#[ for whom the sun speaks ]

[whitherwanderer]

- N I N E T Y -

💎💥 - 🗡️🏹 🌸⛏️ - 💀🥀

[thebitchbehindtheslaughter]

One of my favourite things about being me is that throughout most of the year, I’m Dedicated to dark academia. I do everything in my power to look as dark academia as possible, because not only do I hold the values of the aesthetic, but it also makes me look like myself

However, during the summer and the summer ALONE, I suddenly become romantic academia. I commit to the bit as best as possible for the same reasons as previously stated

It’s just super funny to me, ‘cuz once summer rolls in anytime I’m in my room, I look like a romantic poet who’s slowly falling in love with a ghost writer, but the plot twist is I’m literally both. I’m sitting on his bed, writing in his journal, lovingly taking care of all his belongings, but the plot twist is it’s just me but in pink-brown instead of orange-brown

[pseudowho]

Fire and Iron

Forced to stay the night with Nanami Kento, the town's blacksmith, after tending to his wounds, you find yourself smouldering in his irresistible flame.

Warnings: 18+, fluff and smut, loss of virginity

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Your boots cracked through the ice-topped slurry puddles scattering the mud path in the village. The shawl bundled over your shoulders was not enough, and the biting cold wind whipped your cloak back, stripping its usefulness off your shivering shoulders.

Townsfolk waved to you, nodding, smiling; greetings for a familiar face, many of them grateful for your travels to their icy town over the years, lacking even a basic healer of their own, let alone one so talented.

Passing by the blacksmith's hut on your way, you paused out the front, feeling the heat bellowing forth like dragon's breath. You tipped your head back, the smell of ash and steel filling your nose. As you paused, moments after, so did the clang of hammer on anvil.

You opened your eyes, stinging in the brutal cold and smoke. You, once more, like a hundred times before, had caught the eye of the blacksmith. He, whose name you did not know. He, who looked but never touched. He, to whom you had passed so many thousands of hours of your life, and his life to you, through gaze alone.

Stood proud at the anvil, shadowing the forge like the door to hell behind him, his broad shoulders wore only an open-chested white linen shirt, and a thick brown leather apron. With his ashy blond hair, and the lines of his face filled with soot, he was ageless and unknowable. He looked to you, his sharp face quiet and impassive; expression always somewhere between fury and tranquility.

Your lips parted once, as if to speak, and it jumped the blacksmith to life. With a barely perceptible nod, and a grunt, he swung his hammer back, brought down in beautiful accuracy, shaping smouldering steel. The clang rung through you, your chest jolting with a short gasp, and you collected yourself, stepping onwards. You were sure you could feel his cool gaze through the back of your head.

Another patient; another healed. Another grateful family; another life prolonged. The days were short now, and as you stepped out of the house of rough-hewn wood and stone, the forest pines were bathed in dying light, netting the low winter sun above the horizon. It was a punishing journey home, on foot, and the horses were long since put to bed.

The blacksmith's hut held its own sunset, the forge open but unattended. You heard stamps, heavy feet and cursing. You paused in the burst of warmth, illuminated, listening. Curiosity carried your feet into the hut, the heavy wet hem of your skirts collecting ashes, absorbing the blacksmith's domain.

"Are you...are you alright?" You called, uncertain, "Sir?" The footsteps, the swearing, had stopped. You stepped further in, feeling the forge belch at you, almost excruciatingly hot now.

"Get away from there!" The bark, deep and commanding, made you squeak and stumble. Darting through the side door, the blacksmith looped one thick arm round your waist before you fell towards the forge, effortlessly lifting you round, his back to the furnace, his face in shadow.

He was close; close enough that you could smell the soft sweat, the tang of fire and metal. He hissed as your hands dropped to his forearm, and you felt a cold dripping cloth draped over it.

"Do you often wander into places uninvited?" He snipped at you. You recognised the cadence in his low voice-- pain.

"I-- ...you're hurt," you insisted, voice barely above a whisper. Looking up, your eyes tried to gauge his unreadable face in the gloom. You felt him huff, warm air across your cheeks. His arm loosened, releasing you. As he stepped back, turning away to close the forge, you saw the blacksmith's mountainous shoulders tense, twitching.

"It's nothing," he retaliated, brisk. You stepped forwards again, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. At first, he flinched, then begrudgingly allowed you to turn him, and lift the damp rag covering his forearm. A thick welting burn, running the length of his forearm, lay weeping and angry on his skin, already nicked with so many little scars. You heard his teeth grit as the air hit his wound.

"Nothing," you scoffed, "this needs dressing. Let me help you." You felt him flinch beneath your hands, hesitant. He felt his skin prickle under yours, finding such curious pleasure in your touch alongside his pain. Your beseeching eyes took him the rest of the way, and he found himself accepting you.

"I...not here," the blacksmith toned, his eyes flitting to the town around him, "if they believe me injured, I'll lose business." You nodded, rummaging in your overburdened satchel, until he took you gently by the hand.

"My home," he began, hesitant, your hand so soft and small in his broad calloused palm, "you'll...you are welcome. It is clean. Quiet. I...I will not harm you. I promise."

Aware of his size and strength, aware of the air of mystery surrounding him amongst the townsfolk, the blacksmith was quick to reassure you. Your eyes softened, and his thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles at your words, electricity crackling up your arm.

"I know you won't," you assured. The briefest smile graced his severe face when you offered your name. You felt it warm you from the belly downwards. As he pulled encouragingly on your fingers, leaving the forge to die naturally with the approaching nightfall, you were led through the back of the hut, seeing a newly revealed sprawling cabin of wood and stone, at the edge of the forest. You felt the first kiss of snow upon your cheek.

"Nanami Kento," the blacksmith replied, welcoming you over the threshold. You smiled up at him, taking in his home; barely lit, at first, until he struck a lantern to life. You placed your bag upon a table, rummaging for salves as Kento began to build the fire, skilled and efficient.

You basked in the homely room; autumnal tapestries lining the walls, skin rugs on the floor and furs on the chairs, hanging herbs above a countertop, circled with hung skillets and pans. You relaxed easily into the sincerity of Kento's welcome. A frigid wind slapped the windows, rattling the door.

Before long, an enormous cast iron pot boiled with water, and you knelt before Kento, appraising his wound in the orange glow. Cleaning your hands, wetting a rag with clean water, you moved to clean the ash from his arm before pausing.

"This will hurt," you apologised, looking up to him. Kento's heart stuttered; how many hours had he spent, imagining those sweet eyes, those gentle fingers? Too long. Too many words unspoken over too many years. He was not used to such tenderness.

"I am used to pain," he hushed, smooth and barely audible above the crackle of flame, "my job has certain...hazards, after all." You hummed, swiping the cloth gently, removing dirt and debris.

"Still," you hummed, "I don't like to hurt a friend." Kento chuckled, and you felt yourself blush from hairline to toes at the rich mirth of it.

"We are...friends, are we?" His voice was low and conspiratorial, and you felt it stir a hunger deep within you. You smiled back, mulish as you dabbed salve onto his burn. His knees were parted, with you knelt between them, and your elbows rested on the thick muscle of his thighs. You felt safe, warm, held.

"All those years, passing back and forth," you sighed, teasing, "and not one hello? Just lots of nods," your stomach swooped as Kento laughed again, "and our friendship is just that. An accumulation of nods."

"Would we have stopped at 'hello'?" Kento retaliated. He caught the brief pause in your bandaging, before you continued. You spoke, uncertain again.

"Well," you hummed, testing the water, "offer me one now...and we shall see where it goes." Looking up, you gasped to find your face just inches from Kento's. He smiled at you, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips and back up again.

"Hello," he whispered, quiet and mischievous, "and thank you."

Your breath fluttered out; Kento could feel it against his lips, beckoning him.

"I...it's getting late," you started, and Kento blinked out of his reverie, glancing to the inky black outside his windows, "I should go."

Kento grasped your fingers once more, rising with you as he stood, your shawl shushing against his chest, barely covered by his soft linen shirt. Kento hummed, sounding grave, stepping to the other side of the room.

"It is night," he said, hands cupped around his eyes as he squinted out of the windows, "and the woods are barely safe in the day. I...I cannot allow you to travel. Alone, in the snow. You must stay."

His tone broached no argument, yet still you tried, packing your bag, your cheeks aflame.

"I...it isn't..." you stuttered, and Kento turned to you, chin inclined to the floor, one fine eyebrow raised. You took a deep breath, certain that if you didn't leave now, you may fall too deeply into Kento's insistent heat. Yet...you knew he was right. The path was treacherous. The snow would take you before the dawn.

"Would you like a bath?" Kento offered, turned away to save you your blushes; a gentleman.

"I-- please don't go to any trouble--" Kento swiftly ignored you, beginning to grasp the enormous iron pot, lifting it with stunning ease. His voice didn't even hitch.

"It's no trouble. I bathe every night. You can go before me." Kento carried the pan, stepping behind a folding wooden screen, and you followed him as if to argue, watching him begin to fill an enormous copper bathtub. Your hands shook as you began to remove your shawl, still blushing, so briefly overwhelmed before squashing it down.

Kento glanced up at you, pausing as he poured hot water, "This will take me some time," he said, apologetic, "please make yourself comfortable. I'll call for you."

You nodded, clearing your throat, hands twisting in your removed shawl. Kento chastised himself for admiring the soft curve of your breasts into your waist, the hidden delight of the swelling of your hips beneath your heavy skirts. He did not see how the steam rose fast, dampening his white shirt, how you could see all the way to his navel as he leaned over the bath. Neither of you knew how the other stirred within.

As you walked the length of the room, your fingertips brushing tapestries and grazing over warm furs, your curiosity drew you to a wide, flat trinket box, inlaid with mother of pearl, the colours an aurora in the rolling firelight. You stroked the box just once, before lifting the lid.

Your eyes crinkled immediately with joy at the treasures within; the box was full of lovingly crafted necklaces of gold, silver, pearl and gem, the chains finer and softer than any you had ever seen. You did not feel Kento approach as you admired them.

"I'd like for you to choose one," he offered, sincere, as you spun to face him. He raised his hands placatingly, a smile at the edge of his mouth, "not in lieu of payment, of course. A gift, I...made them with no real aim as to who should receive them."

"You made these?" You gaped, unable to fathom how such enormous hands crafted such intricate delights, "Kento, I-- they're beautiful, I couldn't possibly..."

If Kento had held any reservation, after hearing his name tumble from your lips, he was filled with the burning certainty that the jewellery should be for you, and you alone. His hand closed over yours as you moved to shut the box.

"Please," he breathed, so close, "choose one, or I shall give you them all." Swallowing, your hand hovered over a fine chain of silver and emerald, your fingertips brushing the gem. Kento hummed his approval, before picking it up, his calloused fingers all softness and grace.

"My favourite, too," he rumbled, brushing your hair off the nape of your neck as he clipped the necklace into place. You shivered at the feeling of his fingers on your neck, and almost ran as he whispered beside your ear, "Your bath is ready."

Stripping behind the wooden screen, hearing Kento amble around the room beyond, you sighed as the hot water enveloped you. Washing yourself with a soft sponge, cleaning off the grime of the day, your hand wandered absentmindedly downwards, fingertips grazing through your folds, naturally moving to relieve yourself of the building tension--

"I've left you a shirt." Your hand darted upwards with a guilty splash, Kento's voice only meters away behind the screen.

"Thank-- thank you," you squeaked, blushing, before climbing out, so naked apart from your exquisite new necklace. Drying on a soft towel, your hand hesitated over the shirt draped over the screen, before pulling it on over damp skin. It reached down your thighs, but left little else to the imagination.

Kento remained outwardly stoic, unreadable, averting his gaze as you crept out, arms holding yourself and squashing your breasts together, the colour of your nipples as faint as a ghost under the white linen shirt. He cleared his throat, coughing lightly before skirting past to the bath. You felt heat creep up your neck at the gossamer hush of his clothes hitting the floor, the shifting water as he stepped in, the way he sighed in relief, almost as if--

"I shall sleep in the chair tonight," Kento said, slow and considered, "and you shall have my bed." You felt indignation roll within you.

"Don't be ridiculous," you scolded, "you're injured, and this is your home--"

'-- and you are my guest," he grumbled.

"I won't allow it," you insisted, almost forgetting yourself as you approached the wooden screen, "I'll put some furs on the floor and--"

"You believe I would let you sleep on the floor?" He growled, furious at your suggestion, "I should rather you have me share the bed with you over that--"

"Fine. Then we shall share the bed. And there will be no more argument." You clapped a hand over your mouth as the words tumbled forth, unbidden. Mortified by your own suggestion, you removed your hand to speak again.

Kento stepped round from behind the screen, his towel draped lazily round his waist. You gaped up at him, stunned. He was...younger than you thought, his blond hair now soft and floppy, the ash removed from the lines in his face, taking ten years off him. You faced him, his towering form, the practiced rolls, peaks and planes of muscle belonging to a working man, his forearms so thick--

"Then...we should get to bed," Kento insisted, stepping past you, through a doorway to his bedroom, where you heard him rummaging for clothes, "it is late and I am up with the lark."

You hesitated where you stood, feeling your heartbeat between your legs, desperately curious, but paralysed.

"I don't bite," Kento called out, and you gulped down the sounds of soft fabric dropping over his body, still crippled with indecision and embracing yourself as he stepped out to put out the fire. You were lost momentarily in darkness before he stepped to you, the lantern between you, a beacon in the dark. You felt his hand close around your fingers again. You heard him whisper.

"It will become cold quickly, now the fire has died. Come. Stay warm."

You allowed yourself to be led to Kento's bedroom, hypnotised by the small swinging lantern. Kento led your hand downwards, placing it to the edge of the bed for you to feel your way, your fingers gliding through soft fur and cool sheets. With shaking hands, you crawled across to the head of the bed. Kento waited for you, flipping down the sheets, flipping them back up to your chin as you both slipped between them.

You heard nil but your own heartbeat. Kento faced you, the torch light embering behind him leaving him only just visible as your eyes adjusted to the light. The sheets had not yet warmed from your bodies, and you shivered. You felt Kento shift beside you.

"You...are cold," he stated as if in question. You remained quiet, gripping your hands to your chest lest they reach out for him.

"I'm...I'll warm up. Soon," you reassured yourself as much as him. You heard one doubtful grunt from him. Five minutes passed, and still, Kento felt you shiver against the sheets. Pulling a fur up to your chins, he felt prickles up his legs as one of your feet reached hesitantly out to touch him. He felt rather than heard you sigh.

"So warm," you whispered, your little voice soft with comfort in the dark. Kento's breath caught in his chest, feeling his cock twitch inside his soft trousers.

"Do you...need me?" He offered. He felt your other foot reach out in answer, cold toes wiggling against the downy hair on his leg. He felt a dangerous, needy arousal thread through him.

Reaching out his uninjured arm, he hooked it round your waist, chuckling as you squeaked when he pressed against you. You hummed in pleasure at the heat rolling off him, basking in his warmth, forgetting your awkwardness for a moment. Kento and you lay intertwined like that, with you softening like butter in his arms.

After a few minutes, you shifted against him, about to drift off to sleep. Kento must have been near sleep as well, groaning into your hair as you shifted, reflexively clinging you closer to him. Your bottom, completely bare with his shirt shifted up your body, pressed back to his groin. His clothed cock was hard and barely restrained in his loose trousers, and pressed between your thighs.

You felt a jolt run through you, feeling a warm trickle of arousal, so alien to you, seep out between your thighs. Kento almost saw stars as it dampened the trousers over his cockhead, and he frowned, his forehead pressed to your shoulder blade in apology and embarrassment.

"I-- I'm sorry, I--...it's been so long...since I've felt a woman-- shit, I'm--" Kento rested his nose against your neck, unable to stop himself from ghosting his lips there. You dropped your head back to him, and he growled in appreciation, nuzzling your neck, feeling your thighs clamp around the tip of his cock, your arousal seeping through his trousers and mixing with his own.

"I've never--" you whispered, blushing furiously, drunk on the feeling of his body against yours, feeling so curiously empty and aching to be filled. Kento understood immediately, and moved to pull back.

"No!" You squeaked, holding onto his arm, pushing yourself back to chase him along the bed, "Please, I-- I want--...you. I want you." Your words sat heavy in the air. Kento shifted behind you, at war with himself.

"You don't know what you're asking," he growled, fighting against you to remove his arm, "I am no boy."

"And I'm no girl, nor stupid," you reassured, "I'm not ignorant."

In an instant, Kento moved above you, on all fours, his arms caging you in, corseting you to his bed. He stared down at you, enormous chest heaving, eyes roving down your body, quickly intoxicated by your peaked nipples, beneath his shirt, the hem of it barely covering your sex, still feeling your arousal dampening his cock.

He leaned down, nestling his mouth against your neck again, tongue flicking out, tasting you. He felt you still under his lips, just a little mouse, in the jaws of a bear.

"And yet, all that knowledge is just academic, until you're crying out that my cock is too big for you," he growled, warning you away, barely able to stop himself. He felt you squirm beneath him, his head swimming with you. He was lost, then, to your tiny whisper in the gloom.

"Show me-- please." Kento shuddered, a drop of pre-cum seeping out of his cock, soaking through his trousers and your-- his-- shirt, to dampen your belly. You shivered, desperate to know Kento biblically, desperate for this fabled ecstasy.

Kento raised his mouth from your neck, reading your eyes, seeing such certainty in them. Tangling his fingers with yours beneath the sheets, he pressed the length of his body down against you as he kissed you, his other hand framing your jaw, gently encouraging it open to slide his tongue against yours. Your soft little moan was like music to his ears.

Kissing you deeply, learning your voice and your mouth, letting you learn the peaks and planes of his body with your free hand, Kento kept your other hand plaited with his own, fearful of leaving you to take this journey alone.

He felt himself shudder with the unbridled privilege of being able to worship you, jealously grateful that you had not been left to some boy. He was overwhelmed by the need to set your standards high at the first hurdle.

"Let me taste you," he murmured into your mouth, and you hesitated, unsure of what he meant. Swiping his thumb across your palm, Kento's mouth ventured downwards, sucking the skin of your neck, nipping before soothing the skin with his tongue, feeling you become pliable, supple as water. His fingers danced over the laces holding your shirt together, giving you opportunity to stop him, before untying them, freeing your breasts.

Laying his tongue flat over one nipple, Kento allowed it to curve to the shape of you, to know you, before drawing it into his mouth, sucking on your nipple while his hand toyed with and kneaded the other. He revelled in your whines, a high, keening mewl as you arched off the bed into his mouth. You felt his licks and sucks, curiously, between your legs, and you could not help but buck up against him.

Kento grunted at the feeling of your pussy pressing against his thigh, and moved one hand down to hold your hips still.

"Slow down-- let me show you," he ordered, gentle in his insistence. You trembled under his fingertips, your hips settling back to the bed. He rumbled his approval, rolling your nipple under his tongue again until you sighed, breathy and ecstatic, "Good girl."

In reward, his mouth continued to trail downwards, and your eyes fluttered closed, one hand coming to rest on the back of his head, your fingernails scratching through his damp hair. Kento shivered at the sensation, feeling his cock leap against his thigh.

When his mouth reached your mound, you squeaked out in alarm, flipping the blankets down to see Kento, illuminated in the orange light.

"What are you-- your mouth, Kento--" Kento's eyes crinkled up at you, and two arms came to loop round the top of your thighs, pulling you down the bed towards him, your shirt being rucked up against the drag of the mattress to completely expose your glistening pussy to him.

Maintaining eye contact with you, you trembled with anticipation as Kento poked his tongue out into a point, first grazing your folds, before stroking from side to side to ease in between them. The sound that broke out from you as his tongue stroked over your clit, hot and wet, was one Kento masturbated to for years to come.

You felt as though you had been lifted from earth and dropped amongst the clouds as he licked at you, sucking, stroking, tasting, the pleasure so otherworldly compared to what your own hand could achieve, that you felt yourself being rushed towards your peak at speed.

Twisting and squirming against his mouth, you reflexively tried to pull your pussy away from Kento's attentions. His arms tightened around the tops of your thighs, growling into you, pulling you back as you tried to scoot away. Your hand tugged at his hair as you arched, whimpering, coated in a fine sweat. As Kento groaned into your cunt, you watched his hips roll and hump against the bed, the sight alone enough to send your orgasm crashing through you, and you worshipped his name in a long, keening cry.

Kento let his laps and sucks become softer, languid, letting you float through the haze of your pleasure. Nuzzling at you, tasting you as you trailed lazy blissful fingers through his hair, Kento planted soft kisses to your inner thigh.

Moving back up, stroking his nose against your neck, Kento felt your hand move down his shoulders and back, before coming round to ghost over the front of his trousers. Kento shuddered, kneeling above you to remove his shirt, skin prickling with the need to feel yours against his own.

Gazing down at you, his eyes like whiskey in the flickering light, he grazed a palm from in between your breasts, down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head in one swift tug, exposing you completely to him.

Your hand still trailed over his groin as he knelt, and you were captivated, obsessed with the shape, weight and length of his cock in your hands, blissfully unaware of what you were doing to him. As you grasped the lace at the front of his trousers, undoing it, and squeezing the head of his cock between your fingers, Kento moaned, ragged, leaning one hand sideways to support himself.

"Fuck-- I haven't-- not for so long," he moaned, low and husky, feeling your inexperienced fingers explore his cock and balls in a way that felt almost abusively naive. As your thumb glided beneath his foreskin, collecting the wetness of his pre-cum, exploring his slit, Kento hissed, panting and grabbing your hand.

You broke out of your reverie, blushing with mortification, tears pricking in your eyes as you began to apologise. Kento interrupted, shushing you, one hand still gripping your fingers around his cock, the other coming up to cup your face, his thumb swiping across your cheek.

"Not you," he huffed, stroking your cheek, smiling down at you with fevered eyes, "me, it's-- I-- I'll cum in your hand if you carry on." Your eyes glimmered, hungry to see how he looked as you pleasured him, and you moved yourself, leaning close, squeezing him again beneath his own hand, and he cried out in pleasure. You felt another drip of his arousal across your fingers, and you gulped, your tongue darting out across your lips.

As you lowered yourself to his lap, Kento's eyebrows raised in shock, and desperate awe, as you licked the weeping cockhead sticking out from your joined enclosed hands.

A low rumble ebbed through Kento, his eyes suddenly dark and hungry as he looked down at you, wordlessly using your hand inside his own, to pump the length of his cock. Feeling the intoxicating glide of soft skin over woody hardness, you let him use your hand to masturbate himself as you took the head of his cock into your mouth, licking, tasting the musty pre-cum there.

Every instinct screamed at Kento to chase his orgasm, to press your head further down his cock so he could use your little hand to jack off into your mouth, and he felt overwhelmed by the innocent licks and sucks you gave him, eyes cast upwards to see what effect they had on him. Kento moaned desperately, twisting on his haunches, fingers in turn tangling into your hair and coming away, clenching and unclenching at speed.

He felt the approaching rush of divine ecstasy, thrumming up his back in waves, his balls tightening up against the base of his cock--

Snapping, Kento pulled your hand and mouth off him, heaving you up the bed and back onto the pillows, before pinning you down with his body, panting into your neck, trying not to spill his seed over your belly. You were thrilled, ecstatic with Kento's pleasure, eager to see more of it.

You crept your hips up to his, trying to ease his cock into you. Kento huffed, his hand shooting down to press your hips down again.

"--going to kill me-- I swear-- no idea...you have no idea what you're doing to me--" Kento panted, quaking above you, one forearm planted above your head. As his peak ebbed away, Kento plaited his hand with your own again, above your head. He felt his cockhead resting against the smooth resistance of your entrance, and he suddenly felt so responsible for you.

"I don't want to hurt you," he huffed, aware he was bigger than average, but knowing from the fevered look in your eyes that he could not dissuade you-- not that he wanted to, at this point, his cock throbbing with urgent need.

