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liz-allyn · 2 years

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these violet delights - a dark! mob!peter tale [tasm peter vs kilgrave]

summary: The Purple Man comes to visit Mob!Peter at home.

words: 10.5k

a/n: this began as a submission to Wicked's Trick or Treat, but then it turned into a dead dove, sorry 'bout that. my fancast of the purple man/kilgrave in this universe is Jesse Eisenberg, sporting Lex Luthor vibes. But I love David Tennant and you can picture anyone you want! i also did not use "you" or second-person narrative, instead opting for generic "she/her" pronouns and descriptions.

warnings: so many

I repeat. So. Many. Warnings. Including non-con touching/ sa/ forced sex acts (peter is a victim in this), kidnapping, mind-control, oral (m receiving), cheating, angst, mentions of bodily fluids, mentions of self-h4rm, explicit violence, gore, dead doves for you. and one for you. and one for you. everyone gets a dead dove. do not eat it.

This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences above the age of 18. Sensitive topics are explicitly discussed. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

The second Peter Parker touched the doorknob of the multimillion-dollar Colonial overlooking Forest Park, gooseflesh spread across the nape of his neck. His movements went still, jaw clenching.

Behind him, the shrieking of young children in the distance exacerbated his nerves. He glanced at the residential street around him, peeking through the golden fall curtains of the trees, then down at the modest Jack-O-Lantern underneath the entryway.

It was Halloween, a couple of hours before sunset. It was a weird time of year. One that always got his blood pumping. Everything usually felt a little off on a night like this. But this was different.

Cautiously, he pushed open the door to his lavish home, stepping inside.

The moment Peter stepped into the darkened foyer of his home, he knew immediately something was amiss. He glanced around cautiously. It was so quiet.

By this time, Eddie should’ve set up the goody table outside. It was his job to keep a friendly face on and keep a look-out while Miles and Penni took shifts handing out candy to the kids.

Peter wasn’t really comfortable with hosting Trick-or-Treaters, or any other guests on his property. Too many strangers. Too much unwanted attention. Miles reasoned that if they weren’t trying to appear like a bunch of greedy mobsters, then maybe they shouldn’t have the biggest house on the block and not hand out candy on Halloween.

Despite seeing no one loitering nearby, Peter knew something was wrong.

It was silent. Grave-level silent.

The hairs on his body stood on end. The back of his neck prickled, his senses stirring to alert him to danger. He crept from the foyer and peeked into the expansive sitting area. There, he discovered a brutal scene.

A massacre.

Bodies spread out. Draped across the floor and furniture. Arranged, like broken stems and torn petals of a bloody bouquet.

It could’ve been mistaken for an elaborate, grotesque Halloween display. Hillbilly Chainsaw Massacre. Summer Camp Slaughterfest. Co-ed Killers From Outer Space. Except that Peter could smell real blood. And that these were members of his crew.

He felt queasy and faint, like being in a plummeting elevator. The rapid flutter of a single heart caught his attention, pulling it away from the carnage.

His eyes darted over to see Felicia Hardy sitting on the bottom step of the grand staircase of his home. Her body slumped against the banister. In her lap, she rested the weight of a Chef’s knife almost as long as her forearm. Cold red droplets streaked across her face and neck. The steel blade was coated in crimson.

Felicia’s expression was hollow. Solemn. Tired. Her chest moved shallowly. “Heya, Spider,” she faintly murmured, not making eye contact.

Peter observed his master-at-arms with concerned dread. Part of him wanted to rush to embrace his longtime friend. The other part kept a considerable distance, eyeing her bloody knife.

“Cat,” was all he could say. Alert. Cautious.

“Killer night, huh.” The sharp exhale she let out sounded like a laugh and a cry. She gazed distantly, making no attempt to move as he inched closer to her. Peter had never seen anyone sleepwalk, but he imagined that it would look like this. It was like she was hypnotized. Possessed.

He swallowed deeply, holding down bile, and crouched down to her eye level. “What happened here?”

A long moment passed. She shuddered, tears building just behind her eyes, “I killed ‘em.” It was a whisper that could barely be heard without his abilities. “He told me to kill them,” she explained, only confusing him further. “Told them all to be still and wait their turn. And they did. So I did.”

He shifted closer to her, heart pounding. “Who told you?”

“They were my friends,” she replied, eyes vacant. “My only friends. And I killed them.”

“Felicia,” Peter said firmly. He reached out his finger slowly, hooking it under her chin. Carefully, he pulled her focus to his gaze. He couldn’t recognize her. The formidable woman, with claws and balls of steel, looked up at him in hopeless shame.

“He told me to sit here and wait for you,” she explained, dread in her voice. “And to tell you he has your girl upstairs.”

He approached the bedroom door with catlike footsteps. Inside the room, he could hear obscene noises—soft breaths, wet lips, eager tongue. His senses shrieked in his skull as his eyes found the wide crevice of the doorway.

He recognized the color of her hair instantly. Her image burned red hot in his periphery the same way it burned into his thoughts. The back of her head. The delicate wings of her shoulders. The undulating ridges of her vertebrae. He followed the perilous ladder of her spine all the way down to her belted waist, where a soft, cloudlike chiffon skirt draped over her bottom.

It was a vision he’d only seen in his dreams. But at the present, he was looking at a nightmare.

The petite woman whom he shared the bedroom with was bent over the lap of a stranger. Her hair obscured his view, but the sinful noises spilling out of the room left little to the imagination. The smell of sex, sweat, tears, and saliva hit him like a cannonball. He blinked several times, eyes questioning, as if he stumbled upon a horrific mirage that his eyelashes could sweep away.

The nightmarish image came into clear focus.

His wife—a newlywed for only six weeks—was on her knees in front of an armchair, head bobbing in the lap of a strange man sitting in front of her. Head thrown back in passion, the man groaned lasciviously over the sound of the young woman’s gurgling throat.

It felt like eons passed with Peter standing in the doorway of his bedroom, just staring in bewildered silence. His mind turned over repeatedly, like he was staring at a puzzle and couldn’t fathom the image it created.

His new bride. His innocent angel. His shrinking violet. Choking down another man’s cock like it was her last meal.

Buried deep, somewhere in the rational parts of his brain, he briefly noted the backless, chiffon halter babydoll she was wearing. It was almost a blush pink in the yellow light of the bedroom floor lamp. Lilac. It looked expensive. He’d never seen it before. It suited her well.

He noticed how soft she looked as her hair brushed across her exposed back. That was something he secretly loved about her—her softness. She was a little lamb. He had yet to see this much of her skin. He’d never seen her like this, so exposed. So filthy.

Incomprehesively, he was almost embarrassed at stumbling upon such an intimate, lewd scene. At the same time, he felt his own cock twitch at the sight.

The confusion in his mind quickly settled. His mind caught up to his vision. His stomach dropped and soured. His heart hammered in his chest. His jaw clenched, bit down so hard he could taste blood. It surged and boiled in his veins.

Another vulgar moan erupted from the man as he reached forward and snatched the back of her head. If there was any uncertainty about what was taking place, the blinders were removed. The stranger gathered her hair in his wide grasp and for the first time, Peter could see his wife’s face.

She was wearing makeup, more than he’d ever seen her wear. Or she had been, at one point this evening. The remnants of her mascara and kohl cat eyeliner ran down her cheeks in wet streams. Her plum wine lipstick was smeared across her lips and chin, the color staining the stranger’s cock as he harshly fucked her throat. She gripped onto the man’s knees for balance, her painted nails digging into his pants.

“Fuck yes...” he could hear the man breathlessly sigh, but the air escaped Peter’s lungs. His mind was racing. His brain was short-circuiting. It was skipping through a barbaric list of commands, his adrenaline screaming at him to take action.

Scream. Run. Cry. Punch. Bite. Claw. Fall. Hide. Yell. Pummel. Kill. Crush. Kill. Hurt. Rip. Kill.

His feet started moving.

In addition to the bellowing commands of his adrenaline, the shrill sirens of his senses got louder with every step.

His heart hurt. There was a sharp ache that surprised him. A little less than two months ago, he hadn’t spoken more than five words to her. Regardless, there was a sickness-laced darkness that threatened to pull him under. The pain confused him. Infuriated him.

They hadn’t even bothered to look up yet. He felt like he was leaving the confines of his body. Watching himself move across the room, stalking silently toward the lovers.

Peter kept his gaze fixed on his lamb—treacherous whore—and the blinding-white-hot rage rising up his throat, threatening to cut off the blood flow to his brain.

After taking a particularly harsh thrust into her mouth, her eyes flew open. She coughed and gagged, her wet lashes fluttering as the man pulled her mouth back off of his cock.

Peter’s senses felt like an axe to the skull. He barely registered the shadow in her expression. His wife looked up at her husband, and that’s when he saw it:

Pure terror screaming from her eyes.

Peter’s brain struggled to catch up to speed. He couldn’t even tell if he was breathing anymore. Already moving in their direction, his arm shot up quickly. His long fingers outstretched toward the couple as he began to pull his middle fingers back to his palm.

“Freeze.”

Peter froze. The soft word muttered aloud brought everything to a halt. Like he’d reached the end of a leash. He nearly stumbled over his own feet and whiplashed slightly with the momentum of his muscles seizing.

“Don’t move,” the man’s soft voice commanded again.

Peter didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on the last trajectory of his eyesight. He observed his wife, her body frozen and unmoving. She was locked in a straight-backed kneel at the man’s feet, her weight bearing down on her knees in an uncomfortable L shape.

He could observe her carefully in this position. Her chin trembled. She panted, drawing short breaths, as if she was on the verge of hyperventilating. He could hear her heart thrumming twice as fast as his own. That wasn’t the sound of lust. It was fear.

Peter remained as a statue: outstretched arm, muscles tense, chest heaving from an overwhelming mix of rage and panic.

He couldn’t move. He wanted to. But he couldn’t.

His eyes fell back to the occupant in the chair, still lounging back as if it was his bedroom they were in.

The alabaster-faced man gazed up at Peter with a half-smile. Sharp lines accentuated his brow, cheekbones, and jaw. His dark brown hair hung long in unkempt, ragged curls, framing his hollow cheeks and stopping at his jaw.

He looked young, with one of those faces that made him look forever in his twenties. Or thirties. Or teens. Maybe it was the smugness he wore on his face suggesting a foolish youth.

Peter wanted to put his fist through it.

Pale blue eyes stared brightly beneath a jutted brow. The kid’s face widened into a smirk.

“Hi,” he said, as they were having a pleasant meeting. He pointed his index finger at him, shooting a playful finger-gun. “Don’t tell me—you must be Peter.”

Peter was silent. Transfixed. Stunned by the casual tone and the bizarre situation. The stranger flipped a switch, as if he wasn’t just getting his dick sucked, and suddenly paid no attention to the woman genuflecting in front of him.

He grinned warmly, shameless in his partial nudity. “I heard so many things about you. Good things. Y’know. Mostly.”

The kid glanced down at the woman on her knees, then turned back to him. “Congratulations… on the wedding by the way!” he apologetically added, as if had forgotten his pleasantries. “Arranged marriages seem so old-fashioned these days, but I get it. Respect for your culture and all that.”

Peter’s mouth felt cotton-dry. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he struggled with all of his might to lower his arm. To flex his fingers. To say anything at all. It was to no avail.

The intruder gestured at the young woman on her knees. “I gotcha a present,” he grinned, reaching down and running a long finger beneath the chiffon strap across her shoulder. Peter could see that it was a halter dress of some kind. He watched intently as the man’s fingers slid down the fabric, resting at the top of her breast. “Call it a ‘something borrowed.’ No need for a thank-you card.”

Peter’s nostrils flared at the action, despite what he’d seen just moments ago. Despite the fact that he had no previous plan to win this woman’s heart, or let her win his own. Despite that he felt connected to this person in name and title only. And when he saw, with his own eyes, his new… partner engaging in a sex act only six weeks after their turbulent agreement had been finalized... it wasn’t jealousy.

She didn’t owe him faithfulness, if he really thought about it. Even if he planned to be. He planned to be celibate, to be honest. If he could help it. If he focused his energy on business, and not pleasure.

No, it would make sense that she would’ve taken a lover. Given how cold things were between them.

It wasn’t jealousy.

This stranger’s touch infuriated him. The idea that this audacious asshat dressed his wife in lingerie, and was roving his hands on her like inspecting the trim on a car. Like... she was a possession. She was his possession.

The stranger leaned back comfortably in the armchair as Peter tore himself apart. “I was just catching up with... uh...” He glanced at the girl he was facefucking moments before, then gave up. “I didn’t get her name.” He waved his hand with fanfare. “The lovely Mrs. Parker!” he proclaimed, with a shrug. That was good enough by his standards. “She’s been an above-average hostess this evening.”

Peter swallowed, trying to force his tongue to move. It felt like choking on glass. Seeing her mouth on another man felt like choking on glass.

The vile ‘guest’ reached down, cupping his junk idly. He hadn’t bothered to tuck himself away. Peter watched him disgustedly.

“Oh, that? No, not like that,” the man replied sheepishly, pointing down at his exposed crotch. His eyes darted between Peter and his wife, before elaborating. “Oh! That was nothing. She was just showing me a trick her dad’s friends taught her.”

Peter took that piece of information like a brick to the head. It jarred him. His eyes found her, eyeing the profile of her shamed face. He looked at her, really. For the first time since they had signed the marriage certificate. Her chin quivered gently.

He thought about what little he knew about the woman he agreed to marry. Her father was a crook. And not a good one. He ran a sloppy organization, with sloppy amateurs, and sloppy results. He had never thought too hard about her family, regarding them as a nuisance more than anything.

“They had a nickname for her,” the cruel man continued as if he was telling a hilarious story. “They called her the ‘Black Hole.’” He chuckled, barely able to contain his entertained grin behind thin lips.

Peter glanced over to see quiet tears rolling down his wife’s cheeks. She kept her gaze fixed forward. Stealing her expression, she made a decent attempt to conceal her horror and shame. Peter’s jaw clenched empathetically. His chest burned. The glass found his heart.

The intruder seemed oblivious, finally tucking himself back into his pants with a good-humored headshake, amused with himself. It was after a few seconds that he finally noticed Peter’s grim expression.

“Get it?” he asked, beneath a giggle, his smile dimming only slightly.

Peter glared.

Eventually, the man let his shoulders drop. He muttered bitterly, his fun spoiled. “Right over your head. Oh well.”

The ‘guest’ came to a stand in front of the chair, side-stepping around the abused woman in front of him, leaving her in his wake. He dug his hands in the pockets of his pants, eyes roving around the room. The intruder looked at home, strolling through Peter’s bedroom. He observed in silence, listless, like wandering through a library. Passing judgment on the pieces of Peter’s life.

Peter finally noticed the man’s attire. It was a bizarre mish-mash of items: a sharply-pressed, eggplant-hued button-up, untucked. The tails of the shirt draped over the stretchy waist of oversized joggers. A plum, silk-lined, single-button, velvet tuxedo jacket fit snugly over his shoulders. A lavender pocket square poked out from the breast pocket.

Several blinks later, Peter recognized that all of the items were pulled out of his own closet. Some well worn. Some unused. Right down to the brand new, still-in-the-box, memory-foam slippers that May gifted him years ago.

Peter ground his teeth while glaring at the intruder. This was a message. His dark eyes roved over the callous figure, taking in the prevailing hue.

The Purple Man.

Peter’s blood went cold. He’d never met him, but he’d heard stories: nightmarish fairy tales about a devil who could control you with just a few words. A man dressed in purple, leaving grisly scenes drenched in buckets of crimson in his wake.

Peter didn’t believe in fairy tales. He believed in horror stories.

He believed his friend at the D.A.’s office—the disgraced, former lawyer committed to an institution upstate. The blind madman of Hell’s Kitchen—who claimed that he savagely beat his friends to death with a gavel because The Purple Man told him to do it.

Peter wasn’t sure if he really believed in the Devil. Until now.

“I wonder how much all this cost,” the man in purple stated curiously, observing the molding of the bedroom. He glanced over at Peter, still standing between the doorway and the bed. The next words left his mouth like a cold threat. “Answer me when I speak to you.”

“What did you do to Felicia?” Peter asked, thinking of the woman unable to move from her spot downstairs.

He snorted, “The anime chick with the silver hair?” Peter glowered at him, arm still outstretched. “I was actually really confused when I arrived,” he stated. “I thought that little... slutty minx... downstairs was your wife. I mean, she’s the one that answered the door. She’s way too hot to be a housekeeper. Too skinny to be a cook. She’s got great tits.” He paused and asked, “You think they’re real?” He pondered thoughtfully. “They feel real...”

Peter grimaced at the comment, his blood boiling.

“But no,” the uninvited guest continued, “I was surprised to learn that she’s the ‘head of security.’ I mean, come on. Really?” He barked out a laugh. “I don’t wanna say ‘that’s why you never let a woman do a man’s job,’ but that’s what we’re all thinking, amirite?”

He shrugged, questioning aloud, although the couple rendered silent was his only audience.

The Purple Man glanced over to his timid captive, eyeing her backside lewdly. “And this little angel was up here all by herself.”

