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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 2 days

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Enough Is Enough - LN

Request from @littlemissfran - Hey, could you write something about Lando being in a super private nearly secret relationship. So people kinda only know he is in a relationship but not who she is and then being spotted with one female friend which starts dating rumours (like the whole magui situation) And lando having to kinda post something about him being in a relationship bc they get frustrated with those rumours

No part 2 requests please

The only evidence of Lando's relationship was verbal conversation and two pictures on his Lando.jpg. One of her nails done with LN4 logo with a papaya colour and the other one being of her almost entirely hidden under a hotel duvet.

Fans have even actively been looking through his instagram to see if he follows her and for her own sake her doesn't. They also make attempts to inspect every possible person spotted around McLaren. Which is really a fool's game.

But his burner account does follow her, thankfully that's on private.

Y/n also still lives and spends a large portion of her time in England.

But Lando does everything to see her and on occasion she'll come over to Monaco. Thankfully incognito and with them exclusively spending time together in his apartment, there's no chance of the camera capturing them on a night out in Monaco.

"You should come." P tries as y/n sits on Lando's sofa. The plan to go out with Max, P and a few other friends being on the agenda for Lando's short stint home before he's back out for the China GP.

"No...you know the rules." Y/n smiles while P pouts looking at Max who doesn't even bother to give her the time of day in helping to convince y/n to join them.

"You are always left out it's not fair."

"If I can get over it. I'm sure you can, P." Y/n assures her while Lando appears freshly showered and dressed immediately being harassed by P about the fact he's not dragging y/n out with them.

"You think I haven't tried. I've love to have her with us." Lando states while sighing as he looks at y/n who smiles. "Are you sure?"

"And miss the opportunity to swap the order of your helmets around on the shelves to see if you could put them back to the way you have them? Not a chance." Y/n teases earning a grin before he leans down and kisses her. "I have to do some work anyway, my boss has me on the grind even when I'm out the country."

Lando grumbles at that, hating the idea of his girlfriend being overworked. But he knows she wants to work, in fact work is one of the bigger players in keeping them so private over any other reason.

"I don't know anyone who would choose to be a rich man's personal assistant." Max comments making y/n look at him in amusement and Lando look at him in annoyance. He always gets defensive over any negative comment about y/n even if it's a joke from his childhood best friend.

"Well long term plan is to seduce and marry, Lando's just a place holder." Y/n smirks earning a warning swat on her knee since it's a running joke.

"We'll be back quite late, text me if you need anything or just want me home early. I'll ditch them." Lando states earring a laugh.

"Charming, you know they're your guests."

"Not my girlfriend though. Don't work too hard."

"No point, it's past April I've already got my bonus for the year." Y/n giggles as he leans over for another kiss.

"Smarter not harder." Lando hums recalling her life rule when it comes to quite literally anything.

Lando being sober because he's driving meant that he had to deal with the jolly tipsiness of all those who were around him. Though he'd realised how much it sucked not having her there.

So when he got home and found y/n asleep, her laptop on the bed, her bosses schedule with tabs of confirmation for flights, hotels, contacts, emails, all the things she handles for the man. Even shopping lists and god knows how manage messages between them. He's not even sure how she manages to look through all this stuff.

"Ok, baby." Lando sighs closing the laptop and kissing the side of her face which stirs her from the depth of sleep.

"Lando?"

"Yeah, that's me." Lando smiles making her roll over and looking at him as he places her laptop on her side.

"Did you come back early?" Y/n mumbles as he moves back helping her in a bit of a pathetic attempt to try and shift so she's actually under the blankets.

"No. You fell asleep working. Even-"

"Don't lecture me like a bore." Y/n smiles cheekily making him huff and sigh at her. "I had to book some last minute flights for him to go see his wife's fashion show in Milan. Be happy he's not demanding I go with him. He's taking assistant B with him."

"Ok, enough about work."

"Yeah, tell me about the night." Y/n hums and smiles when he does as requested. Listening to Lando talk about the night while he undresses before lying down with her. "Sounds like you spent the night surrounded by girls. Should I be jealous?"

"As if."

"I meant of you. Surrounded by girls sounds like a fun position to be in." Y/n giggles before rolling over so she's lying half on top of him while he rolls his eyes at her. "Can we sleep now? I'm really tired."

"Yes."

Morning rolls around, leaving Lando and y/n as the last people to wake up. But when they door Max looks annoyed and P looks a little upset.

"Oh god, have you two been arguing while we've been asleep?" Lando questions checking his meal prep from Jon.

"Don't go online mate." Max states making y/n immediately pull out her phone to check only for Lando to snatch it and quite literally shove it down his shorts as he sits.

"I don't know why you think that's effective. My hands have been there before." Y/n laughs earning groans from the other couple. "So is someone going to explain?"

"The world thinks Lando is dating Magui again." Max states making Lando curse and huff from his seat while y/n shrugs. "We did go to the Masters with her."

"I-She's a friend. I sat next to you-"

"They don't care about me when it comes to your relationship, mate." Max sighs before y/n dives her hand down and grabs her phone before running.

Lando hates-really hates when y/n sees the posts about any relationship he's supposedly in with any one of the women he's spotted with. Y/n always wants to see it so she knows exactly what she's getting herself involved with.

It's actually the one thing that is hard about their relationship. Y/n sometimes tries to use humour to cope.

"Y/n!" Lando exclaims rushing after her but she locks herself in the bathroom.

Y/n scrolls through the clips from the Masters, the videos from last night, pictures with fans. Oh he was seen by everyone.

"Wow." Y/n whispers since if she wasn't his girlfriend, she'd certainly believe it too.

"Y/n! Open the door." Lando groans making her sigh and unlock the door. She hates that she feels like shit over false rumours and lies made up by assumptions and people who don't even know her or even really know Lando. "Baby?"

Her expression and mood reads easily, Lando can see the hurt she's trying to hide and as if it isn't already bad enough they both know she's got a couple hours before she needs to fly back to London.

"I'm just sort of sick of this." Y/n sighs rubbing her hands over her face. "I'm sorry."

There's a moment that Lando feels his heart still, looking at her.

Even Max and P eavesdropping from the other room exchange a wide eyed look in a panic and P even goes to stand and intervene only for Max to shake his head since this is something for Lando and y/n to handle.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" Lando questions while she swallows thickly.

"Sorry for being upset about...something that's out you're control." Y/n frowns making him deflate and relax a little since he really thought she might be breaking up with him.

"I'm sorry baby." Lando whispers making her head her head. "I'm sorry that they-they think who I date is any of their business. But I'm putting an end to this."

"Lando..." Y/n mumbles but he only kisses her softly and smiles lightly at her.

"I'm going to tell them to shut the fuck up." Lando states earning a small laugh.

"What does that even mean?" Y/n laughs making him grin.

"Do you trust me?"

"If I didn't then I'd be believing them assuming that you're dating all those other women."

"Mmm...I'll write a statement, I'll let them know that they are never going to be privileged enough to know my girlfriend and if they catch me with someone then they should know it's not you because you're just too good for them to really think it'd be that easy."

"Wow. You're going to tell them that?"

"Yeah, and I'm going to make a helmet designed by you-and you can put your choice of words on there for them too." Lando grins making her laugh.

"Are you allowed swear words on your helmet?"

"Mmm...that angry?"

"I'm not exactly impressed. It's getting a bit repetitive." Y/n sighs earning a small nod of understanding.

"Can I ask you something?" Lando whispers knowing P and Max would freak out if they overheard this part.

"Yes."

"It doesn't have to be a promise of soon, or even ever really. But if you say yes when I propose...can we maybe start being less private?"

"When?" Y/n smirks making him roll his eyes. "Not if but when?"

She has to tease him, poke at him about something. She can't help it but it does improve the mood a lot.

"Yes. We can start being less private. When that happens."

"Ok, that's a plan. I love you."

"I love you too, lots and lots."

"I don't deserve you...any other woman would've left." Lando sighs making her smile sadly.

"Then it's good I'm not any other woman."

"No. You're definitely not. Especially not like any of my friends. That's why you're stuck with me for life." Lando grins earning a hum. "In private, in public and anywhere you want and choose."

"Good. Now go make that statement. I want those fucking assholes to shut the fuck up thinking Magui is your girlfriend. Nothing against her obviously, but I'm not standing for the world thinking you're up for someone else to take."

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wh1msic4alwasab1 · 2 days

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“𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡”♡‧₊˚

synopsis: first time giving head and the general is generous to offer you some help <3

tags: oral, first time, soft and praise filled

wrd cnt: 650+

a/n: rewrite/repost from first acc!

Imagine spending the day with Jing Yuan on his time off, what little hours he had, your general chose to spend with you.

You'll relive memories over drinks, laugh over embarrassing stories, and maybe you'll even uncover some secrets about him, intimate secrets only for you.

You open up to him, about whatever the evening spills; some innocent, and some not.

After some long due blabbering and breaking of the tension, you're in his bedroom and your tongue is being pushed against his in a fiery battle neither of you want to lose.

You told Jing Yuan all about your inexperience, but you told him even more about how much you wanted him, how much you’ve wanted him so for long.

You glance at the tent in his pants growing in between the slow and sensual make out going on between you two, and your hand finds its way under his clothes. He smirks against your lips.

"Y/n, I thought you told me you haven't done this before?" he recalls.

"You're right, but I want you in my mouth more."

You feel his cock pulse because of your words, slowly you kneel down; you fold up his shirt and kiss along his abs, trailing down to his thighs and leaving a small bite mark, now sitting in between his marked up thighs.

You removed his clothes and watch his hard cock spring up from his pants.

Just seeing it makes you want to swallow everything he gives you.

All of your worries melt as his hand caresses your head, as he helps you push your hair back.

"Open your mouth princess."

You do as your general commands, and he presses his thumb down onto your tongue, toying with it while never breaking his eye contact with you. You suck lightly on his thumb before he removes it, and slaps his fat cocktip on your tongue.

He gives you a small nod and you start with kitten licks, paying most attention to his throbbing head. You suck the precum that's already oozing out, and earn a groan from him in the process.

“Just like that-mhm…”

Your soft lips envelope his member, and his leg twitches due to the pleasure you grant him.

"Fuck…..what a naughty thing you are", he says in surprise.

His hand is now wrapped into your hair, and he's tilting you down, you'd be lying if you said that you didn't want him to fuck your face so hard, until all you could do was let the tears run off your face, but he's sweet with you.

"Let me help you love, do you feel me in your throat?"

You definitely could, which he understood from your lack of reply.

His cock felt even bigger in your mouth than in your hand, and you could feel yourself start to gag on his dick with how thick it was. You wanted him to cum down your throat, ruin you so bad, you didn't care anymore.

You start to bob your head weakly on his girth, moving along with his pace while gently twisting your hand around the base of his cock, you wince slightly.

"You can't take it baby? You're gonna have to." He says, as he speeds up his pace, ramming his cock into your throat with his hand laced behind your head.

He watches you struggle to take him and sees you rubbing your sore little pussy with your other hand, you were getting off to his dominance, from his cock in your mouth, aching him filling up your cunt.

Seeing you pleasure yourself from sucking him off drove Jing Yuan to the edge, soon you felt his cock grow hot, followed by thick loads of his cum coating your mouth.

"Swallow it all, not one drop comes out of your mouth or I'll fuck it back in, got it?

"Yes General", you say, kissing his tip and gaining a deep groan of satisfaction. words

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

#jo’s posts #hsr jing yuan #hsr smut #hsr #smut #honkai star rail #jing yuan x female reader #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan hsr

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middlepartmatt · 3 days

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Hotshot

“you're buried in the pillow, yeah you're so loud... but i'm about to show you, baby, slow down” — SLOW DOWN, chase atlantic

SUMMARY: you and matt have been enemies since you were kids, but one night when you're forced to share a bed with him, everything changes.

WARNINGS: smut, mainly dom!matt, mainly sub!reader, oral (fem receiving), doggy lol

AUTHOR’S NOTE: first smut on here i am NERVOUSSSSSSSSSSS but anyway this is an outtake from my matt fic on wattpad causeeeeee i can't be getting cancelled on that silly little app... i hope u enjoy lol. ALSO if you don't like smut that's not really my issue so just don't read it!

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"I'm not sleeping in here."

Matt rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he looks from you to the bed, then back again.

"Nick and Chris are already asleep," he says. "So unless you wanna go and wake them up, you're stuck with me."

You sigh, looking around the room.

"I'll just sleep on the couch," you decide.

"It's not like we haven't slept together in the same bed before," he reminds you, referring to when you would have sleepovers with the triplets back when you were kids. He pulls off his black tee and climbs into the bed. "So just get in."

Your eyes widen, but you obey, climbing in on the other side. You immediately rolls over, turning away from Matt since you knows he's facing the middle. Why does he always have to face the middle? It infuriates you.