"Please," you begged, "please." You felt Kento's hips press forwards into your soaking wet heat, feeling a slight sting as it met resistance. Kento rested his nose to yours, his eyes still feverish, his body still smelling of iron and ash and smoke.

"On one condition," he pressed, authoritative as his cockhead pressed deeper against your stinging resistance, breaking past thin membrane, gripping your thigh up to his hip as you trembled, biting your lip, tears in your eyes as you nodded-- anything, you thought, anything.

"Marry me," he whispered against your lips, and you squeaked as you felt a twang of pain, his cock suddenly nestled deeply inside you. Kento rocked his hips gently, shushing you, soothing you, his thumb stroking your palm. Not moving, just holding you as you adjusted to feeling so full, Kento waited for an answer.

"Y--yes...yes," you mewled, and Kento growled his approval against your neck, slowly pulling out of you before rutting back into your wet, tender pussy again, so intimate and deep that you cried out for him.

Kento rolled his hips, like a boat on the waves, whispering into you, certain he wouldn't last long; "First-- I'll cum inside you-- then I'll treat you like a queen...haaah...for the rest of my days."

You clung to Kento, lost in the ecstasy of him plowing into you, delighted by his rumbling groans in your ears, blissfully proud of being able to make such an unflappable man fall apart inside you. When his grip on your hip faltered, his shaking hand dropping to stroke quick little circles around your clit, Kento growled and bit into your neck to feel you rock your hips upwards to meet his own.

The sting almost completely eased, you felt quick pangs of pleasure, rising with every beat of your fast little heart, completely carried along by the eroticism of Kento's frantic groans and mumbles into your ear.

"My love I-- you feel so good...so good...god, I need to cum, need you to cum I-- aahhhh, fuck--" Kento felt your pussy clench around him, and he came inside you as you drank down his moans, fascinated by how they matched up with the bounding twitch of his cock, how his hips juddered into you involuntarily, how his face contorted, jaw clenched, somewhere between rage and serenity.

You were famished, starved of him, immediately desperate for more, and you felt him crumple into you, caging you in, shoulders heaving and spent. Kento chuckled as you peppered him with kisses, gripping your thighs round him and rolling him over so you lay above him, straddling him as his cock softened within you.

With his chin on his chest to look down to you, and a lazy lopsided smile across his face, Kento played idly with your hair, stroking your nose, your cheeks. He proudly fingered the beautiful necklace, resting against your breasts, squashed and plush against him.

"You meant it?" He asked, eager, concerned.

You hummed in delight, pressing a tender kiss to his chest as you nodded; "You had me at 'hello'."

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Would the anon who requested Blacksmith!Kento PLEASE STAND UP so I can credit you for breaking my brain.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Jace and betrothed unable to wait until their wedding night to have sex??

Request: Jacaerys and his future wife fooling around because they are horny and scared they will die before getting married. I don’t want my boy to die without tasting the greatness of sex

How did this smut piece get to 2.2k words? 😳

Warnings: 18+, smut, masturbating, fingering, p + v, 

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’I’m scared, Jace,’’ you confessed as you stood by the banister of Dragonstone castle, watching as Vermax and Silverwing flew together over the bay. Hopefully Silverwing will lay eggs when you and Jacaerys have children. ‘’The war is getting closer to us. Soon, we’ll have to get on our dragons and battle against the enemy. We…we might die.’’

Death was inevitable during a war. Especially one with dragons, as Rhaenys once said. Team Black had already suffered a couple of losses — Lucerys, Rhaenys, Ser Erryk —, but more would come. 

‘’The thought of what’s coming is terrifying, but we can’t let ourself be paralyzed by the possibility of dying,’’ Jacaerys said, his hand securely on the handle of his sword. He had taken the habit from Daemon, whom he looked up to in certain aspects. 

You looked down at your bare hands on the top of the banister. ‘’I’m not scared of death, I’m scared of dying without ever calling you husband.’’ 

A few weeks before the petition of Driftmark, you and Jacaerys had announced your betrothal. Rhaenyra had a feast in celebration, proud and happy that her eldest son would marry without any politics involved. The wedding should have happened in the summer, but the King fell to his illness and from there unraveled a series of unfortunate events that postponed the wedding.  

‘’When the war ends and I sit on my throne, we’ll have a large celebration in the Red Keep,’’ the Queen had promised.

But you were tired of waiting. 

‘’Every night, as I lay in bed, I think of you and our life if there hadn’t been a war of succession. I would call you husband, my prince husband, and we would not be sleeping in separate beds across the castle. No one would be chaperoning us from afar and we would not get scolded for sharing ‘too long’ kisses.’’

Jacaerys put his hand over yours on the bannister, sharing the same feelings. He wanted to call you his wife and glare at whoever dared speaking wrong to you. He wanted to spend the evening alone in your shared chambers, eating cakes and talking about your day until one of you fell asleep first. He wanted…he wanted to take you to his bed and have a family with you. Not whilst the war was going. He could not deal with the stress of his pregnant wife going to battle on her dragon. 

A few days later, you were sitting in your settee, reading in your nightgown when you heard a light knock on the door. You raised your head from your book, and saw that a piece of parchment had been slipped beneath your door.  

Meet me when the moon is bright. Careful when you take the stairs, Ser Godric is keeping guard.

The message was not signed, but you recognized the handwriting. 

When you judged the moon was bright enough, you slipped a robe over your nightgown and quietly walked down the corridor to take the stairs to Jacaerys’ chambers. You listened carefully for any guards, not wishing to get caught sneaking to you betrothed’s chambers at the hour of the owl. It would make quite the scandal amongst the servants and the staff. 

You knocked delicately on the door and bit your lip as you waited, your stomach bubbling with excitement. Within a few seconds, the door opened and Jacaerys pulled you inside. 

The room was quite dark as the sun was asleep, only the fire of the hearth and a few candles on a table as sources of light. You noticed the small crumpled balls of parchment on the study, assumingly drafts of his message to you. It had to be not too suggestive, but also not too plain that you would not want to come.

‘’I didn't know if you were going to come,’’ Jacaerys said, his lips curved into a shy smile. 

He was wearing just a tunic and wool trousers. It felt strange to see him without his doublet and riding gear. His dark brown hair was messy and his cheeks flushed from what you could make from the light. He looked so different from the usual picture-perfect prince. 

‘’You asked to see me.’’ 

Jacaerys stepped closer. He raised his hand to stroke your cheek, then your hair, which he seemed taken by. ‘’I didn’t know your hair was so long. You always have them up in braids or pins,’’ he said, his tone soft with wonder.

A slight smile tugged at your lips. ‘’What is it that you wanted, Jace? I doubt you summoned me her to talk about my hair.’’ 

‘’I’ve been thinking. About us.’’ He paused for a moment, looking into your eyes. ‘’The Gods have been unfair to us. So let’s not wait for them to bless and unite us.’’

Your brows drew into a light frown. ‘’Jace, what do you—’’ you began, but he stepped closer, his forehead resting against yours. 

He stepped closer, the fire in the hearth reflecting in his eyes. ‘’Do you love me?’’ 

‘’With all my heart,’’ you replied without hesitation, your eyes filled with sincerity. 

‘’Let’s not wait, then. I…I don’t want to waste our time together waiting for this damn war to be over to take you to bed.’’ 

Jacaerys placed his hands on your hips and pulled you flush against him, his grip loose, giving you time to pull from his grasp if you wanted it. But you didn't. 

Instead, you looked up at him and kissed him, closing the remaining space between you. You kissed him like you've done many times before, only this time you didn't have to pull away every twenty seconds to check if a maester, guard or the Queen was around. You’ll never forget the embarrassment you felt that day…

Jacaerys whimpered as you pulled his bottom lip with your teeth, and pressed you against him, desire spreading through his veins, hot like dragonfire. With less layers between your bodies, you could feel the warmth of his chest through your nightgown, and his...little friend stiffening in his trousers.

‘’Someone is excited,’’ you murmured with a giggle as you broke the kiss to plant a trail of kisses down his neck instead. 

He let out a low moan, tightening his grip on your hips. ‘’I cannot control it when you’re around. Especially when you kiss me.’’ Jacaerys captured your lips into another kiss, and tingles caressed your spine and tickled your lower stomach. 

His hands grabbed and pulled at the material of your robe and nightgown, and you rolled your hips, igniting more of his dragonfire. Jacaerys moaned at the contact, louder than he intended. Your own cheeks turned red, realizing you were starting to reach an intimacy you had never breached before.

‘’I’m nervous,’’ you whispered, biting your lip as you thought of getting intimate. 

You placed your hands on Jacaerys’ chest, distracting yourself from your mind. His heart was beating fast, probably just as nervous. 

‘’We don't have to do anything if you don’t feel ready to.’’

You shushed him with a finger to his lips. ‘’I want to.’’ 

To prove yourself, you untied your robe and placed it on the back of the settee, right next to Jacaerys’ sword. The prince's breathing quickened, his dark eyes fixated on your fingers as you unlaced the ties of your nightgown, slowly unraveling the knot. You sucked in a breath as you pulled it down your shoulders, letting it slip down your body until it reached the floor.

Silence greeted your naked body, and you felt shy suddenly. You almost reached for your robe to cover yourself, but your betrothed sensed your uneasiness and stroked your cheek before taking off his tunic and trousers. He found it unfair for you to be naked while he was still clothed.

Once you were even, he guided you backwards towards his bed. The headboard had a large dragon engraved in the stone and seemed a little bigger than yours. The sheets were pale, and over top was a deep red blanket made of velvet to keep warm from the winds coming from the bay.

Jacaerys sat on the edge and, with an expression of fascination, he reached for your breasts. He made sure to be gentle, sliding his thumbs gently over your rapidly hardening nipples. ‘’By the Sevens, you’re beautiful,’’ he marveled, stars in his eyes. 

‘’I can say the same, my prince.’’ You pressed your palm over his chest, smooth and warm.

Jacaerys smiled, that one soft and genuine smile he reserved for you. ‘’I love you,’’ he said, his hands caressing your side in small, gentle circles. 

‘’I love you to— Aah,’’ you whimpered as his hand reached between your legs, stroking your slit clumsily. He didn't know what he was doing, and lacked finesse as he bumped against your clit at random moments, but it still felt amazing. 

He checked on you, wanting to please. ‘’Does that feel good?’’

‘’Yes.’’ 

His fingers were getting slippery from your arousal, making it easier to slide against your cunny. You’ve done it to yourself a few times, alone in your bed. 

‘’Can you put one inside?’’ 

Jacaerys’ fingers were a bit thicker than yours, and longer. 

He nodded. 

A breathy moan left your lips instantly, pleasure sparkling as your walls clenched around his middle finger. 

‘’Like that?’’ Jacaerys slid his finger out, then back in, repeating the motion as you grabbed his shoulder. 

‘’Yes. Again.’’ 

He listened to your needs, almost forgetting his own as his cock remained untouched against his stomach. It was engorged and painful. While one hand was busy pleasuring you, he wrapped his second around his cock and jerked himself. 

 You noticed and thought of helping him, but Jacaerys added a second finger and your knees almost gave out. The feeling was overwhelming, but you craved more. 

You pushed Jacaerys away, and clambered over his lap. His gaze met yours, equally filled with lust. With a nod from your lover, you reached down to grab his cock and lined it at your entrance, sinking down slowly, inch by inch. 

The intensity of the sensation had you gripping at each other, needing to anchor yourself to something. It was unpleasant at first, feeling a pressure and a stinging inside your intimate tunnel. You felt full in a way that was impossible to describe.

Feeling your fingers dig into his skin, Jacaerys kissed your shoulders and neck to sooth you, trying his hardest not to move by fear to blow too soon or hurt you. It was overwhelming for him too — the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him.

You rose up slightly, and then sank back on with tenderness. Jacaerys moaned deeply with you, his head dropping against your collarbone. He closed his eyes, his hands squeezing your hips as you moved up and down again, the pressure around his cock heavenly.  

Your bodies moved together in a rhythm, becoming one. 

When your legs fatigued, you let Jacaerys know and he moved you on the bed and laid you down on the rich velvet. He adjusted himself to the new position, his dark curls falling like curtains around his face as he thrusted into you with long deep strokes.

‘’Kiss me,’’ he demanded.

You complied, winding your arms around his neck and rocking your hips to meet his thrusts until you reached your high with a broken cry. 

Seconds later, Jacaerys pulled out and spilled onto your thighs, not wanting to deal with the consequences of having sex out of wedlock. 

The bed creaked as he collapsed beside you, breathing heavy. As if an invisible string was pulling you to him, you rolled on your side and clung to him, needing to be close after sex. You stayed that way for a long time, relaxing with your head on Jacaerys' bare chest. Your legs felt like jelly, still dizzy from the intense emotions and the overwhelming pleasure. 

You wished you could suspend time and stay there with him forever. But a soft yawn brought you back to reality.

‘’I must leave,’’ you said, feeling the tiredness catching you. It was difficult not to be lured to sleep when you were cuddling under the covers and Jacaerys’s hand was stroking your back gently.

His arms caged around you, protesting. ‘’Stay.’’ He nuzzled into your neck, his voice muffled. ‘’It’s a command from your prince.’’ 

His tone was unserious, but it still made you guilty and sad to leave him. 

‘’I do not wish to leave and sleep in my bed alone, but I must be found in my own chamber when the maids come in the morn.’’ 

Jacaerys sighed, rubbing his face into your hair. ‘’I know,’’ he said, his voice a mixture of resignation and frustration. 

Reluctantly, his arms slowly unwound from around you and you peeled yourself from him, releasing a small hiss when you sat up. The septa had warned you about the pain after breaking your maidenhead. It wasn’t unbearable, only sensitive when you moved. 

‘’I didn't hurt you, didn't I?’’ Jacaerys immediately asked, his eyes filled with concern as he checked on you.

You shook your head and smiled, washing his guilt away. ‘’No. You were perfect, Jace.’’ 

He knew it was untrue. No one was perfect the first time. 

You struggled dressing back into your nightgown and robe, having to fight with Jacaerys’ lips trying to kiss you and his arms pulling you against him. You gave him a last longing kiss before slipping out of his chambers, promising to see him to break fast. 

—

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[emmaofnormandy]

Imagine Aegon is the father of your children.

Warnings: fluff all the way; canon divergence; long post.

( @dracaryxzs for you! One hopes you might like seeing Aegon happy here)

***

• How it all began…

You are his twin, his other half… What one feels the other feels it too. Naturally, as a result, bond came. Courtiers like to say how “wherever the Lord Aegon goes, Lady Y/N is after him like a loyal puppet.”

What they don’t understand is that you and him are two sides of the same coin, blood of dragon, despite the prince calling you his sun, to which he himself gravitates.

“I cannot not believe you are never bored whenever we are together”, says Aegon.

You both are blossoming into youth. You are the only one he trusts, the one he is naturally charmed to. But something about his age doesn’t let him admit there are feelings too.

“I am unlike any other”, you tell him in turn, a smile on your rosy lips. “We came together to this world, Aegon.”

He gives you a shy smile, lowering his gaze—you tamed him, like, it is said, your grandmother had tamed her husband, your grandsire, when they were both the same age.

Lively and so full of life, not even Aegon can deny you anything.

“Let us ride, shall we?”

And not waiting for a response, he takes you by the hand and in between giggles and chuckles the two of you go after your respective dragons.

Sunfyre has been enamored by Dreamfyre and as a result the female dragon has put some eggs. As soon as you are told this, you tell the object of your affections that:

“See, Egg? Evident signs that we are bonded right here”, and you show him the different coloured eggs.

Aegon smiles at you. How can you make him forget the scars of his troubled soul? How can you even sweep away grey clouds, making it seem that it is possible to find happiness?

When looking at your serenity, at how beaming you are before the eggs you cling yourself to, the prince sees himself in you.

You are the light of my world, Y/N.

As if you feel the tenderness his thought emanates, you turn your head at him and give him an egg.

“We are grandparents now, I’m afraid.”

That makes him cackle. A sound so rejoicing, full of life. Few could tell to have ever heard Lord Aegon laugh merrily.

“Too young for that. Come, Y/N!” And then turning to Sunfyre, Aegon is the image of a boy who finds love and happiness where at home such were taken from him.

You smile warmly when seeing the golden dragon almost smiling itself the moment he welcomes his rider.

A bond as strong as the one I have with my beloved.

Then you are distracted by nearly losing balance when Dreamfyre comes at you, resting her head against your face.

“Calm down, girl. I am not as heavy as you are”, you giggle, gently laying your head over the scales of your dragon, whom you claimed when you were ten years old. “Ready to fly high? To some adventures, eh?”

A sound comes from your dragon’s throat. It’s almost as if she speaks excitedly: “Aye, let us go! I’m ready for it!”, which only increases your good mood.

Now here you two are, flying synchronized, one being the extension of the other. Skies may have some clouds, but sun shines high with some warm breeze that announces summer.

“I suggest we could fly atop Dragonstone”, you tell Aegon over your shoulder. “There’s a spot no one goes there.”

“Rhaenyra is settled there with her children”, says Aegon with an unread expression.

You shrug your shoulders.

“So what? I’ve been there frequently and not once she scoffed me off. I doubt she ever knew I flew to this spot.”

And you flash him a mischievous smirk.

Aegon laughs in turn, realizing he’s unable to deny you anything. Flying as high as he could, there’s little need to tell Sunfyre where to go. As if the creature captured the rider’s thoughts, he flies exactly to where he wants… as does Dreamfyre.

It is almost as if both dragons suspect something may come up… even if you and Aegon don’t know that yet.

*

There is a lake in the midst of vast forests, where silence reigns and there is no sign of any living being. A few hills here and there separate the spot of the rest of Dragonstone.

“How did you come here?”, Aegon inquires you, intrigued by this unusual place. Hardly a man acostumed to wild life, his eyes scan these new surroundings with a mix of suspect and curiosity.

You are untying your hair and loosening your gown—you often ride Dreamfyre in your feast gowns, much to the Queen’s dismay— when you say:

“I don’t think I fit very well at court. I tend to flee whenever I can.”

Aegon is somewhat distracted by your curves, and how poorly hidden your curves are beneath the fabric you dress. He swallows hard, then says:

“We are betrothed. One day you’ll be queen.”

You flash him another of your typical mischievous smirks.

“When have I never performed my duties, brother?”

Aegon shakes his head, but he’s chuckling when he comes next to you.

“Well?”, you tilt your head and the prince seems to notice how handsome you look, wild and free—the way you are born to be. “Aren’t you going to swim with me?”

“Is that a challenge?”, he asks you in a whisper.

You like how he looks at you. Maybe this makes your nipples hard. And maybe this makes him burning inside.

“Perhaps.”

And without waiting for a response, you jump in. Aegon smirks, soon following you.

***

• Summer Children.

His kiss is indescribable. No words can do justice to the warmth his breath gives you, to the bliss it inspires you, to the affection it craves in you. Oh, where are the words when we need most?

Whispers at court regard you and Aegon as the “Baelon and Alyssa” of your age, perhaps two souls reincarnated. Whatever the truth, all you can think about is the taste of his lips against yours.

Not only that, there is more to inspire. As you are riding Dreamfyre in the absence of your lover—he’s been summoned by your father to attend the council—, summer breeze cannot cool down the heat in your heart. And you still recall that night.

Where no living being is found amidst corridors, when, for a moment of weakness, no guard lies awake; when unprotecting is at stake… Here he comes, visiting you.

Boldly so, his steps are silent—right under his demeanor there is a haunted boy, famine for affection, filled with desire to please… but above all, a very insecure man who needs to play pretend before all.

Even though you are not like any other, being in fact the only one who’s witnessed his fragility, he remains blunt in his manners.

Yet when the door opens… and you stand there in your line nightgown with your hair loose, his confidence dies.

“I feared you’d not come”, but there is nothing blunt or arrogant in how you welcome him; but rather tenderness from the moment he’s engulfed in your arms. “I missed you, Aegon. Too much I long for you.”

“My dear Y/Nickname…”, he buries his head against your neck and from the moment he inhales your scent, no pride is strong enough to resist the obvious. “In vain have I struggled to repress my sentiments for you.”

Hearing these words give you the reassurance you’ve been longing.

“Oh you took long enough, didn’t you? I’ve been kept in waiting, but it was worth it.”

One kiss and you are doomed. Aegon waits no longer, not anymore. He takes hold of your face and presses his lips against yours, biting your bottom lip and slamming the door as he leads the way.

“You must promise, though”, you push him away gently, much to his frustration. But you need to be sure… just in case.

“Anything”, his voice comes out in a plea.

You raise your eyebrows and Aegon, though sensing what might be asked of, is willing to pay the price. He is not letting go of you.

“No more whoring. I am no woman of sharing”, you tell him seriously.

Aegon smiles warmly, but you spot relief behind his eyes. He grabs you by the waist and says:

“I am yours and yours alone, Y/N. We came out to this world together, didn’t we? So we are dying together as well.”

“That is some drama you put in there, love”, you smirk before clashing your lips against his.

That night you came to learn you loved riding your dragon and we are not talking about Dreamfyre.

*

Nine moons later, the results of you and Aegon’s indiscretion comes to the world with a very strong pair of lungs.

“Here comes a very strong prince”, so announces the midwife.

You are exhausted after almost 12 hours in labour, a puddle of sweat and blood, but from the moment you are told you delivered a boy, you beamed proudly:

“I performed my duty well.”

Aegon, in the meantime, is left waiting outside, pacing impatiently in the corridors.

“One wonders what witchcraft has Y/N used to keep you in this state”, muses Aemond in his unusual show of sense of humor.

The prince of Dragonstone doesn’t bother answering Aemond, rather limiting to shooting a glare. It’s when Princess Helaena comes with a smile on her lips.

“My brothers.”

“We salute you well, sister. But pray tell us the news soon: is Y/N well? How’s the child?”

“She is doing great, Aegon. She’s recovering and getting some rest. As for the child… congratulations! You have a healthy baby boy!”

Aegon is paled by the news and even Aemond gets somewhat concerned with his older brother, holding him by his elbows.

“Are you well?”

“A boy”, he mumbles. “Y/N gave us a boy.”

“Our line is safe”, Aemond agrees. Then turning at Helaena, he asks: “Has the name been chosen?”

“Well, Y/N wants a traditional name… so she decided to have the boy named after you, Aegon.”

No one had ever seen the prince Aegon this overjoyed. The way he smiles… who wouldn’t be captivated by this sight? Even Aemond smiles too at this sight. Of all the misadjusted family, at least two of them found happiness… though when Helaena looks at him, he’s not too far from it himself.

“I must see her!”

Ignoring Helaena’s advice that no man is allowed in these chambers, Aegon, tradition-breaker, storms inside, demanding to see you.

You have just left your privy quarters dressed in a line nightgown with your hair wet and recently brushed when he comes at you.

“Husband!”, you giggle quietly when you are engulfed by his strong arms. “You should wait for me. I am not churched yet and we must…”

“Fuck traditions. I wanted to see my wife”, says he, peppering your face with tender kisses before looking at you with the devotion of a lover. “Are you well?”

You cast him the most infatuated glance to him, locking your hands around his neck as if there were no witnesses in the room.

“I am, thank you. Nothing that I could not handle myself”, you assure him. “Aegon, I performed my duties. I gave you a son.”

“Even if it wasn’t, as long as the child is healthy and you are healthy too, nothing else matters”, he whispers in your ear.

The prince cannot state enough his relief in seeing you well and safe. By how he holds you close, it is as if he needs another reassurance that childbirth will not steal you of him.

Feeling his fears, you raise your chin and give him that blunt gaze that marks your lively personality which he’s familiar with.

“I have no intention in leaving you alone in this world, unless you choose another to be in my place.”

Aegon gives you a meaningful look before snorting and scoffing at the same time.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N! How could you possibly consider I’d find a substitute for you? I thought you knew me better, woman.”

You both share a quiet laugh before kissing as if to seal an unspoken vow. Not too far from the scene is the Queen, with her father by her side.

