Well, of course you do!” she giggled, getting up and coming to your seat. She kissed the top of your head. “I’m brilliant.”

It was nighttime, and you wanted to talk to Loki. If you talked to him, you could decide if your feelings were real or if they were a lie. Maybe they were a thing fabricated by quiet moments or inspired by the stories you loved. You were thinking about this when you heard a storm pick up, the branches of the trees tapping against your window. This continued on until you realized there was no wind to accompany this tapping. You crawled out of your bed to go to your window and noticed it was a clear night. You jumped back with a yelp as another pebble hit the glass. Opening the latch, you peeked your head out and ducked as another pebble came flying. Loki stood with a pile of rocks outside. 

“Loki!” you hissed, throwing one of the pebbles back at him. He avoided it with ease. “Why are you throwing rocks at me?”

“Because I do so enjoy it,” he chuckled, hands in the pockets of his breeches. “Or perhaps, because I wish to speak with you.”

“It is late and unbecoming of a lady to meet with a man unaccompanied.”

“Intriguing,” he shrugged. “I didn’t think you much of a lady.”

You glowered at that. You couldn’t possibly have feelings for this man who throws rocks at you and puts you in ridiculous situations. You leave the window, heading to your dresser and grabbing your riding boots. You were still in your nightgown, but you tied your robe over it, so you were at least a little modest. You went back to the window. He hadn’t left.

“You’re going to catch me,” you demanded, already swinging a leg over the banister and debating which bones would be broken if you made one misstep. 

“Of course,” Loki smiled. He didn’t look ready to catch you whatsoever, but you had to put trust in the situation. So, you jumped out your window. And he caught you with ease. Much like one of the princes in the tales your father used to tell you. “What a pleasure meeting you here,” Loki smirked. You hit his chest, falling out of his arms and giving yourself distance. If your grandmother knew you were doing this, she would have you executed by morning. 

“What do you want?”

“Is that any way to address royalty?” he furrowed his brows but didn’t sound angry. He sounded amused. 

“What do you want, your Highness?” you sassed, crossing your arms. 

“Well, I did not come out here for your startling wit,” Loki sighed. “I want to talk.”

“About?”

“Take a walk with me,” he gestured towards the gardens. Your grandma’s pride and joy were her gardens. It was one of the few things she did herself, without any help from the maids or other staff. “Please,” he added, and you acquiesced. 

You followed him with a sigh, still keeping a respectable distance between you both. He was silent, and it wasn’t until you passed the hydrangeas that he spoke. 

“Thor told me,” Loki said. You didn’t know how to respond to that, and you were unsure of what exactly Thor had told him. 

“Did you come here to reprimand me for not being able to secure an engagement?” You scoffed. Loki stopped at a rose bush, fingers brushing over the petals. 

“I confess, I don’t care much for roses,” Loki smiled at you. Like you were in on a secret, just you two. It made warmth grow in your chest. 

“I don’t either.”

“What is your favorite flower, m’lady?” Loki took a step towards you. You would’ve backed up, but another bush was in your way, and you were stuck in his space.

“Sunflowers, or perhaps dahlias,” you murmured.

“Dahlias.” Loki smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“No?” you questioned, smiling back. “What did you expect?”

“Nothing ordinary nor expected of a young maiden.”

“Am I just a young maiden to you?” you lifted a brow. 

“No,” Loki said. “You are not.”

It felt like nature took a pause on its sounds as Loki stared at you, his ice-blue eyes cold against your otherwise hot skin. He was much too close to be appropriate, and yet you didn’t want to push him away. You should push him away; the last thing you need is a scandal with the prince of Norway, but you couldn’t. Not when his gaze lowered to your lips. Not when his fingers touched your shoulder and then the lace of your collar. He brushed stray hair away from your face, and you felt yourself take in a shuddering breath. His thumb brushed over your lip, fingers cradling your chin. His breaths were heavy like he was holding himself back. You realized he was holding himself back from you. 

“Loki,” you whispered, looking up at him. Something changed in his gaze, and he stepped back, letting the cold air kiss your skin where his hand once was. 

“You should have brought a coat; it’s cold at night,” he whispered, refusing to meet your gaze. You just nodded, disappointment evident. He walked you back to your window. There were enough places for you to climb up yourself, something you used to do a lot as a child. He kept an even larger distance between the two of you as he waited for you to return to your rooms. Instead, in a fit of insanity, you reached up and kissed his cheek. You felt his breath hitch as you stepped back, curtsied, and scaled your wall. You didn’t turn back when you closed the window. You didn’t stop thinking of him even as you fell asleep.

taglist: @eleniblue @iwrite-things @youneedanap @huntress-artemiss @linaax @pisces-celeste @marygoddessofmischief @gruftiela @saay-karani @foxherder @lover-of-books-and-tea tea @lilaclaufeyson @qardasngan @evasmlp

[agustdiv1ne]

CONGRATS ON 3K ASHLEE 🥳🫶🏼✨ you’re truly amazing and here’s to many more milestones!!

right so, ik this isn’t a movie, but I was wondering if you could do something along the lines of bridgerton + beomgyu + fluff and smut please 🥹 but if it really is just movies, then titanic with the same member and genre please <3 thank you in advance <3

NOW SHOWING...