To your surprise, Matt doesn't say anything else. Considering you'd just been having an argument for five minutes about the sleeping situation, you'd expected him to try and get in one last dig at you before you both go to sleep. He's not done that though, instead he's fallen completely silent.

You know he isn't asleep. When Matt's asleep, his breathing becomes heavier, a little ragged, but right now he's silent as ever. You shift uncomfortably under the blanket, not sure what to make of the situation. Matt's right; you've slept in a bed together before, yet it feels weird now, with his brothers in the room just next door.

But it's not just that.

It also feels weird because of the fact that you feels the need to cross your legs, and that your heart is beating faster than usual. Matt's room, which is usually freezing, seems boiling hot right now. You're thinking that it just might have to do with the fact that Matt's currently shirtless.

Matt moves, causing you to be snapped out of your thoughts and jolt at the movement. You inhale sharply, feeling your eyes on her back.

"'s something the matter?" he questions.

"Nope," you reply quickly, but your voice betrays you.

"You sure?" Matt hums. "You seem uncomfortable."

"Just shut up and go to sleep," you snap. Matt just chuckles.

"Night, angel," he says, using that infuriating nickname he'd given you back in elementary school. Angel. It's not supposed to be a compliment, but rather make fun of you for supposedly being a goody-two shoes, which you personally don't think you are.

"Night, hotshot," you answer. You started calling him this a few years ago, when he was promoted to main goalie of the lacrosse, and also when he and his brothers started getting popular on YouTube. Annoyingly, he doesn't seem to hate the nickname as much as you hate yours.

You closes your eyes but still, your senses pick up on his every breath, every shift of his body in the pitch black darkness. Yeah, you're definitely not getting any sleep tonight.

You hear Matt moving around, then suddenly feel something cold on your waist. It takes you a moment to realize it's Matt's hand, now resting lightly on your hip.

You stare straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the touch. Maybe it's an accident? you think, but there's no way Matt would accidentally put his hand on you.

Okay, now you are most definitely not getting any sleep tonight. Not that you really mind though, to be honest.

You feels his fingers slide up your stomach, tracing the curve of your hip. You shiver involuntarily, and his hand slides back down, grazing the hem of your tank top.

"Is this okay?" he whispers, and you just nod. You're not even sure you'd be able to speak, anyway.

You then feels his hand move upwards again, slowly, deliberately, until it reaches the bottom of your breast. You gasp softly, arching your back slightly, offering him better access. His hand cups your tit, squeezing gently, making you moan softly. His thumb brushes against your nipple, sending a jolt through your body.

You can't help but let out a small whimper. His fingers are still pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and you can feel you core starting to throb.

You close your eyes, biting your bottom lip. You can feel his breath on your neck, and you slowly pulls his hand off of you so that you can turn around to face him. You tilt your head up to meet his lips. His tongue slips into your mouth as he kisses you deeply.

After a second you break the kiss, panting. "Matt," you say, barely above a whisper.

"Yes, angel?" he replies.

"You shaved," you point out. Last you'd noticed, he had a little bit of stubble where he hadn't bothered shaving the last couple of days.

"Thought it would make for a smoother ride," he murmurs in response, and he kisses her again. You feels yourself getting wetter at his words as you kiss him back, your hands roaming over his chest. Matt kisses your neck, trailing his tongue along your skin, and you arch your back once again, pressing yourself against him. You can feel him against your front, and just the touch of his dick against you only makes you needier for him.

Matt moves his hands down your body, pulling your tank top up over her head. You lift your arms, allowing him to remove it completely. He trails kissed on your collarbone, before moving down your stomach. You lie back, letting him take control.

You lets out a soft whimper as he reaches your pyjama shorts, toying with the edge of the waistband.

"Matt," you whimper. He doesn't reply, pulls them down along with your underwear, exposing you.

"You're so wet," he muses, a grin present on his lips. "Is this all for me, angel?"

"Obviously," you answer, rolling your eyes. Becoming impatient, you grab a fistful of his hair and pull him towards you.

He licks your slit, tasting you. You moan, arching your hips towards him. His tongue flicks over your clit, making you shudder, before he begins sucking on it gently. You moan louder now, grinding your hips against his face. He licks your clit again, and you cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from crying out.

Matt pushes two fingers inside of you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. You grab onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin. He slides his fingers in and out of you, making you writhe beneath him. You bite your lip, trying not to make too much noise.

He puts his thumb on your clit, rubbing it slowly. You're slowly coming undone, moaning loudly, but he doesn't stop as he continues to rub your clit while he fingers you.

"I want your tongue again, hotshot," you say breathlessly, and Matt simply grins before obeying, moving forward and licking up your slit once again. You yelp, her whole body responding to his action. "Keep going," you order, and he does, tipping you over the edge.

"Fuck, Matt, fuck," you whimper as you cum, legs shaking under Matt's touch.

You collapse onto the mattress, breathing heavily. Matt kisses your stomach, moving up to kiss your lips again. You taste yourself on his lips and you moan, reaching out to stroke his cock through his pyjama pants. Matt exhales sharply, bucking his hips into you.

You smirk, pulling down both his pyjama pants and boxers, before taking hold of his cock and stroking it gently. He groans as you run your finger over his slit, stroking him faster until you can feel him about to cum. Already.

You stop, and he glares at you. His eyes are dark in this dim lighting, fueled with desire just for you.

"Don't tease me, angel," he says quietly.

"What?" you ask sweetly. "I want to taste you."

It looks like it takes all of Matt's strength not to cum at your words. Instead he just nods, and so you climb on top of him, straddling him. You crane your body downwards, and he watches as you take his cock into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip, making him groan.

You take more of him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. He holds your head, thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth. You gag, but refuse to pull away.

"Just like that, baby," he tells you, his hand still gripping your hair tightly. "Fuck," he whimpers, and you almost come undone at the sound alone. "Jesus, angel... yeah... just like that," he mumbles to himself, eyes closed as he throws his head back while you continue to suck him.

You feels him finish, shooting his hot cum into your mouth. You swallow it all, moaning, and he finally pulls you off of him. You sit up, wiping the cum from your mouth. Once you've regained focus, you see that he's already half-hard again.

"Want me to fuck you?" he asks nonchalantly like he wasn't just whimpering for you moments before. You just nod, moving up and kneeling on the mattress. Matt gets behind you, rubbing his cock against your opening. Without warning, he slides it inside of you, making you gasp.

He begins fucking you, pushing his cock deep inside of you. You moan, pressing your ass further up against him.

"Matt," you groan, causing Matt to thrust faster and harder. "Matt," you repeat, and he moans.

"Keep doing that, baby," he tells you.

"Matt," you breathe. It's all you can say as he continues fucking you, his cock going deeper inside of you with every thrust.

"Fuck, angel," he mutters. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

He continues to fuck you, making you scream out in pleasure. He pulls your hair, and you groan at the harshness of his touch. You arch further into him, noticing how it makes his hips buck harder into you.

"Matt," you whisper, hearing the way he moans loudly as his name leaves your lips.

"Angel, oh my God..."

"You there yet, hotshot?"

Matt shakes his head, refusing to fall for your teasing. He pulls out, causing your mouth to fall open in shock, before he rubs his tip against your clit. You moan loudly, wanting nothing more than for him to continue fucking you as he was before.

He slides his cock back inside of you, and you whimper in pleasure. He thrusts harder into you, making you cry out. He starts fucking you faster, making you moan even louder. On a high, you reach between her legs, playing with your clit.

"Am I not good enough for you, baby?" he questions, laughing dryly.

"Help me out here," you answer. "I'm almost there, fuck!"

He reaches down, grabbing your hand. He makes you keep playing with yourself, all while he fucks you harder, making you moan louder. He pulls your hand away, and you cry out.

"I'm cumming, Matt," you whimper, and he unravels at the sound of his name leaving your lips, thrusting harder as his orgasm bursts through him. You finish too, letting out a loud moan as you shudder, the feeling coursing through your body.

Matt pulls out, and both of you immediately roll over and lie back down on the bed. You lay in silence, apart from their ragged breathing. A moment later, he turns to face you.

"Still not wanna sleep in here?" he asks smugly. You roll your eyes.

"I said sleep, not fuck," you scoff. "Now shut up or I'm gonna be showering alone."

Matt does in fact shut up.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE PT.2: hi LOL ??? i never know what to say in author's notes it's always so awkward but anyway... feel free to request anything you wanna see: matt, chris, or both!

#matt sturniolo #mattsturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chrissturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicksturniolo

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the-badger-mole · 2 days

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Father of the Bride

Hakoda swallowed hard against a lump in his throat. He had imagined this day so many times since Katara's birth. The details were different, though. She wasn't marrying a proven warrior from among their people. That was fine. She had spent so much time traveling the world, expanding her horizons, creating her own paths. Hakoda didn't think there were one in a thousand men at home who could keep up with the woman his daughter had become, and he had resigned himself to the fact that she might not end up with a Southern Tribe man years ago.

But he hadn't considered that her marriage might take her so permanently from home. A foolish oversight on his part, he admitted. And at least she would have the means to visit her family a few times a year. Still, he felt a pang. Same one he felt when he left his children behind with Kanna to go fight a war too big for him. Now that pang was tempered with bittersweet happiness as he watched the final preparations being made on Katara's wedding gown-a stunning piece of art even to Hakoda's untrained eye. All silks and linens in shades of blue and silver that recalled the bridal outfits of her homeland. Furs and leathers would be too hot for the climate, but Katara wanted to tell everyone up front how she would bring her own culture to merge with her new people. Her groom-to-be not only supported this decision, but had come to Hakoda and Sokka to ask them how he, too, could incorporate the Southern Water Tribe into the wedding on his end. That had been a long night, with strong drinks and stronger emotions, but at the end of it, Hakoda had decided that despite his initial misgivings about the marriage, he couldn't have picked a better son-in-law than Zuko.

Fire Lord Zuko. Fire Lord Zuko was going to be his son-in-law. Sometimes the thought made Hakoda chuckle. Sometimes it sent a chill down his spine. Not that he was worried about Zuko himself, but Katara's proximity to his throne. The crown. She would be coronated the next night in a ceremony as lavish as the wedding. She would become the Fire Lady. Co-ruler of the country that had spent a hundred years ruining countless lives with a war over something as silly as imperialist pride. Hakoda didn't think they deserved his daughter. If Zuko had earned his trust and respect, the rest of the Fire Nation certainly haven't. Not the nobles, anyway. When he brought them up to Katara, she laughed, though it didn't reach her eyes, which were flint hard and grimly determined. She told him no matter where she went in the world, she would have to fight for any respect she got. At least here she would have Zuko fighting beside her. Hakoda wasn't sure he agreed that was a worthy trade off, but he knew better than to try to talk his daughter out of it.

The Fire Nation had already benefited from her presence. As a foreign advisor, she had fostered trade and exchange agreements between the Fire Nation and all of the Water Tribes, Omashu and Gaoling. As an ambassador, she'd helped negotiate reparation packages that have helped the parts of the world hit hardest by the war recover. As one of Zuko's most trusted counselors, she'd helped him work the Fire Nation's budget so the government could provide for education, health and services for returning soldiers. The same kinds of programs she'd helped Hakoda and Sokka build in the Southern Water Tribe. It suddenly struck Hakoda that she had been acting as Fire Lady for a long time. Before she and Zuko had even realized they were in love, maybe. Today and tomorrow would just make it official. Hakoda still didn't think the Fire Nation deserved a Katara, but any chance he had of talking her out of it had long since slipped by him. And he now he wasn't sure he would talk her out of it, even if he did have the chance.

The final touches were done. The maids stepped back in a flurry of excited chatter. Kanna stepped forward, moving stiffly in her old age, smiling up at her granddaughter through tears. She had had this moment with Kya years ago, and Kya should be standing in her place now. Kanna reached out and ran her fingertips over the necklace she had passed to her daughter, and her daughter had passed on to Katara. Kya was here, Kanna assured herself. And Kya would be here with Katara as she made these next steps, first as a wife, then as a queen, then someday as a mother and grandmother herself.

"She would be so proud," Kanna told Katara. The two women embraced. Then Katara stood up, head high and looking as regal as any queen in any nation ever had, and turned to Hakoda.

"Are you ready, Dad?" she asked. Hakoda shook his head.

"I was never going to be ready for this," he confessed. "But it doesn't matter. You are ready."

#atla #zutara #fire lady katara #hakoda #father of the bride has a moment

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pseudowho · 2 days

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Behind the Wall

Who was this stressed, suited man...and how could you love him so easily?

A Higuruma Hiromi glory-hole story.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, feral smut and falling in love with a stranger.

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You knew him only as the man in the black and white suit. You had only seen the briefest glimpse of his clothes through your glory hole, after all.

"I don't normally-- I've never done this before...not that kind of guy--" he apologised, on the other side of the wall. His voice was smooth, deep and kind. You felt a little bubble of affection in your belly already.