“Who’d know this was coming?”, she sighs, content with the merry scene that rolls before her gaze. “I may have been deprived of happiness myself, but on the other hand… thankfully such a burden is not placed on the shoulders of mine own offspring.”

“Do not be so dramatic, Alicent. This match is as fruitful as yours was”, says Otto, nonchalantly like usual. “But at times even I admit that I can see Baelor and Alyssa once more.”

A struggle he keeps to himself, since Otto and Baelor never saw eye to eye. Leaving such personal haunting aside, eventually this summer prince also named Aegon is seen placed in the arms of his mother.

“He’s a lovely child”, murmurs Aegon, whose head is now resting over your shoulder. “I cannot stop looking away of his delicate features.”

“Perhaps you should hold him”, you suggest in a whisper since the regal baby is asleep in your arms.

“I do not wish to wake him up”, says your husband, though you may detect a degree of panic in his voice.

You find his concern adorable, respecting his time. This afternoon, you and him watch over your newly born soon in great delight of how your love produced a handsome baby.

“Our summer prince”, you beam at him.

Aegon shares a smile with you. He looks thrilled before kissing your forehead.

“I cannot believe I am his father.”

“A doting father as I’m sure you will be.”

At times he doubts it, but this is a shadow he is unwilling to cast in such a bright moment. All Aegon can say is:

“Thank you for believing in me.”

He does blush though when you kiss his cheek and tell him in turn:

“How could it be otherwise? As my other half, you shall burn as bright as any dragon, my sun and stars.”

***

Little Egg, as he is called, is getting every attention Aegon’s father never bother doting his son. Whilst you are breast feeding, just nine months later his birth, a baby girl whom you named Alysanne after your favourite ancestor, father and son are found together at the nunnery.

“Your mother told me she plans to take you and Dear Alys to fly our dragon. I am not discouraging her, but we should best wait for a litttle bit, uh?”, says the protective father whilst rocking his lively and often chuckling boy in his arms. “Oh so you think this is funny? Are you planning to take after your great-grandparents?”

Aegon is holding him still, playing with the boy when the moment is interrupted by a maid.

“Excuse me, sire. His lordship must be fed. And your lady wife has summoned you.”

“Very well”, he stands, with the prince in his arms. “Before I handle you my precious jewel, Lady H/N, I must be certain you have been fed well. After all, you are responsible for feeding my child.”

“Indeed, lord. I am healthy and robust from the day I started the service”, the woman says seriously.

“Good. I appreciate it”, he nods before kissing his son’s temple. When seeing he’s about to weep, Aegon softens: “Do not cry, my prince. This is not a farewell. I shall go back later, I assure you.”

Reluctantly, he parts, though he does wish to go back when hearing a cry. Aegon pauses at the door but when looking back, Lady H/N has taken little Egg inside the quarters.

*

“How is mine faire ladies?”, the soon to be king asks you the moment he steps inside.

“Looking better than you”, you giggle quietly. “What happened, love?”

“I had to leave him with those women”, Aegon grumbles.

“I know. I don’t like leaving him there either, but thanks to you I can only feed one child now”, you laugh quietly.

Alysanne, whose hair is as silver as her parents’s, makes noises and Aegon, now more confident in how handling babies, carefully holds her.

“If I remember well, you were climbing on me when I was trying to sleep just the day you were churched”, Aegon chuckles.

“You keep saying that to yourself”, you lean to kiss his cheek. “You have been blessed with a handsomeness that makes me difficult not to merrily engage in marital affairs.”

Again, your bluntness makes him blush, a deed only you could brag in succeed doing so. Aegon gives you a long, meaningful look.

“Watch your tongue, woman. You don’t know what you are saying.”

But his mischievous smirk tells you precisely otherwise. The connection you two share has never grown stronger…

***

• Midnight Sun.

Little Egg is barely three when Aegon takes him for a ride in Sunfyre and you take two year old Alysanne with you as you mount Dreamfyre. It’s late night and since this family is restless, there’s no obligation to stop them in doing so—as if any would do in other period of the day.

“Fly high, Dreamfyre”, you whisper the command in High Valyrian and the dragon doesn’t need much before taking impulse and… weeeee, you and your excited child finally get to the skies.

“Let us do this, S.”, Aegon tells his beautiful golden dragon, resting his face against the creature’s forehead. “Look, this is the son I told you about. He gets my name, and Gods hope that he takes after my best traits. Not that I have many, but…”

Sunfyre buffs as if saying: oh please, you may not be perfect, but you have great qualities! To which Aegon blushes and smiles.

“You are a great friend, Sunfyre.”

“Daddy”, says Little Egg. “Fly!”

“Calm down young man. Are you in a rush?”, Aegon chuckles at his demanding son.

“Mommy… flew.”

“Oh. She’s always in a rush that woman you call your mother. Let’s do it then.”

And soon Aegon’s smile would spread larger if possible as Sunfyre finally spreads his large wings and begins to fly, the reason why Little Egg is happy.

When they are finally getting higher, Aegon makes sure his son is enjoying it. He wants to create this memorable moment that shall reinforce the bond father and son has.

It’s working since little Egg turns his head to his father and says:

“Amazing!”

“Are you enjoying that, my boy?”

“Yes! More, more! Please!”

Aegon laughs happily and does as requested. They fly as high as possible before diving below to meet you and Alysanne. The scene makes the prince emotional. His wife is looking as beautiful as wild as the day he realized he loved you to an unbearable point.

Sensing his gaze, you turn your head to meet him. And feeling your feelings, Dreamfyre is instantly drawn to Sunfyre.

“How’s it going?”, you ask him, eyes sparkling with delight for making it possible an old dream where you and Aegon, together with children of your own, would fly with your respective dragons.

“Just the way you wanted”, so Aegon tells you as if he’s read your mind.

You and him exchanged loving gazes and sweet smiles, letting the dragons taking the reins of the situation.

Indeed, as your children beam, Dreamfyre and Sunfyre dance.

Such is the dance of the dragons.

**

The toddlers are snoring by the time you and Aegon land.

“They should sleep with us in bed this night”, he suggests you, as he passes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss on top of your forehead.

“I agree”, and then you instantly pause before the door of the red keep. “Aegon… I would like to thank you.”

“What for?”, he asks you, intrigued.

“For giving me these lovely children, for being the partner I’ve always known you’d be. For being my other half.” You smile softly. “I’d die for you, I hope you know that. You deserve to be loved, to all that you are given.”

“Y/N…”, he’s surprised to hearing these words of you, even though Aegon never needed proof of how you felt for him.

You stroke his face, wiping away his tears. Both of you know that you only have each other, and yet it’s enough. Specially now you have children of your own.

Resting his forehead against yours, the prince closes his eyes and kisses you.

“Whatever our souls are made of…”

“…mine and yours are the same.”

***

• Epilogue.

Alysanne is fast asleep when she dreams of dragons. Dragons that fight, dragons that die, dragons that survive. In the midst of chaos, she runs after her father.

Where is he? She calls out his name only to find another who is not in his throne. She wakes up thus, unable to remember the usurper’s identity, a mere shadow. But it’s enough to scare the seven year old princess.

She leaves her privy chambers. It’s still dark, but she needs to be sure he’s there somehow. Alysanne runs barefoot to her parents’ chambers. She opens its door, holding her breath but praising the Gods there’s some fire in the fireplace.

She sees you’re sleeping next to your father, but when seeing he’s there…. what a relief. Yet, the princess is scared to go back to her chambers.

“Papa”, she pokes him. “Papa, wake up.”

Aegon groans lightly, but when seeing it’s his oldest daughter calling him, he only rubs his eyes and makes sure to sit properly, careful in not waking you up.

“Lys”, he calls her affectionately and is probably thankful for wearing some proper garments after early copulating with you. “What’s wrong?”

Alysanne quickly throws her arms around his neck.

“I am scared. I don’t want to lose you”, she sniffs.

Aegon rocks her in his arms, smiling quietly for doing so.

“You’re not losing me. Who told you this nonsense? Has Little Egg been teasing you again?”

“No. He’s been good, actually”, she tells him, holding tightly against his neck. “I had a nightmare.”

For some reason, this gives him shivers. But Aegon isn’t inclined to dig into this deeper.

“A nightmare is just a nightmare. Come. Do you want to sleep with mama and papa today?”

Alysanne smiles brightly. She then kisses his cheek just as you are waking up.

“What happened?”, you ask, worried. “Are you well, my dear Alys?”

“She had a nightmare”, Aegon tells you as if this doesn’t mean anything, but one exchange of glances tells you this isn’t anything. Yet neither should feed it. And you agree. “So I’m letting her sleep with us tonight.”

You nod discreetly before kissing your daughter’s forehead.

“Of course. Like the good old days uh?”

And you watch as Alysanne makes herself comfortable in between you and your husband. Aegon strokes her hair as you cover her.

“Do you think…?” Aegon leaves the question in the air.

“Let us leave to concern about it tomorrow. It’s late.”

Aegon agrees. But neither looks forward to go back to sleep. As he casts a fond gaze at the princess, you take his hand and give it a small squeeze.

“It’s going to be all right. Helaena is doing well with it.”

“I know. But…”

“And at the same time she’s not like Helaena”, you tell him. “Let us not confuse things. It’s going to be well.”

“I just worry. I do not wish…”

Aegon looks away, remembering the wounds of his neglect childhood. There’s little need to explain since you can feel what he feels.

“Aegon, my love. We are not like them”, you tell him firmly. As he looks at you, you stroke his hair and place a lock of his messy hair behind his ear. “We are not like our parents. We are better than them. I’d not say so if I believed otherwise. Just look at how Egg seeks to impress you, how Alysanne came after you tonight… or how our twins Jaehaerys and Jaehaera often run after you.”

Aegon smiles quietly.

“How can you convince me that easily?”

“It’s the truth I speak. Besides… I have to tell you something”, and here you whisper. “I conceived again.”

“Oh how fertile we are!”, Aegon chuckles merrily.

You both kiss, before settling to lay down, careful now with your daughter fast asleep in between you. Shadows for once are pushed and in late night midnight sun comes to shine bright.

Oh these delights…

[nba24highlights]

BIYOMBO BLOCKS Westbrook! Must be related to MUTOMBO! #biyombo #blockshot#westbrook#nbaedits#shorts

[elysiansparadise]

With the gentle caress of Neptune's blissful hand, a dreamy aura evolves. In the dawn's soft embrace, and twilight's whisper, pisces paints the sky with a suspire.

Pisces Rising: Divine Charm

They look mysterious and distant but their gaze, like the ocean, deep and profound, reflecting the emotions untold. A wise mind and soul, with a gentle and caring heart, remains protected from the dangers from outside. Many of them tended to isolate themselves, as the tensions of their early environment could be difficult to deal with. They seek calm, and would love to live in a world where they felt at peace and free to be who they truly are. They have the ability to adapt to their environments and the people they meet, making the number of people with whom they truly feel like themselves very small. Their beauty lies more in delicacy, like angels fallen to heaven, their skin is soft, their gaze slightly sleepy and many of them give an unapproachable vibe. 

From a young age they learn to achieve things on their own and we can attribute that to Aries in the 2nd house. They greatly value their independence, being able to do things their own way, because these natives highly value their independence and that clearly includes financial independence, which is why they like to make their decisions for themselves when it comes to money. Some of them may have a tendency to be somewhat impulsive with their spending, especially if Mars is making tense aspects to Jupiter or Neptune. Ambition to find stability in their lives, they fervently desire to feel powerful and not with respect to others, but with themselves and the management of their lives. They are people who have that entrepreneurial spirit, since they were young, they may have defined what they want to achieve, be it a certain status, economic position, or simply a set of things to have in the future. Some of these natives are prone to becoming demotivated quickly if they do not perceive or have tangible results, so it is necessary for them to find a way to motivate themselves. It is a kind of challenge to be more constant and persistent in your productive projects. They may possess a certain level of competitiveness and winning and/or achieving things can increase their self-esteem, especially if Mars makes tense aspects to Sun or Jupiter. It is possible that at some point in their lives they feel that to be valuable they have to achieve or have things, they may equate success with the idea of ​​"I have to create or do something.”

Talking to them is one of the most comfortable things in the world, they are responsible for not only talking to you and giving you their point of view, but also listening to you carefully, and we can see that with Taurus in the 3rd house. These natives take their time to process what is happening around them, they do not jump to conclusions, they are observant, capable of sensing when things are not as before, when there are changes around them, nothing goes unnoticed, no matter how minimal the change may be. They like clarity, that people speak with bluntness, that is, without losing tact if the situation requires it. They have a very attractive and soothing voice, and their way of speaking, the words that come out of their mouths can be a caress to the soul. They are sensible, rational and patient. They calm others with ease with their words and voice, there is something simply magnetic about them. Talent for singing and taste or interest in music. They have a great facility for creating and generating ideas, and not only that, but they also materialize them. They have aptitudes for poetry and any genre that allows them to express their feelings through letters. They may have hands-on skills, from sculpture, drawing or any form of design. They are constant people when it comes to learning something that catches their attention. They easily move the people around them, as they seek to say what they genuinely feel and think. They tend to be somewhat reserved with their thoughts at first but when they express them, they will not express them abruptly or shouting. They take their time to learn, they like to do things at their own pace and not feel pressured, as they are susceptible to stress. It is difficult to change their mind, because even if they listen to yours, it is likely that they will not stop thinking the way they do.

Since they were children, these natives questioned everything, from what surrounded them to the actions or behaviors of those who accompanied them. Pure and present curiosity for as long as they can remember, a clear representation of Gemini in the 4th house. A desire to understand others at a deep level because of the feeling of never having been understood themselves. Many of these natives experience constant changes in their home, from moving to issues of family dynamics. They may have grown up in a chaotic or changing environment; one parent may have been emotionally distant. It is likely that since they were children they have had problems, whether it be excess mental and/or physical energy, nerves or anxiety in some cases. They may have closeness and constant communication with a particular member of their families. They are very reserved people with their past and emotions, they hardly feel that they can talk about it with others. They do not enjoy small talk much, they tend to prefer deep and more meaningful conversations. These natives are fun, spontaneous and very expressive, but due to circumstances and experiences, they have learned to hide this side of them. They prioritize fluid communication with those with whom they have an emotional bond; they will always seek to make the other person comfortable to speak freely about what they feel. They may have had tense experiences in their childhood, such as dealing with people who were hypocritical or overly critical of them. They find comfort in the idea of ​​learning new things, yes, but most likely these natives have comfort series, books or movies that they return to when they don't feel well. Many of them express their discomfort, or in general any type of emotions through writing. Journaling, making poetry or simply writing can be activities that allow them to feel better and more liberated.

These natives are incredibly romantic and attentive in their relationships. They look for a relationship that allows them to be emotionally vulnerable and that is related to Cancer in the 5th house. Love with them feels like a warm blanket, which gives you warmth, protection and reaffirmation. For them there is no better sign of love than dedicating time, energy and devotion to the other person. They nourish their relationships a lot and always work on them, making necessary changes both in the dynamics of the relationship and in their love language, since they adapt to their partner's to make them feel loved. They prioritize the comfort of both themselves and their partners. Its beauty and appeal lies more on the tender, tender and soft side. They usually have attractive and sweet faces, as well as expressive eyes. Regardless of how they show themselves to the world and how they decide to face it, in their relationships they are softies, and they tend to attract people who become attached to them. They attract mysterious and reserved people with their emotions who have a huge heart. For them, a relationship equals comfort, unconditional support and a deep connection. Their partners' past matters to them as a way to understand them better. Caring and being cared for is important in the dynamics of romance for these natives to enjoy.

With Leo in the 6th house it is very likely that the native has excellent creative and/or artistic abilities. These are people who can gain a lot of recognition through their work or a skill they have worked on for a long time. In the work area they may be very loved or appreciated, they are seen as talented, capable and charismatic, however, that natural brilliance that they possess can attract envious people or people who want to steal some of their light. They are generous people par excellence, they will never hesitate to help, support or share with those they love. Having a strong work ethic, being responsible, honest and devoted are values ​​that have been instilled in them since they were young. It is likely that from childhood they were taught to work hard and value not only their own efforts but those of others. Many of these natives tend to prefer to be given compliments about their abilities, the way they do things or their results, not forgetting to mention that they can be modest or dismissive with other types of compliments, not knowing how to react to them. They like to do things that they can put their whole heart into. They need to see the importance behind a task to want to do it and will not waste their time on things that they do not perceive as genuinely useful or important to them. They have this way of doing things well or not doing them at all, they can be very demanding of themselves and of seeing tangible results. Many of these natives may experience pain in the chest and/or back if they are subjected to a lot of stress. For them it is crucial to truly love their job, because they feel that hating their job is no longer bearable for a little more money. Passion is important for them when starting a project, so if the passion runs out they will not hesitate to drop the task in question.

With Virgo in the 7th house we can observe what these natives look for in their relationships, especially those they want to maintain long term and this is reliability and mutual support. They are so used to giving a lot to others and supporting them fully no matter what, they are extremely devoted and giving to those who have the place of their heart, but it is highly disappointing when that is not given back to them. They tend to be so hard on themselves, overly self-critical of their actions in a relationship. If Mercury makes tense aspects, it is very likely that after breakups they will think that they are guilty or have a feeling of responsibility about it. They will always seek to improve their relationships, frequently asking their partners about how they feel more comfortable or how to make them feel more loved. They are looking for a reliable partner who supports and motivates them, someone who looks after their well-being and who accepts them without conditions, someone who makes them feel sufficient and happy with who they are. With this placement the natives will have a future spouse dedicated to them and the relationship, someone modest who will work hard and know how to appreciate the natives' efforts and intentions. It will be a relationship that will emerge little by little, they will get to know each other more and more and along with this, not only love but admiration will grow more and more. Both will try to resolve any issue that arises, knowing how to listen to each other and proposing solutions. Both will arrive at a point in each other's lives where they are focused on themselves whether it is improving, healing or working.

Giving and receiving equally is an internal desire that lies in Libra in the 8th house. That longing to show oneself completely to their special one and fully know the other, that fervent yearn, the need to be transparent with someone willing to be genuine with them. There is a set of internal conflicts between wanting that intense, passionate and extremely devoted connection with the fear of being vulnerable, the fear of becoming dependent on someone or that someone becomes too absorbed with them. The fear of giving everything and being betrayed. It is difficult to trust opening up and there is nothing that terrifies them more than the risk of doing so to the wrong person. Having them as a couple is an experience like no other, not only because of the passion and sensuality of these lovers, but also because of the intense and genuine devotion that they give you. They are able to love you completely, to form a connection that feels real, one in which you do not pretend to be someone you are not or one in which you do not feel like you have to be someone else. They experience great transformations during and after their relationships, they have a tendency to seek or attract deep relationships where there is a strong bond between them. They are fascinating lovers who manage to make you feel desired with a look, who through their touch transmit the whirlwind of emotions that you provoke in them. They love intensely, there is no doubt in them, all or nothing, I love you or I don't love you. They think a lot before entering a relationship, and once they are in one, they immerse themselves completely. 

These natives are constantly searching for a deep meaning to the world around them, something beyond the visible, and that need to see beyond what simple sight allows them to do is thanks to Scorpio in the 9th house. They feel a growing attraction for complex topics that mark them in some way or leave them introspective, since they spend a lot of their time in their heads, analyzing and trying to understand what seems intriguing to them. A desire to investigate topics that seem mysterious to them, inclination for spiritual topics, psychology or solving mysteries/riddles of all kinds. A lot of transformation through travel and chances of traveling to distant lands. Physical and spiritual journeys, many feelings of epiphanies throughout their lives. Fascination or fixation with a specific type of culture. A complex relationship with religion, being either very devoted to their beliefs or having experienced complex things thanks to the religious beliefs of their parents or family. Inquisitive minds, however they do not make it obvious that they know many things, they are very humble people regarding their knowledge, but they firmly trust in what they know. In them there is more knowledge than what is seen, they are very astute and although they seek to see the bigger picture, it is difficult for the details to go unnoticed, since they have the mixture of perception and strong intuition, which makes them perceive things that can be subliminal.

Natives with Sagittarius in the 10th house are curious souls by nature, people who aspire for great things and constantly dream of obtaining, achieving and being. They look for jobs that allow them to expand, intellectually, or expand their joy and emotional well-being. Many people tend to see them as genuine people who are easy to work with and people who, regardless of whether they are introverted or extroverted, will always be cordial. They can become very influential people in their work, since Jupiter, the planet of luck, rules this house, making them prone to finding success at work and easily moving or influencing people. They are likely to travel constantly and come into contact with foreign things thanks to their work. These people aspire to do good, to do the right thing and in many cases to contribute positively to the lives of others through their work. Some jobs for these people are teachers, artists, journalism, international relations, human resources, work in travel agencies, lawyers. In the eyes of the public they have charm, as they have a mixture of charisma, ambition and authenticity. Despite wanting to be recognized for their abilities, many of these natives can find it overwhelming to have a lot of attention, so they need that balance between alone time and public time.

Precisely because of their energy and sensitivity to other people's vibes, they are very selective about who they surround themselves with. Capricorn in the 11th house makes them accept their friends as they are and seek to give them a lot of support, but it is difficult for them to give that title to anyone. They prefer closed and stable circles, they take friendship seriously and can be very devoted to them. These natives have a tendency to attract friends with greater maturity or age, and they will admire the maturity and abilities of the natives. Friendships with long age differences. They may see it as a strong support for a friend/certain group of friends, finding a sense of family more in them than in their biological families. They can have great economic gains thanks to their career, from having high or important positions, or even a lot of prestige in their work. They aspire for big things and it is not enough for them to just dream, they like to make them come true and work hard to achieve them. Contrary to what one would believe with this placement, they are very ambitious and hardworking dreamers, as they will always be thinking about how to materialize everything that they have always longed to have. They believe in the power of hard work and many of them are not naive or excessively overzealous as they are projected.

The noise out there has become overwhelming, the looks of some have become heavy, all those times you felt judged, underestimated or left out for being your precious self has led you to lock yourself away, that beautiful and enormous heart and everything. That which makes you unique in a small world, where you can be safe from being viewed with disdain. People with Aquarius in the 12th house are reserved with certain sides of themselves, be it their thoughts, hobbies or in some cases feelings, on some occasions they may feel separated and different from others, the feeling of being an outsider can be common with this placement. In them lies a creative mind and an accepting soul, which seeks to know others deeply and remove from their lives everything that is superficial. They always seem very perceptive of their environment and those around them, they even generate interest in everything that allows them to know themselves and others better, as a result of a feeling of not having been understood. They have a high creative potential and can excel enormously in a hobby or one of their passions, but they may fear criticism and little acceptance from others. These people fear rejection from people, especially from those they open up to, thinking they are different. They have an open personality, they do not run away from or criticize minds other than their own, they will always try to understand and accept people. They feel that impulse in them to accept and include others because of the wound of not having been accepted themselves. In these natives lies a beautiful being, with unique ideas and emotions, who will hardly show himself completely to others, only those who inspire true confidence. Their longing and desire is to be free from these internal chains and cages that hold back those sides of their being that they feel will be judged.

[pucksandpower]

Fantasy Come to Life

Day 23 → Consensual Non-Consent 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content, CNC, drugging, and conditioning

Kinktober Masterlist

The streets of Monaco glimmer under the soft afternoon sun, a golden haze coating the narrow lanes of boutiques and cafés. Your sandals click against the cobblestone as you make your way towards the boutique district.

Excitement pulses in your veins. The air smells of salt from the sea mixed with expensive perfumes wafting from open shop doors. A vacation, you think. Finally, a breath of freedom.

There’s a group of tourists ahead, their laughter bouncing between the buildings, but you don’t pay them much attention. You’re too busy thinking about the new dress you’ve been eyeing since last night. Just a few more minutes, and you’ll-

A hand. Suddenly.