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: historical fiction, romance, fluff, smսt

wc: 4.2k

details + warnings: mdni, beomgyu and mc's characters are jack and rose adjacent but they actually have a happy ending bc i said so <3, mentions of alcohol, no established dom/sub dynamics but gyu takes the lead a bit, soft + romantic sex, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (don't do this!!), my big dick gyu agenda makes an appearance, light dirty talk, a little possessiveness, beomgyu calls mc: love, beautiful

note: SMILES!! TYSM <33 you are one of of my longest moots and i appreciate you and your talent so much! i've unfortunately never watched bridgerton (or else i would have used that ;-;), though i do adore titanic so i ultimately went with that ^^

you have found sunsets to be far more magnificent at high sea.

tonight brings one that is, by far, one of your most beloved from the voyage thus far: a sky flushed a deep rose, billowing clouds contrived of fairy floss drifting above your head. the horizon holds clear where the roseate hue melts into the ocean and scatters about the peaks of gentle waves. it's quite a breathtaking sight, almost too good to be true. a painting; that is what it resembles — you wish that you could reach up and brush your hands through it, watch it coat and swirl about your fingertips like smudged pigments on canvas.

leaning against the railing, you inhale a deep breath of fresh, salt-heavy air. it stings as it fills your lungs. despite the beginnings of spring, the weather has remained chilly, growing further frigid whenever the sky fades to black. now, the sun hangs low, sinking closer and closer to the sea that awaits to swallow it whole — you will be forced to return back inside soon.

sighing quietly, your mind wanders to beomgyu, the man who has won over your affections over the past five days. you wish he could be here with you to see this picturesque display. where is he right now? on one of the lower decks, perhaps? should you go find him?

does he miss you as much as you do him?

not even half a day has passed since you last saw each other, but these thoughts swirl within your brain nonetheless. busy mixing with pretentious elites and the potential suitors your mother demanded that you meet throughout the day, you hadn't found time to sneak away and meet with him despite your aching desire to. you just barely avoided your mother's watchful gaze to escape out here and finally be able to breathe.

as naïve as it may sound, you feel as though you've known the charming man your entire life. strangers with a divine connection — you ponder if you must have known beomgyu in a past life, fell for him just as you do now. your typically rational mind supplies you with grandiose ideas of running away, of fleeing this suffocating, predetermined path that you were born into. he is a breath of fresh air after all of the men that you have met who only wish to marry and mold you into a submissive, obedient housewife that they can then neglect. unlike those men — no, you think, those insolent boys, he is not hungry to further his wealth, to fasten his name to yours for the sake of status. he doesn't expect you to change yourself. rather, he takes you as you are, with all your sharp edges and imperfections, and worships you down to the marrow of your bones.

the longing to wander the entire ship until you find him strikes you square in the chest like a sack of flour, knocking the breath from your lungs. your heart aches. you want to see him. you must see him.

“i should’ve known i’d find you out here.” 

it's quite strange, how the hand of fate plays its cards. you whip your head around, and there he is, with his sun-kissed skin and wind-tousled hair, as if he had somehow heard your thoughts and rushed to meet you. the upward quirk of his lips conveys both fondness and mischief while he moves closer to you, gentle hands wrapping around your waist. you mirror his expression, relief flooding your system at his well-timed arrival. sliding your hands over his shoulders, you link your fingers together around the nape of his neck.

“gyu,” you whisper while you surge forward to embrace him, pressing your face into the junction between his neck and shoulder. he nearly stumbles, but quickly regains his balance, returning the hug. “i missed you.”

“we saw each other this morning,” he chuckles, but the way his arms tighten around you betray his true emotions. 

you deliver a light pinch to his neck in jest, mumbling against his neck, “you’re impossible.”

this simply makes him laugh harder, his chest shuddering against your own. he curls a hand under your chin to remove your face from his neck, and his chestnut-colored eyes find yours. “and you love it.”

“unfortunately, yes,” you admit with a sigh. he smiles wider at that.

a peaceful silence fills the air between you. only the sounds of the ship cutting through the sea fills your ears. turning in his hold until his back presses against your chest, you look back out to the horizon. the pink sky has faded into a muted indigo, the sun barely a semicircle along the horizon. the air has grown colder now, but the warmth that beomgyu exudes wards off the chill that runs deep beneath your skin. your place one hand atop the ones looped around your stomach, the other reaching up to play with the ends of his soft hair.

“where’d you disappear off to today?” beomgyu breaks the quiet first. he feels the way you stiffen within his hold, how your fingers stop toying with his hair, the deep breath you exhale. you can that he immediately regrets asking.

“my mother,” you begin to explain, a bitter, sour note in your voice. “she dragged me from party to party today. they weren’t even parties, really, just excuses to flaunt wealth and peacock about. it was absolutely ridiculous.”

you hear the small giggle he allows at your choice of words, and your lips turn up again. teasing, you say, “i’m glad my misery amuses you.”

“no, never,” he hastily says, oddly serious. your fingers rubbing soothing circles against his scalp is a silent confirmation that you know. a few beats of silence pass once more, your eyes trained on how the sun continues its descent below the horizon.

the ocean's maw has fully consumed the sun when he pulls you back against him, his warm breath caressing the shell of your war and causing you to shiver. the quintessentially impish lilt of his voice returns, a smirk rich on his lips.

“wanna go to a real party?”

and to a real party he takes you. a gathering on a lower deck, the tunes played by the instrument-wielding passengers brash and loud. others sing, some dance, many drink. it's as if you are walking into a brand new world, seeing colors you have never seen before. it is so disorienting yet exhilarating at the same time.

your hand enveloped in his, beomgyu guides you into the sea of noise and moving bodies with confidence towards two men who cheer his name at the sight of him. they each hold a glass of amber ale, eyes glazed over as they spot you behind their friend.

“you finally made it! thought you weren’t comin’,” the slightly taller of the two calls, his words slurred. his fox like eyes meet yours again, and he grins. “you must be the girl he’s been ravin’ about! y/n, right?”

you offer a shy nod and a polite smile, nerves apparent in the way your eyes dart across the room. next to you, beomgyu grows a bit red in the face, but holds you closer to him. how easily he picks up on your emotional state is beyond you, but appreciated.

beomgyu moves to introduce the two men, and you learn the taller one is named yeonjun. the shorter man, his eyes as round as a doe's, is named taehyun. he is far more reserved compared to the other two, but welcoming nonetheless. you converse with them for a considerable amount of time, growing more comfortable the longer you stand with them. none of them seem to care that you come from a wildly opposite walk of life as them; they treat you as a friend all the same.

the conversation soon turns to their history and how exactly they came to know beomgyu. they happened to meet while in paris, yeonjun explains, bonding over their shared heritage and quickly developing a close friendship.

“it’s a miracle we even got on this ship!” yeonjun laughs before he takes another swig of his drink. “gyu won a game of cards back at the port just before she set sail. lucky guy, ain’t he?”