"...well...I'm not that kind of girl," you teased, peeking a single come hither beckoning finger out of the glory hole, inviting him to your mouth, "...but something's got to pay the bills."

You heard the man's breath hitch, a shudder. You heard him unzip himself, and you settled on your knees, wiggling in anticipation. Waiting for a job to come up in a legal office was long...and while this wasn't the best use of your Law degree, you couldn't help but feel the thrill of doing something so sordid.

A cock, only half-hard and uncertain, but still so long, thick and pink-tipped beneath his silky foreskin, was eased gently through the hole. His voice sounded worried for you on the other side, and you pressed your fingers over your mouth, suppressing a smile.

"I'm...I'm not sure-- are you...are you sure?" The man in the suit stuttered. You leaned forwards, ghosting your lips over his cockhead, and the man gasped and moaned, a little trickle of salty pre-cum wetting your lips;

"Shhhh...you sound stressed," you cooed, "and I enjoy this, too. So let's have some fun." You held his length in your hand, and were satisfied to hear him whine and tremble, the dull knock of his hands and a knee pressing against the other wall. His cock swelled in your hand, twitching, and you rolled your thumb over his wet cockhead beneath the stretching hood of his foreskin.

"--so-- so stressed," he whined, pleading and begging you, "...you don't even... don't even know how bad...how bad my week has been..." His moans fractured as you began to pump his cock with your hand, from ball to tip, and he rutted forwards into your fist, "...haven't cum...can't remember the last time...so long...haaaah fuck, perfect, pleasepleaseplease, feels so good..."

"Yeah?" You whispered, bottom lip between your teeth, eyes closed as you drank down his little moans and gasps, purring at him, "Does that feel good? You sound desperate, baby. I bet you work so hard."

He whimpered into the affection; "--g-god yeah...feels amazing...your hand, fuck-- work so hard, s--so so hard...not got...don't have...have anyone, shit-- ohhhh-hhhhh--hh not gonna...not gonna last..."

You felt his cum-tight balls as you reached through, pulling them gently through the hole to massage them at the base of his cock. Your man cried out, all strained whimpers and cursing, and you heard his fingernails scrape against the other side of the wall; "Tell me what you want, beautiful stressed boy...how can I help you?"

"--spit--spit on my cock pleasepleaseplease in your mouth, pl--" He broke off into delirious shudders to feel your hot little mouth slick tightly around his cockhead, squeezing your lips into a tight ring, and using them to push his foreskin down as you sucked him into your mouth. With your tongue cupping his length while you sucked, bobbing your mouth around him, smooth and tasting his little spurts of pre-cum, his moans shot straight through you.

You hadn't felt as aroused as this, pleasuring a client before, but something about his frantic, begging desperation set your clit throbbing. Your hand drifted lazily between your legs, slipping between your glossy wet folds, rolling your clit under two fingers. You moaned around his length, and he cried out, cock throbbing, close to the edge.

Pulling your mouth back, and jacking off his red, aching cock with your spit and fist, you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear; "You sound so pretty, you've even got me touching myself--"

That was the last straw; your man in the rumpled suit came with a bark, sandy curses and whimpers. You took him back into your mouth, feeling heavy pulses of seed spilling out onto your tongue, flooding your mouth-- it obviously had been a long time for him.

"--arrrrghh god yes, shit, thank you-- so perfect, fuck, thank you-- oh ffff--ffuuuck in your mouth too...you're too good-- don't deserve-- dont deserve you--...haaaah...ahhhhh..."

You heard the wall tremble as your man came down from his high. His ears ringing, he vaguely heard your swallow. A weak whimper left him, and you giggled as another spurt of cum dampened your lips. You licked him clean, leaving him shivering with overstimulation, before placing a sweet little kiss to his cockhead.

"...come see me again?"

"F-fuck yes, absolutely-- absolutely."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You had barely worked that week, lost in job-hunting, coming up empty-handed at every turn. It was five days before you made it back to the glory hole, happily receiving a generous payment, and wondering vaguely about your stressed, lonely man in the rumpled suit. You settled in your booth; it took him just a few minutes to find you.

"...is it...is it you?" He asked tentatively. You grinned, nudging yourself forwards on your knees, just out of eyesight behind the gloryhole. You blushed, shaking yourself off as being ridiculous.

"...do you mean me?" You offered. You heard his sigh of delight. He laughed, a deep, rich sound.

"I worried I'd scared you away," he teased. You heard him start to unzip himself, before hesitating, "Uhm...can we...?"

"Quick," you whispered conspiratorially, "put something in my mouth before I start talking at you." He laughed again, a sound that sent flutters of butterflies through your tummy. His cock, already rock-hard and glistening at the tip, was pressed through the hole. You reached through to cup his balls, softly bringing them through. He shuddered; he had clearly been hoping you'd cup his sensitive balls for him again.

"You like it when I do this...?" You teased, rolling his heavy balls in one palm. Hearing him groan, and sigh with relief into your touch, you leaned your cheek against the wall, admiring the weight of him in your hand as you massaged him.

"...I...never knew I did, but...you're so good at it...shit, feel like I could cum-- cum just from that--"

"Hush," you mocked him, just to hear his shaking laugh again, "you deserve so much more than that." Taking his cock into your mouth, determined to take him into your throat this time, you revelled in the dulcet tones of him falling apart inside your hot little mouth again. You swirled your tongue around his cockhead, swiping into his leaking slit, suckling, examining, measuring him with your throat.

Your stressed man bucked involuntarily to feel his blunt cockhead stroke the back of your throat, and you gagged, swallowing around him. He wasn't able to last long, feeling the sides of your throat stretch around his leaking cock.

"--haaa--aaahhhhh fuck'msosorry...feel s'good...like this...haaahh fuckkkk....do you...do you like to read?"

Your throat convulsed around his length, sputtering as you burst into laughter. Your rumpled man convulsed too, swearing and stuttering as his orgasm hit him like a bus. You tried to catch his cum in your hand and mouth, but knelt, still laughing, his seed dripping down your cheeks as he groaned, bucking forwards, cock bounding thick spatters of seed onto you.

"...do I like to read?" You laughed, masturbating him to bring him down from his high. He whimpered into your wall again, a sound which was gradually conditioning you, into pussy-aching wetness.

"...I'm sorry, I...I just...fucking ignore me, I'm an idiot, I just..."

You laughed again, the twinkling sound shooting through him like daggers.

"...just...wanted to get to know you," he mumbled, and you could hear the mortified little pout through the wall.

You couldn't wait to see your rumpled man again. You didn't know how you resisted looking through the hole at him as he walked away. You called after him, and heard his footsteps hesitate for a moment, before he snorted with mirth.

"I love to read!"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"I want...to try something different this time. Please."

Your rumpled man sounded hoarse. His voice was tight, clipped. You could feel the stress pounding off him in waves, through your little window to him.

"...what would you like?" You answered, as if to a lover, not a client.

"Can you...can you come to the other window, instead?"

Ah...the gloryhole for fucking. A little flat bench where your ass, pussy and legs could lay, your body separated by a wall and curtain. Your eyelids fluttered to imagine the cock you knew well by now, stretching your pussy open, your mystery man clutching your thighs as he fucked into you. You imagined those desperate whimpers and moans for your cunt, instead of your mouth, and it made you throb.

"I mean...I don't normally..." you hesitated, feeling a twang of regret to disappoint him.

"No," he urged, sounding so fractious and desperate, "not that. I promise, not that. You...another time. Another way. I want...want to eat you out. Please."

You faltered again, arguing with him; "This is meant to be about you, not me, I'll take care of you--"

"Trust me," he begged, his palms flat on the wall now, "...this...this is what I need. I mean it. Please. Please."

God knew you couldn't resist his begging. You felt a trickle of arousal seep out of you, dampening your panties. The thought of that groaning mouth around your clit set you on fire.

"Well...alright then. If you insist." You moved round to the next window, and heard him follow, pacing and predatory. You shimmied out of your panties, swallowing thickly before you crept your ass and legs out of the window, down the table. When you settled, legs open, feeling so exposed, his palms held your thighs. You heard him curse under his breath.

"Fuck...you're beautiful." Your man said it so sincerely, in that lusty-low voice, that you blushed, your hands over your face as you lay on your back. You felt your thighs confidently lifted, draped over strong, broad shoulders. His voice was deep, hungry.

"...hope you've got something to hold onto, back there, my love."

Fuck, how you saw stars. You cried out in genuine bliss as he sunk his face between your folds. You tried climbing up desperately on your elbows to see him, but were woefully obscured by a black curtain. You could feel a powerful, prominent nose bridge nuzzling across your clit, that clever tongue plunging into your hole.

Those familiar groans, husky whispers and moans, were now muffled by your pussy. Your rumpled man was drinking the life out of you, making you twist and writhe, sucking your clit into his mouth with such force that you instinctively shied away up the couch. He gripped your thighs, yanking them back over his shoulders as you squeaked. He growled, sinking his prominent front teeth into the soft inner squish of your thighs.

"No. Get back here so I can fuck you with my mouth." You sobbed against the pleasure, your toes curling against the backs of his shoulders. Crying out as he shook his head from side-to-side with a rusty growl, you twitched and jerked, having never felt yourself dragged to orgasm so forcefully.

"Oh my fuc--fucking god, you're so good at that-- oh fuck don't stop-- don't stop don'tstopdon'tstoppleasepleaseplease--"

You didn't need to beg to make him continue. Already feeling on the edge of a savage high, you felt three long fingers, bunched together and lubricated with his own spit, plunge into your hole. A high, keening cry left you, and he found your soft spot immediately, fucking his fingertips against your belly.

"--thassit--fucking amazing...beautiful girl, c'mon...deserve the best, shit--"

One final suck of your clit into his mouth had you rolling over the edge. Silence rang from the other active booths around you, the clients and girls listening in awe as you moaned and whimpered your way through the most spectacular orgasm you'd ever felt. Your hands plunged past the curtain into his hair, tugging on it, thick and silky between your fingers.

Your rumpled man was groaning, whimpering, those familiar sounds you knew he only made when he came. Ths silence rang loudly through the booths, as you both came down from your highs.

One little voice from somewhere across the room; "...fucking hell." A few smattered laughs, and the slow sounds of others continuing their work of mouths and hands. You were dazed, lost on cloud nine, panting. Your hands came back to you, some inky black strands caught between your fingers. That familiar voice between your legs, so much less tense now.

"...so, uh...reckon I could get a job here? Do I pass the interview?"

You couldn't help how you laughed.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"...have you...do you see anyone else...apart from me?"

Why did you feel so guilty?

"I...I do, yeah. No regulars though. And nobody I actually enjoy, like...like you." It was true. Your goofy, stressed, rumpled man had ruined you for anyone else. You felt a jealous prickle from him on the other side of the wall.

"...I....do you have to keep doing this?" He pleaded with you.

"...well...can't find any legal secretary jobs, so--"

"Excuse me?"

You faltered. Had you said something wrong? You began to repeat yourself, but he interrupted you.

"All this time...I'm a-- I'm a lawyer," he choked out, and you ran cold, stunned. You laughed nervously.

"...so that's why you're so stressed." He laughed with you, swearing quietly to himself.

"I'm sure..." he offered, sly and sincere, "...I'm sure we could do with another legal secretary."

You knelt, stunned, your mouth dry and heart pounding in anticipation. You heard him speak again.

"Listen... how about you come out here, and say hello properly...and I take you out for dinner? No strings, no expectations, just...dinner."

You were silent. He begged.

"Please...I've got to see you. Please."

Trembling, pulling your clothes on, you acquiesced. Before stepping out from behind the back curtain, your shaking voice joked; "Well, you asked for it...drumroll please."

You laughed to hear him patter two hands rapidly on the wall. You stepped out.

Tall. Black-haired. Hooked-nosed. Hangdog-eyed. And, staring into you, as if you were a goddess made flesh. You had never felt so beautiful. He turned, and blushed, his hands cupping his mouth and nose as he looked towards the ceiling. He groaned, mortified at his past behaviour.

"...you never told me you were so lovely."

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natsukishinomiyaswife · 2 days

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𝓢𝓪𝓿𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓬𝓵𝓪𝔀: 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓕𝓸𝓸𝓭

This is a series featuring the Twisted Wonderland cast in different scenarios where they show the Reader their love through food! Starting with Savanaclaw ♡ Enjoy! ♡

𝓛𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓪 𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓻

☆ When you're sick ☆

⋆ You were fast asleep, having spent the past few days sick. You still felt horrible, spending most of your time coughing or sleeping. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt something shake you, a voice slowly sounding clearer as you begin to stir.

"Wake up. If I have to be awake then so do you."

Your eyes open slowly as you wake up, feeling groggy as Leona stops shaking you. He's sitting next to where you lay in bed, holding a bowl in one hand while the other rests on your shoulder. A smirk comes to his face as you look up at him, using his free hand to move some hair out of your face. He helps you sit up before handing you the bowl, cradling it to make sure you didn't drop it. Since you've been sick you haven't been able to eat much, either unable to keep it down or getting nauseous at the idea of food.