Peter bristled.

“She told me you don’t let her out much,” he explained. “Bitched a little about freedom and shit, but...” The intruder lowered his voice to a whisper, a secret just between boys, “I see why you keep her under lock and key. A girl like this doesn’t have any business out and about by herself. Just asking for trouble.”

Peter glared in response, nostrils flaring. The pig headed comment made his skin crawl. On the other hand, he didn’t miss the feeling of guilt that sank in his stomach for locking her up like an object.

The intruder carried on, like he was conversing with a friend. “Yeah, if I was you,” he mused, “I’d have a whole fuckin’ slew of women. A harem. I’d keep one in every room.” He peered towards the doorway but made no move to escape. “I mean this house is ridiculous,” he continued. “You’ve got a lot of rooms. So maybe not every room. A man’s gotta have some peace.”

He shrugged, throwing a sideways glance at Peter. “That’s what I’d do. If I were you.” His voice dropped an octave. “But I’m not you. I’m smarter.”

Peter glowered back, as the two men locked stares. A long moment passed.

“You do know who I am, right?” The Purple Man interrupted suddenly.

Peter recalled a name that Brock discovered while digging through Murdock’s appointment calendar. A high school dropout with an brilliant IQ. An avid gamer. A nobody.

“I know who you are,” Peter replied, beneath a regretful glare. “Gotta be honest, though. Didn’t give two shits about you ‘til now.”

He responded giddily, “I’m pleased that we were able to change that. I mean, what’s a girl gotta do to get you to notice them?”

He whispered with a deadly calmness, like making a vow, “Believe me, Kevin. You have my attention.”

The Purple Man’s face twisted as he spat, “Ugh! God!” He spun on his heel, hissing and kicking indignantly. “I fuckin’ hate that name!” He bristled with anger, rendering a glower. “My mother gave me that name!”

The sudden outburst of rage sent a trickle down his wife’s spine. She shivered, and he spotted it out of the corner of his eye. Their captor didn’t seem to notice.

The intruder shouted with disdain, “How hard is it to show a little fuckin’ respect? I don’t identify with that name. My name is Kilgrave.”

Peter fought to hold in a humorless laugh. “Kilgrave? Isn’t that what your little video game buddies call you?”

“Actually, Kill_Grave_69 is my PSN handle,” he corrected matter-of-factly, his mood shifting dramatically. “I sent Kill_Grave a message, but he hasn’t replied yet.”

“You like playin’ games with people, Kevin?” Peter taunted, his rage bubbling over. “Is’at what this is to you? A game?”

Kilgrave sighed, annoyed and bored. He gazed at Peter, declaring softly, “If you say ‘Kevin’ again, I’ll make your wife bite off her own tongue.”

The woman in reference shuddered on her knees. Peter locked his jaw.

“I’m serious, Peter,” Kilgrave warned. “She likes to swallow.”

Peter’s eyes flicked over to his wife, a pang of sympathy rising in his chest. He was ashamed of himself. Ashamed that the first thought that ran through his mind when he came upon the pornographic scene was betrayal. How daft. How arrogant. How did it not occur to him that she was being forced against her will?

He was a fool to think he could keep her safe. Perhaps it was his pride assuring him that no one would get past the gates of his fortress. It was hubris. His dogmatic belief that he’d prevent tragedy from reaching his loved ones.

At least, not again.

"Spoiler alert, I guess,” Kilgrave added, his lewd commentary interrupting Peter’s self-pity. “That’s another thing we talked about: You guys haven’t fucked.” Kilgrave crossed his arms, glancing back between the couple. “I mean, what’s with that? Talk about trouble in paradise.”

Despite himself, Peter bristled with embarrassment. A tinge of pink on his cheeks added to the red flush of his rage creeping up his neck. “With the size of that rock on her finger,” Kilgrave added, “you’d think that’d be worth at least a couple of blowjobs.”

Her eyelids slammed shut, jaw clenched. Peter glanced down to see the tremble of her legs, her kneecaps digging into the merciless wooden floor. He couldn’t imagine how painful it was, and how long she’d been in that position.

Kilgrave chuckled, staring at Peter with amusement. “Between your wife’s Jaws of Life and your slutty housekeeper’s Triple D’s... What are you, queer?”

His lip twitched at the slur. He struggled to maintain his composure, aware that at any moment he could cause his wife—the frightened lamb—further harm. Simultaneously, he pictured gouging out the mouthy bastard’s eyes with his thumbs.

Peter swallowed hard, speaking when spoken to. “What is it you want?”

“I’m here on business,” Kilgrave shrugged nonchalantly. “But first, I want to play a game.” He looked over at the woman. “We were already in the middle of one when you showed up, but we can start all over again. I guess.” He turned to Peter. “You ever play ‘20 Questions?’ It’s my favorite icebreaker.”

He tilted his head, childishly groaning, “Does this mean I have to listen to you talk about yourself through 20 Monologues?”

“Oh, no, this is all about you guys,” he declared, sitting on the edge of the king sized bed. He licked his thin lips hungrily. “I think what we have is an opportunity for you two to really open up to one another, y’know? Bare your hearts. Let’s see the real juicy stuff!”

The double-entendre was not lost on Peter. He gulped anxiously.

Kilgrave patted down the duvet on either side of him. “C’mon, you two,” he grinned, sparkling with childlike mischief. “Gather ‘round!”

Peter suddenly felt his legs lurch forward, his arm able to drop. The release of his tense muscles was relieving, but immediately he was horrified at being unable to control himself. He approached the bed slowly, sitting next to Kilgrave on the right. Kilgrave looked up to see his wife falter as she attempted to move off her knees. With a yelp, she toppled forward on her face.

Kilgrave snorted, shoulders shaking with humor. “What a klutz.” She half-crawled on wobbly legs, only sparking more laughter.

“Oh my god,” the weasel-like man howled. “She looks like a baby cow!” Peter’s eyes ran over her figure, taking inventory of as many injuries as he could see. One of the halter straps of her dress was askew off her shoulder. Finger shaped bruises peppered her jaw. Her knees were scraped and bloody. There were obviously injuries he could not see. Picturing them was like dunking his brain in acid.

“C’mon, I don’t have all day,” Kilgrave mocked her. He beat on the bedspread emphatically, like summoning a dog. Peter seethed in silence. “C’mon. Atta girl.”

Wincing in pain, she approached the edge of the bed, using her fingers to claw up the duvet. She thrust herself up next to Kilgrave on his opposite side, her legs dangling awkwardly off the edge of the bed.

“There she is,” he sang fondly, before lifting his gangly fingers and slapping them down on her thigh. She gasped at the pain, her legs still prickling as the flow of blood returned to her feet. His hand clamped above her knee, fingers digging into her flesh. “Such a pretty little cow.”

A soft whimper escaped her lips. Peter shut his eyes at the noise, squeezing them tight enough to trigger a migraine. He recognized that she was hanging on to what little power she had, trying to withhold her pain in front of her tormentor. If she could keep it together, then he’d better do the same.

Peter opened his eyes, glaring sideways at him. “You said you were here on business?”

“Easy, easy,” Kilgrave turned to him. “I’m asking the questions here.” He lifted his other hand and settled it on Peter’s thigh. “No need to get all worked up,” he slithered, ice in his eyes. Peter glanced down at the intruder’s hand touching his pant leg. It was a possessive hold, as if he owned Peter like the stolen clothes he was wearing. Like he owned the bed they were sitting on, the house he’d invaded, or the woman he’d assaulted.

Peter met his gaze, stone-faced. But he had the overwhelming urge to cry. From rage or fear or heartbreak, he didn’t know.

“You’ll need to wait your turn,” Kilgrave cooed, like admonishing a child. The most feared mobster in New York, the Unlikely King from Queens—reduced to a child.

“I’m supposed to say something clever, like ‘Mr. Fisk sends his regards,’ or some passive-aggressive bullshit like that. But all that seems so cliche. Dull.” He shot a quick glance, left and right, snuggling into his space between the couple. He knocked his knee into Peter’s playfully. “So. Tell me about you two. How did you meet?”

Peter’s jaw shook like an earthquake, fighting the command. The fight was getting exhausting.

“The day before our wedding,” his wife squeaked out. Her throat sounded raw. “At our house. Or... it used to be my house.” As she spoke, she gazed achingly at the open doorway. She reminisced with a bitter tone. “He brought daisies. Couldn’t hand them to me. Left ‘em on the table. Wouldn’t even look at me.”

Peter’s eyes rested heavily on the floor, brow furrowed.

“He spoke with my father for a half-hour while I waited upstairs,” she recounted, trying to keep her voice from cracking. “Thirty minutes, to decide the rest of my life. Mama locked me in my room. They took away anything sharp. In case I tried to back out.”

Peter looked up and over at her, beyond their tormentor, and watched the way her lip trembled at the admission. He followed the length of her arm down to her idle fingertips. The chiffon dress bunched up around her thighs, revealing her secrets. Etched scars lined her thighs and told a story of a lifetime of suffering. Eyes full of sorrow, Peter looked back up at her face. His heart broke to see that familiar faraway gaze.

“You’d rather kill yourself than marry him?” Kilgrave blurted, snorting repugnantly. “Wow. That’s a ‘swipe-left’ if I’ve ever heard one.”

Peter avoided the urge to comment, holding himself back from shooting a dirty look. He ignored him, keeping his wife in his sight. He hoped that somehow she could feel his gaze. He wanted it to feel like a kind gesture. A warm, friendly ray of light. A compassionate embrace.

She swallowed hard, and for a moment Peter wondered if she could feel him. “I’ve spent my whole life in a cage,” she explained numbly. “Like a pet in a shop waiting to be sold. Waiting for Papa to put me to good use. Or get rid of me somehow.” She whispered sorrowfully, “A coffin’s not so different. At least it’s quiet.”

Peter’s jaw clenched as he felt his eyes sting. It was the hopelessness in her voice. The familiarity of it. He had no idea of the suffering that she endured. He hadn’t fully considered getting to know her. He didn’t truly plan on being alive much longer.

“Hmm,” Kilgrave hummed, considering the weight of her words. “I bet you’re a delight at parties. What did you think of him when you saw him?”

Her husband thought he could see the faintest ghost of a smile flit across her face. She pulled her gaze away from the doorway, and looked at Peter. He nearly flinched at the action. He was too ashamed to look at her.

“Pretty eyes,” she stated, a breath of fondness in her voice. It made his cheeks turn red. “He was prettier than I thought he’d be.” She stared at him. Through him. Like she could see his soul. “My sister told me once that the pretty ones are the meanest.”

He dropped his eyes to the floor.

Kilgrave turned to Peter. “What about you, Prince Charming? What went through your head that night?”

This time, he didn’t fight.

“I just wanted it to be over,” Peter replied, flatly.

Despite herself, she winced. The sting of his words was apparent.

“Oof,” Kilgrave commented. “Bad first impression?”

“That wasn’t the first time I met her,” Peter explained, betrayed by his own tongue. His eyes closed in defeat.

Kilgrave nodded. “Tell me about that.”

He paused, but not for long. “It was at a wedding,” Peter explained. “She was twelve. I was fifteen.” Her eyes shot over to Peter, surprised by the revelation. “She wore a yellow dress with daisies on it. These kids... um. They were pickin’ on her. Callin’ her names.”

His lips turned downwards at the memory, heart aching. “I felt sorry for her. She spent the whole reception cryin’ in the bathroom. We could all hear it.” She looked away, the memory returning to her. “I told those kids to lay off, but... only after...” He let the words fall away. Kilgrave didn’t ask for more this time. It was a meaningless excuse anyway. “She doesn’t remember me,” he affirmed, “but I was there.”

The couple met each other’s eyes briefly, and for a moment they were alone with one another in their thoughts.

“Aww,” the wicked man blushed, his tone thick with saccharine. “That’s sweet. So you knew from the moment you saw her you were gonna marry her?”

“No,” he replied. “She’s not—” He choked on the words. His vocal cords constricting. Swallowed hard. He looked up at her helplessly, seeing the wounded look on her face. It was as if all he could do was hurt her.

“Finish that sentence,” Kilgrave callously commanded.

He begged his mouth to stay closed, but it creaked open. “She’s not Gwen.”

The sound of the name rang out. Tolling like a distant bell harkening some terrible fate. “Oh. Wait.” Kilgrave snapped his fingers near his head, as if he was struggling to fit the pieces of the story together. “Hang on. I’m remembering this.” He made some odd noise, a humming screech that sounded like a computer crashing. “Nope. Sorry. Nothing. Who’s Gwen?”

“She was the woman I loved,” Peter shuddered as he spoke. “We met in high school. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.”

“Okay...?”

“She died,” Peter swallowed dryly. Now they were both staring at him expectantly. It was obvious from his wife’s expression that she didn’t know about Gwen. That was Peter’s design. The seconds ticked by, his wife staring at him with something between curiosity and horror. “It was an accident,” Peter said, suddenly feeling like he needed to.

Kilgrave leveled his gaze at him, studying Peter intently. “Was it really?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. The glass had spread to his veins. “No.”

Her eyes widened at his response. Peter stared at her, his gaze heavy with guilt. Kilgrave made a pleased sound, like taking a bite out of a delicious cake. “Did you kill her?” he smirked ravenously.

“No,” Peter responded quickly. His eyes told a different story.

“Tell me the truth.” Kilgrave’s mouth was watering.

“I didn’t push her,” Peter elaborated grimly. “But I put her in harm's way.” His lip trembled, face crumpling. “She was killed because of me.”

“Siiick,” said Kilgrave, not truly impressed. Peter’s attention wasn’t on him.

Whatever expression he expected from his wife, he got the opposite. She stared at him with pity.

“Well,” Kilgrave sighed, “that was even more of a downer than I anticipated.” He rolled his eyes, kicking his legs idly in frustration. “Fine, sure. You lost one girl. You got another. This one’s still young, and... alive? She seems alright. I mean, I’m sure Gwynn was great, but... are you really gonna spend the rest of your life moping over some dead pussy?

His eyes flashed with rage, “Don’t fucking talk like that about her—”

Kilgrave leaped to his feet, outmatching Peter’s fury, exploding like a bullet out of a gun. Suddenly, he was giant and imposing. A mushroom cloud leering over Peter’s face with fiery eyes and flaming breath.

“YOU don’t get to tell ME what to do!” his voice bellowed, like a crash of thunder. His booming voice was enough to make both of his captives flinch. “Ever! UNDERSTAND?”

Peter looked up at his tormentor and tried to hold back a shudder. The monster’s eyes had gone black and soulless, filled with rage. Any good humor in his nature evaporated instantly, lips pulled tight. His curls vibrated with anger.

As he stared up at him bitterly, Peter heard the sound of his wife’s heart thumping wildly. She kept her head forward and sniffled gently, trying to tighten her trembling jaw. It was as if she was pleading with Peter through her heartbeat. Begging him not to do anything stupid and get himself killed. Because then, she’d be left alone. With him. Again.

A caged animal, indeed.

Several long moments passed before Kilgrave’s shoulders eased up. His features softened, his expression shifting to apathy. He shook the hair out of his face like a dog, exhaled slowly, and sat back down between the couple.

“So,” The Purple Man continued, biting back indignation at being interrupted. “You didn’t want anything to do with the girl. She’s a means to an end. You could care less about her.”

Peter flinched, struggling. He subtly wished he could bite off his tongue to keep it from moving. Kilgrave noticed it immediately.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he commanded.

Peter exhaled, feeling his heart sink in his chest. “That’s not true,” he muttered quietly, staring apologetically at his wife.

She batted her eyes at Peter, before breaking eye contact and staring ahead before Kilgrave could notice.

“Elaborate,” he replied coldly.

Peter swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to hurt her,” he admitted with a huff. “I wasn’t trying... It wasn’t right, what her father did to her. None of it. He was planning on making a deal with Martello. The Hammerhead. Trading her for protection. I thought—I thought I could help her. Take Hammerhead off the board. Get her father’s loyalty. Help her, like I shoulda helped her when we were kids.” Peter glanced down at the floor, his forehead creased. “I shoulda stayed out of it.”

Kilgrave hummed, nodding as if he was filled with wisdom, “Tale as old as time. Women are our inevitable downfall.”

Peter bit his tongue, closing his eyes to keep them from rolling, holding back an offending remark.

Kilgrave moved on, looking over at the woman in question. “What about you, cowgirl?” he questioned, with a slight smirk. “Your daddy sent you off like a dowry. A sheep for the slaughter.”

Her darkened eyes remained fixed on the floor. Peter admired her strength.

“You didn’t wanna play house with the rich man with nice eyebrows?”

“How should I know,” she bit like a whipcrack, her words laced with venom. “He hasn’t spent more than five minutes with me since I got here.”

It was a stunning display of boldness from her, surprising both men. Kilgrave pulled back his gaze, eyeing her with intrigue.

“There we go,” Kilgrave simpered. “Now we’re getting to the good stuff.” He turned to Peter who was trying to focus on remaining silent. His efforts were dashed the moment Kilgrave spoke. “Respond.”