“yeah,” beomgyu responds before you are able to utter a word, looking down at you with fondness coloring his gaze. “i really am.”

the two men soon depart on a search for more alcohol, leaving you and beomgyu alone. he does not take long in snatching your hand to drag you towards the makeshift dance floor.

“beomgyu, wait, i can’t—”

“c’mon!” he exclaims. “dance with me!”

he pulls you close to him as soon as you reach the space. chest to chest, hand in hand. your eyes widen, frantic.

with haste, your voice strained in order to be heard over the music, you say, “beomgyu i don’t, i don’t know this dance, i can’t do this!”

“sure you can!” he jovially yells. “just follow my lead!”

the music surges around your bodies as you begin to skip about the room. with beomgyu guiding you along to the fast-paced tempo, your apprehension melts away. you do not have to be in control, you can simply feel and allow yourself to flow along with him. you squeal as your unsuitably formal dress flutters around your legs and your heeled shoes click against the floor rhythmically. both of you laugh unabashedly, growing drunk on the excitement of it all. your heart beats erratically against your ribcage, your cheeks beginning to hurt from how wide you beam.

you feel more alive in this moment than you have in your entire life.

he spins you around and around until you grow dizzy. then, you are off once again, eventually joining a line of people holding hands and snaking about the room. you skip along with one hand held by a woman who speaks to you in rapid french and the other still taken by beomgyu, who attempts to translate her words, albeit poorly.

out of breath, you squeeze his hand, and he takes your hint; you break away from the line. others easily fill the void that you leave.

you stumble, giggling, and beomgyu catches you. harebrained and giddy and every cell of your body positively surging with joy, you are unable to even think your actions through before you are cupping his face in your hands and crashing your lips against his.

whoops and hollers sound around you, but the sole thing that permeates your senses is beomgyu's soft lips melding with your own. the grip of his hands upon your waist fortifies, but only enough to hold you to ensure your unchanging propinquity. hurried, ravenous, you devour each other in the middle of the crowd until you grow desperate for oxygen. pulling away, you draw a breath deep into your lungs, mouth agape just as the full force of what you did crashes into you, a strike of lightning straight to your chest.

and rather than fret, your lips split and their corners rise, and you laugh. you laugh and laugh and laugh until you collapse against beomgyu's chest. he gathers you up to his chest before you crash to the floor, holding you by your cheeks while he comprehends your wild eyes and glowing mien.

“are you alright?” he queries.

i think i may be in love with you, is what you wish could say, but you bite the words back before they escape.

instead, you ask, “come with me, please?”

he nods and allows you to pull him towards the stairs that you first entered from. mistakenly, you briefly meet eyes with yeonjun, who stands across the room with a suggestive smirk, eyebrows wiggling in your direction. though your cheeks grow warm, you continue to push forward, weaving your fingers through those of the man following close behind.

the trek to your private chambers takes far longer than expected. both of you are guilty of pulling each other into dark corners and giggling into each other's mouths at nearly every turn. the situation becomes dire once you reach the upper decks, dodging acquaintances of your mother through roundabout hallways. after what seems like hours, you reach the door of your room, swiftly unlocking it and pulling beomgyu inside.

without delay, he presses you up against the door, forearms caging you in, and crashes his lips to yours once more. gone is the nonsensical laughter and teasing touches — now all that remains is a carnal hunger, a bone-deep desperation to feel and to devour one another whole. his sly tongue sneaks into your mouth, dancing with your own before it retracts and his teeth graze your lower lip. you exhale a breathy whine, hands pawing at the rough linen of his shirt.

he pulls away to momentarily catch his breath before he blazes forward to kiss you once more. your finger pressed to his lips, however, halts his movements. questions dance in his pupils.

“take me to bed,” you whisper. 

biting your lip, you watch as the gears within his brain churn as he processes your words, how his eyes grow impossibly darker once he does. the short journey to your bed is a blur in your mind. hands tug at clothes and undergarments until you lay bare beneath his own naked torso, his trousers low on his waist, though unable to hide the aching erection that strains the fabric.

he reaches up to tweak your nipple, causing you to inhale sharply. he finds great delight in how sensitive you are, his lips ravaging your neck until he locates the weak spot just beneath your ear. he bites down lightly. a shock of bliss jolts down your spine, and you squeal his name — god, how he would give away what little money he has to his name to hear that sound every day.

the combination of his lips gliding down your neck and his thumb circling your nipple renders you speechless, merely able to moan and grip the soft sheets below you as he brings you pleasure that you have never felt before. though his calloused hands against your skin feel much rougher than those of the men that your mother forces you to mingle with, he treats you gentler than any of your desperate suitors ever could. almost as if your body is made of glass, he does not press hard enough to inflict pain, nor does he force you to your knees to take him. no man you have lied with before has treated you in such a manner, putting your needs before his own. your heart pounds at the realization. you pray that he cannot hear it.

deprived of warning, his lips and fingers disappear from your skin. you whine at the sudden confiscation of pleasure.

“why did you stop?” you pant, breathless, trying to reach up to touch him. he captures your hands and links his fingers between your own. he presses your arms back against the sheet before he lets go. 

he stares down at you for a moment, eyes trailing from your heaving chest to the swollen pout upon your lips. with a ghost of a smirk, he leans down to press a chaste peck to the corner of your mouth, his forehead now pressed against yours. eyes hooded, he breathes, “patience, beautiful. i’m gonna make you feel good, i promise.” 

“hurry, then,” you plead. you feel as if you are going insane without his touch. addictive, akin to opium; you want more, you crave it.

“ah, so demanding,” he jokes, though he gives in. he allows you no time to respond as he kisses you again, leaning over you with forearm pressed into the mattress next to your head. a hand slides down your side — drawing goosebumps to your skin — to your thigh, spreading you wider for him. you inhale sharply through your nose when you feel fingers press against your soaking center, one slim, rough-skinned finger sliding slowly past your entrance. the groan he emits rumbles against your own chest. he raises his head no more than a millimeter, shuddering at the wet heat that coats his skin as he begins to thrust the digit in and out. 