⋆ Your stomach growls as you look down at the soup he brought you, one of your favorites. As you sit there staring at it he nudges your shoulder, holding out a spoon for you to use.

"Eat. Even if it's just a bite."

You eat what you can, Leona taking the bowl from you once you were done. He comes back with a water bottle, holding it up to your mouth. After he made sure you had something to drink, he moved to lay next to you in bed, pulling you into his arms. You feel him bite your neck in affection before licking it, your eyes closed as you became drowsy.

"Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." ♡

𝓡𝓾𝓰𝓰𝓲𝓮 𝓑𝓾𝓬𝓬𝓱𝓲

☆ Sharing ☆

⋆ You were at the park, sitting in the grass next to Ruggie. A box of donuts sat in front of you, more closer to him than yourself. A nearby bakery was having a sale that day, you and Ruggie deciding to split the cost and get a box of donuts to share. Since the weather was nice, you chose to enjoy them at the park, finding a secluded place to sit.

Each donut he took out of the box he broke in half, giving you one half while enjoying the other. You were surprised by this, expecting to just eat the ones you bought while leaving the rest for him.

⋆ He noticed your surprise, laughing as he broke another one in half. As he handed you your piece you asked him why he was splitting them this way, his answer making your face heat up.

"Well...it tastes better when I share it with you. Any food, really. That doesn't mean you should expect this all the time! I still gotta eat, ya know?"

He laughs, a grin coming to his face before he pauses, staring at your mouth. There were some crumbs on your lips, a little bit of frosting too. Before you realize it, he's already leaning in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"Wouldn't want any to go to waste, shyeheehee!" ♡

𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓸𝔀𝓵

☆ Unexpected surprise ☆

⋆ You felt exhausted, both mentally and physically, looking towards the clock. Your day had been horrible, with nothing seeming to go right. Your work was understaffed, with customers acting rude and angrier than usual. You just wanted to go home and crawl into bed, glaring at the clock as if it would make time go faster.

As you were ringing someone up you noticed a familiar face enter, greeting him with a smile as he made his way to the counter. He waited until you were free before he approached you, handing you a bag. You looked at him confused for a moment, Jack simply saying he got you something. You opened the bag to find your favorite dessert, purchased from a bakery you like.

"I was in the area. You sounded pretty upset earlier, so I thought this might help."

⋆ You were touched by the gesture, a smile coming to your face as you thanked him. You knew he must have gone out of his way to get it, the bakery you liked being located on the other side of town. You leaned across the counter, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. The tips of his ears turned red as he looked to the side, his tail wagging behind him.

"I'll be back to walk you home when your shift ends. If you need me to come sooner, just call." ♡

I hope you enjoyed! ♡ Which dorm should I do next? ♡

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

#♡.sheep writes #♡.twst #♡.leona kingscholar #♡.ruggie bucchi #♡.jack howl #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #leona kingsholar x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #jack howl x reader #leona x reader #ruggie x reader #jack x reader #savanaclaw

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luffington · 1 day

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young master ♡

➤ summary: You don't worship the ground Doflamingo walks on, and it turns him on a little too much. (18+)

➤ pairing: doflamingo x afab!reader

➤ word count: 3.7k

➤ warnings: kinda sub!doflamingo (he’s a horny menace), mild dubcon, possessive doffy, spit kink, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), degradation, name-calling

➤ notes: this takes place before dressrosa but i’m only halfway done with the arc so sorry for any inaccuracies! i haven't posted my writing online in years so please lmk what you think :3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Doflamingo was sulking. His signature smile was comically turned upside down and his arms were crossed over his chest. Feet resting on top of his desk as he leaned back in his plush office chair, crumpling the important documents strewn underneath them that he was meant to review and sign. He knew he probably looked like a petulant child, and he felt like one, too. This was all your fucking fault.

Even though you were only in your twenties, you were already a well-known Vice Admiral. Vergo had informed Doflamingo of your impressive Haki abilities months ago, but that wasn’t the only reason he kept a close eye on you. You were sexy as hell, even in a Marines uniform, and he delighted in every brief interaction he had with you at Warlord meetings. When you decided to take some time off, he snatched you up immediately with a tantalizing job offer. After all, working for him was technically still a Government job, and he was helping so many countries in need!

You made it clear from the very beginning that this was a temporary gig and you had no intention of permanently joining the Donquixote Family. You were his business partner, not his subordinate. He never planned on honoring that agreement, of course, but you were making his plans particularly difficult.

The man had hundreds of thousands – if not millions – of loyal and passive subjects. Obedient workers who never questioned his judgment and praised his iron fist, from the filthy commoners at the bottom to the Elite Officers up top. But not you.

You had the kind of effortless confidence that got under his skin. You were unbothered and detached from his evil antics, from him. He made his presence known everywhere he went and was always the focus of the room, but it seemed like you paid more attention to the damn servants than him. His threats and intimidation which made thousands tremble in fear hardly made you flinch. When he revealed the secret of Dressrosa’s toys in hopes of getting a reaction from you, you practically yawned.

You knew who he was. You knew what he was capable of. You didn’t fucking care.

You weren’t afraid of him, and this greatly disturbed him.

A few days ago, you had strolled into his office without even knocking on the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, but you barely took notice. You were there to discuss your agreement in order to figure out a time frame of how long he needed you. He threw his head back and laughed loudly as he said, “That’s adorable. You really think you can get away from me, hm?”

Perceptive as always, you noticed the slightest twitch of his middle finger and immediately held an Armament Haki-coated hand in front of your chest, blocking the nearly invisible string flung your way. “Doffy, I’m being serious.”

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. Diamante used that nickname once in front of you and now you wouldn’t call him anything else. You thought it was cute. “Since when can you block my strings?”

“Do you really think I’d be a Vice Admiral if I couldn’t do that? You were so obvious about it, too.” You clicked your tongue, knowing full well that anyone less powerful than you wouldn’t be able to perceive his movement. Prominent veins popped in Doflamingo’s forehead but the blonde man stayed silent. “I think I’ll stay here for a few more months, at least. Maybe longer if I don’t have a terrible time here. Dressrosa is kind of growing on me.”

“You’re acting like I can’t keep you here by force.” Doflamingo interrupted your train of thought. “I could have Sugar turn you into a cute little doll, and then your Vice Admiral position would disappear. Or Giolla could turn you into a painting to hang on my wall.” He paused as if considering his options, knowing full well what he truly wanted. “Maybe I’ll keep you tied up with strings as my own personal pet.”

Many times he’d pictured you tied to the headboard of his bed, stripped naked and covered in his drying cum as he used you however he wanted. Perhaps then he’d finally ignite a spark of fear in you.

“If you actually wanted to do that, it would’ve happened already. But you’re the one who hired me, remember?” You acted like you were explaining something obvious to a kid. “If you try anything against me, I can always call up the Navy and tell them what you’re doing to your poor innocent citizens. Maybe even let them know your alias? Begins with a J, right?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He snarled, sitting up in his seat immediately and binding strings around your wrists to keep them pinned above your head. You kept your eyes trained on his, a determined and almost taunting glint in them.

“I’m not a big fan of blackmail, so I don’t want to do that,” you replied in an even tone. “I’m just saying that I can. Now, are we gonna talk business, or are you gonna play cat’s cradle all day?”

Doflamingo should’ve killed you right then and there. That would’ve put an end to his confusing thoughts about you, but your conversation only made them worse. You were on his mind constantly, to the point where he couldn’t focus on anything else. It was an obsession, an infatuation, one completely unbecoming of a heavenly being like himself. People were meant to grovel at his feet and kiss the very ground he walked on – why the fuck were you not affected?

He finally had enough. He pushed the chair away from his desk and stormed out of his office. Servants hurried away in fear, knowing that his scowl and heavy footsteps meant nothing but trouble. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled around his mind — he wanted to make you scream, to completely immobilize you with his power, to kiss you so hard you saw stars. No, that wasn’t it.

He wanted you to call him ‘Young Master’.

Doflamingo threw open the double doors to a secluded drawing room in his typical dramatic flair. You were alone, reclining on a couch and reading a book. Even this pissed him off – you were in a potential viper’s nest, surrounded by powerful people who could turn on you at any point, yet you didn’t feel the need to keep others around you for protection. You turned your head towards the intruder in confusion. His massive body filled the door frame and light from the hallway illuminated him and his feathery coat from behind, making him look like a fallen angel.

“What Devil Fruit did you eat.” It was a statement, not a question. His voice was a dangerously low growl.

“I already told you, I didn’t eat one.” You said slowly, slightly thrown off by his demeanor but still not afraid.

“You lying bitch!” He roared, using his strings to slam the doors behind him as he crossed the room towards you in three giant steps. “You must have some kind of mind control ability, or manipulation, or… I don’t fucking know! Tell me what’s happening!” He threw his head in his hands and crouched over, almost as if he was in pain. “Why can’t I stop fucking thinking about you!”

Your mouth opened slightly and you blinked a few times to process the situation, and then it hit you. A sly grin slowly formed on your face as you dog-eared your book and set it down next to you. You knew this man was incapable of love in its purest sense, but maybe… “Doffy, have you never been attracted to someone before?”

His head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at you furiously behind his sunglasses. Of course he’d fucking been attracted to people – he refused to settle for nothing but the best with his lovers. He had fucked enough sexy men and women over the years to form a small army. But none of them were like you.

They were all cheaply made toys, suitable for one or two uses then tossed in the trash when they broke or when he got bored. He was a greedy and spoiled child who always got what he wanted. But with you… it felt like he was staring through the front window of a shop at a shiny new toy. So close and so enticing but completely out of reach.

“Fuck you! I… I…” You would never know how that sentence was supposed to end, because he sunk to his knees and hung his head in frustrated shame. He slammed his fist against the floor hard enough to rattle the room. “Why won’t you belong to me?!”

The almighty King of Dressrosa, the feared Warlord, the powerful underground broker, was on his knees begging for you. He knew he sounded pathetic. He felt pathetic. But he couldn’t go a moment longer without getting what he wanted, what was rightfully his.

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You had always stood your ground because you knew your worth, but sometimes you did it to purposely push the blonde man’s buttons since no one else seemed to have the courage to do so. But you were just teasing him – this was not the outcome you had in mind.

You slowly stood from the couch to move in front of him. Even bent over, the massive man was practically your height, but he had never seemed smaller.

“Doffy,” you began in a quiet voice and reached out to gently touch his feather-clad shoulder, but he slammed the ground again.

“I don’t need you to patronize me! I need…” he trailed off again and hesitated for a moment before realizing what he needed to do to calm the fire roaring inside him. Fine, he would give you a fucking reason to worship him. He threw himself at your midsection, making you yelp in surprise. He had finally drawn a reaction out of you, and it spurred him on even more. Rough hands yanked your shirt up to your breasts and he hungrily mouthed at the soft skin of your tummy, a frenzied mess of tongue and teeth and soft lips. “I need you. Give yourself to me.” He said breathlessly, punctuating his words with a sharp bite at your hip.

You were frozen in place but weak in the knees, unable to do anything but accept his bites and bruises. You’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined what his long tongue and nimble fingers felt like on your body, in your body. He nipped at your skin hard enough to bruise then soothed it with his tongue, sending heat straight to your core.

Doflamingo was in a drugged-like haze, mind clouded with a dizzying mix of lust and hatred and longing. He belatedly noticed that you weren’t resisting him when he popped the button on your jeans. When he looked up, he realized your cheeks were flushed and your gaze was trained on his long fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants.

He smiled wickedly, feeling a sliver of regained control. “You fucking whore. You want this, don’t you?”

“Doffy, you’re the one literally trying to get in my pants.”

“Shut up.” He snarled, annoyed yet allured by your sweet giggle afterwards. He yanked your jeans down to your ankles to reveal pretty pink lace panties underneath. They practically matched the color of his coat – you had to have worn those just for him. Might as well take them later.

A needy and unashamed whine tore from his lips when he saw your pussy. Even more perfect than he’d imagined all those times he fucked his fist alone in bed. He told himself this was what was necessary to crush that annoying ego of yours, knowing full well he was nearly shaking with pure carnal desire. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise and shoved your thighs apart before diving in. His tongue was ravenous, licking a sloppy stripe from your ass to your clit, mouth closing around the nub and sucking harshly. The sweetest moan he’d ever heard fell from your lips and he echoed it, eager to hear more.

Fingers tangled in his short blonde hair as you tried to steady yourself. It was too much all at once. You tried to tug him away to tell him to slow down, yet wanted to pull him even closer. Doflamingo flinched at the contact. Part of him wanted to tie your hands behind your back because how dare you touch him without permission. But instead, he groaned at the rough pull on his scalp, which went straight to his hardening cock. His grip on you tightened as he dragged you further onto his face.