It’s over your mouth. It’s over your nose. You barely process the scent of something sweet before your body reacts, muscles tensing as you thrash, trying to scream. But your voice is gone. Your world is tipping sideways. The bustling streets dim, muffled voices becoming far-off echoes.

You struggle. Harder now, your legs kicking wildly, hands flailing to grab onto something — anything — but it’s useless. The arms around you are too strong, pulling you back, pulling you down. The cloth over your face smells like chemicals, sickly sweet and heavy.

The light above you begins to blur. Your fingers twitch, reaching for the fading streetlights, for the sky, but everything’s too far away. Your limbs stop responding. You’re falling.

And then — nothing.

***

When you come to, your eyelids feel impossibly heavy. Everything is hazy, dark. You try to move but your body doesn’t listen. Panic flares. You can barely breathe, and your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.

Then you hear voices. Men, low and murmuring, their words filtering into your consciousness through the haze.

“... should be waking up soon,” one of them says. His voice is smooth, calm, like this is all perfectly normal.

“Why her, though?” It’s the driver, speaking in a clipped tone. The rumble of the engine thrums beneath you, the subtle vibration reminding you that you’re in a car. “There are thousands of beautiful women here, Max. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

There’s a pause.

And then, a deeper voice, Max, answers.

“I knew the moment I saw her,” Max says, his tone dark, possessive. “She’s meant to be mine.”

Your heart thuds. You can hear him shifting in the seat next to you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him.

The driver scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know her.”

“I don’t need to,” Max replies smoothly. “Some things are undeniable.”

His words drip with confidence, like this is all part of some grand plan that only he understands.

You try to move again, to make a sound, but your limbs are heavy and unresponsive, and fear curls in your stomach like a fist. You’re trapped, lying motionless in the backseat of this car with two strangers, one of whom thinks he owns you.

“She’ll resist,” the driver says. “They always resist.”

Max chuckles, low and quiet. “Of course she will. At first.” There’s a pause, then you hear him shift closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “But I’ll make her understand. She’ll be perfect once I’ve made her mine.”

The air around you feels suffocating, his presence overwhelming. You want to scream, to cry, but your body remains limp, powerless under whatever they’ve drugged you with. You try to focus, to force your eyes open, but it’s like swimming through quicksand.

“She’s pretty,” the driver remarks after a beat. “But not worth all this. You really think she’s the one?”

Max lets out a quiet laugh, a sound that sends chills down your spine. “She is the one. I’ve seen plenty of women, but none like her.”

The driver grunts, unconvinced. “You sound obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Max corrects him, his tone calm, deliberate. “I’m certain.”

A silence stretches between them, the only sound the hum of the engine and the faint rustle of fabric as Max leans back.

You fight against the drug still clouding your senses, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The luxurious leather beneath you, the soft vibrations of the car — this isn’t just any car. It’s expensive. You can tell by the way it smells, by the subtle way it moves over the road. These men — they aren’t amateurs.

“What’s the plan, then?” The driver asks, breaking the silence. “You can’t just keep her like this.”

Max takes his time responding. “I’ll introduce myself properly once she wakes up. Once she’s calm.”

“And if she’s not?”

“She will be,” Max says, a thread of steel weaving into his voice. “She doesn’t have a choice.”

Your stomach churns. You try again to move, to scream, but nothing comes out. It’s like your body is a prison, and you’re trapped inside, helpless. You feel Max’s gaze on you, heavy, unyielding. Even though you can’t see him, you know he’s watching, waiting.

“You’re insane,” the driver mutters, shaking his head. “This is a bad idea.”

Max doesn’t respond immediately. When he does, his voice is low, quiet, almost intimate. “You don’t understand,” he says. “She belongs to me. I knew it the moment I saw her walk out of that hotel. I could feel it.”

The driver sighs. “I still don’t get it. Why go through all this trouble? She’s just a girl.”

“She’s not just a girl,” Max snaps, his patience thinning. “She’s the girl. The only one.”

Your pulse quickens. You’ve heard enough to know that whatever Max wants from you, it’s not something you can just walk away from. There’s something dangerous about the way he talks about you, like you’re an object, something to be claimed and owned.

“Whatever,” the driver says, clearly done with the conversation. “Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I always do,” Max replies, the confidence back in his voice. “Now, keep driving.”

There’s a shift in the car, a turn, and you feel the momentum change as they head somewhere new. You fight to stay conscious, to fight through the fog in your mind, but it’s getting harder and harder to focus. The drugs are still working their way through your system, and you can feel yourself slipping.

Max leans in closer again, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Don’t worry,” he says. “You’ll wake up soon. And when you do, we’ll start over. Properly this time.”

The car hums beneath you as it continues its journey, and with every second that passes, you feel yourself fading again, drifting away into the darkness.

***

Time slips away, and you don’t know how long you’ve been out when you finally stir. Your eyes flutter open, and the world slowly comes back into focus. The car has stopped, parked somewhere dark and quiet. You can barely move, but you manage to shift slightly, just enough to feel the weight of the leather seat beneath you, the tightness of your clothes against your skin.

There’s a rustle next to you, and then Max is there, leaning over you, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr. “You’re awake.”

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and all that comes out is a faint croak.

“Shh,” Max soothes, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Don’t try to talk. You’re still a little out of it.”

Your heart races, and you try to push yourself up, but your limbs are still sluggish, your body refusing to obey.

Max watches you for a moment, then smiles. “Don’t worry,” he says. “This will all make sense soon enough.”

You want to scream, to lash out, to fight, but you can’t. You’re trapped, and Max knows it.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, leaning in close, his breath warm against your skin. “And I’ll make sure you understand that.”

Terror grips you, but there’s nothing you can do. Not yet.

Max sits back, his eyes never leaving you, and for the first time, you realize just how much danger you’re in.

The world outside the car is quiet, the faint rustle of leaves the only sound in the stillness. You’re groggy, trying to push through the fog in your mind as Max’s hands move to unbuckle your seatbelt. His touch is efficient, calculated, not gentle. The door opens with a soft click, and you feel the cool night air wash over your skin.

Max leans down, his face close to yours, eyes sharp and watchful. “I’m going to carry you inside,” he says, almost as if he’s giving you permission to protest. But you can’t. You can barely lift your head. The drug still lingers, turning your limbs to lead.

Without another word, he slides his arms under you, lifting you effortlessly. His grip is secure, possessive, and you can feel the strength in his muscles as he carries you out of the car and toward the looming silhouette of a villa in the distance. It’s massive. Larger than anything you’ve ever seen in real life, with sprawling gardens that stretch into the darkness. The villa itself is lit from within, a soft glow spilling through tall windows. It’s beautiful in a cold, detached way, like a piece of art you can admire but never touch.

As Max carries you up the long driveway, his pace is steady, unhurried. He isn’t worried about anyone seeing him. He’s confident. Why wouldn’t he be? There’s no one around. No one to help.

“Where are you taking me?” You manage to whisper, your voice weak but steady enough to ask the question that’s been burning in your mind.

Max doesn’t stop walking. He doesn’t even look at you. “Home,” he replies simply.

You swallow, the word landing like a stone in your chest. “This isn’t-”

“It will be,” he cuts you off, his voice calm, like he’s already made up his mind about everything. “You’ll see.”

You try to focus, to take in every detail. The way the villa seems to stretch forever, the heavy scent of flowers in the air, the distant hum of the sea. The weight of Max’s arms around you, the way his fingers press into your skin as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

But you’re not slipping anywhere.

He carries you through the grand entrance, past doors that swing open with ease, revealing a marble-floored foyer that’s so pristine, it feels untouched. There’s a quietness to the place, a hollow, echoing silence that sends a chill down your spine.

The sound of Max’s shoes against the marble floor is steady, rhythmic, as he carries you through the house. You catch glimpses of rooms as you pass — an opulent dining room with a crystal chandelier, a sitting room with velvet chairs and enormous windows. But it’s all a blur, your mind struggling to hold on to details as exhaustion pulls at you.

Finally, Max stops in front of a set of tall double doors. He shifts you slightly in his arms, then pushes one of the doors open with his shoulder. The room beyond is lavish, even more opulent than the rest of the villa. The bed is massive, draped in silk and velvet, with heavy curtains framing the windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. The walls are lined with dark wood, polished to a shine, and a crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting soft light across the room.

Max walks over to the bed, lowering you gently onto the soft mattress. Your body sinks into the silk sheets, and for a moment, it feels like you’re floating. But the comfort is fleeting, replaced quickly by the suffocating weight of reality.

He stands over you, his eyes scanning your face as if he’s searching for something. “This is where you’ll stay for now,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “Until you understand.”

You blink, struggling to keep your thoughts from spiraling out of control. “Understand what?”

Max’s lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile. “That you belong here. With me.”

You want to argue, to scream, to do anything to break through the haze that’s clouding your mind. But the words catch in your throat, and all you can manage is a shaky breath.

Max moves to the foot of the bed, his hands clasped behind his back as he regards you with that same unnerving calm. “This is the beginning,” he says softly. “The conditioning will start now.”

Your heart lurches. Conditioning. The word feels clinical, detached, like something out of a textbook. But the way Max says it makes it clear that this is no abstract concept. This is real. It’s happening to you.

“What are you talking about?” You whisper, forcing the words past the lump in your throat.

Max steps closer, his gaze steady, almost gentle. “You’re going to learn to associate certain things with me. Pleasure, comfort, safety. And you’ll learn that being without me ... hurts.” He says it so simply, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your stomach twists. “You can’t ... you can’t do this.”

“I already am,” he replies smoothly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “The process is simple. Every time you wake up, you’ll feel better when I’m here. Worse when I’m not. Eventually, it’ll become instinct. You’ll crave my presence. You’ll need me.”

Your breath quickens, panic rising in your chest. “You’re insane.”

Max tilts his head slightly, as though considering your words. “Maybe,” he says, almost casually. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

Before you can respond, there’s a knock at the door. Max doesn’t react, doesn’t even turn to look as the door swings open. A man enters, dressed in a white coat, carrying a small bag in one hand. He’s older, with graying hair and a sharp, clinical air about him. He looks at you briefly, then turns his attention to Max.

“Everything’s prepared,” the man says, his voice clipped and professional.

Max nods. “Good. Let’s begin.”

The man moves to the side of the bed, setting his bag down on the nightstand. You try to push yourself up, but your body still feels sluggish, uncooperative. Fear surges through you as the man opens the bag, pulling out a syringe filled with clear liquid.

“Wait,” you rasp, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, don’t do this.”

Max moves closer, his gaze fixed on you. “It’s for your own good,” he says softly. “You’ll understand soon.”

The physician takes your arm, finding a vein with practiced ease. You flinch, but the needle is in before you can even protest. The liquid burns as it enters your bloodstream, a slow, creeping warmth that spreads through your body.

Your vision starts to blur again, the edges of the room fading into darkness. Max’s voice is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

“You’ll wake up soon,” he says, his voice gentle, almost soothing. “And when you do, I’ll be here. Right where I belong.”

***

The next time you open your eyes, it feels like hours have passed. Maybe days. You’re not sure. The room is the same, the heavy curtains drawn, the chandelier casting its soft glow across the dark wood and silk.

Max is there, sitting in a chair by the bed, watching you. His presence is like a weight in the room, something you can feel even before you fully register it. The sight of him sends a strange warmth through your chest, a flicker of something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice low and steady.

You blink, trying to shake off the fog that still clings to your mind. “What ... what did you do?”

Max leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I told you,” he says softly. “The conditioning has begun.”

You try to sit up, but your body feels weak, drained. The drug — whatever they gave you — is still working its way through your system, dulling your senses. But even through the haze, you can feel it. The strange pull toward Max, the inexplicable comfort that his presence brings. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.

“You can’t-” you start, but your voice falters. The words don’t come as easily as they should.

Max stands, moving to the side of the bed. “I know it’s confusing right now,” he says, his tone almost kind. “But it’ll get easier. The more time we spend together, the more natural it’ll feel. You’ll stop fighting it.”

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog. “I’ll never-”

“You will,” Max interrupts, his voice firm but not harsh. “You don’t have a choice.”

He reaches out, brushing a hand over your hair, his touch gentle but possessive. The warmth that spreads through you at the contact is immediate, overwhelming, and you hate it. You hate the way your body responds, the way your mind seems to betray you.

“I’ll leave you for now,” Max says, pulling his hand back. “But don’t worry. I won’t be gone long.”

Your heart races as he steps away, moving toward the door. The thought of him leaving sends a sharp pang through your chest, and you can’t understand why. This is what you want. To be free of him. To be alone.

But as the door closes behind him, the room suddenly feels colder, emptier. The warmth he left behind begins to fade, replaced by an aching void that gnaws at you from the inside.

You close your eyes, trying to fight it, trying to cling to your own thoughts, but the emptiness crashes over you like a tidal wave. It’s immediate — sharp and suffocating, spreading through your body like a cold fog. You close your eyes, trying to focus on anything else, but the ache pulses deep inside you. Your muscles tense as though they’re bracing against a storm, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

The room feels unbearably quiet without him, as though the air has been sucked out, leaving only a hollow silence behind. You hate this. You hate how quickly your body has betrayed you, how quickly the comfort of his presence has taken root inside you.

This is wrong, you tell yourself. It’s the drugs, the conditioning.

But the longer he’s gone, the more unbearable the ache becomes. It’s subtle at first, like a distant pressure, but it grows stronger, clawing at your insides until every nerve feels raw and exposed. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps as you fight against the pull, but it’s relentless.

Time stretches out. You don’t know how long you’ve been lying there, staring up at the ceiling, but it feels like an eternity. Every second without him feels like a thousand needles pressing into your skin. Your body screams for relief, for the warmth of his presence to soothe the burning ache inside you.

You grit your teeth, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. This isn’t real, you think, but your body doesn’t care. All it knows is that it hurts.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, the door opens.

The relief is instant. The moment Max steps into the room, the ache that’s been gnawing at you recedes, replaced by a wave of warmth that rushes through your veins. You hate it. You hate how quickly the pain fades, how easily your body responds to him, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Max walks in slowly, his eyes locked on you, taking in every detail of your face as if reading the changes in your expression. You don’t need to speak for him to know what you’re feeling. He can see it. He can see how desperate your body is for the comfort he brings, even though your mind is screaming for it to stop.

“I told you,” Max says softly, moving closer to the bed. “You’ll feel better when I’m here.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your throat feels tight, the words trapped inside you, and the worst part is you don’t know if they’d come out as anger or something worse.

Max sits on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. The touch is gentle, careful, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m here to make you feel good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “That’s what I’ll always do. As long as you behave for me.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. He says it like a promise, like he genuinely believes that he’s helping you.

“I don’t need you,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaking. “I don’t want this.”

Max’s smile is soft, almost pitying. “Your body says otherwise.” His fingers trail down your cheek, brushing against your skin. “You can fight it all you want, but you’ll always feel better when I’m close. That’s the way it’s going to be.”

You try to pull away from his touch, but your body betrays you, craving the warmth and relief that comes with his proximity. The ache that had threatened to consume you moments ago is gone, replaced by a simmering heat that spreads through your limbs, making your skin tingle under his fingertips.

Max watches you closely, his eyes dark and calculating as he gauges your reaction. “See?” He murmurs, his voice soft and coaxing. “You’re already starting to understand.”

“I hate you,” you whisper, but even as you say the words, your body is reacting to him, leaning into his touch despite the protests screaming in your mind.

Max doesn’t flinch at your words. If anything, he seems amused. “Hate me if you want,” he says, his tone light. “But your body knows the truth.”

His hand moves lower, trailing down your arm, sending a ripple of sensation through you that you can’t control. Your breath catches in your throat as the warmth intensifies, and you clench your fists, trying to fight the pull.

Max’s fingers skim the edge of your dress, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches the way your body reacts. “You’ll feel good, I promise,” he whispers. “Better than you’ve ever felt before.”

You shake your head, panic rising in your chest. “No-”

But Max doesn’t stop. His hand slips under the fabric of your dress, his touch deliberate and slow as he hikes it up over your thighs, exposing your skin to the cool air of the room. Your heart races, a mixture of fear and something you don’t want to name thrumming through your veins.

“Shh,” Max soothes, his voice steady. “You’ll learn to trust me. To need me. It’s already happening.”

You try to close your legs, but his hands are firm, guiding you open, controlling the movement of your body as if you’re nothing more than a doll in his hands. A small, broken sound escapes your throat, but he doesn’t stop, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin, making your pulse quicken.

“I told you I’d make you feel good,” he says softly, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “You don’t have to fight it.”

Tears prick at your eyes, your chest heaving with shallow, uneven breaths. You want to scream, to kick, to fight him off, but the weight of your own body holds you down. And worse — the warmth that follows his touch, the heat building in your core, it betrays you. You can’t stop the way your body reacts to him, no matter how much you want to.

Max shifts, his knee pressing against the bed as he leans over you, his hand sliding higher under your dress. His fingers graze the edge of your underwear, and your breath hitches, panic and unwanted anticipation coiling together inside you.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “Don’t.”

But Max doesn’t listen. His hand slips beneath the fabric, his fingers brushing against you, and the sensation is overwhelming. You arch against him involuntarily, your body moving without your consent, and the heat inside you builds, the ache that had threatened to consume you earlier morphing into something entirely different.

“You’ll come to love this,” Max says, his tone calm, confident. “In time, you’ll crave it.”

You want to scream that he’s wrong, that you’ll never crave this, but your body doesn’t listen. It reacts to his touch, to the way his fingers move, coaxing a response out of you that you can’t control.

Max’s other hand moves to your hair, brushing it back gently as he leans down, his lips close to your ear. “Let go,” he whispers. “Stop fighting it. I’ll take care of you.”

Your breath is ragged, your heart pounding in your chest as the heat builds inside you, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge, caught between the need to escape and the unbearable sensation that’s pushing you closer to a precipice you don’t want to fall over.

“I’ll always make you feel good,” Max murmurs, his fingers moving faster over your clit, his voice a steady, calming presence in the storm raging inside you. “As long as you’re good for me.”

Your body tenses, the wave crashing over you, pulling you under. You gasp, your back arching off the bed as the sensation overwhelms you, drowning out every thought, every protest, until there’s nothing left but the blinding heat of release.

Max’s hand stills, his touch softening as the aftershocks ripple through you, and he watches, his expression unreadable as you come undone beneath him. You hate it. You hate every second of it. But the worst part is that your body craves it.

Max leans back, his hand trailing away from you, leaving your skin burning in its absence. He stands, adjusting his sleeves as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

“You did well,” he says, his voice soft, almost tender. “I’ll leave you to rest now.”

Your body is limp, your mind spinning as you try to process what’s just happened. The ache is gone, replaced by an empty exhaustion that weighs heavily on your limbs.

Max heads toward the door, pausing only briefly to glance back at you. “Remember,” he says quietly, his eyes dark and intense. “You’ll always feel better when I’m here.”

Then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him.

You lie there, staring at the ceiling, the echo of his touch still lingering on your skin. The room is silent again, but this time the silence isn’t cold. It’s suffocating, pressing down on you like a heavy blanket, and for the first time since you arrived in this place, you realize just how trapped you are.

And worst of all, you know that he’s right.

***

The door opens again.

This time, when you hear it, your body doesn’t flood with fear, or even confusion — it’s anticipation. The ache that had returned in his absence is quickly soothed as Max steps into the room, his presence undeniable, filling the space with a charged energy that you’ve come to crave.

His steps are measured, deliberate, as he crosses the room to you. There’s no hesitation in his movement, no uncertainty. He knows exactly what he’s doing and what you both agreed upon. The room feels smaller when he’s in it, like the walls close in, but in a way that feels safe, protected — like nothing can touch you except him.

Max’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile as he comes to the side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. He says nothing at first, letting the moment linger between you, thick and heavy. You’re not sure if you should speak or wait for him to break the silence.

He doesn’t make you wait long.

“Good girl,” he murmurs softly, his voice like velvet as he leans down, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “You were perfect.”

There’s a flutter of warmth in your chest at the praise, something that makes you feel both proud and vulnerable all at once. You blink up at him, your body still exhausted from what just happened, but there’s something comforting about the way he’s looking at you now. The way his hand reaches out to caress your cheek, tender and affectionate, as if to erase any remnants of the harshness from before.

“I wasn’t sure if you could handle it,” Max continues, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw with an intimacy that feels far more personal than anything he’s done before. “But you did. You always do, don’t you?”

You nod, your throat tight, the words caught somewhere between your mind and your mouth. You can’t quite shake the feeling of how intense everything was, how quickly it all escalated. But now, with him here, touching you like this, the pieces of the scene start to fall away, revealing what lies underneath.

Max watches you, waiting for your response, but he’s patient. He always is, especially after something like this. He knows you need time to come back down, to find your footing after the role you’ve both played.

“Was it … okay?” You manage to ask, your voice still soft and hesitant. There’s a vulnerability in your tone, a need for reassurance, even though you know how he feels.

Max’s eyes soften, and he leans down to kiss you — soft, slow, and deliberate. His lips linger against yours, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss. It’s a different kind of intensity now, one that speaks to the connection you both share. When he finally pulls back, there’s a hint of amusement in his gaze.

“More than okay,” he whispers. “You were incredible.”

The tension that had been coiled inside you loosens at his words, and you feel yourself relax against the pillows. Max’s praise always has this effect on you, like it fills in the cracks and makes everything feel right again.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lower lip as he studies your face. “Every second of it was perfect because it was with you.”

The weight of those words settles into your chest, grounding you in the reality of what you both share. It’s all an act — a scene you agreed upon. Max has always been careful, always made sure you were okay with everything. That’s how it works between you two. The intensity, the control, the power dynamic — it’s all part of the game, part of what you’ve both built together. But underneath it all is the love, the trust that binds you to him.

He presses another kiss to your lips, softer this time, a gesture of affection rather than dominance. When he pulls away, there’s a lightness in his expression, a warmth that makes the remnants of the scene melt away completely.

“I have something for you,” he says, standing up and walking toward the door. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You watch as he exits the room, the anticipation building again, though this time it’s mixed with curiosity. Moments later, Max returns, pushing a small cart laden with trays of food. The smell hits you first — rich, savory, and mouthwatering. Your stomach growls in response, reminding you that you haven’t eaten in what feels like forever.

Max notices, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a satisfied smile. “I thought you might be hungry.”

You sit up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows as Max wheels the cart over to the side of the bed. He lifts the lids from the trays, revealing an array of delicacies — perfectly grilled meats, roasted vegetables, fresh fruit, and decadent desserts. It’s more than just a meal, it’s a feast.

“Let me,” Max says, reaching for a fork. He cuts a small piece of steak and holds it out to you, his eyes watching your every movement, waiting for you to take the first bite.

You hesitate for only a moment before leaning forward, letting him feed you. The flavors burst across your tongue, rich and savory, and you can’t help the small sound of appreciation that escapes your lips.

Max’s smile widens. “Good?”

You nod, swallowing before responding. “It’s amazing.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and there’s that familiar warmth in his voice again, the praise sinking into your skin like sunlight. He cuts another piece of food, feeding it to you before leaning in to kiss you between bites.

Each kiss is soft, slow, and filled with an affection that feels worlds away from the intensity of earlier. You sink into the moment, into the comfort of his presence, letting yourself be taken care of.

“You were so perfect for me,” Max whispers between kisses, his lips brushing against your cheek. “I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

You smile softly, feeling the tension of the day melt away as you let him feed you, let him take care of you. There’s something intimate about the act, something grounding. It’s not just about the food — it’s about the connection, the way he looks at you with such devotion in his eyes.

Max takes his time, savoring the moment as much as you are. He alternates between feeding you and stealing kisses, each one a little longer, a little deeper than the last. His hands are gentle as they move over your skin, brushing your hair back, cupping your face, his touch always lingering just a little longer than necessary.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you,” he murmurs against your lips. “The way you trust me, the way you let go. It’s everything I could ever want.”