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he curses, unable to help himself. clinging to him, you bite your lip at his ministrations, nearly drawing blood when he slips a second finger in, stretching your walls. his thumb finds the aching bud just above to ease the sting.

“g-gyu,” you whimper, the sound singing in his ears like wind chimes, urging him to move faster, curl his fingers against the spongy patch inside you, watching how your face contorts beneath him. he fixates on the spot. your hips involuntarily buck up into his thrusts in response, the cord within your stomach tightening. your gaze meets his, desperate, pleading. “gyu, i need, ‘m going to—”

“let go, beautiful,” he groans, grinding his cock into the crease of your thigh for relief. “you can do it, c’mon. let go for me.”

his deep-voiced encouragement sends you over the edge, warmth flooding your veins as your thighs quake around him, nails digging into his tanned skin. your eyes screw shut.

“that’s it,” he coos as you float back down to earth. he rubs soothing circles against the skin of your cheek. “my lovely girl.” 

“want you, gyu,” you beg, stomach warm from the praise. “want you inside.” 

he freezes, eyes wide. “are...are you sure?”

“i’ve never been more sure in my life,” you say. thus, his grin returns. he moves to unbutton his trousers, and you help him, grazing the hard imprint in his underwear. he hisses at the sensation, then stands from the bed to remove his remaining clothing. your mouth dries at the sight, and you gulp. he is quite well-endowed, his cock standing tall against his soft abdomen, the tip an angry crimson, the color fading as your eyes travel down the shaft. you squirm at the thought of it being inside you, stretching your walls beyond belief, pressing into every spot within you with every roll of his hips.

he settles between your thighs once again, guiding his cock against your wet folds. your poorly-veiled apprehension is not lost on him.

“i’ll go slow,” he promises, guiding the head of his cock to your awaiting entrance. “don’t wanna hurt you...you ready?”

with a deep breath, you hum in confirmation. he murmurs out a quiet “okay,” directed more towards himself than you, and shifts his hips forward. the first press brings with it a small ache. you wince, and he slows, inquiring if you are okay. 

you nod. “go slow, please.”

“of course, love,” he whispers, distracting your mind from the pain with his lips. inch by inch, he sinks deeper into your walls, soon bottoming out deep inside of you with a strained moan. he stills to allow you to adjust. as soon as you do, you’re urging him to move. he obeys, thrusts slow-paced and tender until you beg for him to quicken them. 

“yeah?” he coos. “y’want more? you, fuck — you have all of me already, s-so greedy.”

the roll of his hips sharpens, canting upward — faster, harder, deeper. all you can think to do is moan, the thoughts ricocheting in your mind now too jumbled for you to decipher and voice. a fire has ignited in your stomach, growing hotter and brighter when swings your legs over his shoulders. the angle of his thrusts causes the head of his cock to brush against a spot deep inside you, a place that has never been explored prior. a sound that is foreign to your ears tears itself from your chest, loud and unabashed.

above you, beomgyu groans. his head is thrown back, mouth agape, his hair a tousled mess atop his head. a few strands stick to his sweat-drenched forehead. a flush has traveled down and stained his chest, his abdomen flexing in exertion as he loses himself completely. his head drops down again, his eyes meeting yours, half-lidded and brimming with heady lust. you attempt to hide your face in the sheets, growing shy at the intensity of it all, but he reaches down to grip your chin, holding your gaze steady.

“watch me,” he orders. in a daze, you obey, glassy eyes barely able to comprehend the bombardment to your senses. his free hand locates your slick clit, rubbing quick circles, breath shaky as your walls flutter and tighten around him. “so good. so good for me, beautiful. no one can make you feel as good as i do, hm?”

“o-only you!” you manage to agree through your cries. he slips his thumb past your lips, and you immediately begin to suck on the digit.

“so pretty, such a good girl,” he mumbles out, half delirious. “will never get enough of you.” 

your high slams into you in a flash, your entire body quivering around him. beomgyu rapidly pulls out, ropes of his release spilling across your abdomen as he jerks himself, gasping at how your empty hole flutters around nothing. your legs drop from his shoulders, as weak as a newborn fawn's. he collapses next to you, mopping up his release with the handkerchief sitting upon your nightstand, before he pulls you to his chest, holding you like you are about to disappear into the air. he cups your cheek gently, kissing you slowly, savoring every second. when you pull away, there lies an urgency in his expression.

“run away with me,” he whispers, searching your face for something, anything. “once this ship docks in new york, run away with me.”

your chest tightens. he feels the same — oh, he feels the same. you battle back the tears beginning to form on your waterline and hold him close, reaching up to envelop the hands on your cheeks with your own and kissing him breathless.

your forehead presses to his as you respond, a watery smile painting your lips, “where would we go?”

“anywhere you’d like,” he breathes. tears form in his own eyes — hope, unbridled joy. “just say the word.”

your blooming love is not star-crossed, but auspicious, you realize while standing on the deck of the carpathia.

you had been separated from beomgyu in the sinking of the titanic that night, in the frantic crowds shoving towards the life boats and the gunshots ringing out to maintain a semblance of order. your mother had found and pushed you onto one, lowered into the sea before you were able to leap out, to search for him. you sobbed into your palms the entire night, unknowing whether he survived the sinking or not.

but now, he is across the deck before you, alive. his clothes and hair are drenched in seawater, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders — but he's alive, so very alive. he has not spotted you, his eyes pointed out to the sea where the so-called "unsinkable" ship met its watery grave. your hands begin to shake. warm, breathing, alive.

you croak out his name, tearing away from your mother in order to sprint over to him, ignoring the weakness of your limbs and the frantic protests from your mother behind you. your calls of his name amplify in volume. he spins around, and his face melts into disbelief. he races across the remaining distance between you, feet thumping against the wooden deck. arms wrap around you as the two of you meet — two souls colliding, winding and weaving around each other like threads on a loom. tears are not lost upon either of you, streaming down both of your faces as you hold each other, skin against skin as you ensure this is not a dream, or mirage.

“i love you,” you sob. “i can’t, i didn’t know if—”

he shushes you, tucking your face into his chest. “i know, love. i know. i love you, too. we’re here now, we’re together. alive.”

you choke back a whimper, crying until you can no longer. as you shift back to look at him, you find that he's smiling. a thought hits you suddenly.