His long tongue lapped messily at your folds then slipped into your cunt, shallowly thrusting the wet tip in and out. He laughed in delight at your delicious juices coating his tastebuds and making his head spin.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He panted and rubbed his nose against your clit, making you jump. A sloppy string of his saliva still connected his mouth to your entrance. “I think you like me after all.”

“I’d like anyone who eats me out this good,” you quipped.

“But no one’s as good as me, hm?” To prove his point, he shoved the entirety of his skilled tongue deep inside you. You threw your head back and whined as the wet muscle curled and twisted inside you, hungrily lapping at your sensitive inner walls. “No one will ever be as good as me. Say you’re mine and you can have this every day.”

“F-fuck, Doffy… so, mmh, good…” He ate you out like a man starved, desperately sucking at every part of your pussy he could reach. One hand moved from your hip, leaving dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises behind, and plunged into his own pants. He let out a deep groan at the contact.

“Call me Young Master.” Doflamingo breathed heavily as he pulled his pants down slightly. Your jaw dropped when he revealed his massive and fully erect dick, leaking beads of precum and bobbing against his stomach. You knew he’d be big based on his height, but this was inhuman. The blonde man noticed your hungry gaze and chuckled. “You want me so badly. Stop denying the truth and I’ll give you everything you want. I am a benevolent king, after all.”

You actually laughed at that, and he didn’t even try to be angry – being on full display for you meant he couldn’t hide the way your disobedience made his cock twitch. His other hand slithered between your legs and rubbed at your folds and the smile fell off your face.

You stumbled backwards – there was nothing behind you to lean on and your legs were quickly turning into jelly. “W-wait, Doffy, I can’t, ahh, l-let me sit…”

Two of his fingers moved downwards and bound your feet to the floor with his string. Immobilizing your bottom half like a statue but intentionally leaving your top half free to grab at his hair and body as you pleased. “Your king will grant you permission to move when I want to.”

“S’okay, I l-like seeing you look up to me for once.” Your witty reply was lost on the blonde, who had spread your folds apart and was hypnotized by your entrance clenching around nothing. You were so fucking tiny compared to him and he ached at the thought of molding your insides to take him and him alone.

Just one thick finger was enough to make you moan and pant, slowly pushing its way inside your cunt. “Shit, you’re so tight.” The soft squelches of your inner walls rang in his ears and pretty pearls of precum leaked from his dick. “Perfect fucking pussy. Give it to me.”

A second digit was soon added, scissoring you apart expertly. Unsurprisingly, the man really knew how to use his fingers. He crooked them and brushed against your most sensitive spot, causing you to cry out and hold onto him even harder. Sharp teeth playfully bit at your inner thigh in response. Doflamingo gathered some of the constant dribble of precum from the tip of his cock to lube his rough palm. He considered making you spit on his hand to ease the glide, but a better idea came to mind.

“Spit in my mouth.” He ordered, tilting his head up and sticking his tongue out. Waiting for you to follow his command like a good toy.

You were taken aback by the sudden request, but you gathered a ball of spit in your mouth like you were told… and it landed directly on the lens of his sunglasses, obscuring the vision of one eye. Doflamingo knew that it wasn’t just badly aimed. This was an act of defiance. You intentionally spit on his defining accessory, his very essence.

“You stupid slut.” The venomous insult came with a maniacally pleased grin. He pushed the stained glasses onto his forehead and you finally saw his eyes for the first time. Gorgeous and bright blue with lust-blown pupils. Looking at his beautifully depraved expression in its entirety, you briefly wondered if he really was an angel. His fingers sped up to a nearly brutal pace and he slipped in a third digit, causing you to choke on your spit. “Love me. Love me.”

A divine being who fell from heaven to beg at your feet.

“Y-you’re fucking insane,” you panted with a blissful smile, your cunt clenching down deliciously on him. “Make up your, mmh, mind.”

“Adore me.” He responded immediately. “Say you’re mine. Be mine.”

Even though you refused to respond, the blonde was lost in his fantasies yet grounded in the reality of your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure. Mouth hanging open, hands nearly going numb from how hard you held onto him. He needed to see you like this every day – no, every hour. He could keep you under his desk like a pet, ready to suck his dick whenever he allowed you to. Or maybe you’d sit in his lap all day, one of his hands fondling your tits as he attended meetings and forced his subordinates to watch him play with his favorite toy.

But that was too mundane. He could snatch up anyone in Dressrosa right now and do the same. No, the twisted fantasy that really made his cock ache was already happening. That annoyingly sexy confidence of yours was threatening his godliness.

Maybe he’d make you step on him next time.

“Call me Young Master,” he begged again, too far gone to realize how ridiculous he sounded. Tongue hanging out like a dog (and panting like one, too), he rutted into his hand even faster. His cock was absolutely throbbing, red and angry and dripping precum. He was in no position to be giving orders. You stifled a giggle with your hand, which quickly turned into a moan as his fingers bumped against your cervix.

“I already t-told you,” you sucked in a few shaky breaths. He was watching you intently and still smiling, but his fingers never slowed down. “You’re not my –mm– Master, I don’t, ahh, work for you…”

“But why not?” He whined again. “At least call me it when you cum. I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t.”

You didn’t acknowledge the ridiculously empty threat, instead throwing your head back when his fingers crooked against your most sensitive spot. Slick was dribbling down your legs – Doflamingo licked it off of your thighs before slurping around his digits buried inside you. The blonde echoed your unashamedly loud moans, practically on the edge himself. He only needed one thing to send him into a rapturous white bliss.

He stared up at you unblinkingly, face frozen in a grin as he took in all the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. Sweat dribbled down your forehead, eyebrows furrowed together, body tense and breath hot. “I-I’m gonna… gonna…” He crooked his fingers inside you the way he’d done thousands of times to turn people into obedient little puppets.

“Doffy~!” Your face contorted into the most divine expression he’d ever seen, crying out his name like a desperate prayer.

You ignored his order. You used that stupid fucking nickname.

He came hard.

The tight coil that had been building in his groin for days at the mere thought of you finally snapped. An animalistic moan left his lips as thick ropes of cum coated his hand and spilled onto his abdomen. He looked even more blissed out than you, panting hard and shuddering and nearly overstimulating himself with the hand on his cock still slowly moving up and down.

Doflamingo finally removed his fingers from inside you and loudly sucked them clean of your essence. Still craning his neck upwards so he wouldn’t break eye contact with you. You could lose yourself inside that piercing gaze, so full of obsession and hunger, especially when it was coming from a position of worship rather than condescension.

Blinking out of your stupor, you realized the blonde’s cum-coated hand was in front of your mouth. If you were anyone else, he would’ve shoved his fingers all the way to your throat and made you choke on it. Instead, he stayed still and kept quiet. This was an offering.

You grabbed his wrist and kitten-licked his sticky palm twice, humming thoughtfully as if appraising the taste. His grin grew even wider. Then you pulled away and teasingly said, “You take care of the rest of it.”

Doflamingo simply giggled in delight — you’d willingly tasted the essence of a god, one that was soon to be your god, but you were still too stubborn to give in. He didn’t expect you to crumble so easily and he didn’t want you to. He was having way too much fun. The blonde smeared the rest of his cum on the crotch of the pink panties still pooled around your ankles.

“That’s disgusting.” You huffed in annoyance and rolled your eyes. “What am I supposed to wear out of here?”

The man chuckled lowly and rose to his feet, suddenly towering above you at full height. He wiped the dried spit off of his sunglasses before returning them to their rightful place on the bridge of his nose.

“Who said anything about leaving?” You paled at the sight of his devilish grin but felt your core clench in need. “You still haven’t called me by my proper title.”

#mine #doflamingo x reader #doflamingo smut #doffy x reader #doflamingo #doffy #one piece x reader #one piece smut

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grandlinedreams · 13 hours

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|| i regret nothing I need Cooper Howard viscerally both pre and post Ghoulification

|| notes: semi Canon compliant, spoiler-ish for end of s1, semi-shifting pov, Lucy is adorable but baby girl you will be chewed up and spat out pls grow more spine, Dogmeat has never done anything wrong ever, godbless Cooper having a southern accent bc that's my accent, yeah, gonna do a sequel to this and a prequel on Coop and reader's first meeting, ok bye

|| warnings: weapons supplier!reader, couple of allusions to cannibalism, reader is not specifically gendered, NSFW ㅡ fingering/touching

“Where are we going?”

Not for the first time today, or even the last week, Cooper questions why he's letting the Vaultie (“Lucy,” she informs him primly, “my name is Lucy.”) tag along. The dog, at least, is a good, reliable companion. Dogmeat trots dutifully at his side, her tail wagging as he stops to glare at Lucy.

“Supplies, Vaultie,” he tells her, relishes the flicker of annoyance in her eyes. “Need supplies or we'll both be knee deep in shit.” He pauses. “More than we already are.”

She mumbles something he doesn't care to catch as he resumes walking, rolling his eyes as he adjusts his hat. He knows he could stand to be a little more sympathetic with the bombshell she's still dealing with, but he can't bring himself to ㅡ not when his daughter might still be alive out there, somewhere. (And his ex-wife, who he's pointedly trying to not think about too much.)

Lucy is blessedly quiet for a good while, all the way until they get closer to where they're going. Cooper doesn't need that piece of shit vault-tec device on her arm to know where he is, but Lucy says it anyways.

“It's a town,” she mumbles at the cluster of ramshackle buildings, surrounded by the clustering of trees so much like Filly ㅡ but isn't. “Is thisㅡ”

“Yes,” he answers, “now shut it and walk.”

Lucy huffs. “I don't know if you've realized neither of us have means to pay for anything,” she protests, “but the general rule ofㅡ”

“Vaultie.” If looks could kill, she'd be six feet under. He's never had much patience, but she’s already reached the bottom of it and keeps digging. “Shut the fuck up about your goddamn rules. If you haven't noticed, nobody up here gives a damn about playing by what's wrong and what's right.” He gives her a meaningful look. “Now if you don't want me to leave your ass to whatever comes along next, you'll be quiet and let me handle it.”

Lucy's mouth shuts with an audible click, and Cooper turns on his heel to resume walking, Dogmeat at his heels.

Like Filly, the center of buildings bustle with the day to day of so many others, the cacophony of animal sounds along with chatter ㅡ Cooper spares Lucy a brief glance to watch her struggle to keep up and scoffs to himself, shaking his head as he continues.

He knows where he's going, a little shop shoved between two others, narrow but deeper than the other two, because he's been here before. Several times, actually. Which accounts for the familiarity with which he strolls over the threshold and leaves Lucy and Dogmeat to follow.

There's the jingle of what might be a bell over Lucy's head when she follows, blinking at the interior. Neat and tidy, or at least as much as can pass for such things on the surface ㅡ rows of weapons and other assorted things on shelves and stands.

Lucy watches The Ghoul rap his fist on the counter. “I know you're here,” he calls, “you never leave this damn place!”

She expects whoever it is to come scuttling out with the tone of voice he uses and being as accustomed to his rougher attitude, and she listens to the clatter of something further in the shop.

“If that's your greeting nowadays,” comes the answer, “you can fuck off.”

To Lucy’s surprise, The Ghoul husks a laugh instead of offering another threat. Footsteps approach, and Lucy blinks at the person who rounds the corner.

“You,” you accuse, finger almost into his chest, “thought I told you I was done dealing with you if you couldn't work on your manners.”

Lucy stares, and watches as you turn towards her and raise an eyebrow, eyeing her with unrestrained curiosity, then at Dogmeat. “A vaultie and a dog,” you say, then glance back at The Ghoul. “So, taking in strays, huh?”

The Ghoul grimaces. “Guess so.” He clears his throat. “Need supplies again, sweetheart.”

“Figured as much,” you say, arms folding across your chest. Lucy decides she likes you, because you're standing up to him ㅡ and he's letting you. “Take it you have no way of paying, again.”

Lucy wants to tell The Ghoul I told you so, because he can shit on all her little rules all he likes but the surface still deals in keeping the scales balanced. You have to eat too, so it's fair that you're expecting payment in the nonexistent caps they have. The Ghoul, on the other hand, tries a different route.

“Oh come on now sugar,” The Ghoul wheedles, tone almost what could be considered as sweet. Playing at a gentleman for the way he leans against the cobbled together counter, even goes as far as to take his hat off and place it down. “Don't be like that.”

“Don't you sugar me,” you counter with an attitude that honestly startles Lucy for both the lack of genuine bite or answering hostility from The Ghoul. This isn't the first time you've met, she realizes, and is also quietly a little horrified to register that this almost sounds like flirting. “You're a pain in the ass, you know that?”

The Ghoul almost grins. “At least I'm consistent. Besides, you know you miss me when I'm gone.”

You snort, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. Lucy feels a tiny bit uncomfortable with the atmosphere, like she's watching something she shouldn't be privy to.

“Yeah, yeah,” you answer, bustling around to shove several fabric wrapped packs into his chest and giving him a meaningful look. “You owe me.”