“She hates me,” Peter immediately murmured, then bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. “She hasn’t said it. But I know. She... she can’t stand to be in the same room as me. I hate the way she makes me feel.”

He would’ve willed himself to stop breathing if it meant no more words would spill out. But Kilgrave was hooked, engaged in his favorite television drama.

“How does she make you feel?” Kilgrave beckoned, hungry for more.

Peter’s brow furrowed. “Like a monster.”

She let out a slow exhale, her resolve crumbling as tears dripped down her face.

Peter barely recognized his own voice, sounding as weak and broken as he felt. “She’s terrified of me. Cries in the room all the time. Won’t even look me in the eye. Like I’m... like I’m gonna hurt her or—” He swallowed hard, “I-I wouldn’t do that.”

“Or what? Finish what you were going to say,” he ordered coldly.

Peter squeezed his eyes tight, exhaling slowly. “Like I’m going to beat on her. Rape her.”

She went rigid; ice in her veins. Kilgrave shifted in his seat, adjusting his lap ever so slightly. “Is that what you like doing, Peter?”

“No,” Peter responded without hesitation, eyes defensive. “Never. I don’t...” He glowered at Kilgrave. “I’m not sick like that.”

If he could tell that it was a subtle insult, Kilgrave didn’t let on. “What are you like, Peter?” he grinned wickedly. “Be truthful. When was the last time you hurt someone?”

He stared. Mouth closed. Helpless. “This morning.”

Kilgrave smiled, holding his gaze. “Did you kill them?”

“Yes.”

“Did they suffer?”

Peter blinked at him, fighting a sting in his eyes. He spotted the way his wife shivered in his periphery. “Yes.”

“And did you like it?” he asked, like the cat that ate the cream. “How did it make you feel?”

Peter wished he could vanish into thin air. He let out a shaky breath, his eyes brimming with tears. “I felt powerful,” he admitted, shame and self-hatred evident in his tone. “It made me feel strong. Felt like justice. For Gwen. I liked it.”

The long-haired man chuckled darkly, “You really think it has anything to do with justice?”

A tear escaped his eye. Peter thought of the final expression on Gwen’s face, blood dripping from her mouth and nose. “I don’t know,” he answered. It was the truth.

Kilgrave’s expression shifted, unhappy with the answer. “Okay, Peter Parker. Pillar of pious penitence.” He spat each word mockingly, leaning closer to the taller man, invading his space menacingly. Peter knew he couldn’t stand anyone having the moral advantage over him. Or any advantage.

“Tell me this then,” Kilgrave glowered, hissing through gritted teeth. “Maybe you’re not a rapist, but you’re not a eunuch.” His piercing blue eyes dropped downwards. “At least that I can tell. You sleep under the same roof as this...” Kilgrave glanced over at his wife, his eyes roving down her chest and legs. “...Sacrificial calf, tell me—Have you ever thought of just fucking her and getting it over with?”

Peter felt his heart seize in his chest. The air caught in his throat.

“Answer the question!” Kilgrave barked.

His jaw clenched. “Yes,” he irked out, shamefully. “I have.”

“Ah ha!” Kilgrave rejoiced, clapping his hands together. “So the boy’s cock does work. Let’s hear about it.”

“I don’t...” Peter stuttered, his skin beginning to crawl. “I-I don’t wa—”

Kilgrave gripped Peter’s shoulder tight. It was like clutching a stone in his fist. He leered over him regardless, pouring poison into his ear. “Details, Peter. Details. You want to fuck her, right? How bad? You ever jerk off thinkin’ about itr?”

“Yes,” he choked out. He let his eyes fall closed, ashamed and unable to look at the woman whose life he had destroyed.

“You watch her when you do it?”

“N-no,” he stuttered. “Sh-shower.”

“What do you like about her? What’s your favorite part? Her ass, right? You strike me as an ass man.”

Peter hoped that soon Kilgrave would tell him to throw himself off of a building. “Her eyes.”

Kilgrave groaned, deflating at the answer.

“She’s innocent,” Peter added truthfully, with bleary eyes. “Not like—” He clipped the words, but one look from his tormentor reminded him of the futility of his resistance. “Not like me,” he whispered, heartbroken.

The Purple Man glared at him, stewing with disdain.

“Poor Peter Parker,” he mocked with a singsong tone. He gazed down at him through narrow slits, regarding him as ant under a bright magnifying glass. “Pitiful, pathetic prince of pathos. Pauper of power.”

Disgraced, he stared back, hollow and exposed. The sensation of a tear rolling down his cheek stirred him.

“Do you want to know why I like to play video games?” Kilgrave stated coolly.

He could think of a hundred vicious replies. A hundred ways to hurt, maim, and kill. But none of them were real options. He looked at him apathetically. Hopelessly. It didn’t matter how he responded.

“It’s an even balance of power,” Kilgrave elaborated. “A fair fight.” His eyes roved over Peter’s figure, sizing him up from head to toe. “All I need is two thumbs and I can win fair and square. Keeps things challenging.”

The maniac fell silent, staring at Peter in a way that made his skin crawl. His smile faded. Again, the friendly persona evaporated. He spoke again with a voice weighed down with malice.

“You have all this money,” he stated. “All these... pawns, like the dead ones downstairs.” He reached over, squeezing Peter’s bicep gently. “You work out.” He gently patted Peter’s cheek. “You’ve got a pretty face. All this... ‘power.’” His azure eyes leveled, and the look sent a chill down Peter’s spine. “And yet all I hear about is how sad your little lonely life is. Your shitty bad luck. Your dead parents and your dead blonde whore.”

Peter’s chest heaved, filled with fear or fury. He bit the inside of his lip, watching the vitriol rising in the man.

Cruel jealousy filled his words. “You got it so easy, you don’t even know it,” Kilgrave hissed. “Silver spoon up your ass. Guys like you, you think you can just buy everything you want? You think you can just bully everyone? Beat them into submission?”

The intruder’s heart beat even faster with self-righteous fervor. He was insane, Peter concluded, unhinged and oblivious to the hypocrisy of his words.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re not scared of me,” Kilgrave sneered. “Doesn’t matter if you couldn’t give two shits. Doesn’t matter if you own the whole world. I control you. All I have to do is say the words. That is real power, my friend.”

Kilgrave jumped to his feet, standing tall in front of the couple. He puffed up like a god casting down judgment. He was drunk on his version of power. Basking in the glow of their helpless misery.

“And sure,” he added, his smile growing larger, his voice getting louder. “When I’m done here, there’ll be a limo waiting for me. And I’m gonna go to the nicest hotel in the city. I’m gonna order room service, and I’m going to eat it off the girl at the front desk’s naked body.”

He proclaimed this triumphantly. Like he was standing in a pulpit. Like he could hear thunderous applause. He probably could.

“And then I’m gonna play a few hours of Call of Duty,” he continued. “I’m gonna kill a few spoiled little shitheads like you online, and even if I lose the game...” He laughed with a careless shrug, “I’ll just tell them to go fuck their mothers and swallow bleach.”

“Then I’m gonna leave with my giant suitcase full of Wilson Fisk’s money,” he spat each word at the couple, matching their disgusted horror with his own outrage. “But before you judge me, let me tell you that I don’t do it for the money, Mister and Missus Parker.”

He popped the ‘P,’ like a bloody dot on the end of a sentence.

“I do it because I like it,” he declared. “I like to help people. And when you help people, good things happen to you!”

Kilgrave took a deep breath, and exhaled loudly. He was regaining his composure, albeit for dramatic effect. “So, now for my next question, Peter, I ask you this:” he leaned forward, placing both hands on the bed as he glanced back and forth between the horrified duo. “Trick or Treat?”

Peter blinked silently, terrified to respond.

“Choose!” Kilgrave roared.

“Treat!” Peter yelped, tears running down his face.

“Good choice,” Kilgrave declared. “Now. Are you finally ready to fuck your wife, or should I do it for you?”

Peter’s eyes were black as coal, overcome with rage. He whispered, agonized, “Touch her and I’ll rip your fucking throat out—”

From the tuxedo jacket pocket, Kilgrave suddenly brandished a straight-edge razor. It flashed in the low-light of the bedroom. He handed it to the woman he only regarded as ‘Missus’ Parker.

“Use this to cut your own face off,” he commanded. The moment the razor went into her hand, she closed her fist on the blade. Her eyes were wide with fright, her arm trembling.

“No! Stop!” Peter bellowed, voice shattering weakly, as he reached out and grabbed the end of the razor. He clutched the blade, feeling the sting of it in his palm.

Kilgrave leapt backward with alarm. “Nobody move!”

The couple didn’t move. Both hands on the blade of the razor. Blood spilling into blood. Kilgrave’s eyes went back and forth between the two of them, before settling on Peter suspiciously.

“You really do care about her,” Kilgrave stated, intrigued. His voice was thoughtful and unsure, as if he was observing the results of an experiment. He watched Peter’s tortured expression carefully. His lip trembled, his eyes wet.

“Please,” Peter begged him, shaking uncontrollably. Swallowing every ounce of pride, he pleaded for mercy. “Please. It’s me that Fisk wants. She’s got no part in this.”

Kilgrave stared quietly, as if he was considering it seriously. It was enough to give Peter hope.

“Drop the razor,” he ordered.

The weapon clanged as it hit the floor, narrowly missing their limbs.

“I’m sorry, I just thought of another question,” Kilgrave declared, leaving Peter’s plea unanswered. He leaned in close between them, his thin lips positioned between both sets of ears. “Cards on the table. If you had to choose, right now,” he asked devilishly. “Who would you rather have rape your wife?” He locked eyes with Peter, smirking sadistically. “Me? Or you?”

Peter’s heart sank as it threatened to burst from his chest. He held Kilgrave’s stare, peering up powerlessly. His stomach lurched, bile rising in his throat.

This was a message, he thought. A warning to all who dared to stand up to powerful men like Wilson Fisk. Those who were arrogant enough to try to beat the devil at his own game.

It didn’t matter that Peter may have been the lesser of two evils. They were all evil. The city was overflowing with evil deeds and evil men. Like his father-in-law. Like Fisk. Like Kilgrave.

Like Peter.

Kilgrave simply smiled. Because he knew what Peter really was.

He knew what his answer would be.

And how poetically unjust was it—in his flimsy attempt at protecting this poor girl he pitied, the woman he wondered if he could one day love—that he would be the one to hurt her. He had imprisoned her to protect her. And he was going to cause her suffering.

He really was a monster.

But Kilgrave just wanted him to say it out loud.

Peter’s lip wobbled as he watched the intruder raise an eyebrow. He was waiting.

“Answer the question,” Kilgrave grinned wickedly. “Who would you rather it be?”

He tried to keep his mouth closed, but it felt like trying to hold back an avalanche. He knew exactly what word was going to come out, and with it, the contents of his stomach would follow. The remnants of his broken soul soon after.

“Peter.”

Kilgrave blinked, turning towards ‘Missus’ Parker. He’d forgotten she was there.

The woman sat calmly on the foot of the bed, her bloody hands placed in her lap. Blood droplets staining her scars. Her body was a mountain. Steady. Unfazed.

She locked eyes with Kilgrave. There was an audacious half-smirk on her face.

“I would rather it be Peter,” she answered, knowing well-enough that the question wasn’t directed at her to begin with. She didn’t care. She was making her thoughts known.

“I would rather be probed by aliens,” she stated confidently, hatred woven into each word. “I would rather be railed by every dick in a leper colony. I’d rather be inbred by a family of cannibal hillbillies. I’d rather be fucked by a grizzly bear.”

Her voice taunted him, seething through gritted teeth, “Literally. Anyone. Else.” She glared at him viciously. “Anyone but you.”

Kilgrave’s face fell slowly, his eyes growing cold at her harsh rejection.

She smiled, victorious, if only in this one fight. “And no matter what you say, that’ll never change.”

His eye twitched as he glared at her. She relished in the way his nostrils flared, basking in the glow of his rage. Savored the way a vein bulged from his forehead.

Kilgrave studied her lividly, crossing his arms. “You heard the lady,” he replied. He commanded, “Pin her down.”

Peter’s hands shot forward of their own accord, grabbing his wife’s wrists and throwing her back across a bed they had never shared until this moment. Despite her resolve, she shrieked as she attempted to push him off. She twisted like a snake beneath him.

Tears sprang from his eyes and hers. He could hear his own disembodied voice, mumbling incoherently, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry so sorry...”

In seconds she was subdued under him, his hips pinning hers down.

Peter watched her fall silent and still, tears rolling down the sides of her face. He squeezed his eyes closed, focusing his energy on releasing her wrists to no avail. Hot droplets from his eyes splattered as they fell on the skin of her heaving chest.

“Don’t do this,” he pleaded, to anyone who would listen. “I don’t... don’t wanna do this...” He squeezed his eyes tighter.

“Look at me,” he heard her whisper. He opened his eyes at the sound of her voice.

She gazed up at him, her eyes gentle. Sympathetic. He wanted to drown himself in them.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she timidly whispered. “We’re gonna be okay.” He wanted to collapse under the weight of his guilt.

He trembled, “Please don’t hate me. Please, I’m... I can’t...”

“I know,” she nodded softly, barely above the sound of her heart. “I know. You’re nothing like him.”

Peter gritted his teeth, sobbing, growling as he tried to move his hands, only peeling one finger away from her wrist.

“Give me her panties,” Kilgrave coldly ordered.

Peter’s hand reached under the skirt of the dress, gripping onto stretchy lace. With a snap, he tore the fabric from her waist. She yelped at the burn. He held his trembling hand outstretched, presenting Kilgrave with his trophy.

He snatched the underwear, examining it in his hand. “Well, whaddya know,” he sneered. “Looks like she’s not that broken up about this after all. She’s dripping wet. Just like a whore.”

Kilgrave tucked the underwear back in his jacket, turning listlessly toward the brutal scene. “Put your hand on her throat.”

She flinched as Peter followed the order. His large palm settled heavily the base of her throat.

Kilgrave peered over at them, intently watching the way his hand circled her neck. Blood from the razor cut on his palm coated her throat, making a sticky red mess. Kilgrave licked his lips at the sight.

“Such large hands,” his tormenter observed. “Bet you’re strong. Bet you could just... crush her throat with just your thumb and forefinger. Like snapping a toothpick” Peter’s bloody hand trembled, his whole body quaking with terror. “I wonder what that would sound like.”

Peter shook his head, spiraling into panic, “P-Please don’t—”

“Relax,” Kilgrave admonished him, as if scolding a frightened child. Sickeningly, Peter felt his pulse slow down. His next breaths were even and steady. Kilgrave grinned, “I told you that you were gonna get a chance to fuck your wife, did I not?”

She bit her trembling lip, glaring over at Kilgrave from the side of her vision. He stared back at her, skewering her with his look. “I never said she would be alive when you did it.”

Peter felt like he was going to be sick. His skin went cold and clammy. Kilgrave broke into a fit of giggles.

“Fucking coward,” Peter ground out, shooting a glare at The Purple Man. “You wanna beat somebody? You wanna kill me? Just fucking do it. C’mon, just be a man and let’s do this—”

Kilgrave yawned, rolling his eyes. “Dirty talk, hmm,” he glowered mockingly. “Careful with that mouth. Unless you want my cock in there too.”

The muscles in Peter’s shoulders went rigid as he stared at him. His throat bobbing. His voice squeaked, “Is-Is that w-what you want?”

Kilgrave tilted his head, curiously. Peter sounded... hopeful, almost. He gazed at him, feeling like prey begging a predator not to eat him.

Peter blinked away tears, sensing a tug on the lure. He cleared his throat, softening his gaze. “C’mon,” Peter reaffirmed, steadying his voice placatingly. “Let’s go then. Just you and me. I’ll do whatever you want.”

It was a bold offer. Not surprising, but bold. Kilgrave studied him closely, the gears turning in his mind. He finally snickered, amused.

“You will,” he sneered with a twisted grin. “I have no doubt about it.”

Peter’s eyes followed him, unsure of his meaning. Kilgrave stalked up to the end of the bed, reaching forward and wrenching Peter’s hair back. He gasped at the sharp pain, his neck vulnerably exposed.

“Tell you what,” The Purple Man replied, tauntingly. Kilgrave reached down for the hand resting on his wife’s throat. Slowly, he pulled it up to his mouth.

Peter let it happen. He didn’t have to be told.

“You be a good boy,” he said, turning his hand over. Kilgrave stuck out his tongue and ran it over Peter’s palm, licking the wound. He bit back bile as he watched Kilgrave lick his blood from his lips. “And maybe, I’ll let you share.” His blue eyes travelled over to his wife’s, shooting her a threatening glance.

She lifted up off of the comforter, wrists still firmly in place with Peter’s other hand. It didn’t matter. Kilgrave was close enough that she hit her target. He screeched and hissed as she shot a wad of spit in his eyes.

“Ow, ow, gross!” he roared as if he’d suffered the most egregious of indignities. He rid himself of the velvet jacket, using it to wipe at his face furiously. When he turned back to her, he was livid.

“That’s it!” he screamed. Kilgrave stalked towards the bed, tossing the jacket aside. “Fucking whore!” he hissed. He reached down, snatching the razor off the floor. “Sorry, Pete. I’m tagging you out.”