You close your eyes, leaning into him, the warmth of his words settling deep inside you. It’s always like this after a scene — the tenderness, the closeness. Max knows how to bring you back, how to make you feel safe and loved after everything.

“I couldn’t do it without you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression softening even more. “We do this together. That’s what makes it so special.”

There’s a weight to his words, a promise that echoes in the quiet of the room. You nod, knowing it’s true. You wouldn’t be able to do any of this without him — not the scenes, not the intensity, not the way you let yourself go completely when you’re with him.

Max leans in again, kissing you deeply this time, his hands cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. When he finally pulls away, there’s a hunger in his eyes, but it’s not the same hunger from earlier. This one is softer, more intimate, and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“I love you,” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” you reply, the words coming easily, naturally, because they’re the truest thing you know.

Max smiles, a slow, satisfied smile that makes your stomach flip. He reaches for one of the desserts on the tray — a small piece of chocolate cake — and holds it out to you. You take a bite, and before you can even swallow, Max is kissing you again, his lips tasting of chocolate and sweetness.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against your lips, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of kisses and laughter, the food slowly disappearing from the trays as Max continues to feed you, praising you with every bite and every kiss. The intensity of earlier is long gone, replaced by something deeper, something that feels like home.

And as you lie there in his arms, sated and content, you know that no matter what happens, no matter how intense the scenes get, you’ll always have this — this quiet, tender intimacy that belongs to just the two of you.

[br0kenangel]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

The Red Keep's garden was a haven of peace, its vibrant blooms and lush greenery basking in the warm embrace of the afternoon sun. You sat on a stone bench beneath a pergola, a book open in your lap. The pages fluttered slightly in the breeze, but your attention was divided between the words and the laughter of the children playing nearby.

Aegon and Aemond were chasing each other around. Little Daeron, still unsteady on his feet, toddled after them, his giggles rising each time he stumbled and was helped up by his brothers. Your heart warmed at the sight, a tender smile curving your lips. These were the moments you cherished most—when the weight of court life melted away, leaving only the simple joys of your children.

Beside you, Helaena sat cross-legged on the grass, her silver hair shimmering in the sunlight. She was engrossed in watching a beetle crawl across her palm, her violet eyes following its every movement with a kind of dreamy fascination. Helaena had always been different—her mind seemed to wander in places others couldn’t follow, and her words often carried an unsettling weight, as if she were speaking from another world.

“Do you like your new friend?” you asked, closing your book and watching Helaena with affection.

Helaena glanced up, a faint smile on her lips. “He’s searching,” she said softly, her tone faraway. “But he doesn’t know what he’s looking for… not yet.”

You chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Helaena’s ear. “Perhaps he’ll find it soon.”

Helaena’s gaze shifted to Aegon, her expression growing more serious. “He will,” she murmured. “But when he does, it will be heavy… heavier than he can bear.”

You frowned slightly, your heart skipping a beat at the odd phrasing. “What do you mean, sweetling?”

Helaena’s eyes, still fixed on the Aegon, seemed to see something beyond the present. “The sun will wear a crown,” she said, “But the crown will burn, and the throne will weep.” her voice low and melodic. “It’s made of thorns, and every rose has its price.”

The cryptic words sent a chill through you. Helaena often spoke in riddles, but this one felt different, more ominous. “A crown of thorns?” you echoed, trying to decipher the meaning. “What kind of price?”

“He will lose a part of himself, stolen by the shadows,” Helaena answered. She turned her gaze back to the beetle, her fingers lightly tracing its path. “The moon will pay the price in blood,” she whispered, almost as if to herself. “He will close an eye to gain a flame. A shadow will fall where the moon once shone, and he will see the world through only one eye.”

Your heart pounded as you tried to make sense of the riddle. “Helaena, what are you talking about? Who will lose an eye?”

Helaena looked up at you, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of clarity in her violet eyes. “And the star… he's the brightest, but he will be dead before his time” she continued, her voice tinged with sorrow, “The star will fall far from home, he will shine brightly before he falls, where no one can hear his cries. The sky will mourn, and the ground will drink his tears.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The words were like pieces of a puzzle, each one pointing to a grim fate for the children you loved so dearly. The sun—the moon—the star… You didn’t need their names to understand whom Helaena was speaking of.

“Helaena,” you said, your voice trembling slightly, “how do you know these things?”

But Helaena had already retreated back into her own world, her attention once again focused on the beetle. “The dreams,” she whispered, “but no one listens until it's too late.”

You felt a wave of cold fear wash over you. Helaena wasn’t just a child with strange thoughts—she was seeing the future, though her visions were veiled in riddles that most would dismiss as nonsense.

Most, but not you.

You gently took Helaena’s hands in your own, your voice soft but urgent. “Sweetling, please… tell me more. What do the riddles mean? What can we do?”

Helaena looked up at you, her eyes distant once more. “You can’t change the wind,” she said quietly. “It will blow as it wishes. But… the lioness can shield her cubs from the storm, if she’s strong enough.”

You pulled Helaena into a tight embrace, your heart aching with a mix of love and fear. “I’ll protect you all,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to Helaena’s forehead. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Helaena rested her head against your shoulder, her small arms wrapping around you. “The darkness is coming,” she murmured, “The lioness is strong.” she murmured, her voice muffled against your dress. “But the storm is stronger.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you held Helaena close, the girl’s cryptic words echoing in your mind. You glanced over at your sons, who were still playing, oblivious to the dark future Helaena had glimpsed.

For now, all you could do was hold them close and prepare for the storm that Helaena had foretold. You would be their shield, even if the dragons themselves came to tear them apart.

“Everything will be alright,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Helaena. “I promise.”

Part 1 ♡ Part 3 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 5 ♡ Part 6

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[sofstiltskin]

Astrology observations pt 4 🌺

❀ sun-moon synastry : you will always come back to each other 🫣 ( great indicator for strong mutual attraction )

❀ mars-venus synastry : the mars person finds very sexually appealing venus person

❀ when air placements have crush on you they will either be mean (without any reason) or very pleasant to you, due to their childish behaviour in love 🤪

❀ venus in 3rd transit -> someone will be attracted to your way of speaking or vice versa

❀ I read somewhere that 12th house signs are your hidden enemies, but I think that they are the people from whom you can learn a lot bout urself ! ( from my experience)

❀ Your childhood friends can have a placements in sign of your 4th and 5th house (even 11th house) 🎀

Have a nice evening/day guys & tysm for 100 followers <33

- Sof

[sashiavi]

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this has been rotting in my documents since October </3 abandoned kinktober prompt I just couldn't get out of my head :((

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♡𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗♡ Wriothesley x Reader - wrio finds you stuck in a wall

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: | ¹⁸⁺ | ˢᵐᵘᵗ | ᵃᶠᵃᵇ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ | ᴾʳᶦˢᵒⁿᵉʳᵎ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ | ᵖᵘⁿᶦˢʰᵐᵉⁿᵗ | ˢᵗᵘᶜᵏ ᶦⁿ ᵃ ʷᵃˡˡ | ᵖᵒʷᵉʳ ᵈʸⁿᵃᵐᶦᶜˢ | ᵈᵒᵐ/ˢᵘᵇ | ⁿᵃˢᵗʸ ⁿᵃˢᵗʸ ʷʳᶦᵒ ˢᵐᵘᵗ | ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ³.⁵ᵏ

→ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵂᵃʳⁿᶦⁿᵍ←

ᵀʰᶦˢ ᴾᶦᵉᶜᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶦⁿˢ ᵀʰᵉᵐᵉˢ ᴼᶠ ⁻ ᴰᵘᵇᶜᵒⁿ|ᴰᵘᵐᵇᶦᶠᶦᶜᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ|ˢᵗᵘᶜᵏᵃᵍᵉ| ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᴰᶦˢᶜʳᵉᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᴵˢ ᴬᵈᵛᶦˢᵉᵈ

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

Well, well. What an amusing predicament. Wriothesley certainly didn't expect his morning to turn out so… Interestingly. 

The Duke makes his rounds through the Fortress of Metropide twice a day. Once in the morning and again during the young hours of the night, right when the sun sets. Not that its rays could be seen so far down under the surface of the sea, but the sentiment was there. Wriothesely would often be seen passing through the establishment's pleasantries, always making a stop by the inmate sleeping quarters, he ought to have an idea of exactly whom he had in his Fortress.. Right?

He ventures further than the guards are assigned, boots clicking coolly against the metallic flooring, echoing through the high domed ceilings of the holding pods. The Duke makes an effort into personally peeking a look into each isolated cell, sometimes striking up a small conversation with an inmate or two. The man knew all-too-well just how lonesome time in prison was, he could at least acknowledge their existences. 

Speaking of, his mind wanders as he approaches a specific cell, isolated and cold - Away from the rest, segregated by the Fortress’ rule of separating cases, depending on their verdict - Wriothesley flitters back to a conversation he held the night before -

- “Now, what's a girl like you doing here in my Fortress?” Wriothesley leans himself upon the bars of your cell. The area was quiet, isolated with little inhabitants, even more so during the day time, while inmates congregated within the public area of the fortress. You jump slightly, whipping around to face him. 

“Oh, you know.. Stuff..” You reply, looking a little shameless towards him. He had an inkling that you were up to no good. But he’d bite.

“How’s the Fortress treating you? Despite the whole prison aspect,” He chuckles to himself, earning your own laugh, dancing in his ears.

“It’s.. a little boring in here,” He watches your eyes wander around the cell.

“Well- At least you have that poster there, plenty of fun to stare at, I’m sure.” Wriothesley lets his eyes crinkle. The poster was large, stuck to the wall haphazardly, crooked and torn on one corner. “That thing could cover up anything,” He side comments. He watches your interest pique, head tilting in what he could only describe as thought - A stupid one he thinks. 

“I wouldn't try it, you just might escape. I can't have that happen, now can I?” He winks, finally continuing his evening round throughout the section of the fortress.

All of that circles back to the now, as Wriothesley approaches your cell on his morning patrol. Something stirs in his chest, a tickling inkling. He nearly half expects you to have followed his gracious ‘advice’ - If you could even call it that. 

Lo and behold, the Duke spots a special individual poking out from the cracked cell wall. Your lower half nearly dangles from the partition, practically on tippy toes, ankles surely close to giving out from the awkward position. The poster from the night before lays perfectly on the floor next to your frame, comically outlining just how bad you had messed up. He nearly chuckles at the sudden jolt of your body as he unlocks the cell door, craning it open with an obnoxious creak.

“Well.. Aren’t you something?” His heavy boots resonate through the near barren cell, echoing as he makes his way towards your predicament.

You helplessly squirm, whining out of your throat as you fruitlessly struggle in your impromptu confines. Wriothesley stares down at you in utter bemusement, his face cracking with an audacious downturned smile; not that you could see his face through the thick prison wall. Poor You. All lodged and stuck.

"Y-Your Grace! It's not what it looks like-" Your voice manages through the wall, a little muffled to the ear. However, Wriothesley was sure you hadn’t even broken into the adjacent room.

"It's exactly what it looks like. Who knew you'd actually try it." He almost laughs. It wasn’t like you were going to go anywhere - Last he checked, the Fontainian Ocean was right outside their door.

“Seemed like a decent idea..” Wriothesley has to strain to hear your mumble.

“We’re far under the water dear.. Or did you forget in your haste?” This time, he makes no effort to stifle his laugh, chuckling out loud when your form visibly slumps - Whether out of embarrassment or defeat - He was thoroughly amused.

“Hmm.. Now, what do we do with you?” Wriothesley teases. He cranes his body, bending his back with purpose, inspecting the damage you had added to the already faulty wall. How you had managed to wiggle your way in this far, he hadn't a clue. Your body noticeably tenses, you make an attempt to find a proper footing, easily failing from the height of the hole.

“P-Please Your Grace- I’ll do anything, really! Anything you want just- please don’t add time for this..”

“You’ll do.. Anything…?” Call him confused, what were you on about?

“Yes, anything- ch-chores? Solitary? I’ll be good I swear, really- Or you could..” You trail off, leaving the Duke to sit with his whirring brain for a moment. “You.. Can take me… Use me how you want- Please~ Y-You’re stressed right? U-Use me.. Do whatever you wanna-” You sounded nearly delirious. Your pretty ass shakes, brushing up against the front of his pants, a feeble attempt to press back into him.

Were you trying to bargain with him? Wriothesley was more than ready to pull you out, maybe give a little slap on the wrist and send you on your merry way. But now? The Duke couldn't help but indulge in the feeling of his pants tightening around his groin. The idea of taking your pretty self, stuck helplessly in the wall. He couldn't refuse your offer, right? Not when you sounded so eager. Not when you begged for him, for his body, for his thick aching cock, threatening to burst the seam of his trousers. 

Before he can properly stop himself - Not that he was really going to - Wriothesley finds his hands on the soft swell of your ass, squeezing the flesh in his palms. You jolt under his touch, footing slipping slightly against the floor that barely brushed against your toes. Wriothesley breathes hard from his nose, hooking his fingers into the cut of your waistband, pulling the fabric over your form. He hears a whimper from beyond the wall.

“Y-Your Grace…The wall..” Your voice wobbles, body tensing against the brush of his hands.

“What? Having second thoughts?” He can’t help but tease you, squishing his fingers into the soft meat of your ass, digging his hands into your half-on pants. You did say anything. You gasp out, voice cracking with muffled little pleas. ‘Never’ you say ‘Want it bad - so bad’.

Your pants come off quickly, thrown to the floor in a crumple. Wriothesley’s hands are on you again, spreading the fat of your ass apart, marvelling at the pretty swell of your pussy hugged against your panties. He watches your plush thighs squish together, rubbing and squirming in his hold, he couldn't tell if you were wiggling away or keening into him. Not that you could go anywhere. The thought irks a chuckle out of Wriothesley. His fingers wander again, caressing over the soft skin of your ass, digging them in and jiggling cheekily. His thumbs slide over and hook into the elastic of your panties, hugging around the thick of your legs. He meanly tugs at the snappy material, pulling it up and taught, forcing the fabric to cling achingly against your cunt. His tongue instinctively pokes from behind his lips, itching to lap at the pretty wet spot that had formed over the fabric. 

Wriothesley swallows thickly, eyes locked on your pretty cunt, head swimming with the short, hiccuped whines that cut through the wall. You babble and cry, repeating his title over and over - Your Grace, Your Grace - begging him to just touch. To do anything - Anything. 

Your pretty voice gets to him and he finds himself nearly ripping your drenched panties off of you. He pulls them down, leaving them dangling off of your legs, showing off your wet cunt just for him. Gods, he wasn't disappointed. Your pretty pussy peeks from behind the swell of your thighs, already dripping wet, all over yourself. He swears he twitches, breath hissing through his teeth, cold on your core. The sweet jump you make - as best as you could - sends him reeling. 

Wriothesley’s thick fingers tentatively poke at your dripping pussy, catching your sweet, dribbly slick on his fingertips. He awes at how it webs between his fingers, how you’d managed to work yourself up with your own babbling. Perhaps the wall aided a little - Showing off your bottom half, on full display just for him to enjoy, your own vision obscured. You wouldn't see anything coming. The thought runs straight to his cock, making itself well known again against the fly of his trousers. 

Wriothesley licks against his lips, enamoured at the pretty string of your slick on his fingers, sticking between his digits like a lattice. He needs more. He wastes no time, easily slipping in two of his fingers, knuckle deep right into the doughy swell of your hole. Gods, you felt so soft. Silky to his touch, pussy pretty and plushy and warm. The squeal that muffles through the wall forces him to sink his teeth into his own bottom lip. Toying with you came to him naturally. Ever so easy with you all snug and stuck, silly enough to try and swindle him and escape your commitment to the Fortress. 

“W-Wriothesley… your g-grace..” He ignores you, fingers digging into the sweet, supple curve of your cunt. He curls them downward, earning the prettiest, muffled cries through the wall. He releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Wriothesley thrusts his fingers hard. Pressing meanly into the achy swollen bump in your core, getting a kick out of the lewd suckling squelch of your pussy on his fingers. Your poor legs practically give out, ankles going limp, your body holding itself up thanks to the wall hugging your body. Your voice crackles through the cement, whiney and keening, babbling dumb nonsensical begs and pleads to him. Your slick pools against his knuckles, threatening to overturn the snug fit of his rings on his fingers. He can't help but stare, locked in, mind reeling with the way your cunt wrapped around his digits. He couldn't help but wonder just what that pretty little thing would look like, all red and puffy, hugging on his thick cock.

He shamelessly lets out his own groan. Finally managing to remove his fingers, watching in awe as your slick drips off of them, connecting him to you with a thin, dribbly line. 

Just a taste…

The thought zaps through his brain, tongue shamelessly poking its way past his teeth, running over his lips with a quick tilt of his head.

Wriothesley wastes no time. Wrapping his lips against your slick cunt, eyes rolling hard into the back of his skull. Fuck. Your taste on his tongue, sweet and tangy, oh so decadently coating his throat. Archons, he laps and suckles, nearly sinking his teeth into the heat of your core, into the puffy swell of your pussy lips. You keen back into him, whining never-ending, absolutely ceaseless, voice managing to pierce through the heavy material of the wall you’d stuck yourself in. That thought charges through his mind again. Poor little you, all stuck and lodged in the wall all for him to play with. The man was sure he would cream in his own pants if he kept up. He barely registers his knees beginning to ache under the heavy pressure of his own body meeting the floor. Since when had he managed to sink down? Finding his hands back on your plushy ass cheeks? Chin dribbling slobber and slick, sticking wetly to the scratchy stubble shadowing over his face? He couldn't take it anymore. 

Wriothesley stands with a start, ignoring the stiff crack of his knees in favour of unbuckling his godforsaken pants. His hands are clumsy, large palms pawing at the metal of his trousers, his belt suddenly too intricate for his rough, fervent body to figure out - Not with how his mind reels, with the sight of you stuck in the wall, pretty pussy drooling, on display all for him. He barely shoves his pants to his thighs, the material wrapping around his legs in a mess. His cock weeps as it's free, slapping up into his stomach, heavy balls hanging over the waist of his trousers. He leaks beads of sticky pre, messing up the surface of his dress shirt. Wriothesley groans out loud, hand coming up to wrap around the base of his cock, squeezing it up and down to ease the hot tension pulsing through his thick cock vein. 

He was sure you heard the cold clink of his belt, the only inkling of what was to come for you. He can't help but jerk his length off to the sight of you, shamelessly stalling just to mess with your head. No matter how much you squirm and beg, crying out as best as you could, stupidly asking for a reply to gather any kind of indication of what he was about to do to you. He stays silent.

Wriothesley meanly slaps his cock over the sticky, wet folds of your achy cunt, he chuckles when you jump again, going absolutely crazy for your every little reaction. Your pussy sounded so pretty on his tip, all wet and sticky as he slapped and rubbed against it. His fat tip slides over your warm, slick folds, craning his hips forward, catching against your sopping hole, earning him the softest gasps from within the wall. Your little jumps all but spur him all the more on.

“M’ not even in yet.. Pussy’s already tryin’ to suck me in,” Wriothesley pokes his tip against your hole, catching it against the warm, supple squeeze of your cunt. He growls through his teeth, head quickly draining of any cohesive decision making. Your babbling continues through the wall, your hips crane up into his own, wiggling and catching back on the thick head of his dick. Gods, that does it. You were insatiable, all stuck waiting for him to come along and ravage your pretty cunt with his cock. 

It all urges him to dive in, give your poor cunt no warning for his thick, dribbling cock.

And so he does.

“Fuuuckk” Wriothesley can’t help but groan, finally feeling the sweet swell of your cunt enveloped the fat length of his cock. He has to bite into his thumb, just to slow himself down, let himself relish in the sweet squeeze of your cunt on his cock. Gods the way you wrapped around him, silky soft walls hugging on his length. He can't help but awe at the way your achy pussy squeezed on him, all puffy and sore from neglect. His hands find your hips, one of the only parts free from the wall.

“Your Grace~.. So big- so biiig… Filling me up- please please… please” Your silly voice cracks through the wall. Wriothesley digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips, purposely lifting your poor legs off of the floor, leveraging your body just for him to use. You squirm in his hold, easily forcing him to grip you tighter.

“Fuck, stay still. Gonna make me go crazy..” Wriothesley finds himself mindlessly rocking his thick cock into your silky cunny, humping his hips against your ass like some kind of dog in rut. Archons, he could get used to this. His own personal little wall slut, always there for him to use and abuse. His eyes roll at the idea, his snapping hard, earning a loud hiccuped cry from within the thick wall. The hot squelch that follows has him nearly drooling, mouth dropped open in a soft frown, eyes locked on to his heavy cock sliding in and out of your dumb cunt. He fucks his hips hard again, cock head smacking into the deepest parts of your pussy.

Wriothesley doesn't remember speeding up. But he sure as hell won't be slowing down - not anytime soon. Your gushy pussy squelches on his cock, dribbling down your thighs, messing all over your poor aching legs. Wriothesley’s fingers keep a hold of your hips, rocking them slightly to meet his brutal pace. He doesn't have to crane his ears to hear your pretty moans, effortlessly reaping through the solid wall, barely muffled by the sheer loudness of your voice. 

Fuck, he didn’t care about the noise. Let everyone hear them. What were they going to do about it? What were you going to do about it? About getting all stuck in this wall, going against the Fortress’ protocol? Seducing the Duke of the Meropide, forcing him to fuck your dumb brains out to teach you a lesson? A growl resonates from his throat, hips snapping hard, clapping into the sweet swell of your ass cheeks as he fucks up your cunt. 

Wriothesley’s eyes wander, locking down on the sweet jiggle of your ass and the puffy red throb of your cunt on his cock. A heavy breath makes its way through his nose, eyes hyper focused on the pretty, creamy ring around his length as he fucks his hips against you, slowly leaking its way on to his pants. An ache builds in his pelvis, thick vein pulsing on the underside of his cock. Your moans don't stop, legs continuously squirming in his grasp, body stuck in the juncture of your silly wall. He thinks you beg, maybe you scream, crying out for him to keep going, to fill you up to cum hard and deep and mess up your insides. 

Wriothesley drops your legs, forcing you to dangle, his hands press into the wall above, grinding his hips upwards, stabbing your pussy impossibly deeper with his length. Sweat beads off of his nose, his calves cramp and ache with every thrust he makes, but Gods, he wasn't going to stop. He finds himself moaning out loud, complementing the pretty noises that creak through the wall. Your pussy hugs on his length, squeezing nice and tight, wrapping around his fat tip every time he slams it back into you. 

His teeth grit hard. Eyes still locked on to the messy slide of his length, in and out, in and out. He was coming close. So fucking close.

Wriothesley’s brow scrunches, relishing in the aching squeeze of your messy pussy on his cock. He couldn't take it anymore. The creamy ring he’d fucked out of you, the pretty ripple of your ass on his hips, how juicy and gushy your cunt was on his length. Gods, it was all so much. His hips snap, pace faltering, clapping his hips in heated staccatos, dragging his length out and slamming right back in with a hard smack. You cry with every thrust, silky cunt squeezing on his tip, babbling his name over and over and over. 

He finally spills with a deep, hard fuck. His thick tip spurts hot rivulets of cum into your silky pussy. He messes your insides with white, fucking himself through his orgasm, humping up on your cunt, mounting your pussy with his cock. His throat growls with every fuck, sweat beads off of the tip of his nose, he watches his hot spurts leak steadily out of your hole, leaking around the base of his length. He can’t help but nestle right into your cunt, relishing in the sweet squeeze of your milky walls on him, he cranes his hips every so often, teasing his aching tip with your soft insides.

You kick and whine as eventually, he pulls out, dribbling his hot white cum down your thighs. 

“No~ need more! More more!” Your muffled voice cries, pitifully wiggling within the hug of the wall, attempting to squirm your way out.