“where is yeonjun? taehyun?” you ask. he squeezes you once, pointing somewhere across the deck. following his finger, you find them: beaten down, weary, but breathing. you have never been a particularly religious person, but you think that something must be watching from above, providing you such unfair luck. they wave. you wave right back.

“we floated on top of furniture until a rescue boat found us,” he explains. “we were lucky. i was half dead when we were found.”

the thought punctures your chest, but he doesn’t let your thoughts run astray for long. “it’s okay, love. you couldn’t have done anything.”

“i know, but—”

“but nothing.” a gentle smile plays on his lips. “we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“yes,” you say, your expression reflecting his. “shall we still plan to flee?”

he grins something tired yet enthusiastic. “of course, beautiful. there's no one else i'd like to see the world with more than you.”

3k event masterlist | masterlist

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[focsle]

Music on Whaleships

Because how else will you power through the boredom AND the horrors!?

Two men aboard the Wanderer, photographed by Pardon B. Gifford in 1906 (New Bedford Whaling Museum)

Music featured quite frequently on whalers, though not necessarily in the same way as it might on a merchant vessel. The quintessential musical contribution of sailors—the sea shanty—didn’t hold as prominent a place aboard a whaler as it did on other types of ships. Some captains were particularly strict about keeping noise down while cruising to prevent gallying any nearby whales. Shanties were also less necessary for performing the work: Whaleships tended not to carry a great deal of sail, had a lot of hands aboard available to handle it, and were quite leisurely in their pace as they lolled around the globe for years at a time. This was unlike merchant ships that tended to have smaller crews, larger ships, and tighter schedules, all for which shanties were used more often to coordinate that work effort. However, music was still vital to maintaining good morale during a whalers' work that was, in turns, extremely demanding and dangerous, and extremely dull and mind-numbing. Both of which could really plague a fellow's soul if there was no relief. A panacea for a whaleship's ills, music rang out in the fo'c'sle during idle hours, was sought out during shore leaves, was copied down in remembered songs in the backs of men's journals, and any fellow who hazarded to pick up an instrument or lift his voice was a prized member of the crew.

Read on, under the readmore, since this is also quite a long one with many a photo, journal entry, recorded music, and whalers' original written songs! I really REALLY enjoyed pulling this one together.

Even though they weren't as utilized, there were still occasions when shanties burst out on deck. Greenhand William Abbe of the Atkins Adams (1858) recalled them first being used several months into the voyage. This speaks to the fact that shanties weren't a regular part of whaling work, but rather an instance of one shipmate finally venturing to include them:

“We began to sing shanties last night in hauling aft sheets or bowsing on halliards — Jack leading in 'Johnny Francois' + 'Katy, My Darling' and all hands taking up the refrain + pulling with a will. This pleased the Mate who told us that pretty well for the first time that he liked to hear us make a noise—as it showed that Jack —not Allegany [surname of a crewmate on board] — but any one of us was awake. He laughed—waved his hands— + cried out 'that’s the way sailors'.”

Johnny Francois, aka Boney

They were later "obliged to avast singing + haul away without the "Shantie" as the crew’s singing was so "ludicrous" that they were all laughing over it rather than effectively hauling. But even if shanties weren’t often used aboard the Atkins Adams to set the pace of the work, they still featured during downtime in their watches:

“Jack leading sung the watch out in Shanties 'Johnny Francois' 'Santa Anna' 'Katy, My Darling' +c. Mr. Gorland + Tripp came forward and joined us. It was very cold and wet — but our singing warmed our hearts while we were free from the spray and warm from mutual contact.”

On whaleships, shanties were more frequently employed—though still inconsistently—during more demanding tasks such as weighing anchor or working the windlass to haul up blubber.

While greenhand John Perkins’s ship, Tiger, was lying at anchor at the Hawaiian islands in 1845, he mentioned hearing another whaling crew strike up a shanty upon leaving:

“When called this morning we heard the Neptune’s crew weighing anchor to the tune of ‘Tally hi o you know.’ After breakfast our watch went ashore on liberty”

Tally-I-Oh

Music was also greatly sought out during whalers’ shore leave. Thomas Nickerson, cabin boy of the ill-fated Essex, 1820, wrote about a dance hall in Talcahuano that he was quite unimpressed by, but his other shipmates enjoyed tremendously.

"There we found a few young women seated around the hall on wooden stools, and playing off some Spanish airs upon their guitars to dance by. There did not seem to be either melody or music in their touch, but after such an interval of confinement our men were ready to dance to anything had it even been a corn stalk fiddle. With their guitars were an accompaniment of an old copper pan used as a tambourine. To this music did our men dance apparently with as much satisfaction as though it had been the finest music in the world.”

Music was also one of the first ways whalers and locals at various ports of call built camaraderie between each other, where potential language barriers were no object if someone had along with them a fiddle (and maybe some alcohol). Such an interaction was recorded by Albert Peck, greenhand on the Covington that stopped in Guam in the 1850s:

"Having our fiddler with us, we went from one hut to another giving them a tune at each, which would please them very much, and to show their appreciation of it they would produce a bottle of aquadiente [Aguardiente] or brandy, and treat us to a glass which would consist of a coconut shell, until it became evident that this would not do if we intended to walk to the town, as before long we should be incapable of walking anywhere. So we started for the town."

Whaler-made fiddle c. 1835-50, inscribed with the name Daniel Weeks. (New Bedford Whaling Museum)

But liberty always came to an end. When the Tiger departed Hawaii 10 days later, Perkins noted that they were too glum to accompany their leaving with a shanty:

“We weighed anchor without a song all feeling to bad at departing from summer islands to the cold Norwest sure of hard labor, absolute suffering & danger.”

Amidst that hard labor, absolute suffering, & danger, music served an essential function of bringing in levity and acting as a pressure release valve aboard.