He gripped Peter’s hair once again, pulling his neck back. She shrieked as she saw the razor come up to her husband’s throat. The blade sliced into his flesh, leaving a red-hot mark.

In an instant, Peter’s hand moved to stop the blade.

Kilgrave was stunned.

So was Peter, with his hand gripping the monster’s wrist.

It was as if his Spider-sense reacted before his consciousness. A reflex of self-preservation.

Kilgrave’s eyes widened with horror, his lips beginning to move. Seizing the opportunity, Peter flexed his hand, triggering his web-shooter. The intruder was thrust backward, a sticky mass pummeling his face and covering his mouth.

He stumbled backwards, collapsing on his knees, pulling wildly at his gag. The web wouldn’t move. He was silenced.

Chest heaving, Peter turned over his palm, observing the wound already starting to heal. He looked over at Kilgrave, understanding the biology of how his powers worked.

Kilgrave was a disease. His existence was a plague. His words were a virus.

One that Peter’s body could fight, given the right antibodies. From the moment Peter’s blood came in contact with Kilgrave’s saliva, his body did the rest.

He released the arms of the woman beside him, pulling his other hand back as if he touched fire.

Kilgrave scrambled like a cockroach in the light. Peter watched him attempt to scurry away. He released another web, yanking the man’s legs out from under him. Tangled and bucking frantically, Kilgrave rolled over on the floor.

He met Peter’s gaze, his expression dark. Monstrous. And immune.

Fear turned the blue in his eyes to ice. In the blink of an eye, Peter reached down and snatched Kilgrave up by the throat, lifting him off the ground. The shorter man kicked wildly. Peter sucked in labored breaths, imagining the sound of a toothpick snapping. Tears continued to run down his cheeks, a storm of grief and hatred fueling the crackling lightning of his eyes.

He reached forward, grabbing Kilgrave by the chin. His fingers reached over the web and expanded across the man’s jaw. The part of Kilgrave that he used to hurt his wife. To torture his family.

Peter's mind was blitzed. Body on autopilot. Defaulting to factory settings. Returning to his innate nature.

With a tear-soaked growl that turned into an agonized scream, Peter gripped Kilgrave’s jaw with enough pressure to crack the bone. The ridges of his fingertips buried themselves into his flesh. With a final howl, Peter snatched his hand back. And with it, he ripped the jawbone from Kilgrave’s skull.

The sound of the crack was grotesque. The spray of blood was everywhere. Stickying his skin. Filled their nostrils with the scent of copper.

Peter blinked several times. So did Kilgrave. Both men stared in awe of the horrific act of violence.

The only difference was that one of them was now missing half a face. His tongue dangled limply from his throat, and he became the walking dead.

Kilgrave’s legs buckled beneath him as he dropped down to his knees. Peter’s arms twitched, his body trembling from adrenaline, terror, and rage. He stared down into the piercing blue eyes of the intruder who was currently grappling with the horror of having his power taken away.

Peter watched the blood pour from The Purple Man’s mouth, his stomach twisting. Not at the gore, but at the feeling of relief. He stepped back, relishing in the savage violence as much as he feared it.

He jolted at the rustling sound beside him. The weary woman approached him from the side, arms wrapped protectively across her chest. She stared at Peter’s deed with a wary expression. He shrunk back away from his wife, avoiding her eyes. Afraid of what she’d see.

A gargling noise spewed out as the blood began to fill Kilgrave’s exposed throat. He was fighting for consciousness. Fighting to survive.

Peter glanced at the frightened woman beside him. He should turn her away. He should shield her eyes—

She stepped forward with the straight razor in her hand. He watched her reach down, methodically wrapping her fingers around Kilgrave’s tongue. With a swipe of the razor, she sliced it off. He grunted in pain, the action rolling his eyes up. He finally keeled over.

Peter watched her in stunned silence, listening as Kilgrave’s pulse went quiet. She glowered down at her tormentor’s body, her chest and arms covered his blood. Her hands gripping the razor and the man’s tongue. Both of them hard-earned trophies.

She turned around and looked up at Peter. They locked eyes, standing in the dim light of their bedroom.

For the first time, they saw each other clearly.

She wasn’t a lamb, or a pet. She wasn’t an animal.

Neither was he.

He regarded her with admiration. She regarded him with forgiveness. Compassion softened their eyes as they observed each other. And by rendering compassion towards one another, they showed mercy toward the reflection of themselves.

Exposed, for what each of them really was.

Whatever they had to be, to survive.

Did you enjoy this story? If you did, please REBLOG, COMMENT, or leave an anonymous ask and let me know how you thought I did. Thank you for supporting fandom, and supporting me!

A/N

in case there is any confusion, I am fully aware that my version of kilgrave is an unrepentant, evil sack of shit. he says and holds beliefs that are outrageously offensive, inappropriate, and ignorant. I do not vibe with anything this character says or does. It’s fiction ;-)

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chuunai · 5 months

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Romantic Killer - Chapter One; Time Flies By (1/2)

Modern Sniper AU! Nakahara chuuya x Sniper Best Friend! gn! reader

Synopsis: You and Chuuya Nakahara are a sniper duo from the Port Mafia, having taken care of each other from as far back as your memory goes. No parents, no family, just each other. Living in an apartment as friends by day, blowing brains out of targets at night. Sure, the money isn’t that good. But it’s not like you can go back, right?

TW: Throughout this fanfic series, there WILL be descriptions of gore/blood, death, brief mention and depiction of starvation (not an ED though), angst, prostitution and stupid people who don’t know romantic love from platonic love. It’s not that bad in the beginning, but I will ramp it up as the series progresses.

A.N: Criticism and feedback is welcome and appreciated because this is my first fanfic series and I’m running on low energy.

—

10:30 P.M

It’s dark. Silent, too. Clouds drift over Yokohama, blocking out the moon’s light. The heavy rain poured over all, drenching the ground. It’s all so wet, a heavy humid night. A utility pole happens to be nearby, sticking up in the ground. The wires stick out in all directions, thin and sturdy. Two birds rest on a wire, one a color that resembles blood. The other? Oh, it’s pure white. A stark difference from its companion nearby. Two different creatures, yet in this moment they’re here.

Together.

Together, like Chuuya Nakahara and you. Here he is, laying down on his stomach, sniper rifle perched on the edge of the building, finger on the trigger. The wind occasionally ruffles his hair, the ginger strands resting on his shoulder. A quiet night, that’s what it is. Save for the rain. It soaks him to the bone, clothes clinging to his frame. Every few seconds, he has to wipe his eyes of the water.

Fuck. He should’ve brought an umbrella like you.

You’re behind him, clutching your own gun under the comfort of the umbrella. Waiting for that inevitable shot he would take.

Information from the Port Mafia had detailed an enemy gang who had their own sniper out tonight as well. A good one, allegedly. Too good to be alive. It’s why you two are both out on February 14th. A rainy day where love floods through the city as lovers celebrate each other. No couple here, though. Just a duo. Your duo.

Nothing’s new. Not when it’s been this way for years. Just him and you.

Chuuya’s always had your back, and you’ve always had his. On the streets. On the rooftop. On days where things weren’t so terrible, and on days where it was terrible.

Before as orphans, sleeping in abandoned warehouses where Chuuya would stay up all night, keeping watch. A jacket - his - would cover you for warmth, even if he’d be cold. How when he got food, he gave more to you. You looked so thin, and he was scared shitless you’d die of starvation.

So he went hungry so you could eat more. Hungry until the Mafia found them. Inducted them into their organization and roles.

Now as fucking Mafia members, sharing an apartment even though you two could easily afford your own now. But it’s home. Where memories were made - eating shitty takeout, gossiping about co-workers and having a sleepover party every night.

Blacking out those memories of the past. And looking forward to the future.

And in the future, he’d still be there. As a friend, confident or hell - maybe even more. It didn’t matter. As long as you were happy and safe, Chuuya was okay with his life.

Okay with the work they did now.

His ears catches the sound of your gentle hums, a small smile pricking at the corner of his lips. It’s been a while since Chuuya last heard them. A good contrast to the dead silence you two were stuck in. A bit of chatting never hurt anyone. Shifting a bit, Chuuya’s voice stuck out against the pouring rain, hoping you’d speak back and not be a rule abiding bitch.

“I hate this rain. It’s so fuckin’ wet.”

And he did hate it. Especially without an umbrella and when they were in the middle of an area containing nothing about abandoned house projects and crumbling buildings. A few puddles had formed on the roof, much to his disdain.

“That’s what she said.”

Did you have to? Did you REALLY have to? Chuuya groaned, mentally facepalming himself for walking into that one. You both were the same age - twenty two - and here you were making jokes that a middle schooler would.

“Did you have to?”

“Have to what?”

Fuck you. You totally did know what, but he gives up on it. You’re a cheeky one who never likes to be straightforward with him.

“I- nothing. Hey, do me a favor and get your ass over here, okay? The umbrella too. You can at least cover me too.”

Your footsteps make sounds on the puddles nearby as you stroll over to him, sitting down nearby and begrudgingly covering him with it. A few raindrops roll off the edge of the umbrella, finding their way onto the back of your neck. Chuuya stifles a comment at that, not wanting to lose his umbrella privileges.

“Thanks.”

A small mutter comes from his lips as his shoulder touches yours, not even flinching when your free hand reaches up to play with his hair. He’s too used to it all. The random times where you jump onto his back. Braiding his hair while he naps on the couch at home. Painting his fingernails pink while he’s blackout drunk. This is one of your tamer moments.

“Geez, Chuu. Your hair’s so friggin’ soft. I’m gonna use your hair products when we get home.”

A side-eye from Chuuya.

“I bought them. They’re mine. Not yours, you thief.”

He’d almost always give up his things to you. Clothes, hairties, snacks, etc. You always won, sadly.

“You owe me. Don’tcha remember when you borrowed my rings and lost them?”

He did. Chuuya remembers that very well.

“Fine.”

Another ‘fuck you’ passes through his mind. Minutes go by in relative silence coupled with the occasional bickering. You went back to your corner of the roof, leaving him once again soaked to the bone from the rain. Chuuya regrets not letting you do the assassination for tonight. Now you were dry in your little bubble, being the back-up in case someone tried to rush up the stairs at them.

Boring. This was all so boring. When was the action?

It didn’t take much longer.

The building opposite of them containing the supposed sniper for the night had a shadow suddenly pop up, Chuuya’s body automatically lining up the shot as a gunshot bursts out of his gun. He’s expecting to see blood spurt out of the body, the thud on the concrete.

Nothing.

Instead, as he recovers from the recoil of the shot, your cry of warning rings out too late as another crack shoots out from nowhere.

First, a bloom of hot pain in his collarbone. His ears are ringing a bit, mind dazed and shocked and unable to register how your fingers tug him to safety behind a parapet. Damn it, he thinks. Must’ve been a decoy puppet of sorts. God, how could he have been so stupid as to not think of that?

He’s Chuuya fuckin’ Nakahara. Best sniper in the whole of the Mafia’s men.

Second, the pain intensifies as he slowly comes to his senses, eyes focusing on the sight of your crying self. His heart began to beat faster - not only due to blood loss - but because it hurt so damn much to see you cry.

“Hey- don’t cry. I’m okay.”

Fingers shakily rise to rest on your arm, feeling the warm flesh under the fabric of his gloves. Chuuya’s not dying. Not now, not ever. He’s not done protecting you.

“I’m not dying, you hear me? I’m not fuckin’ dead yet.”

A load of shit, coming from him. The man with blood flowing from his collarbone as he clutches onto you like a child. It’s pathetic looking, and a wave of self-consciousness greets his body. You don’t give a crap though. He’s dying, no time to focus on how child-like and dependent Chuuya is right now.

“I’m not crying, dipshit.”

Your fingers tightened on his shirt as you choke out a reply. That comforts him. He couldn’t be dying if your banter happens even now.

“Sure you’re not. Fuck- this hurts.”

Another quick retort from you, filled with sarcasm and a desperate attempt at normalcy. That it was just another day in your shared apartment rather than him bleeding out in your arms.

Normal normal normal. It’s normal.

“I wonder why. Couldn’t be the fucking gunshot.”

Heh.

It’s true. It hurts so bad. Sharp shudders of pain explode all over his body. His heart, his chest, his head.

Thirdly, Chuuya Nakahara is dying. He’ll confess to that now. The world slowly swirls above him, your voice and sniffles tuning out as you desperately request for medics from the Mafia.

The stars are a mix of bright dots in the night sky.

The rain pours. The umbrella lies forgotten. Water drips down your bodies as he stays in your lap, bleeding out on what others consider a happy day. So much water. Damn, if he was going to go out, it could’ve been in better weather. Not this mess of wind and rain. His shirt is now a color of red, dulled by the water sinking further down on you two.

Chuuya tries to manage a smile. For you. For his best friend.

His everything.

“It’s okay.”

It’s really not. Especially to you.

“The fuck, Chuuya? It’s not okay, okay? Stop talking like you’re dying.”

He is. Chuuya can feel life slowly ebb out of him, his limbs feeling like jelly now. Your arms tighten around him, clutching onto the wet fabric of his shirt. His eyes focus on yours, that smile not leaving his face just yet.

“Chuuya. Chuuya, no. Keep your fucking eyes open.”

Chuuya’s eyelids are woozy. So, so tiring. He needs a nap. Even if it was cold and raining, your arms were cozy and warm.

A short nap.

So he takes a nap, eyes slowly shutting as life flooded his memories. His life, which Chuuya considered having started at twelve years old.

When he met you.

——————

A.N: Hi! So, if you made it this far (thank you if you did <3), this is just like part one of chapter one. I’m planning for the second half to be really long, so I’m going to take a while on that.

Please leave feedback and criticism so I can improve on my writing! Have a good night/day boys, girls and squirrels!

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vintage-retro-queen · 7 months

Text

Paris Reacts to The Not-So Great Outdoors

Akuma Class

"Dude, we sent Marinette to Total Drama!" Nino exclaimed. Alya started texting Marinette, demanding she give her the details. But she gets an automatic message saying, 'We're sorry, but the number you have texted has been disconnected.' Alya's eyes widened in shock. "Her number's disconnected!" she gasped, getting the rest of her friends' attention. They all looked shocked, knowing that Marinette's number was now disconnected. Adrien was the one that was the most shocked hearing that.

He tried to call her number but got no answer, yet a message saying the number was disconnected. He was shocked that he couldn't get in contact with Marinette anymore.

He looked to see Marinette at the campsite next to one of the international idols from the MetaBetas, and the two seemed to be getting along. He and his friends were then shocked seeing and hearing Duncan. He asked Chris if he could bunk under Marinette. Adrien's heart started to ache after hearing that. However, they were relieved to hear from Chris that the cabins were not co-ed. After Chris splits the campers into two teams, such as the Screaming Gophers and the Killer Bass, they learn that Marinette and the MetaBeta idol Lucy get to switch teams since it was Chris's way of making a twist in the show. Adrien's eye twitched, seeing Cody sigh in relief after Marinette and Lucy were now on the Screaming Gophers team.

When they got to see the confessionals, they saw Lucy's confessional, and now they see Marinette's confessional.

"Okay. I don't know what to say in this confessional. But I like to say, this is gonna be a good camping experience for me." "Well, at least she's getting comfortable in the camp so far," Adrien said, trying to lighten the mood of his quiet friends. "True. But I didn't think we had sent her into a reality show instead of an actual camp." Alya said, shocked to now know they sent Marinette to a reality show instead of an actual behavioral camp.

After a little while, they all looked shocked as they saw a cooking knife thrown and hit the wall between Chris and Marinette. Mostly Adrien after he saw that the knife was almost near Marinette.

They became more shocked when they learned their first challenge was jumping off a thousand-foot cliff with two zones. One of them includes man-eating sharks. After seeing the Killer Bass finish their turn to jump or chicken out, they were surprised to see Lucy throwing Heather off the cliff and into the Safe Zone. After some of the Screaming Gophers jumped, Beth chickened out, and they noticed that it was Marinette's turn. Adrien looked worried, thinking that Marinette would get attacked if she jumped. But he was shocked to see that Lucy offered to jump with her. After seeing them jump off the cliff, they were relieved that Marinette had made it safely into the Safe Zone. However, they see Lucy was outside of the Safe Zone. They were shocked to see Lucy grab the two sharks by the gills and pull them hard as a toddler pulls a mother's hoop earrings. As the sharks swam away, they heard Lucy mumble out, "Thank you fact-checking." "What does she mean by that?" Alya mumbled to herself, looking at Lucy suspiciously.

After seeing everyone jump or chicken out and build a hot tub, they were surprised that Marinette and the Screaming Gophers won the first challenge. Adrien looked as he saw Lucy and Marinette fist pound and said, 'Punch it in.'