It's definitely flirting now, Lucy notes as The Ghoul's face lights up in a way that's still entirely human, tracking your movements with something far softer than anything she's ever seen from him.

The turn towards her and head jerk to her and Dogmeat is as clear as dismissal as she's ever seen, to make herself scarce ㅡ so she does, but not before she catches the peripheral glimpse of the way you let him reach for you, almost melting into him for the way he moves to undoubtedly murmur something.

That something is not the sweet words of a long time lover, but it's probably about as close as you're going to get with things the way they are.

“Anyone causin’ you trouble lately?”

You roll your eyes. “Besides you?” He gives you a look, and you shake your head. “No, and even if there was, you know I can handle myself.” You turn to throw him a teasing look over your shoulder. “Don't tell me you're getting soft on me, old man.”

It's Cooper's turn to snort, even as he moves to follow you. There's a sort of peace to watching you sort through boxes of shell casings and bottles of powder, letting his gaze drift over your body.

When you turn, he doesn't even bother to hide the way he's watching you, and you arch an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he returns. “Can't I admire you?”

You roll your eyes. “I'm too expensive for you, Cooper.” It's a playful taunt, one that incites a little flare of something in his eyes as he approaches, the jingle of his spurs as he comes to loom over you, cages you in against the shelves of “inventory”.

“Really now,” he drawls, leans in, eyes predatory dark. A lifetime ago, you might have been scared. But the wastelands made no qualms about beating fear out of people just as quick as it snuffed out life all together. “Here I was thinkin’ I might get a discount.” He reaches, thumbs at your bottom lip with his gloved digit. “What's the askin’ price, sweetheart?”

This close, he smells like the wastelands and sunbaked leather, with a little bit of blood ㅡ but you don't mind. Never have, not sure you ever will. Not when it comes to him, anyways.

He's a dangerous man. A man with a reputation that's well-earned, spoken in hushed whispers and anything but nice. But you let him slot a leg between yours, lean in, press his lips to your hair. You smell like gunpowder and hot metal, grease stained fingertips and more than a couple bruises and scars for your efforts.

Sometimes Cooper contends with the idea he might need you just as much as he needs that chem that keeps him sane. Admits it here and there, quietly to himself when he wanders in, squashes it down that he makes the trips sometimes just to make sure you're still alive. Not like he'd know if you were, till he sees you. Not sure what he'd do if he someday came up and found you gone. No note, no goodbye ㅡ quick and quiet, the cruelty of the wastelands.

“Didn't answer my question, darlin’.” He mumbles, lips to your cheeks now. Soft skin, kept carefully with rationed doses of radaway and a healthy heap of keeping your cute little self out of business that doesn't involve you. “Come on, I asked you real nicely.”

You hook your fingers in the loops of his belt, pull him closer. He can feel the jump of your heartbeat under his lips, now at your jawline. A soft, shaky inhale. Selfishly, he wants to keep you. Steal you away, greedy to keep you for himself. Hates the idea of whatever scum that rolls in that you have to deal with on your own. You can handle yourself, he knows that.

Doesn't stop that little piece of him that's still truly Cooper Howard from worrying. But he knows better than to think he can protect you, because he can't. So he does what he can.

Your skin is soft under his teeth, forgiving to the nip of them, the blooming blossom of pink that reminds him of strawberries. The noise you make is just as sweet, and he wonders if you'd taste like that, too.

“I'm waiting,” he prompts between little nips, mouth curving against your flesh when you grip at him tighter. There's a lot he could do to you, and not a lot you wouldn't let him. “Don't tell me this big ol’ cat’s got your tongue, little songbird.”

Your lips part, and he expects either a sparky response or a soft plea for what this is tilting towards, partaking of something far softer than anything he's used to nowadays ㅡ but you’ve always had a taste for throwing him for a loop, and you do it now.

“Take me with you.”

That snaps him out of his little hazy, touch-greedy daze, enough that he pulls away to look at you properly. “Repeat that?”

“You heard me.” You tug at the loops of his belt, eyes steely, expression firm. “Take me with you. Tired of this shitty little outpost. Figure it's time to move before I get myself into trouble I can't get out of.”

Cooper laughs. “Think you're runnin’ straight into that fire by askin’ what you're askin’, sweet thing.” A warning and a plea, mixed mish-mash in his words. Part of him wants you to stay here. Concrete, much as it can be, where he knows where you are. Other part says it'd be easier to watch your back if he saw it all the time.

“That's not an answer, Cooper.”

He snorts, softens at the edges again, a little sadder as he reaches to stroke your jawline, leans to bump his forehead to yours ㅡ radiation warm against radaway cold. “Wanna make sure you know what you're asking for, darlin’. I ain't your babysitter. Got my own shit to do.”

“I know.” There's that fire in your voice, the kind he loves and hates at the same time. “Wasn't asking for you to babysit me.”

He swallows roughly. Lets his hands drift up your sides, tug at the tuck of your shirt, underneath to drag sun-worn leather against the soft skin of your abdomen. Relishes the way you shiver, leaning into his touch. “Can't promise nothin’, you know that.”

Your smile promises the same kind of heartbreak his own words do, the kind rooted in the reality that the world doesn't deal in any absolute but death, and sure as shit won't give happy endings. Not anymore. “I know.”

Cooper can't think of what to say to that, at least anything he's ready to, so he kisses you. Your lips are too soft against his, the warmth of your mouth reigniting that greedy, needy, human thing inside him. He pulls, digs his fingers into your soft, pliant skin, and he takes.

Takes what you willingly give him, hand over hand with nothing but that pretty little smile of yours. He muffles your gasp as he wedges his leg a little firmer, coaxes the part of your legs with a rough husk of, “just like that, dollface,” and delights too much in the sound of you moaning for him.

Hushed, quiet enough that there's no reason for Dogmeat or Lucy to come back yet (he doesn't know what they're up to nor does he really fuckin’ care at the moment), he lets himself indulge in the pleasure of your body against his. The sweet little sounds, half-gasped as he mouths at your neck, hitched to something almost like music as his hands wander.

Pauses long enough to bite at the tip of his glove and tug, one then two, the bare, radiation scarred wander of his fingers over your body. It's selfish, the way he covets every little twitch and jump of your muscles, the choked gasp as he guides you into rocking against his leg.

“You're so sweet for me, sugar,” he coos, syrupy as he picks you apart meticulously, piece by piece. Fingers still far too good at what they do when he replaces his leg with the press of them against you, remnants of a past life for how well he gets you to whimper his name. “Like ambrosia.”

His fingers stroke, deceptively gentle, working over your slick, too-hot, achy skin until you’re panting and gripping at him, pleading for a relief only he can give you. And that’s exactly how he wants you, where all you can see and think of is him.

The expression you make when he finally lets you come might truly be the most beautiful thing he’s seen in a very long time. Headier than the Jet, dizzying and making him swear as he jerks his clothed hips against yours, breath sharp in his chest.

“Gonna be the death of me, I swear.” He bites at your neck, digs a little harder, scrapes his canines into your sweet, yielding flesh. He could devour you, take bite after sweet, sweet bite and actually test that theory about the strawberries. Crack the cage of your rib, feast on that beating yolk of heart that thumps so hard in your chest.

“Gonna let me do it, sweet thing?” He rumbles against your ear. “Let me have it all?”

Your eyes flash, lips pretty and swollen as they part to answer ㅡ and the bark of that damn mutt ruins it all. At least it's a warning for you both, because he's stepping back and letting you fix yourself with surprising speed as Lucy and Dogmeat return, an expectant look on the fuckin’ vaultie's face.

“Well? Got what you need?"

Cooper snorts, tracks you instead of answering as you press your hand to his for a second, gone around the corner. Lucy frowns when you return, pistol strapped at your hip and a bandolier slung over your shoulder like his, broad pack strapped to your back. Like you planned for this.

And you did, he notes, but it hadn't been contingent on his agreement. Idly, he notes he never did answer you, not really. But he just hums, then turns towards Lucy, who looks between the two of you, confused.

“Yeah,” he finally answers, “got what I need.”

#ㅡmine.#fallout series #fallout x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader

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tarjapearce · 1 day

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Iridiscent (Pt. 5)

Pirate! Miguel O'Hara x Mermaid! Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Mentions of slavery, secondary character death, introduction of characters, violence, mysticism, implicit dark rituals and black magic , mentions of blood, power dynamics, power imbalance. Whump scenarios

Summary: A purpose and a choice lays before Miguel's path.

A| N: CENTURIES after, here is our pirate ❤️ Thanks for waiting this chapter!

So far Peter had proved himself to be useful enough to keep up with the fastened peace Miguel was used to.

He didn't slack off or fell behind. If anything The Red Eyed Demon was somewhat impressed. For being a regular merchant there was surely more than met the eye. Life truly never ceased to bring a much needed dose of surprise.

They had escaped Hacienda Valverde, Miguel had to dispose of a couple of guards in the way to retrieve some ammo and other tools. However a new challenge laid ahead.

Get inside a brigantine.

"So, according to you, we just have to keep ourselves hidden until the boat comes. Then we snuck in and hide again."

Peter spoke as he crunched over the jungle's tree roots. Gun strapped to his hip and a sword on the other. Tense muscles still ached, the blows from the guards had left Miguel to handle the physical duties, giving a brief but welcomed rest to the merchant's ribs.

Miguel nodded and stopped for a moment to have a proper look at his surroundings, the familiar smell of rotten wood and moss filled in his lungs, "Basically."

The pirate mumbled as he took a better look into his milieu, unmistakably they were following the same path he took when foraying up into the Hacienda.

With a groan, he pulled Peter up the tree trunk to cross on the other side. Each landed with a heavy thud, a couple of branches crunching under their weight.

"And..." Peter heaved, "you're sure this will work because...?"

"I've done this before." The pirate cut in curtly, a subtle way to say his reluctant companion to shut up.

Peter just nodded and followed him. The soursops kept stretching until they reached some Acai trees.

"We'll need a uniform for you." Miguel glanced briefly Peter's way to then swing his machete through the foliage, ending the life of whatever plant had dared to cross his way.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Miguel sighed on Peter's surprise and turned to see him, "I'll pretend to be your prisoner. But for that we'll need an uniform."

"No offense pal, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm beaten."

Miguel shrugged nonchalantly, "Makes it more believable. They'll think you got in a fight with the slaves. Happens all the time."

This earned Miguel a disgruntled groan.

"I don't look English enough!"

Miguel deadpanned. "You're white, that's more than enough, just fake the accent and you'll be fine."

Peter's stomach flipped uncomfortably at the implication of his words. Slaves? Fights? He looking English? God forbid MJ to know about his whereabouts or his companies. He was already imagining his wife being horrified for the things he was about to do.

"You've traded slaves before?"

Miguel snapped his head at him so quickly with a glare that made Peter recoil with his hands up in defense.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

The merchant quieted down when Miguel brought a rugged finger to his lips and furrowed his brows, then moved his hand down, a signal for them to hide.

Peter swallowed as he ducked and crawled over a nearby thicket, Miguel however hid behind the tree trunk

The indistinct voices murmuring from a distance alerted the fugitives, Miguel peeked out from a standing tree and saw a small group of guards. Three in total.

One stopped in a nearby hollowed and broken trunk, unbuttoning his pants. Miguel's ever alert gaze darted to the other two that walked away a few meters to give their colleague some privacy as they discussed their next rest layoff, completely unaware of the murderous intentions stalking them.

Miguel crouched, to be eye to eye level with Peter and whispered as he handed him the hefty rope in his weathered hands.

"Take the guy in the back. I'll get the other two."

"W-Wait, what am I supposed to do with this?! Choke him?"

"Exactly. Try to not damage the uniform. He looks your size."

Peter gulped with a panic surge and sighed, "Just for you to know, I don't look-"

"Just shut the fuck up and kill that man! "

Miguel hissed, a vexed tinge in his voice as he tightened his grip on the machete and Peter gulped again. Before the merchant could protest Miguel was already prowling over the other two men.

Peter sighed and remained crouched. The soldier kept baptizing the tree with his pungent scent, earning a temporary disgusted look from the merchant.

With quiet steps, and hitched breath he ventured in through the thickets, keeping himself hidden and quiet as possible while his hands rolled and fisted on the rope.

Peter's heart hammered within his ribcage, pounding with such force his chest thrummed. Bile slowly rose in the back of his throat, he was about to kill a man after all. Something he sometimes fantasized whenever his customers were too pushy or demanding in rough seasons with his prices.

But now that he got to experience the real deal, his hands couldn't help but tremble, soft pants turned agitated the more he approached.

The soldier was too into his own musings by buttoning his pants back that felt a bit too late the rope knotting around his throat.

Peter used his back as a lever and with a sudden downward pull brought the fatheaded guard bending above his knees, hands flailing, gasping for air as he tried to remove the rope out of his obliterating neck.