Clifford Ashley, who joined the bark Sunbeam in 1904 on part of her voyage for research, described the music of his dog watch:

"Two misfit concertinas every night sent up their dismal wail to a tune that never varied, often keeping time with the strokes of a couple who pounded up hard bread in a canvas bag to be mixed into a molasses mush for their watch."

A whaler's concertina, c. 1850 (Nantucket Whaling Museum)

Any man who had a bit of a voice or could play a bit of an instrument quickly became a favorite among the crew, even if he only knew one song. Foremast hand William Stetson, of the Arab (1850s), was delighted when a new man they shipped aboard during a provision stop had some faint musical inclination.

“in the dog watches we enjoy ourselves very agreeably by stepping off a lively measure to the tune of “roads to Boston” as performed on the violin by Moody, one of those lately shipped at Lahaina. This is about the only tune he can saw off decently, but he is the first that has belonged to the bark this voyage who has made any pretensions to being a fiddler, and consequently the ‘doleful music’ of the skipper’s cracked violin is usually heard in the evening between the hours of five and seven P.M"

Moody's go-to, Road to Boston.

Even in the absence of an actual musical instrument, crews made do with whatever they could get. William Abbe writes about one such time on the Atkins Adams:

Last night while gamming with F. Willy in the forecastle I was called on deck to help make up a set for a cotillion — being honored as the lady of Curly — we were at a loss for music + were stepping to the hummed air of Johnny the Boatsteerer + the orders of the dancing master — Jack — when Shanghai rushed up from the forecastle + jumping up on the oil cask looked forward of the windlass + squatting his long legs on the cask head began a toot toot on an old tin funnel, followed by Johnny Come Lately on an old tin bread pan for a drum — We greeted our band with shouts — + to the music of our mimic french horn and kettle drum chased up + down + joining hands by partners promenaded with double quick steps round the forecastle deck making the deck ring with our laughter — + the rattling music — both music and steps getting quicker + quicker till Tarpsechorz [Terpsichore] herself would have fled agast — + home belles and beaus would have fainted at the sight —our fun was suddenly interrupted by the order to shorten sail — + our quick stepping was only rivaled by our agility aloft for we reduced sail in unusually short time.

The captain, enjoying their sense of play but finding their makeshift music particularly disagreeable, then came up on deck to give them something to better it:

“Old Man liked the fun but didn’t like the music for Old Woman — brot up on deck a new accordion + calling Charley aft consigned it to him with the injunction to use it well — Charley came forward — delighted— + mounting the spars struck up Fisher’s Hornpipe + the strums sounding through the calm evening animated us till Jack or Molly [a crewmate currently crossdressing for the role] + our barefooted stepping got the whole Ship’s Company in a roar — from the Old Woman to Cabin Boy.”

Crew members of the Charles W. Morgan, 1906, taken by Pardon B. Gifford (New Bedford Whaling Museum)

Sometimes music was a little less favorably received. J.T. Langdon, greenhand on the St Peter, 1840s-50s, had brought his fiddle aboard to entertain himself, and at one point taught the Captain how to play it. On the homeward bound stretch--with his patience with the job and everyone on board strained to the limit--he grumbled about music-making halting getting home quickly:

"There seems to be an little disregard to sailing the vessel on the part of the Captain and the Mate. The 'Old Man' will saw away on his 'old fiddle' and the mate will tinker and the ship goes where she likes. I have sometimes almost cursed the day that I learned the Cap'n to fiddle."

Sometimes, sailing be damned, it was time for an entire musical production, as on veteran whaler John Martin's ship, the Lucy Ann, 1841. He wrote out the Program along with the nicknames of the performers.

"We finished this day with a grand concert given by the whole crew. The audience were sea gulls. The following is the programme of the concert. Programme Part 1st Song. One eyed Riley With chorus by whole crew. - By Chub. "There was a Sheppards daughter, Kept sheep on yander hill" - by Lightning Song. I hit her right on her stinking Machine - by Hominy Head Solo. On Kent Bugle by - myself Part 2nd Song. Cant you wont you stay a little longer - by Turpin "Turkish Lady - Black Leg Duette with Drum & Fife - Chub & [left blank] Part 3rd Song. My dogs eyes makes mince pies - Steward "Morgan Ratler - Spunyarn "The Meremaid in three parts by - Hardy "Trayum with chorus by crew Part 4th Song. Kelly the Pirate - King David "Tally ho - Spunyarn "Lord Lovell that went strange, countries for to see - Hardy Solo. on flute by - Young Norval Part 5th Song. Fanny Blair - Turpin "French Lady - Mizen "All the girls in our town - Steward Part 6th Song. So early in the morning, the Sailors love the bottle O. - by Mocho a color'd Gentleman "Milkmaid - Hominy Head "Two little sisters walking up the street" - Jersey Grand Chorus by the whole Crew on Bugle, Drum, Fife, Flute, Violins, Triangles, &c. & wound up by The mate telling us if we did not quit making such a damned noise he would heave a bucket of stinking water over us. Ends the same.

An excerpt of John Martin's above program:

Often, in the backs of journals whalemen would write songs that are still known today. Rolling Down to Old Maui, Blow Ye Winds, Coast of Peru, Homeward Bound, Saucy Sailor, etc. These were learned on the job, or exchanged between crew mates. From the journal of William Buel of the Wave, 1856, the lyrics to Saucy Sailor which he learned from a fellow greenhand:

"I am young my love and I am frolicsome Good natured kind and free And I don't care a single toss my boys What the world says of me ~~~~ Learnt from my friend Joseph F Horan"

There's something quite lovely to having a shared thread from their lives into the present. We might be separated by a gulf of over a century, but we know the lyrics to the same songs.

Some whalers composed their own songs, too. I'll close with one written by career whaleman Joseph Dias, when he was captain of the St. George in 1853. He ended his lyrics with the note 'Read and Circulate', so I see it as my duty to do him a small kindness 170 years later by circulating it now.