They watched the teams back in the main lodge, and the Killer Bass were talking about who they're voting off. They then all became shocked to hear Ezekiel saying that the Screaming Gophers were the ones with eight girls. And talks about Lucy being a "Hot Idol Wannabe."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Bridgette. "Yeah, homeschool. Enlighten us!" Eva said, putting her fist on the table. "Well, guys are much stronger and better at sports, music, singing, and dancing than girls are," said Ezekiel. "What did he just say?!" Rose asked, offended by the words Ezekiel had said. Juleka's eye started to twitch as she also heard what Ezekiel said. Ezekiel continued. "My dad told me to look out for the girls, eh? And to help them in case they can't keep up." Eva then grabbed Ezekiel by the neck with her two hands and lifted him. "Still think we need your help keeping up?" she asked, shaking him to prove her point. "Not really," he said. "You show him, Eva!" Alix said, encouraging Eva to prove a point to Ezekiel. The rest of the class cheered, backing up Eva and the rest of the girls in the show. "Guys, it's probably not even Ezekiel's fault. He's probably trying to look after them like his father told him to." Adrien said, trying to calm his friends down. That was until Geoff jumped in. "Okay, guys. Let's give him a break," he said, while Eva dropped Ezekiel. "I mean, at least he doesn't think that guys are smarter than girls." "But, they are," said Ezekiel. Before Alya could say anything, Lucy beat her to the punch. "Okay... THAT DOES IT!" Lucy yelled, grabbing Ezekiel. She then takes him back to the cliff, throws him outside the Safe Zone, and yells, "FATALITY YOU, YOU BETA-PUNK! GO BURN IN LAVA!" After that, she walks off, dusting off her hands and ignoring all the screams from Ezekiel while he was swimming away from the sharks. The girls cheered when they saw Lucy do that. "You show him, Lucy!" said Alya. Adrien looked at Lucy in disbelief. 'Why did she do that? All he was doing was trying to prove a point that he was trying to protect them.' he thought to himself. That was when they watched her confessional. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention the triggers of my anger issue. One is sexist punks, sexism, misogyny, misogynists, and chauvinists. People and things like that always get on my nerves since I was four. And don't even get me started on that play I used to be on when I was that age." Lucy stuck her tongue out in disgust, reminiscing what happened in her old school days. "I can hardly imagine what it was," said Juleka. 'But that still doesn't explain why she has to do that to Ezekiel.' Adrien thought.

After watching the elimination ceremony, to no one's surprise, Ezekiel was the one who was voted off. "Serves him right," Mylene said while Ivan nodded in agreement. "Duncan was right about one thing." he said, "Ezekiel has a lot to know about the real world."

They then watch Marinette celebrate her hot tub party with the Screaming Gophers, looking happier than ever. That was until they noticed Courtney turning to the camera. "Are you recording this? Good. They can enjoy their little party all they want. But I'm gonna win this competition. And no one is gonna stop me." she said. The class looked shocked hearing that from Courtney. Until a water balloon hit her on the head.

"Sorry! Foul ball!" called Lucy.

When the episode came to an end, the class still looked speechless.

After that, they all agree to meet back to watch what will happen to Marinette all week. After the agreement, they all went home. When Adrien heads back home, he sees that Nathalie is there. "Your father is expecting to talk to you in the morning." "Thanks, Nathalie," Adrien said with a nod. When Adrien finishes changing into his nightwear, he lies on his bed, thinking about what will happen to Marinette while she's in Wawanawkwa. Adrien hopes that when the show is over, Marinette will come home, apologize for her behavior towards Lila, his friends will all make up, and they can all stay friends again. With those thoughts in his mind, he falls asleep, hoping that those ideas will happen soon.

Celebrities

"There she is! My favorite little lady is now on reality T.V.! Rock and Roll!" Jagged cheered as he raised a cup, happy to see Marinette on live T.V. again. Luka smiles as he watches Marinette offering the host and the other contestants the macaroons she brought from home.

After a while, Luka, Jagged, Penny, Ali, and Clara looked surprised to see the MetaBeta idol, Mary-Loukritia Corleone, befriending Lucy. "I'm impressed to see Lucy quickly befriend Marinette. She never does that with anybody else." Clara said, with Ali nodding in agreement. "Of course she does. Madame Hatter always takes one look to see what that person or people are like inside and out. That's how Madame Hatter is." Jagged said, pouring more soda into his cup. Luka nodded and said, "It's true. It's like hearing their melody. When you listen carefully. You'll hear the actual melodies of their souls on the inside."

After Chris split the campers into teams of two, they were surprised to hear that Marinette and Lucy got to switch teams. "Hey, good thinking, McLean! Marinette deserves to get to switch teams." Jagged said, raising his soda cup again.

After seeing Marinette getting settled and getting her lunch from the main lodge, they were shocked to see Marinette's first challenge. After seeing some campers jump or chicken out, Luka smiles, seeing Marinette comfort D.J. for chickening out of jumping. He and the other celebrities looked surprised, as they now know that Lucy has had stress and anger issues since her first year in high school. "Well, why didn't Madame say anything?" Jagged asked in disbelief. "She probably didn't have the time to tell anybody about it, maybe?" Penny asked, guessing why Lucy never told them. "I suppose that might be why. After all, she, Miss Maleficent, and Queen Red Hood have been touring a lot until their first manager's boss was caught on a scandal." Prince Ali explained, looking down at his phone and an old article about the boss being arrested for getting involved in a former lawyer's multi-billion-dollar corruption scandal along with a former female nurse. Then, Luka gets their attention back on Marinette. When they did, they were surprised to see her and Lucy jump off the cliff. Luka was relieved seeing that Marinette safely made it into the Safe Zone. "Alright, Marinette! That's our rockin' little lady!"

However, they looked surprised to see Lucy outside of the Safe Zone. But before the sharks can attack her, Lucy grabs the two sharks by the gills, pulling on them as a toddler does to a mother's hoop earrings, causing the sharks to swim away from her. "Well, that's a smart move from a MetaBeta," Penny said, crossing her arms and smiling, impressed by what Lucy had done.

After the Gophers won the first task, they made it to their campsite and built their hot tub, with the Killer Bass following. And to no one's surprise, the Screaming Gophers won their first challenge. "Rock and Roll, Marinette!" Jagged cheered, happily seeing that Marinette won her first challenge.

But the good feeling disappeared five minutes later. After they hear Ezekiel talking about the girls in the Screaming Gophers, including Lucy, calling her a "Hot Idol Wannabe." "What's that supposed to mean?" asked Bridgette. "Yeah, homeschool. Enlighten us!" Eva said, putting her fist on the table. "Well, guys are much stronger and better at sports, music, singing, and dancing than girls are," said Ezekiel. "What did that homeschool boy just say?! When I get my hands on him, he's going to pay!" Clara yelled with anger running in her veins. Jagged and Penny both grabbed Clara by the shoulders, looking unamused. "I'd save my complaining for sending a warning hate letter to his parents if I were you, Clara," Penny said as they had her sit down again.

After talking trash, Lucy had about enough and snapped. After grabbing Ezekiel by his hoodie, she takes him back to the cliff, throws him outside the Safe Zone, and yells, "FATALITY YOU, YOU BETA-PUNK! GO BURN IN LAVA!" After that, she walks off, dusting off her hands and ignoring all the screams from Ezekiel while he was swimming away from the sharks. Clara crossed her arms, smiling in approval after seeing that. "You showed him who's boss, Lou. My respect goes out to you," she said with a nod. "I wonder if that catches on?" Jagged said after hearing Lucy say 'Beta-Punk' before she threw Ezekiel. "I highly doubt that." said Penny.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention the triggers of my anger issue. One is sexist punks, sexism, misogyny, misogynists, and chauvinists. People and things like that always get on my nerves since I was four. And don't even get me started on that play I used to be on when I was that age." Lucy stuck her tongue out in disgust, reminiscing what happened in her old school days. 'I can hardly imagine what it was and what it was like.' Luka thought.

After the elimination ceremony, the celebrities were happy to see Marinette celebrating her hot tub party with her new friends. And ignoring what the girl with the swollen eye said and got hit with a water balloon.

When the show was over, they all made plans to watch the show weekly to see how Marinette was doing on the show. Luka also plans on calling Marinette to check on her and see how she is at Wawanawkwa. 'I'm glad that you're okay, Marinette. I hope you have a great time in Wawanawkwa.' he thought, feeling proud of Marinette.

Family and Friends

"There she is!" Zoe said happily. The kids cheered as they saw Marinette, safely arrive at Wawanawkwa. After hearing about the camp Bustier and her class sent Marinette to, Aurore did some research on the camp, and she, including her peers, realized that it was actually a camp for a hot new reality show. After telling the Dupain-Chengs about it, they were surprised that Marinette was going to a reality show instead of an actual camp. They were relieved that Marinette was not in any military camp, (There's nothing wrong with anything related to the military, I respect the military, and I thank them for their service) or anything worse.

"Bonjour. It's very nice to meet all of you." Marinette said, smiling shyly. She then looks shy but then offers them the baked goods she had brung with her. "Macaroons?" Chris gladly takes one. "Merci." Marinette then headed to the other campers and gave them some while heading to put her luggage up with the others. "These are good!" Owen says, happily enjoying his. Tom and Sabine smiled, happy to see Marinette safe at the camp. Even though it is actually a reality show, they don't care. As long as their daughter is safe and okay.

After splitting into two teams, the Screaming Gophers and the Killer Bass, Cody asks about Marinette and Lucy. "Well, since we can't decide which team they will be in, we decided to let the two switch teams. Isn't that fun?" Chris said, "So for right now, they will be part of the Screaming Gophers." "I can understand why. And that, seems fair enough." Kagami's mother, Tomoe said, with Kagami nodding in agreement.

After the first seven confessionals, they head over to their cabins. "Gophers, you're in the east cabin, bass, you're in the west," Chris explains. When the Screaming Gophers got to their cabin, Heather looked as if she saw someone grow another head. "Bunk beds? Isn't this a little, summer camp?" she asked. "That's the idea, genius," Gwen said as she moved past Heather. Heather scoffs, "Shut it, weird goth girl." 'Jeez, I feel like Chloe would have a competition if Heather was here.' Zoe thought to herself. "Look, if you two are gonna start a rivalry, leave me out of the chaos. I already had enough drama in my life since my first year of high school," Lucy said, with seriousness and venom in her tone. Heather, Gwen, and the friends in the bakery watching the show shivered from Lucy's venomous words. Heather and Gwen then kept their mouths shut and unpacked their things. "I've never seen Lucy act that way before," Zoe said, surprised about Lucy sounding so serious. "She's probably not a person wants to be in any kind of drama, maybe?" Claude guessed. "That could be possible." one of Marinette's New York friends, Aeon, said, with Jessica and Marinette's Shanghai friend Fei nodding in agreement. "Uh, guys?" Socqueline gets their attention as she points to the scene where everyone avoids the cockroach crawling around the floor. But the cockroach then stops in front of Duncan, who is holding an axe, ready to decapitate it.

However, Marinette stops him, has the roach in her fingers, and takes it outside. "There. No cockroaches in my cabin," she said. "Wang has taught her too well," Sabine said, proudly crossing her arms. A little while later, they see Marinette and the campers doing the first task of their first challenge.

As they watched the campers jumping or chickening out, they watched as Lucy angrily grabbed Heather and told her to go down there and threw her into the Safe Zone. That was until they watched her confessional. "I had this stress and anger issue combination since my first day and freshman year of high school. After going through some things, I've been having these two issues all my life, to this day. The only thing good to know is that I have two systems of calming my stress and anger. And one of them is my two essential oils." Lucy then shows two bottles of essential oils labeled Stress and Anger Management. "These two are the only things that can help me calm down when I'm out. Without them, who knows what could happen." "Oh, that's why." Zoe said, now understanding. "I wonder what it was that caused Lucy's stress and anger?" Mirelle said in curiosity.

"I'm not sure, but it must've been tough." Aurore said, with Kagami and her mother, Tomoe, nodding in agreement. After that, it was now Marinette's turn.

Zoe and Socqueline looked at Marinette worriedly. Mostly Socqueline after what had happened when she used to go to school with her. But that all changed when they saw Lucy offer to join Marinette. And they both jumped. When they did, they saw Marinette make it to the Safe Zone safely. They cheered as they saw Marinette get up and on the boat. "It's a relief to know Marinette made it." Kagami said with her mother nodding in agreement.

After jumping and building a hot tub, the Screaming Gophers won the challenge and earned a hot tub party. Marinette's friends and family cheered, knowing she and her team won. Unfortunately, their happiness for the girl died down after hearing the homeschooled boy, Ezekiel, started talking down about the girls. But their happiness was back after they saw Lucy throw Ezekiel into the shark-infested water with no regrets or remorse.

After the elimination ceremony, the Screaming Gophers celebrated their victory in their hot tub party. The family and friends were glad to see that Marinette was having a great time at the "summer camp" she was sent to. After turning off the T.V., not paying attention to a girl with a swollen eye talking, they all talked and made plans to meet again every week to see what would happen. The friends and the Dupain-Chengs agreed to call Marinette all week to see how she was doing. With that, they all said their goodbyes and headed home for the night.

??? & ???

After watching the first episode of the new reality show, one of them looked as if they saw a ghost. "She's alive," they said in shock and disbelief. The second one nods in agreement. "It's possible that she is reincarnated and is becoming a more popular person than she was back then. But then again, I cannot blame her for having a fresh start. I believe, no, I know that she deserves better." the second one said, reminiscing the past with the said girl. "Agreed. However, with this, it will be useful to have her with this plan. And since she has befriended Miss Dupain-Cheng, this will be a useful idea to get into her good graces as it was back. Let Adrien know I need to have a talk with him in the morning." "Of course."

Desc. Prologue. Get to Know My OC Chapt 1. Chapt 2. Reaction Pt 2. Chpt 3 Reactions Pt 3 Chpt 4 Reactions Pt 4 Chpt 5 Reactions Pt 5

23 notes · View notes

predict485 · 14 days

Text

A scene from the reboot rewrite... @fraudulent-cheese

[ Cut to the campfire area, where all the campers are sitting on the horizontal logs around the fire pit. ]

Topher: This is where you’ll have your campfire ceremonies. Every three days, you’ll all compete in a challenge and the losing team will come here that night to eliminate a player. Clear?

Chase: Can we pick where we sleep? Because I want a bed next to Emma.

Emma: No! I want a bed away from Chase! Please, Topher?

Damien: …Please don’t tell me wherever we sleep is gonna be co-ed, right?

[Scary Girl laughs from behind him.]

Wayne: Are we gonna be sleeping in cabins? Awesome! I’ll get to be in a camping cabin with Rajie!

Raj: We’ll be in cabins?! Awesome, I’ve never slept in a cabin before!

Zee: Can we sleep in tents? Because there are some really cool ducks out here, man.

Topher: Ah, about that. But just know it’s not gonna be co-ed, Damien.

Now, for your sleeping arrangements, you will be sleeping in cabins near the main camp.

[He’s met with wide grins for the hockey bros. Emma looks worried and on edge.]

Topher: Now, for the most important part of the show: I’ll split you into two teams and your sleeping arrangements will be based on that.

Let’s get started. If I call your name, go stand over there.

Priya, Millie, Julia, MK, Emma, Damien, Zee, Wayne.

Wayne: Huh? But- but what about Raj?

Topher (ignoring him): You will be known as… the Killer Krakens!

[He tosses them an orange banner with an emblem of a giant tentacle stitched onto it, which Wayne catches and holds up.]

Topher: And everyone else… that being, Axel, Nichelle, Scary Girl, Chase, Bowie, Ripper, Raj and Caleb, you will now be known as the Screaming Sharks!

[He tosses them a blue banner with an emblem of a shark with its mouth open stitched onto it, which Raj catches and holds up.]

Topher: In these teams, you’ll compete against each other to win challenges and the losing team has to send someone home.

Xxx

Confessional: Topher

“In case you need to vent your feelings or let the audience know your dastardly schemes, you can take a break and let it all out in the port-a-john confessional!”

Xxx

Confessional: Emma

“So… so far this is looking more dangerous than I was expecting, I wanted to stay away from stunts! At least I’m not in the same team as Chase, eurgh.”

Xxx

Confessional: Julia

“Hey hey guys! This is my first confessional, probably of many, and I just know I’m going to win this thing. After all, I have nature’s spirits on my side, especially after attending that recluse in India. I don’t know how I’m gonna last without my phone though… hopefully this will be a good stand-in!”

Xxx

Confessional: Zee

[ He looks at a duck standing on the toilet seat next to him. ]

“Hold on, this guy has something important to say.”