Wriothesley chuckles hotly, eying off the sweet gush of cum that drools out of your puffy pussy. His mouth waters, salivating like a dog. Surely he could take you out of the wall a little later? You’d understand. You’d been a great little wall slut for him so far, so why not indulge for as long as he wanted? Maybe he'd let you cum, spray and mess all over yourself - He could even let you out as a reward.

His finger comes up to caress over your spent hole, scooping up the leaking slick that coated your poor pussy. The cry he earns makes his half-hard cock stiffen, bobbing to life with a flex.

Archons, weren’t you something?

hnnnnnng gg g wrio wooof wOof - my longest fics are always wrio </3

Idk what possessed me to create this- I hope you enjoyed ;3

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Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always, Always Appreciated! Ilysm <333

♡ᵀᵃᵍˡᶦˢᵗ♡

@madsw9 @pvbbyb0y @heath-sama @shiningpaint-marbleheart @the-massive-simp @tericula @a-random-weeb @mechalily @mydarlingdahlia @finnie9479

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

Do Not Translate Or Repost - Property Of SashiAvi ♡

[loveemagicpeace]

🍸Saturn in Houses🍸

A lot of people ask me about Saturn in houses so I decided to make a new series about Saturn in houses in general.

☕️Most important thing about Saturn is that Saturn represent time , age ,reward , growth but in some kind of different way than Jupiter. Also represents your way of coping with life,things that you are more serious about and more responsible with. It also represents holidays. The planet is known for its reality and practicality, but also for its tendency to excessive strictness. His expectations may be too high. A strong Saturn in chart can indicate that we want to control everything in our life to the point that we consider ourselves a failure if we fail to reach the goals we have set for ourselves. However, Saturn provides the desire for we develop the areas in which we feel weak and this weakness can therefore become our greatest virtue. Strong Saturn connection between two charts in relationship (especially if saturn is in aspect with the moon or the sun) indicates a serious long-term commitment that can last forever (whether we like it or not). Saturn can also be cruel sometimes because it is the planet of hard reality but it also the planet that help us the most to achieve something much more greater than that.

🫧Saturn in 1st house- in your early age you can have problems with yourself image ,with your appearance ,confidence & energy. It can also be hard for you to express yourself. With Saturn here you can feel weak sometimes. You can feel like you don't have that much power that other people do have or you can feel like you are not good enough. Many people may underestimate you. Many times you can give off a very different energy than it really is (especially when people meet you for the first time). You are a more closed person and you only give energy to those who deserve it.

✨Saturn in 2nd house- maybe it's hard for you to find your value or set boundaries for yourself. You have very strong and serious approach to money you will never buy something that it's like I don't know some random thing. Also a lot of people think that you cannot work with money or things related to money maybe people don't trust you with that but this is all because they don't really know how smart you actually are. Low self-esteem is a characteristic trait of this placement in astrology. Self-confidence doesn’t come easy to you, though.

⭐️Saturn in 3rd house- many people underestimate your thinking, expression, intelligence. U can usually get insecure about the way you speak or the way you say some things. I think the fear in this house is that you are afraid that you will say something wrong. You have to be confident in whatever thing you say and you should say confidently because you are intelligent ,you're smart. You can also be a good writer & speaker. Many people can pass their driving test late, but that's exactly why they drive much better than others. You can get along better with your siblings later in life. You are capable of seeing things in depth.

🎧Saturn in 4th house- you can have a lot of rules in your early years. You grow up with rules at home that you can stick to. Your parents are more strict with you and allow you to do certain things later. I just feel like that parents will buy you a phone later in life or something. People usually come from a family where they weren’t emotionally nourished. But it's not always like that because when it comes to family the Moon is great indicator for how you feel at home and how you vibe at home. So saturn doesn't mean that your family cannot be good. You can also be the person who grows the fastest in the family.

❄️Saturn in 5th house- dating life can be very serious topic for you. You cannot date people with whom you don't feel that you can have committed relationships with. Saturn brings a strong desire for fame, recognition, and success but may result in delays and disappointments in love life and artistic creations. U can also struggle to find love. You can also have very high standards when it comes to love because 5th house represent dating ,represent meeting people and flirting and falling in love so usually people who have Saturn in 5th house are very serious when it comes to that. In some cases, your partners are older than you. Often, your love life significantly improves after the age of thirty. Your best relationships will probably come later in life. As you become more carefree and spontaneous, you become more attractive to others.

🍃Saturn in 6th house- you can have a lot of struggles in the work. You feel that working is just anxiety for you or when you work, people are just rude or mean to you. You are always in the shadow at work. People find you like you are not good enough or you don't do the job good enough. You can also stress a lot about your health and you can also be obsessed with being in the some kind of routine or having some lifestyle. Being healthy all the time.

🐚Saturn in 7th house- there can be issues with your relationships. You can have relationships in your early years or you don’t have for a long time. You usually have many karmic relationships from which you can learn a lot. Saturn helps you to choose the right person for yourself and to be happy in the end. You are a person who is serious when it comes to a relationship (when you find a person, then that person is the one and only for you), you hate cheating, and when you decide to leave then you leave. Saturn can also bring a sense of responsibility and duty to relationships. The individual may take their relationships seriously and work hard to maintain them.

☁️Saturn in 8th house- there can be a lot of family secrets that family kept from you. People with Saturn in this house usually feel very lonely or alone in their soul. They have this mindset that you are all alone in this world. You are aware of the hard truth in life that people don't. You can fear the death of loved ones. If you overcome the challenges of your Saturn in the eighth house, you will be able to understand people very well. You can develop a talent to see into the soul. Saturn here gives you a deep understanding of life, death, crisis, transformation, and sometimes a talent for healing.

⚡️Saturn in 9th house- Saturn gives you a deeper view of the world in which you live. Saturn in ninth house people have very strict moral code. This placement indicated a religious person, someone who either follows the set rules or makes their own views. You meet new people and experience new activities that make you see the world from a new perspective. You can also meet a lot of people that change your perspective and your mindset. But there can also be a deep fear of new views. Maybe you don't feel like you're not smart enough or that you're not educated enough.

🖤Saturn in 10th house- You usually go over many obstacles to finally achieve what you really want. Many people have problems with whether they will ever be successful or achieve it. But in the end, they achieve even more. Many times people don't believe in you and see you as a person who will never be that successful and then you surprise them all. You can learn a lot from your father and your father can be your role model or a person who helps you through life. The best advice will give you your father.

🫐Saturn in 11th house-you can have a lot of karmic friendships and you can change a lot of friends in your life. Every friend that you have is the friend that you have to learn something from them. Your hopes and wishes are another important life area associated with this house. It shows everything that comes into your life and how your dreams can come true. Saturn in eleventh house suggests that you are quiet and reserved when in a group. Sometimes you feel invisible: it feels like no one hears you out in a group. In this lifetime, you have to learn how to have a healthy relationship with groups and how to behave in your social circle.

🥃Saturn in 12th house- The individual may experience a strong sense of responsibility towards charitable or behind-the-scenes work. Sometimes you don’t let even those the closest to you to see your weaknesses. As a child, you had to learn to hide your feelings, especially the negative ones. You absorb all the energies around you, and if you are surrounded by negativity, it can affect you badly. It can happen that you have a job that requires you to be isolated in some way. Maybe you work in a hospital or prison. You are often unaware of the reason why you are in pain. If you have planets in the twelfth house, you can benefit a lot from psychotherapy. But when you have Saturn return you can benefit a lot from it and you can become very spiritual opened and you can have a lot of blessings.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

✨Ig-bekylibra✨

-Rebekah📀💘☁️

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (14/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: kind of fingering, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"Tell him the truth. Lying to my grandfather serves no purpose anyway. He's a skilled player. You have to win his trust." Said her betrothed, walking around her chamber with his hands folded behind his back as if it was simple, while she sat on her bed, looking at him in horror.

Lord Hightower had many reasons to doubt her loyalty, starting with her treacherous bloodline to the fact that, in all probability, Gwayne had convinced him that she had forced her way into his grandson's heart through his bed like a simple whore.

She lowered her gaze, fiddling with her fingers in nervous reflex – her lēkia approached her and knelt before her on one knee, taking her hands in his, slightly rough from holding the hilt of his sword.

"My grandfather is loyal to our family. I trust him. Do it, zaldrītsos."

Otto waited for her in the royal gardens in complete solitude, under one of the beautiful ancient arbours overlooking the sea. The day was sunny and hot, so she was dressed in one of the gowns of fine, thin fabric that she had ordered with her Prince's permission – she could have worn a garment belonging to his daughter, Queen Alicent, but she feared he would perceive it as an attempt of manipulation.

She was to be honest with him, as her betrothed demanded.

She sighed quietly, seeing his seated silhouette in the distance, silver trays full of lemon and apple cakes, caramelised dates, grapes and strawberries on a small white table in front of him. She blinked, coming closer with a rattle of stones under her feet, standing in front of him, feeling her heart stop in her throat.

Otto gave her a gentle, reassuring smile and held out his hand in front of him, pointing to the empty chair across from him, seeing how tense she was.

"My Lady. Thank you for agreeing to speak to the grumbling old man and listen to his concerns." He said lightly and she swallowed hard, sitting down, placing her hands on her thighs.

"Treat yourself. My daughter loves caramelised dates." He said and reached for one himself, taking a bite of it.

He chewed it and swallowed, nodding appreciatively, as if indeed their flavour appealed to him too.

"Do you know what my grandson's – and your betrothed's – favourite dish is?" He asked, looking at her curiously, as if he was challenging her.

She raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders, involuntarily grinning with amusement.

"I don't think such considerations occupy his head. He rarely delights in food, and if he does, it is more in the privacy of his own mind." She said calmly.

Otto hummed under his breath, as if her answer satisfied him, and nodded.

"Our Prince is a man of principle and loves simplicity. Deliberations on trivial things bore him and arouse his frustration, just like the romantic courting of women." He said, spreading out comfortably in his chair, placing his hands on the armrests, asking her the obvious question between his words.

How had she managed to seduce him?

She huffed under her breath and turned her gaze away, looking out at the sea stretching around them, the pleasant fresh breeze and shade cooling her sun-warmed skin.

"Like any man, he is not fond of empty words. He chooses his own deliberately and expects others to do the same. Unless he becomes enraged – then his fury erupts like a volcano." She said lightly, for some reason feeling no fear at the thought.

She had ceased to fear him long ago.

She knew that even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to truly hurt her.

"The letter you found in your chamber was sent to you on my command." He said calmly.

She froze, staring blankly ahead, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad.

It was a trial, she suddenly realised.

He wanted to see if she was trustworthy.

For some reason, a wave of sadness and disappointment rippled through her heart.

She naively believed for a moment that her person could occupy her father's mind.

Otto continued, hearing her silence full of disbelief.

"I need to know what you want, child. I need you to put your desires into words so that I can understand what kind of person is sitting right in front of me to become my grandson's wife." He said slowly, as if carefully choosing every thought that left his lips – his voice was gentle and soothing, as if he was trying to reassure her that what she was going to say would remain their secret.

She lowered her gaze, feeling her heart pound like mad in terror – not because she was afraid of him, but because his question startled her.

She didn't know what to answer.

She had never thought about it.

Until now, she had only been the fulfilment of his desires, she thought with shame, playing with her fingers, feeling certain Otto would take her silence as a bad sign, proof that her intentions were not pure.

"I am what he wants me to be." She finally muttered, feeling tears of embarrassment under her eyelids burning as much as if they were living fire.

Lord Hightower looked at her in silence and twisted in his seat with a creak of wood, as if surprised by her answer.

"Do you wish to marry him?" He asked, and she nodded without thinking.

"I want to be by his side. His presence fills my soul and heart with a strange peace. When he is beside me, I am no longer afraid. Of my father, of war, or of what will happen to me. I am not afraid of death or dragon fire. Sometimes I think it would be better for me to die in battle than to live to see the moment when I realise I have lost his affection." She choked out in a trembling voice, feeling the heavy tears one by one run down her cheeks – she was wiping them off the warm skin of her face with her hands, but they flowed anyway.

Why had she said that?

Why was she letting him know her weakness?

Maybe because deep down she hoped that he would kill her one day, she thought.

That he would not let her live to see the day when her husband would love another woman.

"Our Prince holds you in a respect and esteem that he has never bestowed on any woman before. He allows himself to be vulnerable and weak in your presence. Men, dear child, experiencing physical fulfilment without a soul bond, feel an emptiness after the act. Their desire is like a cry of desperation for purely childlike attention and tenderness – then, in his chamber, seeing him in your embrace, I saw a boy who feels protected and comforted. I'm afraid that my grandson fell in love with you."

She swallowed with difficulty, choking on her own tears, looking at him in disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest like mad.

I'm afraid that my grandson fell in love with you.

She shook her head, feeling that she could not accept those words.

He desired her, he enjoyed her, he was fond of her, but he did not love her.

"I dearly loved my late wife. She was my closest confidante, my beloved friend, the most beautiful of women. She was strong, and my grandson is weak. Filled with complexes, he lives to prove his worth, power and strength, not seeing that he is crushing the efforts of many years, made by me and his father. He needs guides, trusted advisors who love him and who want him to prevail. I know that it was because of you that my grandson told his brother about his plans regarding Rook Rest's. I know that you advised him against plotting behind Aegon's back and sought to rally them. You advise our Prince wisely and I wish you to be his wife. As the daughter of the Lady of Runestone, you are the blood of the Kingdom of the Mountain and the Vale, which will be crucial to us when the siege of Harrenhal begins. Your task to the Kingdom will be to rally the Lords against Lady Arryn's will and to stop my grandson from acting recklessly and violently. Do you understand what I have in mind?" He asked calmly, and she nodded quickly, wiping her hot, swollen cheeks with her hands.

"Yes."

As she was fitting her wedding gown, letting the servants and seamstresses check the length of the sleeves, she thought about Otto Hightower's words and how much they surprised her.

He was a shrewd and enlightened man, of that she was convinced – he also let her know that he did not see her as an enemy or a threat, but as an opportunity for them and the Kingdom as a whole.

For some reason, something in his words and the way he said them comforted her – she felt that, at last, the burden of the war and the Crown would partly fall off the Prince's back, allowing someone more experienced to advise him on difficult and complicated matters that would have overwhelmed the wisest of men.

She shuddered as the door to her chamber opened and her betrothed stepped inside, searching for her with his eye.

"No!" She squealed, fleeing behind the light-coloured three-door screen standing nearby. "It brings misfortune. Leave."

He shouldn't see her in her wedding gown before their nuptials.

She heard his sigh of impatience and his lazy footsteps on the other side – when he stopped the servants bowed to him and left the chamber, leaving them alone.

"What did he say?" He asked calmly.

She sighed quietly, stepping closer to the wall of thin material behind which she could see the shadow of his tall figure.

"That he wishes me to win the support of the Lords of the Vale for you. That I would help him control your impulsive nature." She said, and he snorted, frustrated, turning his head to the side.

"Is that how he sees me? As an uncontrollable animal to be tamed?" He asked with a regret that made her swallow hard, her fingers touching the fabric as if she wanted to touch his chest.

His heart.

"No. But he and I know what your anger means and how dangerous it can be. That it is only when its first wave passes that your coolness and common sense returns to you. There is a fire running through your veins – that is your nature. We do not want you to burn in the heat of your own fury, regretting later the deeds done in a sudden burst of rage." She muttered and heard him draw in a breath, as if her words pained him.

"He is disappointed in me, then." He said coldly and she closed her eyes, feeling helpless against his low self-esteem.

"No, brother. He wants your victory, exactly as I do. If you craved sweet lies, you would allow Larys Strong to pour poison into your ears, surrounding yourself with lords who would praise you and your greatness. You, in your wisdom, sent for your grandfather, who is sincere, who cares for you and your family."

"Ours." He corrected her, and she smiled involuntarily with gratitude.

"Ours."

She heard him take a step towards the screen, his forehead pressed against the material – she did the same, on the other side, hearing his quiet breath.

"– I desire you –" He whispered, and she sighed, feeling his words in her nipples, her lips, the tips of her fingers and her throbbing, swollen cunt.

"– let's last until our wedding – let's make this the night we've waited and longed for –" She said in a breaking voice, feeling that she was losing the battle with herself, his scent, his presence, his closeness making her grow hot.

"– what are you suggesting? – that you won't spend upcoming nights in my bed? –" He exhaled, placing his hands on the screen wall, and she felt a wonderful shiver of pleasure run down her cheeks, along her breasts and down her spine.

"– lēkia –" She gasped and they both sighed as the door to her chamber opened and Lysa stepped inside, holding in her hand the jewellery casket she had ordered for the occasion.

"– leave us, brother –" She whispered in a trembling voice, feeling her womanhood pulsing greedily around nothing, a drop of her wetness running down the inside of her thigh.

"– visit me tonight –"

"– I can't – for at least a few days let me pretend I have dignity –" She mumbled and heard him swallow hard, as if her words caused him pain.

She knew he hesitated, that he wanted to say something more, but resigned – she saw him turn and move towards the door, Lysa bowed to him as he left the room without a word.

She exhaled loudly, stepping out from behind the screen, and Lysa gave her one warm, comforting smile.

She was her only friend.

"They have arrived, my Lady – hair adornments, a dagger and a necklace, matching your instructions in every detail." She said, tilting the lid open.

She smiled broadly as she came closer, seeing the objects lying on the cushion – a thin, delicate golden chain with sapphires framed so that they looked like three water drops – two small and one large that was lying between them – her hair pins in the shape of forget-me-nots, also made of sapphire stones, and a long, beautiful dagger, her gift for her future husband.

She had chosen her jewellery deliberately – her wedding gown was sewn from fabrics in light blue tones and browns – she wanted to show her future husband her devotion to him and her own allegiance to Runestone at the same time.

According to what she had heard, King Aegon began to slowly awaken, but he was dazed and was merely babbling, fed with the milk of the poppy by the Maester – they wanted to spare him the pain, which must have been immense anyway, looking at how much of his skin had been burned in the fire.

However, the fact that he was regaining consciousness worried her Prince, who pushed for the nuptials to take place as soon as possible – he was afraid that his brother, as soon as he found out about it, would forbid the Septon to marry them out of sheer spite.

They renounced grand ceremonies and processions – their subjects were starving, and they did not want them to think that during their great suffering they were drinking wine and dancing, mocking them.

"Thanks to my spies, we were able to prevent great misfortune – a dozen inconspicuous boats arrived under cover of darkness from Dragonstone to King's Landing, filled to the brim with food. They were to be passed on as gifts from Queen Rhaenyra to her subjects. Instead, the food will be distributed on the streets of the city just before your nuptials, so that the whole Kingdom can rejoice with you." Said Otto during the Small Council meeting – her future husband had dismissed his mother in revenge for her affair with Criston Cole, thus freeing up a seat at the table.

As she was a dragon rider and would be participating in the war, she needed to know what was happening, so she was specifically assigned a seat in the Small Council, right next to the Prince Regent's grandfather.

She threw her cousin a quick glance and saw that he was looking at her as well, his grin indicating that he was more than pleased.

"Excellent." He said.

Her betrothed, in keeping with her wishes, had allowed them to spend the nights before their nuptials apart, she knew, however, that he was frustrated and made that known whenever he could.

"No. You stay, hāedar." He said when he closed the meeting and she stood up as did everyone else gathered.

She swallowed hard when she heard the door close – she saw out of the corner of her eye that he stood from his seat and approached her with a lazy, unhurried step.

She gasped as she felt his large hand on her waist, wandering up and down, his other hand without any warning slipped under the fabric of her gown from above and squeezed softly her silky, plump breast.

She pressed her lips together, suppressing a quiet moan of pleasure when she felt his parted, moist lips run over her neck, leaving a wet, sticky trail on her skin, his hot breath making her cunt, swollen with desire and longing, clench greedily around nothing.

"– stop –" She muttered, grabbing his wrist as his hand from her waist and hip slid down between her thighs, closing on her womanhood.

"– are you touching yourself? – hm? –" He asked coldly and she shook her head, panting heavily as she felt his hard manhood pushing against her buttocks, a drop of cold sweat dripped down her back.

"– no – I suffer just as you do, lēkia – please –" She mumbled and cried out, tilting her head back as his fingertips began to gently tease what was under the material of her dress, a wonderful wave of heat surging through her loins.

"– mmm –" He hummed and let her go, leaving her alone, thirsty and quivering with desire, walking out of the room without even giving her a single glance.

Contrary to what her cousin thought, it wasn't just for him that the wait for their night together was agony – her betrothed demanded that since he couldn't touch her, she couldn't either.

She knew that he also did not satisfy his urges in any way, which made him more mischievous – he would lurk for an opportunity for them to be alone and put his hand between her thighs to caress and tease her, whispering in her ear.

"– beg, and maybe I'll fuck you –" He hissed, her hand clenched on his arm.

"– n-no – please, please, stop –"

He let her go then, his jaw clenched in annoyance and some kind of awe, as if he didn't think she could really stand it – her whole body screamed before his eyes that she wanted it, and yet she still refused him.

It was a sign of strong will for him, proof that her words were not empty and her decisions were final.

On the day the nuptials were to take place, the entire Red Keep was put on its feet – Otto feared an attack from all sides, including poisoning, so guards personally chosen by him went to the Sept, as well as to the kitchens, to keep an eye on the cooks and make sure they didn't add anything to the food.

She was surprised by this, but she felt relieved that her future husband's grandfather was watching over everything.

From the morning, Lysa and the other servants had been helping her put on her gown – it fitted her body perfectly, revealing her cleavage and shoulders – the sleeves of the bottom dress clung to her arms, while the sleeves of her top dress, the blue one, was slit at the elbows, falling all the way to the ground.

Some of her hair was pinned up in a bun at the back of her head, decorated with small sapphire flowers, while some fell in waves down her back.

A necklace completed the look – it adorned her long neck and accentuated the colour of the fabric of her gown, however, she actually hoped that this and her sapphire hair adornments would be the only things left on her body during their wedding night.

She shuddered as the door to her chamber opened and she saw Queen Alicent before her – she stepped down from the small dais and bowed to her as did her servants, whether she wanted to or not having to show her respect.

The Dowager Queen stopped before her and sighed, folding her hands in front of her.

"Do you know what kind of man you will marry? Who my son is?" She asked, and she swallowed hard, wondering how a mother could know so little about her own child.

She thought she was simply afraid of the answers to the questions she was asking herself and didn't want to know them, separating herself from who her son was in her mind.

"Yes, Your Grace." She said calmly, looking her straight in the eye. "Our Prince holds you in deep esteem and hopes to earn your praise."

She saw Alicent's lips twitch, her eyebrows arching in an expression of regret, as if her words had caused her pain, her large brown eyes filled with nothing but sadness.

She nodded, as if accepting her words in her heart, and gestured to her servant, who held a small chest in her hand.

"I wish to offer a blessing to you and my son. I ask that you accept this small gift from me, along with my desire for you to be protected by the gods themselves." Said the Queen and opened the lid – she saw a fine gold chain with a small pendant in the shape of a seven-pointed star.

She nodded, looking at it, wondering if, when she went to see her son, she would find at least a few warm words for him.

The journey in the carriage through King's Landing seemed to last for ages to her – the streets were full of happy people – Lord Hightower, according to his plan, began handing out food to the people, leading to a sudden outburst of joy.

The smallfolk, in keeping with his desire, saw this event as a sign, recognising that the gods had supported the marriage between the Prince and his relative by sending them revelry, putting an end to their hunger.

However, for how long will the supplies stolen from Princess Rhaenyra last?

When will their suffering begin anew?

She swallowed hard at the thought that the war had to end as soon as possible, but both her future husband and Dragonstone knew that neither of them had enough advantage to bring the other to its knees.

When she arrived before the Great Sept and the carriage doors opened in front of her, she froze, feeling panic – the people around her were shouting her name, throwing flowers, reaching out to her as if she were some kind of semi-divine being, a symbol of the life they would never know.