Paradox Come all ye shipmates lend an ear And the truth you soon shall hear Of the Ship St. George in the zealous sea Who is raiseing hell it seems to me — The way we try to get our grease So to strike three whales and save a piece Beside two whales of india ruber The boatsteerer swore to be slack blubber — Very poor advice I freely lend Of a way I highly recommend To take a crowbar and punch a hole Drive in the iron and the pole — Hang to your line till all is blue Either kill him or he kill you We want a man upon the docket To go ahead like david Crockett -- Promoting men at our expense Takes our dollars with our pence Besides it throws our work away This thing For sure will never pay — To see the whales was once the cry They are here where e're you turn your eye They have raced for rise to sitting sun Been on a dozen and killed but one — To man that’s taught in a bowhead school Will find himself here but a fool Read and Circulate

[mrs-monaghan]

I just watch Bon Voyage 1. And it gave me clarity on something. Jikook started being sexually active around 2016. Or maybe even before that. Why would you give someone a footsie under the table if you’re not sexually active with each other?

Damn anon. You're just gonna bring this up, no heads up? Okay then.

How do I answer this without getting crucified for delving into their sex lives? 🤔

Whatever. I'm already cancelled.

Disclaimer: this is just what I deduced. Only Jikook know what really transpired.

So due to certain behaviour I am inclined to believe that yes, by 2016 they had gone all the way. Maybe late 2015 (thus my theory for why 8/11/15 is important) or early 2016. Because 2015 we have the 2 things that I linked above, then 2016 we have; like you just pointed out, the crotch footsie and also Osaka Vlive. Oh! And let's not forget Jimin eating a sausage, saying he's a big eater, laughing at reasons only known to him, while looking at the person who was behind the camera. Possibly the owner of the sausage Jimin likes to eat. Idk 🤷🏽‍♀️

2016 was full of sexual tension and innuendos and just... things. I think we can all safely agree by 2016 the going was going. 👉🏽👌🏽

That being said, I think before the going started going, other things were being done way before that. I don't need to clarify obvs. Kissing, heavy petting.... c'mon I'm already saying too much don’t make me say it. O__L. Okay, there i said it.

But the thing is, there are Jikookers who have this thing where they say Jimin waited till 2017 in Tokyo or some shit or they didn't do anything at all before they went all the way. Again, because Jimin was trying to be respectful. Or because being gay is illegal in SK. Or a bunch of other stuff that I'm honestly not sure why they would apply.

Jimin is absolutely the type to feel guilty if he thought he made JK do something he didn't want to do. That much i agree on. But, that would come after the fact. Alright? Teenage boys are the same everywhere. Everywhere. The wind blows in their face too hard they get hard at that age. And now you want me to put my faith in two horny teenage boys, living under the same roof and are attracted to eo??? Nah fam.

I'm not doing that. Regret usually comes later, after the deed has already been done 😂😂

And if the accident was too good it happens again and again and again until you start planning for it and looking forward to it. Maybe by saying you'll be staying late practising the new choreo at the studio? 😌 who knows?

Moving on, we know for sure they had already shagged in 2016 because that is when the push and pull started to happen. This is the example I like to give. When you sleep with your teacher, or with your boss. Right? (By teacher I mean college, please and thank you) Do you know what happens when you fuck your superior? A little respect kind of goes out the window. Suddenly you don't care if you're late for work. You decide not to do your homework just because. Your behaviour changes because you know you can get away with shit now.

And this is exactly what happened with Jikook. Jinmin were reacting to that show JK went on and Jimin was lamenting how JK doesn't listen to him. He complained during the live... and he complained on twitter

He complained some more

And complained again

He was a dog with a bone, couldn't stop complaining

And that wasn't the only time. Eat Jin. That one live where Jikook were misbehaving with those lollypops. Jimin again complains that JK has changed. He doesn't listen to him anymore.

He was smiling... but mans was finding JK's behaviour baffling. He couldn't understand why JK had changed.

Jimin, you let that boy wreck you, he has seen how you look like pliant and at his mercy, begging for the Jungkonda. You did this to yourself. Like a friend said to me, Jimin had made his bed, and he now needed to learn how to lay in it and be comfortable. You chose to give that boy the jibooty, he ain't listening to u 😂

(Sidebar: JK replied "I take it from you" given the topic at hand you can't blame my mind for where it went 😂😂😂😂)

Anyway, it's okay, they worked it out and are now living happily ever after. 😁😁💛💜

So yes anon. By 2016 Jikook were Jikooking. Hard. Pun intended 😏

Bonus.

JK had no emotions....In anything.... Hmm 🤔

Does that sound to anyone else like JK was hitting and quitting or is it just me? Just me? Okay, I'll show myself out. My apologies.

[myfaveisfuckable]

Janeway:

- will literally martyr herself at the drop of a hat

- will kill you if she thinks it's what she needs to do for her crew

- will not kill you if she thinks you've got residue humanity after decades as a borg drone even though realistically she really should've (tho ofc we're all glad she didn't)

- will violate your personal rights if she thinks you're not "human" enough and also compare you to a replicator (yes I'm still salty about that. wait what was the question? right, i'll get back on track)

- will say absolutely deranged shit like "then be a good rat and find us the cheese" in the a tone that makes me lose my mind and basically give everyone a crush on her (and also mommy issues) if they spend too long in her vicinity, leading to a very loyal crew

- her solution to having a crush on a fictional character was to delete his wife (very relatable but also very not normal)

- she wanted to watch hot Q on Q sex (possibly for scientific reasons) and looked very disappointed when it was severely underwhelming

- WHO brings a bathtub on a spaceship???