[ The duck quacks. ]

Xxx

#total drama #tdi 2023 rewrite #hell yeah i'm having so many thoughts abt this #i mostly just wanted to write the scene where the teams were made

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queersrus · 3 months

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Gore theme

includes: medical, slasher, cannibalistic, horror and general gore content, feel free to request specifics

meat/flesh - zombie - blood

(nick)names:

gore, gorette, goretta, goretto, gorine, gorina, gorino, gorelle, gorello, gorella, gorer, gory, gnaw, gnash, gut, gutz, gwyar, gruesome, grisly, gouge, guts/gutz, gutsy/gutzy, gutsie/gutzie, gutsee/gutzee, gutsine/gutzine intestine, intes, intine, inn, inna, innard entrail, entra, entrai, eye kill, killer, killian, killien, kid, kidney/kidnee/kidnie mort, morte, morty, morter, mortem, mortemer, mortimer, mortu, mortua, mortuary blade, bite, biter, bitten, bleed, blood, bloody, bleeder, bloodette, bloodine, bloodetta, bloodina, bloodelle, bloodella, brain, brainy, brainette, brainetta, brainelle, brainella, braine, brutal, bloodlust, bloodshed, bloodlet, bloodless, bloodlette, bloodletta, bloodletter, bloodbath, bowel cut, cutter, capil, capillary, cava, claret, clot, carnage, colon thrash, thrasher, tear slash, slasher, slice, splatter, spill, stab, stomach, spleen rip, ripper, rippley, ripley, razor fang, flesh, fleshy venus, vis, viscer, viscera, visceral, viscerally, vei, vein, vendet, vendette, vendetta, vessel, vital orga, organ, organa liver, lung art, arter, artery, ana, anat, anatom, anatomy, arteriole wound death hema pan, pancrea, pancreas, pierce, plasma, puncture

1st p prns: i/me/my/mine/myself

gi/gore/goreself, gi/guts/gutself bli/bleed/bloods/bloodself vi/vie/veins/veinself, vi/ve/ventettas/vendettaself, vi/visce/viscerals/visceralself i/inte/intestine/intestines/intestineself wi/wou/woune/wounds/woundself fli/fle/fleshs/fleshself oi/ore/organs/organself ci/carne/carnages/carnegeself, cli/clot/clots/clotself, ci/cor/corpse/corpseself li/lungs/lungself, li/live/livers/liverself ai/arte/arteries/arteryself pi/pancrea/pancreas/pancreaself sti/stomachs/stomachself, spli/splee/spleens/spleenself, ki/kidne/kidneys/kidneyself

2nd person: you/your/yours/yourself

go/gore/gores/goreself, gu/gutr/gutrs/gutrself blo/bleedr/bleedrs/bleedrself vo/veinr/veinrs/veinrself, vo/vendettar/vendettars/vendettarself, vo/viscer/viscers/visceralself oi/intestir/intestirs/intestinself wou/woundr/woundrs/woundrself flo/fleshr/fleshrs/fleshrself o/or/organs/organself co/cor/corpse/corpself, co/car/carnages/carnageself, clo/clotr/clotrs/clotself lo/lungr/lungrs/lungrself, lo/liver/livers/liverself ao/arter/arteries/arteryself po/pancr/pancreas/pancreaself sto/stomachr/stomachrs/stomachrself, splo/spleenr/spleenrs/spleenrself ko/kidneyr/kidneyrs/kidneyrself

3rd person: they/them/theirs/themself

go/gore, go/re, gore/gores, gu/ts, gu/gut, gut/guts blood/bloods, blo/od, blood/bath, blood/bloody, bloo/dy, blood/dy, blood/pit, blood/vessel, blood/shed, blood/less, blood/bond, blood/pact, blood/lust, blood/bleed, bleed/bleeds, ble/ed, bleed/ing, bleeding/out, blood/clot vi/vein, vei/vein, ve/in, vein/veins, vein/veiny, ven/detta, vendet/ta, ven/vendetta, vendetta/vendettas, visc/era, visc/eral, visc/visceram visc/visceral, viscera/visceral, visceral/viscerally inte/intestine, intest/ine, inte/stine, intestine/intestines large/intestine, lu/lung, lung/lungs, lun/ng, li/liver, li/ver, liv/er, liv/liver, liver/livers small/intestine, sto/mach, stomach/stomachs, sto/stomach, splee/spleen, sple/en, splee/een, spleen/spleens wo/wound, wou/wound, wou/nd, wo/und, wound/wounds fle/sh, fle/flesh, flesh/fleshes, flesh/fleshy o/organ, or/gan, org/an, org/organ, organ/organs co/coprse, cor/pse, cor/corpse, corplse/like, corpse/corpses, car/nage, carn/age, car/carnage, carn/carnage, carnage/carnages, clo/clot, clo/t, clo/ot, clot/clots art/artery, ar/tery, art/ery, artery/arteries pan/creas, pan/pancreas, pancrea/pancreas, pancreas/pancreases kid/ney, ki/kidney, kid/kidney, kidney/kidneys

titles:

the gore, the gored, the gorer, the visceral, the bleeding, the organ, the one with missing organs/limbs, the flesh eater, the wounded, the mortally wounded, the bleeding/bloody corpse, the half eaten corpse, the rotting flesh, the one with missing arteries, the one with bleeding arteries

(prn) whos skin peels, (prn) whos organs/limbs are missing, (prn) who's intestines are exposed, (prn) who brings carnage, (prn) whos flesh rots, (prn) who is gravely wounded

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jgroffdaily · 9 months

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This is the first in a series of streaming lists about true crime films, shows and podcasts. And while I won’t dwell on these types of murderers in this in the future, the topic does feel like the appropriate place to start. Here are picks across television, documentary and podcast that offer more than the usual glorification of madness.

TELEVISION

“Mindhunter”

This gripping and moody Netflix drama — executive-produced by its creator, Joe Penhall, along with David Fincher and Charlize Theron — sadly won’t see a third season, Fincher confirmed this year, but the first two are more than worth the price of admission (that being a slice of your sense of security). Based on the memoir “Mindhunter: Inside the F.B.I.’s Elite Serial Crime Unit,” the show dramatizes the creation of the F.B.I.’s real Behavioral Science Unit, where the concept of a serial killer began. And while the central trio of characters — Holden Ford (Jonathan Groff), an F.B.I. hostage negotiator increasingly unsettled by the emergence of a disturbing theme; the behavioral-science specialist Bill Tench (Holt McCallany); and the psychologist Wendy Carr (Anna Torv) — are fictional, the serial killers that appear are all based on real people, with casting that is eerily true to life.

It starts in 1977, with David Berkowitz (Oliver Cooper), who was known as the “Son of Sam,” and moves on to, among others, Ed Kemper, the “Coed Killer” (Cameron Britton, who won an Emmy for the role) and Dennis “B.T.K.” Rader (Sonny Valicenti, still only listed as an A.D.T. serviceman in the credits). The genius of “Mindhunter,” though, is that it’s — as The Times’s TV critic James Poniewozik put it when the first season was released in 2017 — “more academic than sensationalistic,” with the stomach-turning events rarely spelled out in blood, but instead explored through hushed conversations.

#jonathan groff #holt mccallany #mindhunter #article

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bunnieshoneys · 3 months

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Jjk cheerleading au??? It’s like you know my soul lol. Any headcanons you can share? You know … for science lol.

i have started writing this!! so yes!

worth noting i have set this in the US, they cheer collegiate in a four year program and they cheer co-ed. i am not a cheerleader but ive been doing quite a bit of research and ive watched netflix cheer more times than i can count lol

- gojo is a stumbler, but his tumbling in particular is extraordinary.

-getou tumbles less proficiently, but his stamina is insane

- shoko: top girl, flyer, tumbler, miss worldwide

- top girls in the team are riko, shoko, utahime :)

- sashisu do stunts together - shoko trusts those two more than anything or anyone else on the team

- yuki is a really proficient tumbler, as good as the boys, but doesnt fly or stunt

- suguru and satoru are roommates

- yuki is older and keeps doing degrees to stay in cheer

- gojo was offered a scholarship and declined bc his parents would pay anyway - the school only gives a very small number per year and he didnt want to deprive someone else of the opportunity

- getou, yuki, shoko, haibara, nanami and riko are all on scholarships

- yaga coach :) or assistant coach, i havent decided yet

- they all help each other with taping injuries, icing, etc. getou gives a killer sports massage. gojo will break ur spine trying to give u one

- haibara has a little youtube channel focussed on vlogs and fun stuff, and gojo stumbled into being an influencer through his competitive career, but he doesn’t try lol (this might not make it, idk if im gonna set it in 2020s or in 2007)

- most of them also cheer allstar on the side - getou, gojo and shoko go to the same allstar gym, yuki goes to another one where choso coaches, and nanami, haibara, and utahime go to a diff one

- gojo managed to convince getou to stunt him once. it went awfully. they still did it again

- getou broke his nose in HS cheer, and gojo drove him to the hospital

- gojo, haibara and riko are the most invested in cheer culture beyond the sport, but getou and shoko know a lot more history than them

what im writing currently is JUST the older guys. the 2007 gang, if u will. if the fic does well i might end up writing a sequel for it inc the younger gen, but we will see

#bunny answers #jjk #stsg

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vlion · 2 years

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Could I please request poly blackbonnet x fem reader smut?

The Kraken, The Lighthouse, and The Siren (Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Female Reader)

Author’s Note*: Thank you so much for your request, I hope you enjoy! I traveled and then got COVID throughout the process of writing this so I apologize for the delay. I feel like I'm incapable of writing smut without plot, so hopefully the little backstory and build-up I included is cohesive and adds to the experience. I also see and love all the requests in my inbox (requests are still closed at this time), and I will get to work on them soon. Thanks again!

*I also wanted to say that I received some...interesting comments and messages when I announced this fic. I personally view Ed and Stede as bisexual, as I identify this way, and I find it comforting to believe that two of my favorite characters may identify the same way as I. Yes, this is technically a headcannon, and I acknowledge this, but I believe the way that each character is represented in ofmd is done so in a fluid manner, allowing for open discourse and creation around the topic. I felt the need to say this to respond indirectly to the messages I received, and I wanted to let you all know that I am constantly learning and listening to what each of you have to say. I am grateful to have built my own following in a corner of the internet where we can all be open and supportive of each other. Thank you all for being here, and I look forward to writing for you more!

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40400847

Content Warnings/General Themes: ⚠ 18+ content: by reading this you affirm you are over the age of 18 years or over the age of maturity as stated in your regional or local guidelines. AFAB! Female-Identifying Reader (female pronouns/terms of endearment used), Bi! Edward Teach/Blackbeard, Bi! Stede Bonnet, making out, love confessions, mentions of eating/refusing food, oral (male/female receiving), 'Captain' kink, spit kink, dom/sub undertones, very slight hurt/comfort, threesome, p-in-v smut, lots of swearing, choking

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9,434 (oh my god)

It had all happened so fast.

You had been taken in as a stowaway aboard the Revenge by none other than the Gentleman Pirate, after he found you stranded at sea. Your previous captain and crew had nearly thrown you overboard after finding out your ‘secret identity’, muttering something about how it was bad luck to even have you on board in the first place. You felt rightfully frustrated at this policy–you had just as much right to be there as any of them, not to mention the fact that you had saved their asses countless times and sacrificed your own true identity for the sake of simply being on the ship.

Whatever, they were just sexist assholes; at least, that’s what the so-called ‘Blackbeard’ had said to you upon your arrival at your new home at sea. Both he and his ‘co-captain’–because apparently that was a thing–were quick to assure you that you were welcome on the Revenge, no matter your background. Stede had been the one to ensure that you were comfortable in your new surroundings, introducing you to the other crew and even setting aside some clothes for you to wear and letting you crash on his couch, as everything you had accumulated over the years was left behind on the other ship.

You were surprised at their kindness, as you had heard mixed rumors about each of them. Blackbeard–or Ed, as you now knew him as–certainly had a reputation that made you a bit hesitant to get close to him. The same was true for Stede as well, but for all the opposite reasons. While Ed was painted as some sort of relentless killer, Stede had been described as an amateur, who had paid his way to piracy. You now knew those things weren’t entirely true, and each of them amounted to much more than their reputations. And to be honest, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to the ways in which they prove those generalizations to be inaccurate. Seeing Blackbeard engage in crew bonding exercises, and Captain Bonnet order people around, never fails to make you smile. And turn you on. But that was a whole different story.

Recently, tensions had been high amongst the crew of the Revenge. With your previous crew still holding a grudge, as well as the English Crown constantly on all of your asses for, well, existing; nearly everyone was on edge. Even Stede, who was usually able to be a source of guidance and light during difficult situations, had confined himself to his room, trying to determine the best course of action. Seeing him like that, in such a state of panic and uncertainty, it made you want to do something–anything–to get him out of that headspace.

As Stede continued to isolate himself, you eventually shared your thoughts with Ed, and he agreed that something needed to be done. Over the course of a week or so, the two of you had gathered up supplies at various trading posts, and gained insight about a private island that had apparently been captured by a mutual friend of yours, who gladly allowed you entry–of course, after Ed had threatened the man in order to ensure that he wasn’t leading you and the rest of the crew into a trap. The man had insisted he was telling the truth and you had to believe him–especially after Ed had nearly broken the poor guy's wrist after pinning him against a wall over the course of the–very heated–conversation. It was hot as fuck.

Maybe that was why you let him kiss you the night you returned from your little escapade. Actually, it was more like an all-out makeout session, complete with lip-biting and the occasional gasp for air. You had been preparing to cook a feast that was sure to keep everyone well fed for however long you were to stay anchored at the island, and just as you left it to cook you were greeted with a hungry-looking Ed in the doorway of the galley. Of course, in the moment, you didn’t realize just what he was actually hungry for–even offering to cook him something to hold him over until dinner. The smug bastard had actually belly-laughed at that, refusing your offer but asking if he could kiss you instead, making heat flood to your cheeks.

How in the everloving fuck did you not pick up on Blackbeard trying to flirt with you? Regardless, you gave into his request, and that’s how you found yourself perched atop the counter with Ed between your legs, his hands wandering across the top half of your body as you lost yourself in his lips and soft touches.

You were pretty sure multiple crew members had walked in on the two of you, probably chatting among themselves about the scene they had–unknowingly–committed themselves to. It was quite a sight–you, the innocent stowaway, caged in by the big bad Blackbeard, his lips molding to yours while his leather-clad lower half pressed into your core.

Eventually, he was the one who broke the kiss, mumbling something about how he was needed on the upper deck, and with one final peck on the lips, he was off. You checked on the food and covered it, setting it aside for later. You took a portion of it out and tasted it, before placing a serving into a bowl just as you had done for the past couple nights.

During Stede’s ‘retreat’ of sorts, he had often neglected to eat, always offering some type of excuse or claiming that he was too busy. You were grateful, however, that Stede did eat when you brought him food. You always stayed with him when he ate, allowing him to share whatever thoughts had crossed his mind as of recently regardless of the fact that you generally saw him three times a day or more. You couldn’t help but feel protective of him, constantly checking on him and ensuring he was alright. One day in particular, when he clearly didn’t want anything to do with, well, anything, you laid with him and soothed him as best you could, holding his hand when he started overthinking and entering into a state of crisis, as well as sharing some stories from your childhood and listening to his.

Yeah, so basically, you had fallen for Stede. And now Ed, apparently, if your impromptu makeout session meant anything. Besides the reputation-based rumors you had heard upon boarding the ship, you had also heard that the two men may have been more than just friends. You observed firsthand the selfless way in which they seemed to care for each other, not to mention the lingering stares and small moments of intimacy they would share in passing. Cosmically, it all seemed right to you–like the three of you fit together. The only thing you wished was that you were included in their little…whatever they had going on. Stede and Ed were like two opposite ends of a spectrum, the Kraken and the Lighthouse, with you, the Siren, balancing them out in the middle–a perfect combination of rigidity and debonair.

It just made sense; which may have been why you shared your thoughts with Stede in the first place. You had shared a few drinks with him one night, trying to make him laugh despite all the things on his mind, and casually let it slip that you could see yourself with him and Ed. Both of you laughed off the idea, but part of you wished that he took your feelings to heart and perhaps even acted on them.

At least you had Ed–kind of; if you could count randomly making out in the kitchen as something.

You were drawn out of your thoughts as you approached the door to yours and Stede’s shared room, knocking in a pattern that Stede knew as yours.

“Come in!” You heard through the door, in Stede’s distinct inflection. You were glad to hear he still had the chipper, optimistic tone of voice you had come to love even when he was left to his own devices.

“How’s it going tonight, Captain?” You asked him, and he smiled at the term of authority-turned nickname you often used.

“Not too bad, but I certainly missed my favorite meal-delivery person–who also happens to be my roommate and personal chef!” He said, eyes warm as you approached him and handed him his dinner.

“Not to burst your bubble or anything, Stede, but today I cooked for everyone. I don’t think that makes me–”

“Yeah, I heard. Ed told me all about it.” He said, in a relatively serious and knowing tone.

Your eyes widened. Helping out on the upper deck, my ass, you thought, recalling the bullshit excuse Ed had given you earlier.

“Listen…Stede…what happened between me and Ed, it was a heat of the moment thing,” you started, carefully gauging his reaction as you went on. “I don’t even know if I have fully processed it myself, and I know I love spending time with you as well, and I heard the two of you are also kinda a thing-”

“Darling, I’m not mad. I was the one who told Ed to make a move in the first place.” He said, nonchalantly taking a bite of his meal.

Your brow furrowed as you took a moment to collect yourself. “Wait…seriously?” You cautiously sat down next to Stede as he continued to eat, who paused slightly to nod his head, confirming your suspicions.