She felt overwhelmed and stunned, alone among the crowd, small without her dragon and bow, dressed in a long gown like a doll.

For some reason she wanted to cry.

"My Lady." She heard a voice in front of her, then saw Otto Hightower walking towards her between the guards. "My Lady, give me your hand."

She swallowed hard and did as he asked, placing her palm on his, rough and large. With his help, she walked down a few steps to a small wooden platform, and from it to the ground, feeling that her legs were trembling with fear.

"I am not your father, but I will be more than happy if you do me this honour. It is a difficult journey and no young woman should have to walk it alone." He said calmly, and she looked at him with big eyes, noticing something in his gaze that could have been sympathy or simple concern.

She had always dreamed of someone looking at her like that.

The way a father would look at his daughter.

She nodded, thinking in the back of her mind that if she let go of his hand she would just fall, her legs soft as cotton wool.

As she walked with Lord Hightower into the Great Sept, she heard the sound of trumpets, young girls, daughters of lords and knights throwing flowers at her feet.

It all seemed unreal to her – the temple around her was so gigantic that it took her breath away, the great, tall statues of the Seven Gods towering over those gathered to form a circle, enclosing the entire structure.

At the very centre, on a raised platform stood the altar at which stood the Grand Septon and her betrothed, a sweet emotion squeezed her throat as she looked at his face.

Though he stood erect, with his hands folded behind his back like a statue, she could see that his gaze was hot, vulnerable, his eye large, his lips parted in a heavy breath as if he longed to cry at the sight of her – the fact that she had chosen not the colour of his or her lineage, but his colour, the blue of his sapphire, something only he could understand, the expression of her devotion, her understanding, her affection.

When they stopped at the steps Otto let her go, but she, seeing her cousin's face felt more confident – she grabbed the front of her gown and lifted it, not wanting to step on it, climbing slowly upwards, her steps echoing loudly around her.

She sighed quietly as she stood in front of them, not daring to look at his face, feeling that if she did she would cry for some reason.

It was really happening.

She was to become a wife.

She looked at him and it was a mistake – she felt a squeeze in her throat when she saw him draw in the air loudly when his gaze met hers, as if he felt something deep inside himself that frightened him, his lips slightly parted in a shuddering breath.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection."

Her cousin swallowed loudly, looked at the Septon and then behind him, nodding – Gwayne Hightower approached him with a long black cloak embroidered with green threads from which the figure of a three-headed dragon was formed at the very centre.

The crest of their family and the colours of the Hightowers.

She bowed humbly as he threw the cloak over her shoulders with a sweeping gesture, making sure the material did not slip, and she closed her eyes.

He took her under his protection.

"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." Said the Septon – her betrothed extended his hand to her, standing proud and upright, so she placed her palm on his – the priest entwined their joined hands with a wide, bright ribbon.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words." He said, and they looked at each other, her heart pounding in her chest once before they both opened their mouths and their lungs left the words spoken surprisingly confidently and calmly.

"Father,

Smith,

Warrior,

Mother,

Maiden,

Crone,

Stranger

I am hers | I am his

and she is mine | and he is mine

from this day, until the end of my days."

They fell silent, and though she thought he would not do it, that it would be beneath his dignity, he took her hot cheek in his hand and leaned down, looking at her as if he held the entire heritage of Old Valyria in his fingers.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love." He whispered, only a quiet sigh escaping her throat as his full, fleshy lips pressed against hers in a deep, warm, moist kiss, so tender and soft that she felt a single, lonely tear run down her cheek.

My love.

When he broke the kiss he didn't move away for a moment, just looking at her, and she smiled in a way that must have made him happy, because he smiled too, shyly and sweetly, like a little boy.

They were husband and wife.

[phoenixcatch7]

Lmao I'd love to see a fic where batman like. Doesn't talk at all. He just 'hn' and 'hrm's his way through the story like a Minecraft villager. All the bat kids understand him perfectly.

I actually know people irl who can do this, and I've done it myself during bad migraines, it's practically a second language, so I know it's totally possible to have full conversations between two speakers XD!

It'd be another degree of separation between Brucie Wayne, the ditzy, breathy playboy and batman, who used up all his vocal spoons for the day and now communicates solely through unintelligible grunts and sharp hand gestures when he doesn't need to talk to strangers.

Unfortunately, the best way to learn grunt speak is the same way most languages are learned, and there's no written word (outside of emoji, of course): immersion. And the justice league are no longer considered strangers.

This leads to:

Hal: which way do we go, spooky? Where's the tracker pointing?

B: *grunt*

Hal: what?

B: *insistent grunt*

Hal:..... Can we point?

B: *dour look* *slowly raises arm to point left down the street* *sharp, insistent grunt*

Hal, dryly: don't strain yourself.

-

Damian: greyson. I am calling because father has had an injury and is bed bound for tonight, however Alfred is downstairs and the rest are still on patrol. I am still in the early stages of learning father's intonations. Please translate.

Nightwing, eldest, regularly called for exactly this reason by just about everyone Bruce has ever spoken with since he was a kid, ranging from arkham guards to jl members: *heavy sigh* put him on.

Bruce: hrng...

Nightwing: He's telling you to close the curtains and keep the noise down, he's got a headache.

Damian, over the sound of footsteps and fabric rustling: it truly is just like another language.

N: nah, it's a lot of probability. I've known b for years, I can guess pretty well. There's a lot we can say. For example, that grunt actually carried a lot more meaning, I just trimmed it down.

Damian: truly?

N: yup! If I had to be pedantic, it actually meant 'I am in quite a lot of discomfort, the cause of which is my head, and I am struggling to manage it on my own. Please aid in my cause, my darling sons whom I love dearly -'

Damian: *muffled noise through the phone*

N: that'll be him telling us to shut up. But you can see why I asked you to close the curtains.

Damian: fascinating. I shall take this under advisement.

-

B, exhausted after a long day of board meetings as Brucie: *moody silence*

Gordon: Batman, how's it going?

B: *glower* *drawn out grunt*

Gordon: that bad, huh?

-

Supes, during a briefing: I believe it would be best if we attacked from the north, we've enough flying members to crest the mountains and ambush then that way - Batman?

B: *quiet grumble, with pointer fingers moving in semicircles*

Supes: ah, I see. You're right, we'd be too visible if the sun rose behind them*turns to see the other members standing behind him* what?

Flash, bowing at the waist, palms together over his head: teach me your ways, oh mighty bat-speaker.

[thinemoonshine]

༄LECHE OF THE SIRENS.ೃ࿔*

corrupt!enhypen ot7 x siren!reader warning(s): those stated in the first chapter, enhypen are all insane, self-harm, betrayal, death and violence, (y/n) treats the boys like puppets on strings, gore(barely), suggestive themes, the boys being literal criminals, spiking drinks, intoxications, they suffer and finally get what they deserve...and more type: mini series word count: 17.2k

jungwon and riki are now smitten which means that (y/n)'s plan is near perfection. now, all that's left is to finally bestow upon them the 'reward' that they deserve. a truly picturesque ending is about to befall them... well, at least to (y/n), it is.

𝓟𝓐𝓡𝓣 3 (the finale)

𝒥ungwon finds himself watching (y/n). It began with curious glances and grew to become mezmerised stares and eventually, lead him to roam with the anticipation of bumping into her. It's so painfully obvious and (y/n), being the little bundle of rainbows and sunshine she is, obviously entertains him.

She of course, doesn't miss throwing in a couple of snarky remarks and pulling off little rebellious acts just to give him a taste of both sweet and spice—preserving his interest until it becomes permanent. And like the others, she has succeeded. Being with (y/n), Jungwon seems to forget his social status and truly, it gives him a sense of relief yet at the same time vulnerable but he adores it. He's addicted to these newfound emotions and sensations he's never felt before.

The same goes for Riki whose guarded walls tremble and crumble with each day he uses to tutor (y/n) in dance. Every caress of her hand against his, every shy, longing gaze exchanged and every whisper of her hypnotizing, lulling voice brings goosebumps to wake on his skin. He finds himself shivering and buzzing with want towards her—to be the only one she lays her touches, to be the only one to be graced by her smiles and to be the only one whom she sees.

And Heeseung? A rat caught in a beartrap. His spirit has been through the roof ever since (y/n) confessed to him on how he's so special. Always sneaking bashful yet, hopeful glances at her when others are around and clinging onto her like a homesick pup at every chance they get to be alone—babbling and chanting how much he loves her, begging to be praised and reciprocated.

Others are no different. Each and every one pathetic, overgrown manbabies who don't see past their their own noses.

"(y/n)!" Sunoo calls for the girl and she exits her thoughts to lay her focus onto the other who's out in the sun while she stays shielded under the veranda. She smiles when she sees him fisting a number of small pink flowers with the widest, brightest grin on his face that rivals the sun. "Your favourite colour!"

(y/n) titters and nods and he returns to crouching on the radiant green grass.

There are others...and then there is Sunoo.

She's noticed how different he's become compared to how he was the first time they met. He's changed, but it isn't simply a facade or a temporary shift in character but he's truly changed.

With or without (y/n) in the picture, he acts the same. She's seen it plenty of times before. Whenever he and his six other friends would lounge, he'd stay quiet during the times when they would speak of scandalous topics or belittle those around them—present and yet, absent. When he would face a little mishap such as the servants accidentally spilling tea on his clothes, or when his aide would try to advise him, he listened. He did not immediately punish them nor does he harshly send them away but he stayed and listened—letting the servants apologise and letting his aide speak before sharing his won thoughts which more often than not are understanding and mindful.

Certainly, he does grow irritated every once in a while and it is clear that at times, his patience is forced and smile strained however, he's tolerant. More sensible and more...attentive to those around. A better him than he ever was before.

(y/n) looks up at Sunoo who's now standing upon her and she feels something light and ticklish resting on her crown. Bringing her hand up, her lips stretch to form a grin at the soft feel of dewy petals and she realises that Sunoo's made her a little flower tiara.

"You're beautiful," he compliments quietly, still shy despite the time they've spent together, and his cheeks glow in a shade skin to the petals on her head.

"How honoured I am to be called such by someone of your stature," she teases but the frown that places itself on his face displays his distaste for her statement.

Sunoo sighs before slowly bringing himself down to his knees to instead rest his cheek against her knees. "I've told you before not to mention about that..."

His sulky tone elicits a soft chuckle of amusement from her and she runs her fingers through his dark locks.

"How can I not? Living in this mansion, wearing fancy attires and feasting on gourmet meals—everything reminds me of it, of how I came from nothing. You can't deny it, Sunoo. We're both of different worlds," (y/n) emphasizes once more and it deepens his sour mien.

She halts her movements when he abruptly raises his head up to glare at her but it turns gentle immediately as a face of defeat appears.

"I know but...I will make it work. I'm certain I can. The moment father returns, I will explain to him. I cherish you, (y/n), and I want to live my life with you," Sunoo softly yet adamantly states as his hands clasp hers—drawing circles on their backs with his thumbs.

Hearing those words from him...aches her. An odd feeling.

(y/n) exhales deeply with a small shake of her head. "It will never work. I know my place and it is nowhere near you. Even if you were to tell your father, he will never accept me and I will never be granted your family name. It is more feasible that he will choose another to receive that honour."

Sunoo almost scoffs at her words. They are nothing but truth and that is exactly why he finds it more incredulous. Just as she said, he is a man of power, his family reigns over many, they are authority and yet, he is still confined to this rule that prevents him from having (y/n) to be his betrothed—to be united in holy matrimony until death do them apart.

Still, he is unable to break free from this ridiculous law and tradition. What use is power and name if he can't share them with (y/n)? What use is anything if (y/n) cannot remain by his side?

"Don't be too disheartened, Sunoo."

Her voice lures him out of his head and he lifts his head up to her before she cups his jaw with her hand. She smiles. "We do not need to be wed to stay together. I can still be with you... Perhaps, as a concubine of some sort."

Sunoo's lips fall open, in disbelief that she would even suggest such a thing. Does she truly believe that Sunoo will willingly let himself vow to be with another woman when he only has her in his eyes? And her expression—

His gaze flickers on her visages, not overlooking the subtle melancholia swirling in her orbs, or the stiffness of her smile and the soft knit of her brows.

How can he ever be able to let her suffer? So, he shakes his head. "No. I refuse it."

"What do you mean?" She almost gasps, interpreting his words as a rejection but he shakes his head once more.

Rising to sit on his heels, he then holds her face in his warm hands before staring at her with a look so determined and convicted that she falls quiet.

"We flee," he breathlessly says, as if he's been holding those words for the longest of times. "We run from this wretched place, away from this accursed fate and start anew. We'll follow our own rules without caring of what others may think. We'll live in our own place and we'll spend our lives happy with one another without the need to conform to all this...this absurdity that have been internalized within society."

(y/n)'s eyes widen and she shakes her head vigorously. "Sunoo, have you gone mad? You’ve lived like this for so long, what makes you think you can survive out there?”

“You.”

His answer is immediate, concise and assured. He spared not a single second nor breath to reply and his hand moves to tenderly tuck her hair behind her ear. A soft, loving smile forevermore on his lovestruck mien whenever he gazes at her.

“You, (y/n). Because of you, I am sure I will be able to survive for I cannot live without you. Yes, I am aware of the risk but I too, cannot ignore the undeniable so I have been considering to escape for some time,” Sunoo confesses and he brings his face closer to hers—tips of their noses touching.

“I will have everything prepared within 3 days and we will forever leave this place behind.”

‘Perfect,’ the girl thinks but externally, she continues to protest as she pulls away. “But Sunoo, this place is your home. You grew up here—created many beautiful, priceless memories and have many cherished belongings. You really want to leave all this behind? Will you not grow to yearn and mourn for it?”

The noble goes quiet at this, seemingly pondering over the fact or maybe even just realizing it. But then his eyes upturn once more into crescents and plush, rosy lips pull to a wide grin as he shakes his head side to side with his hair bouncing.

“My heart have already resided with you, my love,” Sunoo claims, voice wispy and enchanting. He leans forward once more, letting his lips graze the skin of her cheek before placing a kiss—then on the other side before on her forehead, eyes, her nose, jaw and finally her lips.

He savours the kiss—melting in the warm softness of her touch and relishing in her saccharine taste.

Sunoo’s hand that holds her travel upwards to gently run through his hair while the other gently guides her to tilt her head, wanting to deepen the kiss.

But before he can, (y/n) turns her face away slightly to speak.

“If…If we truly are about to leave then, can I make one request?” (y/n) asks and Sunoo nods, attention all on her. “Would it be alright to have a little outing? There is this place that I know of, that I often frequent before I came here. It was always tranquil with a view so picturesque that I wish to visit it just once more.”

The subtle bobs of his head urge her to continue.

“I’m more than ready to leave once the time comes, but I too know that it means that I will never be able to visit that place again. Your father…I don’t reckon he will simply let you go without sending his soldiers to a search party,” she lets out an airy chuckle, bittersweet, and Sunoo knows that she’s referring to the constant hunt they will be apart of—not until they finally go as far as they possibly can from here.

It aches him, to know that the reason why they have to be like this, that she has to suffer this fate is because of him. Despite choosing to flee, it was actually his last resort as he knows that by doing so, they will be in a constant chase of cat and mice.

As if fugitives, and yet the only ‘crime’ they’ve ever committed is fall in love.

“Then, we shall go to this place tomorrow morning. I will tell the servants to prepare what we need,” Sunoo offers and the girl nods but then rests her hand on his arm lightly.

“Can we bring the others?”

“What?” Sunoo’s voice raises in pitch from surprise, not expecting her to want to include his friends. And truthfully, as inappropriate timing as it is, he feels jealous. “Why—I mean, they might not want to join.”

Never in a million years and more will they refuse and Sunoo knows that. Which is exactly why he’d prefer them not intruding.

But at the dispirited mien she wears, he immediately goes back on his words.

“But, of course! They have not ventured for a holiday as of late which means they would love to attend,” he brushes off his previous statement with a light chuckle and the girl’s spirit returns.

(y/n) practically buzzes as she beams and her pecks on his cheeks make them glow bright pink. “Splendid! It’s just that, I figured it’d be nice to have a final farewell. You’ve been friends for the longest of times, it’s only proper.”

Her attentiveness towards him makes him feel afloat, so light and giddy. To think that her proposition is for him makes him feel so touched.

So, so loved and wanted that he’s unaware of the wickedness and maliciousness that drips from her ‘harmless’ words.

‘Final farewell, indeed,’ she thinks as Sunoo fixes the flower crown to sit prettily on her head.

—

“So, a sudden excursion?” Jaeyun asks as he slips into (y/n)’s dwelling that afternoon. The girl looks up from her book and smiles at him—not making a single attempt whatsoever to move because a moment later, Jaeyun’s head rests on her outstretched lap while he lays perpendicular on her bed. “What prompted it?”

The girl hums as he plays with her hand that hovers his face—massaging her palm and folding her fingers. “Just needed a breath of fresh air.”

“Then, I reckon it has nothing to do with Sunoo’s father returning from his business trip. For example perhaps-” His eyes shift to stares into hers. “A little getaway for goodbye?”

His intellect surprises her considering how he is akin to a clingy puppy at most times.

She doesn’t reply and he sits up, now facing her after he turns his body.

“It is??” He asks in disbelief, eyes popping and mouth gaping. Sorrow flashes across her face and that’s enough to answer him—large hands clasping both of hers instantly as he mirrors her expression. “That can’t be. You can’t leave me!“

She sighs, feigning despair. “I have to, Jaeyun. Sunoo’s father will not take me kindly as you all have.”

“You have the choice to come with me. All you have to do is choose me," Jaeyun offers desperately, his grip tightening at every emphasis and (y/n) is once again taken aback by the pure genuineness from his pleading gaze.

However, (y/n) has grown bored of entertaining these entitled men. So instead, she just turns away. "You know where I stand, Jaeyun."

Her firm refusal has him breaking, shattering, and he's confident he has never felt agony as excruciating as this. It drives him mad.

Tears well in his eyes and (y/n) feels his grip tremble violently around her encased hands before cold air suddenly caresses her skin. She furrows, not expecting for him to simply let go but she is instantly corrected at the sound of objects clattering.

Her eyes widen when she sees him holding a candelabra to the skin of his arm, sleeve messily rolled as the cold item shakes in his quivering hold. The candles have all been broken and discarded to the floor along with the trinkets put on her desk.

"Jaeyun...put it down."

The latter shakes his head—bottom lip tight between his teeth, pretty eyes streaming hot tears that cascade down his flushed cheeks as he swallows his sobs into choked whimpers. "You're not leaving me. Y-you just can't! How can I live without you?? A day without you has me yearning for your soft caresses and whispers! Needing to be graced by your laughter and smiles! Do you think I could survive if you were to be absent for longer?"

'How is that my problem?' (y/n) internally hisses a snarky thought but she remains a solicitous charade. "Jaeyun, you know I have no choic—"

"You do!" The other interjects, almost in a roar before he swallows harshly to quell himself. "You're the only one who says that! You have the choice to choose me, or any other but instead you decide to be tethered to Sunoo. Yes, he saved you! And yes, he brought you in but I could've done the same! And I can do so much better than he ever did!"

He presses the sharp edge of the candelabra onto his flesh before letting it slice against his skin, drawing blood and (y/n) gasps at this, now turning (appearing, at least) frantic.

"Don't do this, Jaeyun!" She begs as she rushes to him and albeit seeming to be guarded, he makes no effort to push her away when she runs into his chest.

Her fingers curl into the light ruffles of his white shirt and she shakes her head vigorously. "I'll think of something! I-I may not be able to be with you all the time but I will come to visit! I will make sure of it."

He stiffens instantly, expression falling to indifference and gaze hardening as he emits a shuddering breath. "So, injuring myself is not enough for you...?"

She furrows, both amused and gobsmacked at his mindset. It's ridiculous how he thinks he can make her do anything for him. It's laughable.

"Then, will you turn to me if I were to do it to Sunoo?"

(y/n)'s brain quietens almost instantly at that. Shocked.

'He's threatening to hurt...Sunoo?'

Jaeyun tilts his head upon noticing the immediate shift of response from her. He scoffs, lips pulling to a smirk as he wipes his teary eyes and cheeks with the back of his unoccupied hand. "Answer me, (y/n). Will you?"

And suddenly, she's...furious.

The noble is given no room for reaction when she abruptly smashes her lips onto his after a rough yank of his collar.

His brows raise and grip loosens—dropping the candelabra with a loud THUD! against her carpeted floor—he's roughly pushed before being forced onto the bed when its edge touches the back of his knees.

Jaeyun grunts into the kiss when he feels her teeth pierce his lip and the metallic taste of blood spreads on his tongue—sending an electrifying feeling through him.

He gasps violently when she pulls away, in desperate need of air, especially because of the pleasuring pain but is indubitably titillated by her assertiveness. He breathes heavily as he looks up at her with clouded eyes and flaming red skin—his head unable to conjure a single coherent thought as he's overwhelmed by his crave for her.

"Just listen to me, hm?" (y/n) hisses deceptively sweet with a raise of her brow and the other gulps, nodding like the mindless little mutt he is. Her hand begins to caress his cheek before she traces the centre of his throat down to the dip between his collarbones and down to his chest, making him arch to her touch.

He mewls loudly but immediately bites his tongue to quieten himself at the disapproving look she throws him. He must be insane. He truly must be, especially for (y/n). To feel more aroused by her anger is unnatural, is it not?

So, why does he feel himself getting stiffer and needier by it?

"What was it that you were saying before?" (y/n) asks and Jaeyun groans, eyes fluttering shut when her hand begins to trace shapes on his chest. "You wish to harm Sunoo? Hm?"

Something tells Jaeyun that by agreeing, it will only further fuel the flame of her anger. So, he does.

"Yes..." He pants out and immediately lets out a choked moan when her other hand finds its place around his throat in a tight hold.

"Don't," she seems to coo and her sickly sweet voice right beside his ear makes his eyes roll to the back of his skull. "Do not even think of doing so. He is my saviour, Jaeyun. You harm him and you'll do the same to me. You will listen to me, will you not?"

He's far too consumed by her to even respond and she frowns—squeezing his neck until it narrows his air supply and his eyes shoot open to look at her.

"Answer me, Jaeyun. Will you?" She mimics him and the knowledge of that is so ravishing to him. To think that she's outsmarted him using his own words? Oh, he's bewitched.

And the violent nods he performs is enough to tell.

Seeing his excitement makes her scoff. 'How wretched.'

"What a good listener you are. Such a good little thing," she insults, but at his airy whimpers and fluttering eyes, he obviously did not comprehend.

As expected of a despicable, dumb mutt.

—

It was the right choice to entertain Jaeyun. Because now, there is no tail behind her asking for attention for the rest of the day as he's incredibly spent and is recuperating in his chamber with a deep slumber.

"(y/n)? What are you doing here?" Jongseong asks when she steps into the kitchen.

She casts a glance onto the tea set in front of him. "I could ask the same to you. But from the looks of it, are you making tea?"

He nods before closing the pot and walking over to her with the tray in his hands. "None can make the beverage as well as I can—well, if I were to omit you."

(y/n) giggles and his chest fills with pride.

"Care to join me?" He offers and she replies with looping her arm around his, letting him guide her to the tea table at the garden.

And on the way they meet another, Sunghoon, who naturally invites himself to the table without even regarding their opinion.

"You can drink from mine," (y/n) pushes her cup to Sunghoon and he's glad to accept if it isn't for Jongseong shoving his own into the younger's face.

The latter's luxuriant brows knit at his intrusion but the older only shrugs.

"Any hints to where we are going tomorrow?" Sunghoon strikes up a conversation and (y/n) smiles ambiguously as she keeps her gaze on her cup.

“A place where land meets water,” she replies tersely.

Sunghoon arches a brow. "A beach? It seems you have an affinity for them. That is where Sunoo first found you, after all."

The girl grins as she traces the painted flowers on her cup. "No...and yes. The place I frequent is not a beach, but it is true I am fond of them, or more specifically, water."