The soldier's muffled and unintelligible gasps soon turned into gurgles and weakening grunts. Peter couldn't see him, yet the man's face went into a chameleon-like state as his face erupted with several shades of blue and purple while his life escaped before the quiet witnessing of mother nature.

Peter heard the other men's cries as Miguel swung his machete in their bodies, ending their lives in swift moves.

The lurid crack made the merchant to tighten his grip for a bit more, making sure the life had faded from his target.

The soldier's deadweight against his back felt like he carried a block of pure lead, no longer moving. His uniformed arms hung loosely on each side of Peter.

"He's dead." Miguel spoke in between pants as he sheathed his weapon and rolled his shoulders in, releasing some pressure from his joints.

Peter however was clutching the rope tighter, his eyes shut and his teeth baring.

"Hey!" Miguel called but his ally was far too gone. It quickly came to realization what was happening. Peter was panicking. With a sigh he approached carefully and removed the rope from his hands in a firm but mindful tug. The soldier slid down his back and fell to the floor, the overgrown grass muffled the body's fall.

"Pet-" Miguel didn't get to finish his name since the aforementioned crawled behind a tree and retched with all his might.

"O-Oh god... I just" He folded again and Miguel scrunched his nose in mild disgust. He begun examinating the fallen's bodies in search of something that deemed useful, in the meantime.

"I just killed a man." Peter gasped to then wipe his mouth with the back of his shirt.

"Congratulations." Mumbled Miguel as he gathered some ammo within a soldier's hat.

"The hell you mean congratulations?! I just killed a man!" Peter held his stomach as he slanted and panted against a tree, his head hazed with a mix of adrenaline and nausea.

"A man that wouldn't hesitate to plow some bullets into you even if you weren't a threat."

Peter just groaned and rubbed his stomach in circles, trying to soothe the gnawing anxiety within his guts.

"You'll get used to it." Added Miguel with a weak shrug, "Better get your uniform soon, we have to hide the bodies."

Peter retched a final time and Miguel groaned, annoyed, he stood and took a handkerchief from one of the soldier's pockets and waited till Peter finished to hand the fabric piece to him, the latter wiped his mouth and heaved a deep exhale.

"You done?" Miguel's shoulders squared

Peter nodded and without much thinking Miguel slapped him, hard across his face to make all the queasiness abandon his body in a go as he stumbled to the side.

Blue eyes widened both in surprise and and anger.

"W-What the hell was that for?!" the merchant growled and stood inches away from the muscle mass and Miguel nodded, pleased at his reaction.

"You're angry?"

"Yes! You don't go around slapping people like that!" Peter pushed him as he rubbed his cheek.

"Think that as life slapping you again. And again and again" He crouched to resume his gathering, "And again. What will you do about it?"

"If you slap me again, we'll have a problem, pal."

Miguel chuckled at Peter's sudden bravado. With a soft shake of his head he handed him a knife.

"What will you do about it?"

Peter frowned and looked straight in his eyes.

"I'll beat your ass."

Miguel huffed, and patted his shoulder a tad rough while pushing the knife further into his hands.

"Now you know what to do with the guards if you wanna see your kid again."

Ironically, Miguel had just repeated the same words Mundaca had once taught him, and always proved effective. Of course he understood Peter's discomfit for such life changing event, he had spent the night crying after giving the foreman's a taste of his own cat 'til he died.

Night had segued in, covering the endless horizon underneath a stary blanket, the smooth back and fro motion from the dark waves, deemed a worthy sight of admiration after death provoking activities. The saltine breeze caressed the men's skin in an attempt to soothe the underlying discomfit.

Miguel and Peter had found a proper hideout, a spot nearby downhills, where they could see the port and every ship that docked down. The foliage covered them, blending their presence within their ever green density, away from local predators.

The fire cracked cozily within a circle of rocks, oozing with its warmth in every direction anyone approached. Warming up more than bodies and rattled memories.

Miguel laid down in the grass, as Peter sat before the fire that slowly cooked their meal. Some fishes and potatos they'd managed to find in another camp were deemed a proper meal for both.

Peter watched Miguel as he laid.

Strong hands and arms tucked behind his robust nape, eyes closed, almost peacefully. His rugged and cinnamon skin was embedded with faint scar lines that had blurred overtime, leaving a trail of faint white scratches that could only be prominent to the eyesight if he came close enough.

But after witnessing what he could do with his bare hands, the merchant decided he was rather fine at the current distance. His mind however brewed with so many questions his brow furrowed.

"Why did you become a pirate?"

Peter mumbled and Miguel's brows twitched in a mild pucker.

"Had nothing else to lose."

It wasn't in him to share such intimate details of himself with strangers. But Peter had been honest ever since they met, and it was only fair to share tiny bits that remained as universal truths without poking at the too personal territory.

And, au contraire of what people believed of pirate's unruly nature, they all ruled themselves by a code. Miguel respected it as much as he could, specially one of it's most basics and antiques of rules. A truth for a truth.

Peter flipped the fishes to then poke the potatos with a stick, sinking the tip in them to probe at their level of doneness.

"What will we do once in the ship?"

"We hide." Miguel explained simple, "As soon as we get inside, two things can happen." He raised a finger and Peter perked his ears.

"Or you're asked to put all the prisoners to the brig," Miguel raised another finger, "Or you're taken to another area to other duties. You know where a brig is right?"

Peter shrugged with a pout and Miguel groaned while throwing an eye rolling look his way.

"You landlubber..." he shook his head and sighed, "The brig is usually located in the lowest deck. There's no missing in it. Unless you're fucking dumb and end up in the bilge."

"You spill jargon as if I actually understand a thing. I've only been on a boat-"

"Ship." Miguel corrected, earning an irked sigh from Peter.

"I've only been on a ship three times in my life. When my mother gave birth to me, when I tried to look for a better way to keep my business afloat and when I was pressganged by the English a few days ago. So pardon me for not being a connoisseur of a ship's anatomy."

The ramble made Miguel chuckle with derision.

"Relax, mecha corta. I really need for you to understand that no matter what, we need to get in the ship. That's the only way out we have." (Short stack)

"I know." Peter grumbled, "I just... miss my family." He admitted with a slow yet sharp bite to the fish as Miguel nodded absently.

"Haven't properly met my daughter, haven't seen my wife in almost a month."

Miguel just watched him before rising and seating. He took a impaled fish and pulled it's flesh gently with his fingers and ate in silence.

If anything, the Red Eyed Demon understood him better than anyone.

He'd understand the despair of being away, not knowing anything from his little girl for months, he'd definitely felt the disappointment in Peter's eyes. The all too familiar feeling of being a failure for not being there often weighed his mind way too many times he liked to admit.

"And now I hang out with pirates with a pissy ass attitude." Peter chuckled the last bit for himself, "Where are you from, anyways?"

"Born and raised in a Spaniard Hacienda."

Peter hummed as he munched on a roasted potato and nodded. "Born and raised in Queens, New York, USA."

"Yeah, could tell by the accent."

"Family?"

Miguel shrugged while pulling the fish's spine apart and put it within the giant leaf

"All dead."

Peter stopped in his motions to stare at him with a brief mix of surprise and disturb in his eyes.

"Sorry."

"Así es esto. Now, there's one more possible thing that can happen in the ship." (It is how it is)

Peter wiped the rest of fish on his mouth and paid undivided attention to him.

"There is a minimum chance for us to be discovered once aboard. Though minimum, is still a possibility."

"Ok."

"If we ever get discovered, don't run, don't beg and for God's sake do not jump over the board."

"So we surrender?"

Miguel nodded while eating his dinner in a few bites.

"What if they want to kill us?"

"Though that's a fifty fifty, I'm more inclined to believe they won't. My size alone always brings people's curiosity, so let's use that. You said you were a lock master, right?"

Peter nodded almost dumbly, " A locksmith. That's... my business. Yeah."

"Then, we'll be good"

"And if we don't?"

"We jump over the board."

"But you said we don't-"

"I know what I said, just do as I tell you, alright?"

"Fine."

For how long they've waited? Hours? No. Definitely days. The sun had gone up and down four times in a row. And the guards were already packing in.

Gathering and scourging for food was a a risky move, since the guards in Hacienda Valverde had found a couple of corpses the deathly duo left in their wake.

Miguel had kept him well fed and making sure he'd recover properly. If they wanted to leave, Peter had to give him the best rendition of his opposite being. He hsd to be strong, for his little girl awaiting back at home and himself.

Upon the fifth day, The both stared with keen and curious eyes the horizon. The first few english frigates docked, announcing with their sumptuous flags on top, the arrival of the HMS Amberjack. A navy galley.

Peter however smacked Miguel's chest when his eyes noticed another ship behind. This one had two flags. One black and the other a clear piece of Spain.

Miguel's brows furrowed with alarm and confusion.

"What is he doing here?" The pirate muttered under his breath upon recognizing the Spaniard captain's ship.

Another galley, piloted by none other than a famous privateer that spaniards hired whenever a route or a pirate proved themselves a nuisance for the merchants in the area.

None other than Constantino Salazar de Olivares, or infamously known as El Brujo, took the steering wheel of El Aquelarre. A galley that could easily be mistaken by the devil's ship itself, spat right out of darkness and abyss.

"You know him?" Peter quirked a brow on his annoyed reaction.

Of course Miguel knew him. Olivares was after Mundaca, and his crew. El Brujo had been on a relentless hunt for his father figure a long time ago.

"If you're dangerous enough either spaniards or english men send him for your head. But el cabrón proves himself more annoying than anything with his stupid ass beliefs."

"What's wrong with them?"

"He calls himself a sorcerer. Him being here is no good. Something's happening. If we can, we avoid him."

Peter just nodded and soon, the plan was set in motion.

They changed and practiced Peter's locksmith skills once more, before making sure he could get Miguel out of his shackles without a hitch, if the situation demanded it.

And once ready, both men made a descend downhill, threading carefully through the jungle to beckon closer into their common enemy's territory.

Miguel could sense Peter's discomfit as he pressed the weapon against his back.

"Relax. Once aboard, try to stick nearby."

The closer they got, the more men and noise they could hear.

"Round'em up boys, we gotta leave before midday!"

The captain shouted somewhere. The slaves, much to Peter's distraught, were held in chains, shackled in a bee line as they were pushed up aboard.

Miguel murmured little indications to Peter the more they ventured in everyone's radar. Bit by bit, they managed to sneak in the prisoner's registration under fake names.

They passed the first security filter without much trouble. Slowly but surely, the line grew shorter. El Aquelarre came into view and a chill ran down Miguel's spine.

It wasn't only the mysterious and supernatural aura that oozed from the black ship, but the feeling of something unknown calling him. Pulling him close like magnet. And then he saw him. Saw the man that had been chasing Mundaca for almost a decade.

Tall, dressed up in a crimson red coat, black pants and boots. A large and fat shiny feather adorning his triple black edged hat. A couple of talismans, and rhinestones necklaces adorned his tattooed neck and wrists.

Constantino was a good looking man. His eagle like nose, matched perfectly his symmetric squared face. Thin but pretty lush lips, hidden underneath a scruffy, thick beard. Bushy brows that could rival Miguel's, what stood out the most, however were his feline eyes rimmed in black.

Pale green that people often mistook for gold. Watching, ever mysterious and impassive his surroundings. A dangerous pretty man that wouldn't hesitate into sacrificing anything in the name of his beliefs. Leaning against a palm tree.

"Hold on... What was your name again?" The guard before them asked while he took Miguel by the nape and examined him.

"Johnson."

"Ah... Must be a new face 'cause I haven't see you around."

Peter scoffed nervously, "I was assigned up the state."

The guard tittered as he shoved Miguel inside, a couple of flogs were delivered by other armored men, the pirate hissed, his flesh had forgotten what was to take a taste of that whip's mean end. If anything Peter's accent was a bit too good. It suited him, sadly.

The quartermaster looked at Peter with a curious glance while circling him.

"You look familiar."

"I-I've been told I have a common face. Same for my cousin. We're-"

"Shut yer gob."

Peter obeyed as the man slapped disdainful his back. His heart beat increased a houndred per second.

"That uniform looks a bit too big on you, Pete."

The pirate looked at him, concerned despite his own pain. They were almost there. Freedom at the tip of his calloused fingers.

"Well," Peter swallowed as his eyes darted to Miguel, "Taking care of that bastard is a good workout. Specially when said fucking idiot keeps running away!"

The guard laughed merrily and squeezed his shoulders. Peter laughed and nodded with him.

"Oh, tell me about that. Chasing slaves is fun. We should get dogs to make a competition. Sadly, Pete..."

The merchant's face fell as soon as the quartermaster pulled out his gun and pointed it at Miguel.

"You'll have to go in the other ship. As much as I'd love to keep you both, and see you chasing that dumb mammoth, the brig's full. Ya get me?"