He raised the fork he was using to eat and gestured towards you as he spoke once more. “Poor Ed couldn’t get you off his mind and came to me for advice and obviously because I have such a great track-record of relationships under my belt, I told him to do whatever felt right, which was apparently to corner you in the kitchen and make out like teenagers, if I heard him correctly?”

You snorted at the description he gave, realizing how accurate it truly was. You took a moment to lock eyes with Stede, finding comfort in the earnest and sincere look he had on his face. You reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, figuring that you should probably tell him how you felt if you already made it to–at least–second base with his other half.

“Stede, I…” You let your hand slide down to his shoulder, offering some pressure to work his tense muscles.

“Go on darling, I’m listening.” He offered, placing his dish out of the way so you could have his full attention.

“I really like you. Both of you. And, like, I think you know but also I didn’t know how this was going to work,” you said, gesturing between you, him, and an imaginary third-party. “Ed and I were planning something to cheer you up, and I think he caught on during all that and I honestly should have told you–”

Stede cut you off once again, this time with his lips on yours. Even though you had been affectionate with him before and more physically comfortable with him as you shared a room with him, you found yourself shocked at his sudden advance. You welcomed it, obviously, but you almost couldn’t believe that you were really kissing Stede.

As you deepened the kiss, you noticed his style of kissing was far more gentle and rhythmic than Ed’s more chaotic and sloppy method. Stede took the time to really feel the curve of your lips on his own, savoring the lingering taste of sugar and dough that had come as a result of you tasting the meal you had just prepared.

You moved to sit on his lap, straddling his thighs while he moved his lips to your neck and jaw. You gasped at the action, not expecting him to kiss you in those sensitive regions. You softly ran your hands along his shoulders and back, massaging and rubbing what you could reach. This was certainly a way to relieve some of his stress, that’s for sure.

Just as you started to get into a good rhythm, Stede pulled back, looking up at you with one of the most genuine smiles you had seen on him since he entered his funk.

“I would love to sit here and do this with you all night, my love, but we should rest up for tomorrow–we’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

You tilted your head to the side and furrowed your brow, curious as to what he was on about.

At your quizzical response, Stede continued. “We’re dropping anchor at the island tomorrow, remember?” You rolled your eyes at Ed’s lack of ability to keep his mouth shut. “Yeah, Ed let that slip too,” he continued, “...and…hopefully you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of suggesting that you, Ed, and I get our own private bungalow…if you catch my drift.” He said, waving his eyebrows at the last bit.

Yeah, you totally caught his drift. Now all you had to do was survive through the night and following day without going completely weak at the knees.

You awoke the next morning feeling literally better than ever. The ship was anchored at a lovely part of the island that allowed you to see white sand and clear water for miles, with a few living spaces and natural flora strewn about. Stede had woken you up with a kiss on the forehead, before letting you know he was going to scope out the island with Ed and a few others. You had taken your time in getting ready, dolling yourself up a bit to embrace the relaxing vibes.

As you made your way onto solid land–after greeting a rather cheerful Lucius and sharing a few words with Jim–you nearly tripped over your feet when your eyes locked onto the scene unfolding in front of you.

Stede and Ed were doing what you could only describe as ‘frolicking’ in the water along the beach. Your eyes immediately traveled to Ed’s bare chest, and the various tattoos that adorned his body. He hadn’t seen you yet, so luckily he couldn’t embarrass you about ogling over him just yet, but you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of him in the meantime.

That is, until Stede came into view. He emerged from the water, looking like the culmination of every fantasy you had had about the seemingly innocent man. Unlike Ed, he had chosen to leave his white undershirt on, with the top buttons undone. The way his broad chest glistened in the sunlight with droplets of water and slightest hint of sweat, as well as how the transparency of the wet shirt allowed you to see his form, had you clenching your thighs together and swallowing the saliva that had unknowingly accumulated in your mouth.

Damn, they were hot. And come to think of it–you were too. The heat index had to be skyrocketing on this particular day, and the sun reflecting off the crashing waves did little to cool you. With another swallow for good measure, you began your descent down the sloped beach, leaving your shoes in the sand as you approached the two men in the water.

“Hello darling! We were just wondering when you might turn up,” Stede said, flashing his signature smile in your direction.

“Yeah, I was starting to think you blew us off to go hang out with Jim or some shit,” Ed added.

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to the two men. “First of all, there is other important…business…that Jim can get up to on their own other than ‘hanging out’ with me, thank you very much,” you said, gesturing at the person in question to further what you were saying. “And second,” you continued, glancing between the two men, “I wanted to see what you two were up to.”

Ed pursed his lips and let out a huff. “Hmm, that’s funny.”

“What?” You shot back.

He turned to face you. “Nothing, I’m just trying to figure out where in that little speech of yours that you were going to explain why you were drooling over us a minute ago,” Ed said, with a cocky, shit-eating grin on his face.

Your eyes widened, and if Stede hadn’t been there as well you would have seriously considered slapping the look straight off of Ed’s face. Or kissing it off. Or both.

Stede moved to stand between you and the other man. “Now, now, Ed. Stop teasing Y/N! We’re supposed to be relaxing, remember?!” You couldn’t help but realize how much Stede looked like a father scolding his rambunctious child at that moment. Sometimes you forgot the man was a father outside of his life of piracy, and to be honest, you couldn’t help but find that rather–

Ed interrupted your thoughts. “Well Y/N certainly seems to be relaxing, if you know what I mean...”

You moved past Stede so that you were face to face with Ed. “Edward Teach, you are going to fucking GET IT!” You said, highlighting your statement with an–almost comically lackluster–splash.

Ed feigned surprise, using a hand to cover his open mouth. “Yeah? Don’t start something you aren’t going to finish, sweetheart,” he said, hesitating before doing anything in response. The action itself was kind of cute, but you weren’t in the mood for cute–you were out for blood.

“You should tell yourself that,” you said with a sly smile, before lunging towards him and splashing him a few times in rapid succession, noticing the way Stede seemed to be debating between running for the hills and stepping between the two of you once more. As Stede opted for a sort-of middle ground where he almost seemed to be supervising the two of you, Ed had begun splashing you in response, effectively soaking your upper half. Of course, you had opted to wear a blouse similar to the one Stede was currently wearing (as he had loaned it to you upon arrival), so you were certain the two men in front of you were getting quite the view of your form.

You closed your eyes as Ed’s splashes became too overwhelming, and you missed the way each of the men followed the curve of your body as you raised your hands above your head in surrender and said “that’s enough!”

With one final flick of water which earned him a look of annoyance from you, Ed halted his actions.

You lowered your arms and wiped any remaining water from your face and eyes, shaking your arms and upper body to try and dry what you could. Stede approached you at this point, his hand connecting with your cheek as he angled your head up so his eyes could meet yours.

“Did he go too hard on you?” He innocently asked, but you couldn’t help but laugh at the innuendo that the statement insinuated. Stede smiled in response, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. Of course, the sweet moment was interrupted by the grey-haired pirate who you nearly forgot was standing near you.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help but feel like I’m interrupting something here…” he said, and you were reminded that you hadn’t had the chance to tell him about the moment you shared with Stede the previous night. Your fears, however, were relieved by Stede chuckling and inviting Ed to join the two of you, which led you to assume that Stede had already filled him in.

You reached out for Ed as he approached you, stroking your hand up and down his toned arm when he was within reach. “For the record, I was only staring earlier because I enjoy seeing the mighty Blackbeard frolicking on the beach in my free time.”

He laughed a genuine laugh at that. “Sure, Y/N, you keep telling yourself that. Whatever you have to do to sleep at night.”

You glanced between him and Stede before speaking again. “Right…so about sleeping…” you broached, and once you received confused looks from each of them, you continued on. “Stede told me about our…uh…sleeping arrangements tonight…”

“And, let me guess, you can’t stop thinking about what’s to come?” Stede added, as if he was reading your mind.

You nodded, suddenly feeling a little flustered at both your close proximity to the two men as well as from the effects of the warm sun on your skin. You saw Ed smirk out of the corner of your eye at your admission, and then felt him walk up behind you and wrap his arms around your middle.

“Is this okay?” He asked, moving your hair to the side to reveal your neck.

“Of course,” you responded, locking eyes with Stede as Ed started kissing your neck and jaw. As you moved your head to the side to allow him better access, you locked eyes with Stede, who had moved to be directly in front of you. “Can I touch you?” You asked him, and were immediately met with him frantically nodding.

As Ed reached around to untuck the shirt you were wearing to access your skin underneath, you reached your own hands up to where Stede’s shirt had opened, and ran your fingers over his bare chest. You stroked your hands up and down, then used the collar of his shirt to pull him in for a kiss.

You moved to deepen the kiss, effectively sandwiching yourself between the two men, and you could sense the raw, primal desire each of the men had for you. You could also feel it in the way Stede’s kiss was all teeth and tongue, and how Ed’s tightening pants behind you rubbed against your ass.

You pulled away from Stede but continued your actions with your hands, turning your head to be in line with Ed’s ear. “When was the last time you had a proper fuck?” You asked him, kissing his earlobe as you waited for a response.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, sweetheart?” He nearly growled, accentuating his statement by gripping your hips tightly. “Do you think about me like that? Think about us, like that? Huh?”

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off by an obscenely loud–and incredibly inconvenient–whistle from behind you. You, Ed, and Stede were off each other in an instant, heads whipping towards the source of the sound. What you weren’t prepared for, was to see nearly the entire crew of the Revenge making their way towards you.

Stede greeted his crew with a wave, making his way towards them and beckoning you over in the process.

Yeah, this was going to be a long day.

The night had fallen, as had your heart, after the events of the day. Besides the obligatory vacation and crew festivities that kept you busy, you couldn’t help but anxiously await the anticipated events of the night.

Stede and Ed had their fun with you nearly the entire day, mostly through lingering touches and hushed conversations, doing nothing to make the time spent with the crew pass any quicker. You had eventually called it quits as the sun began to set, excusing yourself as you headed towards your rather luxurious living quarters for the night, which is where you found yourself now.

You glanced up from where you were perched on perhaps the largest bed you had ever seen. From your position, you could see the gorgeous living room that had greeted you upon arrival, as well as the kitchen and stairs to the guest room. You assumed that you would be sleeping there tonight, but upon locating the bed that nearly swallowed you whole, you figured that you and your two companions could all fit here.

A knock at the front door had you up in an instant. The knock was accompanied by an “anybody home?” that was far too chipper to be anyone other than Stede.

You opened the door once you reached it, smiling upon realizing that Ed had tagged along with Stede. “Hey boys!” You greeted, backing up to allow them inside. What you didn’t anticipate, however, was for Ed to barge in before Stede and push you up against the nearest wall, his hands finding your hips while his lips found yours. It was a filthy kiss, clearly only initiated to bring about…something more. Something that you had been thinking about for the better part of your time with the captains of the Revenge.

You pulled back–much to Ed’s dismay–and immediately cradled his face as you began to speak, hearing Stede approach you from behind, similar to the position you found yourself in just hours ago.

“So…” you droned on, angling yourself so that you could get a look at both men.

“So…” Stede replied, smirking at your sudden bashfulness.

Ed grunted and gripped your hips, drawing your attention back to him. “Do you want this sweetheart?” He asked sweetly, genuine concern in his eyes. “Want us?” He added, before leaning back to gauge your reaction.

You looked between him and Stede with a smirk, before responding. “I’ve wanted this for longer than you could ever know.”

Stede raised an eyebrow at that. “Is that right?” He asked, smoothing a hand down your side and resting it on Ed’s hand. You were starting to get used to being sandwiched between the two men, especially when you caught the tender look shared between them as you let out a sigh of contentment and nodded.

“Care to share your thoughts with the class, Y/N?” Ed teased, his grip on your hips tightening.

You bit your lip and pulled away, their hands falling away from your body. “What if I showed you, instead?” You asked, reaching a hand out for each of them to take. Stede obliged, intertwining his fingers with yours and leading you towards the bedroom, while Ed settled for a slight slap on your ass and followed closely behind.

You were quick to push Stede onto the bed, straddling him while you helped him take off his–many–layers. You heard Ed doing the same behind you, and were greeted by him in just his leather pants, and you were not modest in the way you checked him out.

He opened his mouth to speak but you were quick to stop him. “Ed, I swear if you are about to ask me if I ‘like what I see’ I will literally make you sit and watch while me and Stede-”

He cut you off with a chuckle. “Woah. I was actually going to ask if you wanted to suck my dick, but now that I know that you’re into voyeurism, I might just take you up on that offer.”

Your face dropped and you rolled your eyes, and you were about to turn your attention back to a now shirtless Stede when you felt a strong grip on your chin. Ed angled your face to turn back towards his, his eyes now hooded and dark.

“Did you just fucking roll your eyes at me?” He questioned, and you felt your heart drop at his words. You had never seen Ed in what he and Stede referred to as ‘Blackbeard Mode,’ and now that it was fully on display you couldn’t help but feel a little scared…but also incredibly turned on.

The grip on your chin loosed, only for Ed to move it to your neck. “Answer me!” Ed demanded, which nearly sent you into a panic–a sexy, heart racing type of panic.

“Yeah, I did.” You mumbled under your breath.

Ed narrowed his eyes. “What was that?” He asked.

You cleared your throat as best you could given your current position, and felt Stede’s hands slide delicately up your back to relax you. You caved at their actions, softening as you let down your guard. “I did Ed, I’m sorry...” you replied, louder than your previous statement.

Ed removed his hand from your neck, stroking it down your cheek softly. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart–I’m just fuckin’ with you. You know I like the difficult ones.” At your confused look, he nodded towards the other man before adding, “just ask Stede. That man has the mouth of a sailor…pun fully intended,” he said with a wink, nearly making you roll your eyes again and defeat the entire purpose of…whatever the hell this was.

Instead, your eyes widened slightly at the new information, before turning back to Stede. “Is it true, Stede?” You asked, still slightly taken aback that the seemingly innocent blonde was something else entirely in bed.

He responded by pulling your hips towards him, and angling you so that your core could grind against his erection, leaning in so he could speak into your ear. “I guess you’ll have to find out, darling.” He said in a voice you nearly didn’t recognize, before continuing. “Also, that’s ‘Captain’ to you, missy.”

You pulled back and shared a look with Ed to see if Stede was serious or not, and when Ed didn’t roll his eyes or make a comment, you knew you were in for an interesting night.

You rolled your hips on Stede’s hardening cock, moaning at the feeling and the way his lips parted to do the same, before responding. “Alright Captain, you gonna show me what you’re made of, or keep teasing me all night?”

At that, Ed reached around your body and began removing your clothes, probably after realizing you still had on at least two more layers than they did. Stede busied himself with attacking your neck with his lips, continuing to grind you down in his lap while Ed did the same from behind you. You could feel your panties nearly soaking through at this point, your core throbbing for more attention.

As if he could read your mind, Ed pulled you away from Stede–not without a whine from you, of course–and sat you on the bed next to the blonde. You turned to face Stede, taking in how truly gorgeous the man is, prompting you to lean forward to kiss him, immediately opening your mouth to allow your tongues to collide. It was sloppy, drool threatening to spill out of your mouth and probably his too, but it was just what you needed at the moment. Oh, and certainly the hand that was slowly snaking its way into your pants currently.

You opened your eyes to try and get a better view of how the other man was touching you, but a firm hand came up to keep you focused on your kiss. “Focus on Stede for me, sweetheart,” Ed began, “I want to taste this sweet pussy and make you feel good.” You moaned, before he continued. “Can you let me do that for you, baby?”

You nodded frantically, parting your legs for him and allowing him to remove your pants. You could feel him playing with the waistband of your panties and he sunk down between your legs. As you felt his lips on your inner thighs and clothed center, you took the opportunity to stroke Stede’s inner thigh, feeling him tense slightly then relax into your touch. Just as you had done for Ed, Stede widened his legs, allowing you access into his trousers. You pulled back from your kiss with him, bringing your forehead to his as you longed for more of the closeness you had established with him.

You moved to continue your actions, stroking your hands along Stede’s lower stomach, halting when you felt Ed pull down your panties and quickly move to connect himself with your core. His lips were on your clit, sucking and kissing the swollen bud, as his fingers came up to find your soaken hole. He slowly slid two fingers into your pussy, setting a slow but steady pace as you braced yourself on Stede’s thighs.

Ed pulled back, his fingers fully replacing his mouth as he gauged your reaction to his actions thus far. “God…you’re so fucking soaked, Y/N. Do you want to make Stede feel good while I make you cum?”

You hesitated before responding, not because you were unsure of your answer but because his fingers were hitting all the right spots at the moment. His rough hands only added to the sensation, and you felt like you had to restrain yourself from fully getting off on his hand.

Stede picked up on your inability to form a response, and gripped your hands where they were resting on his thighs. He looked at Ed and there seemed to be a mutual understanding, and then Ed’s hands were off of you, gaining your attention.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Ed was already standing in front of Stede, offering the other man his fingers that had just been inside of you.