- there's more but y'know

Dokja:

1. Introduced as a bland everyman only made exceptional by circumstance, slowly revealed to be the most batshit, suicidally depressed, bisexual maniac in existence. Uses self-sacrifice like a tool and is completely unaware of how beloved he is by the people he keeps pulling into his fold because he is so deeply and utterly convinced that he is fundamentally unlovable. He's like sixty foundational traumas stacked in a trench coat and he's always sixty steps ahead of everyone else and he loves the people he chooses so so dearly and people keep calling him ugly even though he's canonically pretty average and holy shit dude get some therapy please

2. do NOT let the pretty official art fool u. this is the most average 28 year old salaryman going through the absolute most in the apocalypse. ORV is a story about the most average man on earth with the most mundane, depressing life. and one story that he read to cope with it all. he's just some guy, but he is also the most beloved specialest guy. not because he had some hidden talent. just because he loved a story ferociously and also he likes getting in trouble on purpose. he is the most unreliable narrator you will ever find. every piece of the universe loves him for his average stupid self. you will understand when you read 👍

3. GHBJNKML i am praying someone has sent him in but. unreliable narrator the most ever and also i just. love him so much. orv in itself is such a goo dnovel but like. kim dokja is the definition of love and the most caring person but also he's suffered so much and while. yknow we're introduced to him as a kind of nerd but like. listen he's so fucked up juts LISTEN

4.He looks like a neet-pulled office worker. Spoilers:

turns out to be one of the oldest things in the world and the only being keeping it going and alive. He needs to be there to keep the world going. Also, he got like kind of adopted by Persephone and hades. Like his blorbo is real and in love with him. But this man looks so average that people call him ugly to his face just because he’s surrounded by absolute gorgeous people.

[pigtailedgirl]

Star Trek Prodigy; For The Love OF WATCH THIS

Speed to the finish.

Gotta find a way to get the missing ten like Janeway hunts Chakotay lol.

What a fantastic little series. So full of heart and just makes me Trek happy. It had me spending an hour after nostalgia scrolling.

It did so much perfectly. Fun and cute new characters. Pretty new starships. Pretty new places.

While honoring the old. Continuing the old. Starfleet, the people in and the concept, felt like it mattered again. Like these kids were learning from all the oldies and callbacks and being a part of. So imparting their interest and youth and joy and want for better as well. It made a timeloop of temporal awesome.

Because that's the heart. This series nailed seeing that passion in Trek of want to have good. Whether it for your ship (HELLO JANEWAY x CHAKOTAY) or characters or ship ships.

Like, the Protostar finale as she flew off to her beginning end was gorgeous. Her and Voyager A were tag team awesome.

I loved Wesley. I loved the new Vulcan. Janeway's crew. Heartbroken about Chakotay's. Laughing myself sick at the perfection that the whales of Star Trek once again save the day.

Rok Tahk is my gem favorite character. She's so everything best. Her science love. Her uncertainty mixed with try. Her enthusiasm.

They are all fantastic characterization though.

Was very very moved by all the newbies arcs. Zero's body episode especially felt very Trek in message and world outreach.

Was so proud of Gwyn helping her home. Of Del trying as captain. I'm shocked he gave up for number one actually. But what a great contrast to the other command couple.

Minor minor nitpicks would be that it had to tie in to Picard. Keep everything Wesley, and jetson that please. I don't like the insert that Starfleet is working hard at sucking in the background. That it's gonna be bad times tacked on my hope and happy and explore end.

Also I shook Janeway was gonna retire. I can see Starfleet command protocols and being governed by or over for her not aligning with her wants after this. *Coughs finally getting cozy with Chakotay hell with regs. being a hold back. *Coughs her wanting to aid the kids. *Coughs her passionate belief in principles of connection against the meh of Starfleet future hints. But she is not the stay at home of the pair ok. And not a gardener. Even if you want to call it back to growing tomatoes Resolutions style, she was Admiral/starship Cap perfection in command this season. Retire and do leadership adventures Janeway. You and Chakotay and Janeway Jr. (hologal) as a triple team would be a kick.

I really wish I could kick someone in the Paramount offices. That this could get a third season or be felt in the flagship. This should be what other new Trek should take notes to mimic. To include. I say it again: Hope.

Another season of this world would bring so much potential. Of the kids out there making contact and exploring as Starfleet. Learning the rules and structures as bad and goods. Of choosing your role be it number one, captain, science, med. Heart or head. Or other species and worlds as contrast. Other options. How that would all again tie into the old foundations. Seeking out boldly. The little Trek jingle in the theme my jam, cause the noticed.

And maybe finally addressing in a good way holograms sentience and relations as we have two of our best now to tie that loose Starfleet unexplored area in a good plot. Or more of the OG bosses, you know, whales in Starfleet. (LOVE THIS SHOW. The writers know. I mean c'mon, they solved Tribbles versus Klingons here. This is god tier Trek.)

To the stars Prodigy. Let's go!

[captainhattersvoyagerstuff]

Why I Still Love J/C

Okay, I just really have to get this off my chest. There are people who don't like Chakotay, or won't ship him with Janeway because of the actor or the bad way Native American representation is shown. Now if you just plain don't want to mess with the character, don't like him, whatever, fine. But please don't let something an actor said or did keep you from loving a character or a work he was in. And don't ignore bad representation - try to improve on it.

I love J/C because I look at what is on screen. Their chemistry and caring relationship is incredible and inspiring to me. Everyone is welcome to their own ships, but that's the only one I have because it just seems so obvious to me. But I keep hearing people gripe about Beltran, or the representation. You can fix that, or read work that is fixed. It's called fanfic. If you're into the fandom at all you can see that fanfic Chakotay is not just like Chakotay on screen and definitely nothing like the actor.

The actor who played Icheb did some very bad stuff, but I hardly hear anyone say they won't use Icheb in a story because of this. So why Beltran? Why can't we just ignore these people instead of calling attention to them over and over? I'm not saying justify what they did, but remember they are real people with their own faults. They played a role, and even the most enthusiastic Star Trek actors are not as in love with the show as its fans are. It's hard to understand it, but it's true. I've watched podcasts with Tom and Harry's actors. They had forgotten many episodes, and didn't even know people didn't like Threshold. Why? Because this was a job for them. Maybe they enjoyed it, but it was still a job.

As far as representation goes, yeah they did an unbelievably horrible job, it's there from the beginning when Paris says racist stuff about "Indians". So I try to research, find stuff that is more accurate hopefully, or at least more respectful. It's a challenge, but worth it because there isn't enough good literature about Native Americans. And as far as Chakotay's character goes, there was, like so much of Voyager, wasted potential. So I try to add in that potential. Many fanfic writers do this wonderfully. I can recommend so many. His background in the Maquis, his faith, etc. We have that power.

TL;DR: If there is a ship you love, or a character, I really hope you don't let actors or bad writing turn you away.