Miguel rose to his feet in a haste as the other guards tossed him outside the ship. He had to keep the calm despite the burning and scorching fury shouting to be unleashed. To teach them what he was made of.

"Tell Smith to take the rest to Olivares' ship."

"Yes, sir."

Peter didn't waste a second longer and told the guard behind, assuming he was the Smith guy, to take the remaining group of slaves towards the black and eerie ship.

He walked ahead of the group and sighed with relief, if it wasn't for his quick thinking and impersonation of a couple of his clients, who knows what would've happen.

The gun was pressed against Miguel's back and sighed

"Sorry for that. You ok?"

Miguel just nodded, a tad uncomfortable by the tingling burning in his skin and the fact that his plan was dramatically changing.

A crisp, strong and cold gust of air pushed both men forward, coaxing to approach faster. As if the universe was unable to wait a second longer for them to meet their fate and ebbed them to get inside as soon as possible.

Constantino's green eyes met Miguel's red ones for a brief second, clashing with unspoken grudge. The latter could see how El Brujo smirked as he was taken to the brig.

But little had realized Salazar that he had summoned yet another demon to his ship.

Miguel's mind was rampant. The moment he had stepped in the ship, his brain was already counting the men and recollecting as much information as he could swot on.

The guards, or rather the lack of them, made him frown. Were they on cover torturing the upcoming slaves? Probably. Or they could be in the weapon room, readying the canons and powder for defense.

Just as Miguel had said, the brig was located in the lower deck, and what he found there, churned Peter's heart with an uncomfortable stir.

Slaves. Grown men and youngsters all put in cages, like wild animals for a merciless and dehumanizing show. The ship hasn't even sailed yet, and their heads already had a price.

Each knew their fate. Spain, England even America and Cuba. Others hoped for a quick death, if the diseases and whipping on earth didn't, the injuries in their body would.

Some slaves looked up to meet their new trip colleagues with keen eyes, hoping for a novelty. And Miguel didn't disappoint. A collective round of hushed whispers in different languages echoed as he entered.

He was put on a cell with another young black man, and the rest was put in the remaining cages.

Silence reigned heavy in the brig once the guards left at haste. Curiously, if he had seen a couple of guards, was to say he'd seen too much of them. The ship was desolated. Even for a galley. But to Olivares, this seemed like another day.

Seconds and minutes dragged on too slow, but the hefty and slow steps from the darkened hall alerted the men.

All eyes could see the pair of beady glowing golden eyes, approaching, preying. The black and shiny feather on his hat waved at the beat of his walking. Constantino was selecting the future sacrifice for his ship.

It was mandatory, since Olivares believed subjugated blood protected against all evil once in the sea.

His imposing frame blocked the view further to the darkened hall, emerging like if shadows themselves had spat him right before them. Beady and eerie eyes raked over the fine and twisted selection of men that stared back with fear. Green gold orbs glanced a little to long in Miguel's way, to then shift his eyes to a young man.

El Brujo had made his selection. With a snap of his fingers he pointed at the man and two guards came and fetched him. Needless to say the young slave fought, cried and asked for mercy. But it all fell upon deafening ears.

Miguel wasn't precisely a believer, he'd rather to not dwell too munch into things that didn't provide or granted him a purpose, food or money. But after seeing a mermaid with his own eyes, he couldn't remain completely skeptical to the mysterious ways of the world and how they wove it's intricate connections together.

The youngster was dragged away and the rest could only watch in fear silent. Making themselves as small as they could. They knew how things would end for their companion.

The rituals Constantino did, left the slaves trembling in fear. He'd start chanting in Latin, then have the man's throat slit and his blood smeared in whatever surface Olivares decided to put on, and then throw the body at the sea, to feed the monsters lurking underneath. Serving his purpose of sacrifice.

Peter returned a couple of hours later, with a disturbed and paling countenance, strong emotions surely made a show of his face.

Bile rose up his throat, like his discomfit. When he entered the brig every pair of eyes were on him as he quickly removed his coat, trying to break the link that tied him to that awful event, leaving his stained shirt with spots of long dried blood. He sat a few steps away of Miguel.

The latter didn't have to ask too much as to what had happened when Peter's hands did all the talking. There was blood in them. Dry and crusty flakes came off as the merchant rubbed them on his pants.

Olivares had ordered him to paint the ship's board with the young man's blood.

"He... He killed him." Peter stammered to then gulp the sudden lump tightening in his throat. His breath hitched.

"Of course he would. He's coo-coo on the head. He believes 'imself sorcerer or some shite like that."

The man next to him spoke, like the sacrificed man, he was young, didn't passed the nineteens, tall, lanky, some piercings on his face and tattoos on his marred and whipped flesh.

His hair was tucked back in a lose thick bun, thanks to his dreadlocks. His eyes dark, ever pondering and assessing the situation before him.

"Then how do'ya explain we survived that... monster of storm, Hobie?!" Another man with a heavy accent spoke, and some nodded as if encouraging the questioning.

"Cause it's a sturdy ship, you twat, it's well built!. Spain has the best craftsmen in the navy." The man shrugged nonchalantly.

"He hunted down a monster!"

That perked Miguel's ears. "What monster?"

Peter and the man next to him looked with a quirked brow his way. Miguel didn't strike as someone gullible for such nonsense.

"I don't know, man. But the storm was so strong the ship nearly sinks. All we could hear was screams and some guards saying, 'we've got her.' And then? The biggest and meanest of waves start hitting and wipes half the crew!"

Miguel blinked almost dumbly.

"This ship's hunted cause that Olivar man has made a pact with the devil."

"It's a rumor, Adé." Hobie mumbled, a little annoyed they couldn't see past superstition.

"It is not! Think about it! This famous pirate dies, and all these... mysterious things start happening at sea. Ships start sinking, waves turn bigger and bigger each storm, just cause they saw this... monster."

"Are you forgetting we nearly drown, ship an all? The sea is angry!. And since this... Captain captured whatever, it's even angrier at us. He shouldn't be a fool and trust demons to take care of us and return that thing to where it belongs!"

The other slaves nodded. Superstition was rampant in every ship Miguel visited. But again, he simply couldn't remain a non believer forever when a mermaid ate his quartermaster before him and everyone aboard his forsaken ship.

While the chained men discussed other underworld like stories, Miguel scooted closer to a much more calm Peter.

"How many men you saw?" he asked in a low, almost hushed voice.

"Like twenty five, including the captain. Most are in their barracks."

Miguel nodded with an emerging idea in his mind. The slaves were bigger than the crew itself if he could convince them to join his cause, not only would they be free, but he'd have a temporary ship to finally get his own back.

But would they follow him?

That was a significant question. If there was something life had taught him, was to preach with an example. Only then he'd get the right people to get his goal achieved.

"What're ya planning?" Hobie spoke as he kept glancing to the door.

"Excuse me?" His bushy brow quirked with disdain.

"Excused. What're ya are planning?"

Miguel remained quiet for a bit. The young man had spoken enough to prove himself a rational and quick thinker, and his knowledge of ships didn't go unnoticed.

"Escaping and seizing the ship."

Hobie couldn't help but titter quietly on Miguel's words.

"Well, break a leg, mate." He shook his head.

Miguel shrugged as Peter begun lock picking his shackles. Mirth slowly left Hobie's body, surprise and hope took over.

"Wait. wait... What are you doing?"

"Escaping, to seize the ship."

"Wait!" Hobie demanded once more, turning the whole attention the attention of the whole group towards them.

"Have you even seen the pigs outside? They're armored to the teeth! They'll kill you."

"I rather fuck around to find out than dying to a man's madness, boy."

The shackles embracing his wrist possessively, fell to the floor. Defeated.

"Will you get us out of here?"

"Please! Get us out!"

The slaves begun pleading, raising their voices and Miguel roared with his commanding voice.

"Cállense!" (Shut up)

Peter looked outside the door as quiet returned to the brig. With a deep inhale, Miguel spoke.

"If we want to get out, you'll listen. Understood?

Mostly nodded.

"I can't free you out just yet." Some faces fell, other sighed with resignation, "I need to confirm the information first, we need to be careful. If we get caught, we all die. Simple as that."

"How can we know this white man won't sell us out?"

Another collective rounds of nodding flooded the future crew.

"Cause he was beaten and press ganged by the english too. He's a merchant not a guard."

"And a locksmith." Peter quipped, trying to clean his sudden reputation.

"You said the waves wiped half the crew right?" the man nodded, "Peter here says it's twenty five men in total, including the captain."

"We're more than them?" Hobie asked, nonplussed for a second.

"Apparently. That's why I wanna go and see myself, cause if it's true, we can take this ship to ourselves."

"Now you're the crazy one." Another man spoke.

Miguel's brows furrowed with annoyance, tired of the pessimistic thinking when the chance laid obvious and ahead of them.

"I'll make it simple for you. If we don't succeed we'll get to either Spain, England or Cuba, where each of you will get at much three hundred for your head, if you're not injured." Some men recoiled at the information,

"Some won't even endure the first month of labor under the english. You think Spaniards and Cuban are bad? Wait for you to be at the hands of British."

He stood and Peter opened the door's cell. His true seize standing proud among the rest. Some gasped.

"If you want a number define your value, be my guest. The less useless in my way, the better." Miguel smoothed his wrists and moved them to stretch his fingers.

"But if you want to live and experience life out of those shackles, you'll wait till I return and act like nothing happened in the meantime, understood?"

Hobie chuckled and nodded. The rest followed with a new sense of renewed hope.

"Aye, sir." He saluted.

Sneaking out wasn't hard, but keeping himself hidden proved to be rather tricky.

Narrow and wooden halls extended left and right, and after what it felt hours he cleared the weaponry room, seizing some for himself. A short ranged knife and a rope. The pistols would be fetched later, when the heist would start. For now, he'd need to be as quiet as possible.

The brig was the extension of the armory. Canons and rifles laid in every direction his eyes landed. All left behind by a wiped crew.

The creaking door however made him hide under the gunpowder barrels, the tinkering of rhinestones and talismans made his breath hitch. He saw Salazar going further the room, and then he disappeared in plain sight.

Confused, Miguel snuck closer and he pressed an ear on the wall.

There were definitely steps and voices. Salazar spoke, and another door was opened.

How could he disappear and be in another place?

His brows puckered and soon his hands pressed against the wall. Taunting and feeling for any irregularity in it. A little current of air flowing in a side made him blink.

A hidden passage. Of course.

He pushed the apparent sturdy wall and to his surprise it budged enough to create an opening to another hall. He sidled inside and hid behind some boxes.

He could see the hall empty, candle lit by the lamps etched to the walls. Floor damp, the saline water pungent.

Was he on the bilge?

Salazar's feather bounced as he walked behind the sturdy door. There was no room for doubts.

With careful steps he approached the end of the hall and snuck in last minute before the door closed with a loud thud.

He hid once more under a pile of musty ropes and ammo. The room was lit up in a cold hue of blue. The crystal-like resin Constantino used to lit the lamp, sparked in a pale blue and aqua sparks, cracking merrily as the fire consumed it within the translucent goblet, amplifying the magnitude of the illumination.

"Cuando lleguemos, la reina no tendrá más opción que darme todo lo que le pida. Ya que te rehúsas a cumplir mis deseos, veremos si desafías a la corona." (When we arrive? The queen will have no choice but to give me everything I ask for. Since you refuse to grant my wishes, let's see if you refuse The Crown)

Miguel could see Olivares from a slit between the ropes.

A deaf thud echoed and Salazar let out an ominous yet rich laugh. Way too entertained.

"Aunque me encantaría que me consumas, aún tengo otros planes en mente." (Although I'd love to be consumed by you, I've still got other plans in mind for you)

Without much say, Olivares left after turning off the resin again. Letting the room to drown in darkness once more.

When Miguel was sure none would come again, he stepped out of his hiding spot and approached the goblet, he had no immediate fire, but knew how to start one. It was one of the first things Mundaca taught him.

He took two pieces of resin and crashed them together until sparks flew again. Illuminating the room with the soft blue hue again.

The clinking of chains demanded his attention. And his heart nearly stopped at the sight.

It couldn't be, could it?

Cruelly chained by your neck and wrists, with heavy links attached to the floor, allowing minimum movement. A hook trespassed the fin of your tail, nearby it's start, holding you in place from a corner.

Defeated, beaten and bleeding; trapped behind thick walls of glass that provided a clear image of your overall state.

Tortured and injured.

You were real. Mermaids were real. And they bled.

You bled.

He didn't have to repeat himself that they weren't real to try and justify your mere existence. Not when you laid before his eyes. Subjugated, demoralized and meek. A demure creature far too different from the monster he met at the ship.

But instead of feeling joy and that twisted sense of pride for a fellow human to have captured you and had your will broken, something else nested in his chest.

Compassion and confusion.

How had Constantino achieved his younger self's dream? How was this possible?

He stepped closer and his breath hitched for a second time. For once in forever, your eyes met his.

Acknowledging eachother.

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