When you say that you nearly passed out from the scene that was unfolding in front of you, you were definitely not exaggerating. Stede leaned forward, gripping Ed’s hand at the wrist and guiding his fingers into his mouth. He wrapped his lips around the digits, tongue flicking out to taste your slick, and you literally had to cross your legs to keep from orgasming on the spot. To make matters worse, Stede opened his eyes and made eye contact with first Ed then you, and let out a moan, as though he was tasting his own personal cocktail of ambrosia.

Stede released Ed’s fingers, and you felt yourself being moved by Ed so that you were kneeling perpendicular to where Stede was sitting on the edge of the bed, with your head near his lap. Ed positioned himself behind you, and you missed the way he licked his lips and leaned down as you focused on Stede’s pleasure. Gingerly, you reached for Stede’s trousers and briefs once more, pulling them down enough to free his now throbbing cock. You looked up at Stede shyly, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration as he flashed you a soft smile before he spoke. “Go ahead, darling.”

To encourage you further, Ed took this opportunity to attack your pussy with his tongue. You were super glad he decided to shave his beard only a few days ago, as the slight burn of the stubble contrasted with his wet, soft tongue felt amazing in between your legs. Before you became overwhelmed with the sensation once again, you reached forward and took Stede’s cock in your hand. It barely fit in just one of your hands, which you discovered as you started to jerk off his shaft.

“Give me your hand, darling,” Stede said, and you obliged. “Good girl,” he added once you moved to comply. You kept one hand moving on his dick while you reached out your other one, which the man took and brought to his mouth. Just as Ed started eating you out like a starved man, Stede spit into your open hand, then guided it back down to join your other hand. The action itself was filthy in nature, making you buck your hips into Ed’s mouth and increase the rate at which you jerked Stede off. He gasped at the action, and you could feel him holding his hips back to resist rutting up into your hands.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Stede said, before adding, “Is Ed going to make you cum, sweetheart?” He leaned his head back slightly to toss some of his hair out of his face, before looking down at you for a response.

“Yes, shit, gonna cum soon–” You were cut off by a slap on your ass by Ed, causing you to jolt forward and come face to face with Stede’s cock. You better positioned yourself on Stede’s thighs, leaning forward to take the tip into your mouth. You could feel that Ed added his fingers back into your pussy somewhere during this process, and the familiar heat in your core ramping up as he continued his actions.

You removed one hand from Stede’s cock as you took him deeper into your mouth, using it to massage his balls. You could feel a combination of your spit and Stede’s precum sliding down his shaft to meet your hand, earning you a moan from the man above you. Upon hearing his sighs of pleasure, you let out one of your own, making Stede buck his hips and egging Ed’s attack on your pussy on further.

“Gonna cum, Y/N? With my face buried in your pussy, and your mouth around your Captain’s cock? Let it all go baby…” Ed said, and with that, you were seeing stars. You were glad you had Stede’s dick in your mouth, as the moans that threatened to slip out as you rode your high were–mostly–stifled.

Ed continued to lick and kiss your cunt as you came down, while Stede reluctantly pulled you off his cock. When you moved to take him back into your mouth, he reached out a hand to stop you, offering a merciful smile.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you’re just a little too good at that is all,” he explained with a grin, and you felt Ed move behind you.

“I’m assuming you enjoyed that, huh, sweetheart?” Ed said, kneeling next to you and giving you a kiss on the cheek. You couldn’t resist turning your head to kiss him on the mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue.

He pulled back before you could deepen the kiss too much, looking at you with hooded eyes, similar to the way he did earlier. “God…who would’ve guessed that sweet Y/N was this filthy…” He teased, hand coming up to grip your cheeks and open your mouth. “Stick out your tongue for me, yeah?”

You did what he asked without hesitation, face still in Ed’s grasp, and he spit into your mouth. He released his grip and watched as you swallowed, using your eagerness as a sign to continue on with the events of the night.

“So…” Ed began, “Stede and I were talking…”

“And we wanted to leave it up to you before we went any further.” Stede interjected, a look of concern on his face.

You looked between them for what felt like the hundredth time this evening, and could see the love they had to share staring straight back at you. You knew, even prior to what had already occurred, that if there was anyone you wanted to do something like…whatever this was with, it would be them. Not only had they been there for you at one of your darkest times, but they had become sources of empowerment and support in the relatively short amount of time you knew them. Which is why you were confident in what you moved to say next.

“Ed…” You began, cupping his cheek then turning to Stede and doing the same. “Stede…” Both men leaned into your touch and listened intently. “There’s literally no one I would rather be doing this with. Both of you heard my call, took me by the hand, and led me to where I am today.” Both of their faces softened at your confession, and you placed your hands back into your lap.

Ed cleared his throat, breaking the short silence. “So, uh…we gonna fuck or not?”

You moved to straddle him, giggling at his statement. “Isn’t that literally what we were just doing?” You asked, rolling your hips over his still clothed erection.

“You haven’t even seen the slightest of what I’m capable of.” He replied, the brooding look returning to his face. This time, however, you weren’t having it, and saw through his dark façade.

“Okay, Blackbeard.” You said, rolling your eyes at his statement for added effect. He did not like that.

With a slap to your ass–and a glare from Stede–Ed repositioned you to perch atop his leg, leaning down towards your ear. “Fuck, I love it when you call me that.” You nearly rolled your eyes again–of course he did. “Now be a good girl and get off on my leg, then we can give you what you really want.”

You did what he asked, but not without adding, “what I really want? You mean your love and devotion?”

Ed snorted at that, gripping your waist tighter and grinding you harder into his lap. “I think you need something to shut you up.” He said, grunting whenever you came in contact with his dick.

You raised an eyebrow at that and shared a look with Stede, who was watching this all unfold with an eager expression. He looked gorgeous from this angle, his hair all disheveled and his body on full display.

You halted the movement of your hips, hearing Ed let out a frustrated grunt. “I want both of you, so bad…” You said, matter-of-factly.

“How do you want us?” Stede asked, his concerned nature making itself known.

You felt yourself blush at the question, again not expecting something of such a suggestive nature falling out of Stede’s lips. That being said, he literally just revealed his apparent “Captain” kink to you so maybe you were too quick to judge what Stede was or wasn’t capable of saying.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you focused on what exactly was being asked of you. You honestly wanted nothing more than for each of the men to pound you into the mattress of this probably far too nice and boutique bed of yours, but a part of you deep down really wanted Stede to be the first of the two to get to know you so intimately. After all, he had done so much to take care of you as you had done for him–it just felt right.

Once you made up your mind–after also reminding yourself that you have all night–you voiced your thoughts. “Stede, I want you…” you began, looking down at your core before flicking your eyes back to the other man. “And Ed, I–”

He caught your drift immediately and finished your statement. “You want me to fuck your mouth, is that right?”

“Fuck, yeah.” You responded, too horny to say something witty in response.

At that, Stede stood and allowed you to move up and lay with your head dangling off the bed, giving yourself a perfect view of Ed’s lower half. You reached out and gripped what you could of his waist, pulling him closer to you. You felt the bed dip as Stede hovered over you, feeling his hands go to your shirt to finally remove it.

“May I?” He asked–ever the gentleman. You nodded, and you helped him pull the article of clothing off of you. You could feel Ed shifting behind you, and if you could see him attempting to wiggle out of his tight pants you would have probably bursted out laughing. You were distracted, however, by Stede’s hesitation as his hands hovered over your bra. Your eyes met his, and you gave a slight nod, reaching for his hand with your own and guiding it to the point at which the garment was connected to your body. He tenderly removed it from you, allowing it to fall to the floor and reveal your upper half to him.

As Stede leaned down to caress your breasts, you turned your head to be greeted with Ed’s unconcealed dick. To say that he was big would be an understatement–the man was seriously packing. No wonder he walked around like he owned the place, with a dick like that–

“Open your mouth for me.” He said, drawing you out of your–borderline objectifying–thoughts. You complied, and the heavy tip of his dick was in your mouth in an instant. You could taste the small amount of precum that had collected, making your mouth water.

You moved to position yourself at a better angle, but were stopped by Ed’s firm hands near your neck. You looked up at him as well as you could with your head upside down, and the determined look on his face was enough to suggest that he wanted you to lie back and enjoy yourself while he took the reins.

You were more than happy to comply, and focused on the sensations Stede was providing while Ed ensured that you were in a comfortable position and continued to stroke the tip of his dick on your open tongue. Stede’s hands slowly moved down your chest and stroked your hips, his lips also ghosting kisses down your abdomen.

As you felt Stede’s hands approach your core, you opened your legs wider to accommodate his form between your legs and to give him better access. You felt him chuckle at your actions, his lips now dangerously close to where you wanted him most. Well, a certain part of him.

“Stede…” you whined, feeling Ed pull back slightly as you spoke. Stede looked up at you eagerly, stopping short and expecting you to continue. When you didn't, he shifted once more so he was level with your face.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Is everything alright?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

You nodded, his hand stroking your cheek as you gave him a pleading look. “I want you…”

He nuzzled your nose with his own and smiled, before replying. “Then it’s me you shall have.”

You moved again to accommodate his form, feeling him situate himself between your legs. He reached down and pumped his shaft a few times, sighing as his hand came in contact with his tender skin. You relaxed and leaned your head back once again, signaling that you were ready for them.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the sensations you were experiencing, missing the glance Stede and Ed shared above you. After sharing a nod, the two men were quick to spring into action.

You felt Stede enter you first, the drag of his shaft along your walls slowly stretching your hole and hitting all the right places inside of you. You clenched around his cock once he was fully seated inside of you, moaning as his fingers ghosted over your clit. “You like that, darling?” He asked, beginning to set a slow, yet steady pace.

“Fuck yes!” You responded, smirking at him before adding “Captain.”

He grunted at that, picking up the pace and in turn, rocking the bed you were perched on. You silently prayed that all of the other crew members had settled down and weren’t looking for either of their captains, because the scene currently unfolding would probably make even the most rugged pirate say a prayer; unless their name was ‘Stede’ or ‘Ed,’ apparently.

Speaking of the devil, Ed saw your moment of quiet contemplation as an opportunity to grip your jaw, angling you once more to better suit his needs. You smiled at him before sticking out your tongue, prompting him to smirk back then lean down and spit as he had before, this time using it as added slick as he guided his cock back into your mouth.

Stede’s gentle, yet determined thrusts, and Ed’s rough and messy use of your mouth combined in a perfect tango which had you reaching your peak in seconds.

Ed could see the way your body was convulsing and twisting, clenching on Stede’s cock and drooling on his own. “You fucking like that, Y/N?” He asked, his hips working his cock against your tongue and down your throat. You moaned around his cock in response, egging him on more.

With a light slap to your cheek, he continued. “Fuck yeah you do, ohmygod–we should’ve done this so much sooner..”

Stede glanced up at that, tossing his–now disheveled–blonde locks out of his face. “I was thinking the same thing,” he said, gently, prompting Ed to lean down and meet his lips. You saw the two men deepen the kiss above you, and in that moment, everything felt so right. You finally had the two men who took you in, cared for you, and allowed you to care for them in return right where you wanted them, and you fucking loved it. Your sweet, kind Stede, who never failed to be gentle with you even when he was at his lowest, was making you feel better than you ever imagined, while your edgy, yet kind-hearted Ed allowed you to treat him how he deserved. It was everything you had been searching for–your hidden treasure, and you had been led to them as a personal treasure of their own.

Stede’s thrusts eventually became more irregular, and you could feel his cock throbbing in your core, signaling that he was close. Ed had opted to glide his shaft on top of your wet mouth and tongue, using you like his own personal toy. It was messy–filthy even, but you fucking loved it. You especially loved it when Ed used his free hand to play with one of your breasts, using some drool that had collected around your mouth as slick to play with your hard bud. Stede brought a hand up as well and did the same and you thanked every deity you could think of for allowing your paths to cross.

Shockingly, it was Ed who voiced his thoughts first. “Fuck, Stede, Y/N, I’m close.”

Stede slowed his thrusts a bit–earning a whine from you–and took a moment to catch his breath. “Fuck, me too.” He sat back on his knees, leaving just his tip inside you, and glanced down at you. “How are you doing, sweetheart? Getting close?”

You nodded, and felt the coil in your stomach threatening to snap as Stede drew the tip of his cock out and around your slick hole and clit. “Wanna c-cum, for you. Both of you.”

“I know you do darling, but I’m afraid I can’t hold out for much longer…” Stede responded, gripping the base of his shaft to try and hold off his orgasm.

“I can…” Ed cockily replied, easing his dick out of your mouth.

You sat up, noticing how suddenly empty you felt as you did, and turned to look Ed in the eyes. “And what if I don’t believe you?” You asked with wild eyes, hoping he would take the bait.

“Why don’t you lie on your stomach and find out for yourself, slut?” He gritted back, and you could’ve lost it right then and there, but your anticipation for what he proposed outweighed your need to orgasm without him inside you.

“Ed!?” Stede chirped in, likely as an attempt to come to your defense. When he saw the smirk on your face and look of desire in your eyes, however, his own eyes widened a bit, and he understood that the term hadn’t entirely pissed you off–in fact, it had had the opposite effect.

Stede huffed before allowing you to follow Ed’s orders and reposition yourself. “And I thought I was into some interesting things…”

As Ed settled behind you after your position replicated what he had asked of you, you turned your head to follow Stede as he sat at the head of the bed in front of you, giggling at his admission. “What kinds of things, Captain?” You asked, sure to use his favorite nickname.

Stede rolled his eyes and fixed his hair before smiling down at you. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You smiled, moving to respond once more, but were cut off by Ed entering you with no warning. Your soft pussy gripped him tight, wetness coating his throbbing shaft. He could feel that you were pretty well stretched from Stede, and didn’t take much time in working you up to a hard and fast rhythm that had you moaning.

Still, through the haze of horniness that had accumulated, you felt the urge to reach for the blonde-haired man in front of you, taking all of what you could of his member into your mouth. He gasped, not expecting you to do so as Ed was literally pounding you into the mattress, but welcomed it nonetheless.

Ed slapped your ass as he saw what you were doing to Stede, pinching and massaging it as he picked up his pace even more. “Look at you, Y/N, being split open by us. Fuck, you’re so good-”

“Such a good girl…” Stede continued after Ed became a moaning mess, making you clench down on Ed’s leaking cock. You took Stede’s slick cock deeper into your mouth, tears threatening to spill as you started properly sucking him off. You could taste the saltiness of his precum mixing with the saliva of your mouth, and looked up at him through your lashes as you felt one of his hands move to your throat. It was mainly to support your neck and to guide you where he needed you, but the slight pressure made your pussy throb and turned you on even more–if that’s even possible.

It turns out it was, because when Ed brought a hand down to your clit you were done for. You looked up at Stede with desperation in your eyes, and he knew immediately that you were rapidly approaching your peak.

“Shit, Ed, Y/N’s nearly there…” Stede announced, his tone suggesting that you were not alone in your predicament.

“Yeah? Gonna cum with us inside you?” Ed said, and you moaned around Stede’s cock as a response, fucking back into Ed as he hit your G-spot with every thrust. That, combined with the way he flicked at your clit and the delicious pressure of Stede’s cock on your tongue and hand on your throat finally sent you over the edge. You nearly collapsed as your orgasm rode through you, your hole gripping Ed tight and nearly all of your muscles convulsing in the process. It felt like heaven.

“Mmm, gripping me so tight…gonna cum…” Ed slurred, before gingerly pulling out and releasing on your hole and thighs.

Stede was not far behind, and you reached a hand up to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, causing him to thrust slowly as pleasure started to overcome his senses. “I’m so close, pretty girl,” he said, and you felt the bed shift behind you. You focused on licking and sucking all that you could, locking eyes with Stede as his breathing increased and cock started to leak more.

You felt his balls tighten as he continued to thrust, and just as he let go you felt a set of hands pull your hair back and stroke along your skin. You closed your eyes and swallowed all that he had to give, savoring the taste that was so distinctly Stede. You shamelessly moaned at the sensation, earning a chuckle from both men; prompting you to come back down to Earth. Stede carefully removed his spent shaft from your mouth, using a finger to wipe a bit of drool and his release from the corners of your mouth. He tucked himself back into his trousers and settled into the bed, gesturing for you to do the same. When you went to move and realized your hair was still pulled back, you turned to the side and were greeted with a grinning Ed who was now playing with your hair that was in his grip.

You cleared your throat to get his attention, but when his gaze remained on his fingers in your hair, you spoke. “You gonna play with that forever, or come cuddle?” You asked, cheekily.

He halted his action and removed his hands with a huff. “Fine…but only if I get to be the big spoon.”

You crawled into Stede’s arms speedily, positioning yourself with your back to him and arms open wide. “Well shit. Looks like that position has already been filled.”

Ed pouted, crossing his arms and taking in your inviting form, but ultimately sighing and laying in your arms. To egg him on more–something you started to enjoy more and more–you replicated his previous actions and began playing with his hair.

He turned around and narrowed his eyes before speaking. “I hate you.”

You kissed him on the temple, and raised one of Stede’s hands from around your waist to your lips and did the same. “Love you too.”

taglist: @conthesatanist

#blackbeard x reader #stede bonnet x reader #edward teach x reader #edward teach x stede bonnet #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #gentlebeard x reader #blackbonnet x reader

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