Jongseong chuckles, finding her liking for something as simple and abundant as water both mirthful and endearing. "Yeah? What is it about them do you like?"

The sparkle in her eyes and blush on her cheeks are so lovable to them and they stare with faces of adoration—grins wide and gazes tender as they anticipate her answer.

"Well, water can solve most problems first and foremost. It's one of the essences of life. They quell the thirst of all living things—crops, animals and humans alike—and they also serve as medicine for certain illnesses. And if there are distasteful people then you can..."

She trails off, suddenly silent until she lifts her stare to meet with theirs. A ghost of a smile on her face. "Drown them."

Despite knowing of her insanity, Sunghoon himself is still shocked hearing it. Meanwhile, Jongseong is purely horrified to hear his sweet girl mentioning something so violent and unhinged.

But do they grow wary? No, not at all. They simply think it's just a personality quirk. A little more 'truth' from her as a sign that they've grown closer. Which in this case, is not untrue at all.

"That's a frightening idea, (y/n)," Jongseong gasps softly as he reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair away from her face. He looks at her attentively, his touch warm and inviting as he strokes the apple of her cheek. "Now, what gave you such a malevolent perspective?"

She shakes her head and takes a sip of her tea, meeting eyes with Sunghoon briefly as he stares at her with intrigue. "Sailors. They fall into the waters much too often."

Hoon tilts his head and dark brows knit subtly. "How do you know?"

"(y/n)!" Riki beckons and they all turn to the lad who jogs towards them.

He nods to his friends with a small, "hyung" uttered as a greeting to each and they reciprocate similarly. His eyes then shift to the lone girl and his lips curve faintly into a smile before he restrains it by pursing them together. "Sunoo hyung searches for you."

Both Sunghoon and Jongseong acquiesces her request to be pardoned but the former lad finds himself staring at her furthering back with a rather inquisitive stare—differing from the other who wears a small pout on his adorable petite lips.

"Let us call it a day. I doubt your inclusion is for the purpose of having tea and biscuits with me," Jongseong sighs out knowingly, ready to retire to his chamber and Sunghoon agrees. The two stand and bid brief farewells before going their separate ways and letting the servants tidy the table.

Riki and (y/n) are already within the safe, warm walls of the mansion. Both embraced by a comfortable silence before the lass breaks it.

"Why have you lied, Riki?"

Her cognizance makes his eyes widen and he whips his face to the other with alarm, mouth parted as he tries to justify himself but failing to.

His sad attempt amuses her and she titters with a soft shake of her head.

"Fret not. I don't mind and neither do I intend to tell the other two," she assures and Riki sighs in relief.

He clears his throat from embarrassment. "I...wanted to spend some time with you. As our ballroom lessons have ceased due to your outstanding ability, we have spent less and less with one another and I, well..."

Riki becomes reticent but it is not as if both he and her are unaware of his sentiments.

Of how he misses her.

After all, absence makes the heart yearn.

"Do you like them? The hyungs," he suddenly asks and (y/n) turns to him briefly, seeing him staring at his polished shoes before facing the front. "I noticed that you seem to be with them for most."

The girl hums in thought. "I have no favourites."

"Except for Sunoo hyung," he adds and it brings a smile on the other's face which is not unnoticed by the young man. It tugs on his heart effectively, in such a way that he wishes to be in the position of his older bestfriend.

In a rare state of distraction from her reverie of Sunoo, she fails to notice how the figure aside her has shifted to her front until she finds herself colliding softly against his chest.

She lifts her head up to meet his sharp, solid gaze that oddly seems to plead for her affections.

"Why? What does he have that I lack?" Riki asks out of the blue, voice in a forced composure.

'It has started,' she thinks as she recognizes that familiar green murkiness swirling in his deep brown orbs. 'The envy.'

"You lack nothing, Riki. How can you assume such a thing?" (y/n) comforts and it works wonders to assuage the young noble's anxiety—however, it is much heavier than how it seems.

"Then, why are you fond of him so? Is it not because he's pretty? Everyone tend to admire him for his beauty, his gentleness and elegance that are seamless. All so perfect, so admirable—everything that I—" He halts at the realisation of how emotional and whiny he sounds and he swallows the remaining words. 'That I am not.'

He is uncertain of when it started, but by the time he's regulated his thoughts, his breaths are heavy and eyes are burning as vision blurs from the pools that gather in them. He sniffles but quickly fakes a cough with a turn of his head—arm against his mouth to before he hastily presses it against his glossy eyes.

Exhaling a shuddering breath, he prepares to face her again but his throat tightens and water brims within his lash line once more when she calls for his name so sweetly, warmly.

"Riki, come here," (y/n) beckons softly, barely above a whisper and he gravitates towards her figure at her opening arms. His back hunches as he bends—now wetting the fabric on her shoulder as he hides his face against it and muffles his sobs with a harsh bite of his bottom lip. "What caused you to think of this?"

'Everyone, everything,' he wishes to say but only manages to think.

Throughout his whole life, he has been labelled as bad news and instead of choosing to work against it, to prove that it is all a misconstruction, he instead chooses to succumb to it. He fulfilled all those rumours they speak of him, conducted every misdeed no matter if it brought misery and ruin to others and became the monster they believed him to be.

To be the miscreant he believes himself to be.

Nevertheless, he reveled in it—the power and forced reverence he carries from this image—until he met (y/n).

He's never wanted, wished and prayed desperately for anything more than he has for her.

But seeing her so lovestruck and attached with Sunoo, or anybody else for that matter, it torments him. He began comparing them to himself—listing his flaws one by one and further digging the grave of desolation. Day by day, he understands why (y/n) prefers them more than she does with him, why she smiles more with them than him, why she likes them more than she likes him.

Why they're so much better than him in every single aspect and why she will undoubtedly turn the other way if she were given the choice to choose between him and anyone else.

And it kills him at every waking moment. And even in sleep, his dreams are haunted by this, like an incessant nightmare woven to cause him everlasting terror.

But he can't let her go. He just can't.

"Why must you come now? Why couldn't I have been to one to have found you?" Riki croaks feebly against her shoulder and the cordial, soothing caresses of her palm against his back only turns the faucets in his eyes even further. "Why am I such a wretched, worthless being?"

He has fallen too deep, feelings too grave that he is unashamed in leaving them bare. She will find out sooner or later after all. All these emotions too foreign and consuming for the young lord to keep them covert.

Her silence however, acts as some sort of balm to his distress. Seeing as she has not rejected him, he feels the slightest stroke of hope and his arms coil around her waist tighter—akin to a predatory snake and its prey yet, their roles are undoubtedly reversed.

“Why do…why do you favour Sunoo so much?” He then, asks.

If he can’t compete with Sunoo, then at least he can mimic him—try to adopt his characteristics that (y/n) adores with the wishful thinking that he will obtain even a sliver of her affinity towards the older.

“Why? Hm…” She begins to hum a tune that both acts as a calming lullaby and an anxiety inducing countdown from suspense. “It is because he listens well.”

“L-listen?” Riki inadvertently stutters at his choked words from emotional vulnerability but then begins to straighten his posture at the feel of her hand gently tugging him back by the nape.

The girls nods—letting her gaze run across his flushed, dewy face from his tears before offering a beguiling smile that renders him breathless. “It is simply because he listens so well… And for someone like me, that in itself is a miraculous gesture. You see, those with no identity nor status—and a woman at that—are often cast aside. So to have someone to listen to me so attentively, to be so uncritically accepting no matter what I say or do, it means the world."

'To listen...' Riki empathizes with her deeper than he expects. Despite being a complete juxtaposition, he is aware of how it feels to be unheard. All too well.

And to have this sort of connection between them rekindles that diminishing aspiration inside of him. He has a chance to earn a place beside (y/n). The only condition is to listen and he would be the biggest fool in the world to fail.

"I'm a good listener..." Riki mumbles and (y/n) brings her hand to cup his damp cheek to which he longingly leans into. His softened sharp eyes flicker between her own deep, inquisitive gaze as his plush lips part to speak feebly. "Give me a chance...please."

His frail tone laden with pure ambition and yearn brings a smile to her face—triumphant, wicked—and she nods gently.

"I will, Riki. Who am I to deny you?"

—

"You hide something."

(y/n) pivots on the heels of her feet at the voice that disrupts the silence of the balcony. Her gaze meets with the curious yet cunning eyes of Sunghoon as he approaches her with slow, calculated strides. "You sound certain of yourself."

"And you are not the slightest bit bemused," the noble quips and halts his steps when he looms over her. With a tilt of his head, a corner of his lips hooks to form a smirk. "As if you have been waiting for me to confront you. Is it not?"

His confidence is admirable and she scoffs at the thought of how useful of a quality it is to have as a siren. He would be perfect for the role—if he only deserves it.

The girl shrugs with a sly smirk of her own before taking a step back—letting her waist meet the white stone gate that protects them from a disastrous fall.

Despite the darkness of the night, the maiden is still radiant. The moonlight shining on her makes her seem to glow—hypnotizing eyes scintillating and beguiling beauty enrapturing him with each breath.

His hands find their way around her hips and his hold tightens momentarily when he takes a step forward—figures almost touching now and the proximity is honestly making him dizzy.

The softness of her bod and warmth that penetrates his skin seem to be working against him as well—rendering him dazed and mindless as he is filled with nothing but the thoughts of embracing her.

But no, he has an objective. He shall not let his resolve be so easily broken.

"Tell me. What is it that you have concealed from us? And why do you?" He manages to ask with composure despite the tremble of his limbs as he restrains himself from just pulling her into him.

Wearing a faux face of naivety, she strays her eyes from him. "Why are you so sure that I am hiding anything? I'm just a lone, forsaken girl who was saved by a young, rich noble with too much time and money in his hands. Unless, of course..." She returns her focus to the other as her mien now shifts to a daunting, challenging look. "You have an inkling to what it is that you say I withhold."

Her implication is accurate and Sunghoon's reticence proves it. So she taunts him.

"Come now. I thought you wanted me to reveal my truth so why are you the one keeping to yourself?" (y/n) scoffs and gently rests her hands on his slim bod—feeling the soft curves and dips of his abs beneath the thin night shirt he wears. She doesn't miss the sharp inhale he takes. "What am I hiding, Sunghoon? Enlighten me."

Sunghoon shudders when she slides her palms up higher to his chest before dangerously down to the low band of his trousers hugging his hips. "That you...you're a pirate."

Fits of giggles erupt from the girl before they evolve to laughter—hand cupping her mouth to prevent from being too loud and potentially awaking the others as tears brim her eyes.

A pirate? How creative. Although, it is the most plausible answer considering what he knows of her.

Found at the shore wearing ragged cloth, having an affinity for water, is aware of the fact that many sailors have met their doom at the seas—clearly, she is a pirate.

"I am impressed. If this is your way of flirting then I say you have succeeded," she teases with little airy chuckles escaping her and although to woo her is not his main mission, he can't help but feel proud and gratified.

Feeling emboldened, he decides to make a move.

"Does that mean you'll grant me a kiss?"

He will never admit it but he's desperate. His friends have all been graced by her touch and endearment, he knows that—even her secret relationship with Heeseung because the latter has become much too blissed out recently to even realise how obvious he's being, especially when drunk—so why has he not received anything from (y/n)?

Is he not ravishing enough? Impossible. Maybe, he's not charming? Not in any universe. Perhaps (y/n) finds him unattractive? Never does anyone find him so. He is the epitome of perfection.

Which means that the only reason why (y/n) has been so conserved with him is because she's bashful and hesitant. What if she is rejected by him? What if he finds her unpleasant? She must be so worried which lead her to be so guarded with him. All she needs is a little push and Sunghoon is more than willing to be the catalyst.

"Why should I grant you a kiss?" (y/n) retorts and the sight of her furrow amuses him.

'Ahh... She truly is a stubborn little dove,' he thinks as a beguiling grin stretches on his pretty, porcelain profile. "Why should you not? You do not need to shy away. I promise, I will not reveal any of our shared experience tonight to any other."

His narcissism oozes so profoundly, it chokes the maiden. And she wishes so badly to rip it from him.

"You're unworthy of it. You have nothing to be rewarded for," (y/n) states casually and his jaw clenches while stare hardens.

Reward? Why is she speaking as though he is a mere pet asking for treats? Does she not realise that him even offering her to touch him is an honour itself? Despicable.

"You think so highly of yourself to call a simple gesture from you as reward. You should know that your worth is decided by others—such as how you're treated like the lady of the house simply because the lord, Sunoo, has decided for it to be. But without him, you are but the same deserted speck of existence you were before."

Sunghoon's words are now venom, voice hissing and gaze akin to slicing blades. His fingers are forceful around her, sure to paint her skin in shades of purple and green but she retains her sangfroid.

The bewilderment on his face is so unbelievably comedic when he sees her completely unrattled and instead, wearing the same kind, inviting mien she always does.

"Were you not the one who asked me to 'grant' you a kiss? If it truly is as meaningless as you say, then why do you ask me for it?" She wittily responds and Sunghoon's visibly rendered speechless but he quickly picks himself up.

"Th-that was just a figure of spee—"

Once again, he's silenced—but this time by her lips pressed against his as she hungrily devours him.

Bratty boys have always been her favourite, after all.

Sunghoon's hands on her hips loosen from surprise and she takes the opportunity to press herself against him to which he enthusiastically reciprocates—bucking his hips forward and wrapping his arms around her before dipping his head forward to deepen their connection.

He groans pleasurably when her tongue slips between his teeth to explore the hot, wet cavern of his mouth. The tightness in his trousers grows and she feels him throb and twitch against her, causing her to skillfully spins their positions to instead, have him pressed against the stone balustrade before grinding into him.

Sunghoon moans loudly at this. The sensation much too stimulating through the flimsy, thin fabric of his slacks and her nightgown. He can almost feel everything.

Almost.

And it drives him crazy.

He subconsciously chases after her lips when she pulls away, craving for more, needing to be satiated and whines pathetically when she rejects by turning her head away. Still, he finds an alternative and latches his wet, bitten lips onto her neck to leave open-mouthed kisses.

"To see you so gravely affected by a worthless kiss, it makes me doubt your words," (y/n) brings up and Sunghoon huffs against her skin. "Anyways, you've gotten what you asked for so I think I should retire now."

She attempts to escape from his caging hold but his grip only tightens and teeth graze her skin.

"Wait," he breathes out heavily as he begins to nip and fingers dig into the flesh of her waist, clawing and squeezing in protest. "Don't go."

"Why? Were you not the one who said I am of no value? There is no reason for you to ask for my company," (y/n) intentionally rejects, wanting to see him surrender on his own accord—for him to admit himself that he yearns for the touch of someone as irrelevant as her.

Sunghoon is panting now, face buried in the crook of her neck as he shakes his head—lashes tickling her while hot breaths causing her hair to rise. "No..."

"Hm? You didn't?"

"I did! But am I wrong?" He remains egotistic as he raises himself slightly, just enough so his face is at level with hers as he glares stubbornly into her eyes and yet the shake of his dark, hungry pupils belie him.

She softly arches her brow, expressing her dissatisfaction to his remark and he subconsciously winces at it. "It seems I've wasted my time. I shall see you again tomorrow, my lord."

The term she uses to address him sounds foreign albeit it being only right. It makes them sound distant, and the tone she uses is frigid alongside her austere gaze.

He rejects it.

'No, no no!' Sunghoon chants as she manages to step aside and within a breath, he hurries to block her path to the inside—earning him a mien of incredulity from the girl which shifts into intrigue when he brings her hand to cup it against his face.

"I revoke my statement. I-I'm sorry so please, help me," he pleads through broken, wispy croaks and he nuzzles his face into her palm. His other hand then reaches for her other and brings it down to the centre of his slacks—her brows knit and eyes harden when he begins to rub her palm against the stiff bulge, letting her feel his desperation. "You did this to me. It's only fair that you will help me, right?"

To say she's disgusted is an understatement. The shameless act of using her hand to caress his arousal without her consent? Revolting.

"UGH!" A choked grunt emits from the other at her abrupt blow to his hardened core and he plummets to his knees at the agonizing pain. Never did he expect her to be so violent. His eyelids are shut tight before they snap open with shock at the blunt yet forceful affliction against his lower part.

His gaze travels down to the ball of her foot pressing mercilessly before he brings his eyes up to see what he can confidently say is the most lethal yet beautiful sight he has ever seen in his life.

There, (y/n) stands with a bewitching nonchalance, cryptic, that juxtaposes with her typical softness and he's reminded of the first time he spoke to her.

Stretching his lips to a smile, he was finally able to let out a small chuckle. "Are you sure your friends won't be upset with you by giving these to me?"

(y/n) shook her head and stood—hands dusting her skirt and straightening it before she turned towards the mansion.

"How are you sure?" Sunghoon asked once more as he too, rose to his feet and now towered over the other.

The latter tittered and brought her hands behind her back, clasping them together as she began to amble. "Because I ate them."

The memory kindles an unfamiliar sensation in him and suddenly, the pain she inflicts becomes more welcomed than he anticipated—head falling back, eyelids fluttering and tongue almost lolling out his hanging jaw.

(y/n) scoffs, feeling him twitch and throb under her foot and she lifts it before stomping down—eliciting something between a moan and shriek from the other as he shakes, eyes rolling backwards.

The girl's lips curve to a smirk at the enticing sight beneath her and she begins to massage him through the thin fabric which unsurprisingly makes his hips buck and body limp forward.

His forehead resting against her knee as she stands between his graciously parted legs. A shivering, whimpering and moaning mess as he starts to press wet kisses against her leg to try and distract himself from completely losing his brain from the pleasure.

(y/n) is going to have fun tonight, and she's amiable enough to grant him the same—seeing as it is the last time he will ever be able to.

—

Finally, the day of the trip arrives. Hearty laughter and merry conversations fill the air as the seven nobles rest upon the mats they've laid on the pillowy green grass of the hill. Picnic baskets filled with an abundant of food and beverage surround them, the dawn sky is in a beautiful, amber and pinkish hue while a constant zephyr caresses their figures.

A perfect day.

(y/n) has brought them to a small hill quite a far distance away, on the outskirts of the village and further into the forest. But the journey was not taxing. In fact, it is as nature itself have been awaiting their arrival—not a single vine nor stone obstructed their path, nor does any insect or any other fauna disturb their peace. The dispersed flora only adds more comfort and almost a sense of magical ambience as they ventured through before finally arriving at a cliff.

The seven understands now why (y/n) brought them to this place.

Grass is greener, sky is clearer and the view... oh, the view that greets them is unlike any other. Below the cliff is the sea and it is vast and breathtaking, stretching further away. The rising sun seems to be magically emerging from the waters as its light illuminates the surface to create the illusion of twinkling crystals.

"(y/n)! Come and have this beverage Jongseong just made! It's sweet and refreshing!" Jaeyun beckons and (y/n) pulls her gaze away from the gentle waves of the sea below them before joining the group.

Heeseung immediately opens his arm, inviting her to sit by his side on the mat while he supports his slightly leaning figure with his other hand.

The girl accepts which undoubtedly ignites some jealousy from the others but she cares not. Her eyes are only set on one, after all.

"Here," Jaeyun offers her the cup but instead of letting her hold it, he brings it to her lips and let her drink. Heeseung notices this and scowls at his excessive indulgence although, he too would do the same if given the chance.

The fiery competitiveness between both men is hilarious but she enjoys the princess treatment. For once, they are using their hands and energy for the sake someone other than themselves.

"Are you feeling cold?" Jungwon then approaches with a blanket in his hands and he sits on his heels before pulling down her lifted dress to cover her legs exposed by her sitting position. With an amiable smile, he gently lays the blanket onto them for extra warmth to which she thanks with her own small grin.

Sunghoon watches from the side with crossed arms and restrains a scoff. "All this coddling is going to suffocate her."

"That so? At least, we're doing something," Heeseung retorts and earns himself a glare but the moment Sunghoon meets eyes with (y/n), he shies away and the tips of his ears and cheeks mantle—recalling the intimacy they shared the night before.

Riki rolls his eyes at the olders’ childishness and yet he too, finds himself abashed once meeting the gaze of the girl and only manages to flash a sheepish smile before whipping his head away.

Jongseong does not fail to notice the two’s oddity but he says nothing, assuming that they must have shared an experience with (y/n). At this point, her relationships with his brothers are not a mystery. They've all seen how she's affectionate with each and every one of them but strangely, they do not argue.

It seems they've become aware that by doing so, it will only create more disadvantage for them. To argue means that (y/n) will undoubtedly return to the safe, peaceful embrace of Sunoo’s and stay hidden from their sight as to not provoke any more ire.

So they’ve learned to share—although, deep down each and every one of them wishes to monopolize her, to shackle her within their own cages that they’ve prepared just for her.

All except for one.

One who truly sees her as not a mere possession but a living, breathing being capable of her own mind and heart.

“It is a great day,” Sunoo sighs dreamily as he awes at the clear pink sky before turning his head to look at (y/n) who’s joyous laughing as she’s surrounded by his friends. He smiles, eyes akin to scintillating crescents.

Her image now is a stark contrast from how he and her first met. And knowing that she’s in a far better position now causes his chest to swell with relief and gratitude.

“She’s happy.”

Feeling his stare, (y/n) turns to him and is instantly greeted by the sight of him watching her with endearment and undivided attention. His hand lifts to wave at her and she feels her heart grow.

“It was ludicrous! If only they—”

Jaeyun halts his words when (y/n) starts to rise to her feet, letting the blanket slip off her lap and onto the picnic mat before she makes her way to whom she calls her saviour.

The other 6 watch with apparent flames in their eyes while they turn to deep shades of green—sentiments burgeoning when they see her naturally falling into his open arms like puzzle pieces.

Sunoo clings onto her before pressing his lips against her crown lovingly, pure adoration oozing from his every gesture—from his melting honey gaze to his delicate, lingering touches.

"What a perfect pair," Jongseong mentions and yet, the sarcasm in his voice is sharp and critical.

Heeseung's brows knit further at the younger's statement but he too can't seem to deny as his hardening gaze burns through the initial two. "On the surface they are."

'He is not the only one she adores,' they all selfishly think but appear unbothered aside from their overt jealousy.

"True," Jaeyun agrees confidently, almost vainly. "The only reason why she's so affectionate with Sunoo is because he brought her in."

"Really?" Riki asks curiously and his brows raise. If that is one of the reasons then it's no wonder Sunoo is unrivalled. How can they? Seeing as they took no part whatsoever in saving her.

Jaeyun nods, once again smug. "She told me last time when we were...sharing a moment together. She spoke of how prominent Sunoo is in her life but the only reason being is because she sees him as his saviour. She's indebted to him."

A silence follows as the other five dwell on his words.

"Then...she holds no deep affection for him?" Jungwon asks, wanting assurance as he blinks his cat-like eyes to the older who bobs his head.

"Her affections for Sunoo are as earnest as her feelings for us all."

And all of a sudden, an abrupt greed imbues their chests before it grows and stretches to the ends of each limb—up to the top of their heads down to their toes, the feeling gnaws and festers as a wicked idea surfaces.

If what Jaeyun says is true, that (y/n) likes Sunoo just as she does to them, does that not mean that they are all eligible to gain a position in her heart? The only distinctive factor that separates them from Sunoo is just her sense of gratitude for the addressed due to his heroism.

It is simply just that.

So, if he were to...vanish, per say, does that not mean that they all can vie fairly to be the new conqueror of her heart?

"Why are you all so quiet there??" Sunoo's yell hooks them out of their deviously scheming thoughts and they turn to see him tilting his head at them with a furrow of confusion. "Come! (y/n) says the view will be more wonderful when the sun rises!"

Sunoo swivels on his heels before jogging off to the aforementioned girl who stands near the edge of the cliff while his friends remain unmoving.

The six however, seem to share a similar sound of mind when they turn to one another to exchange ambiguous looks and malignant grins.

They know what they have to do.

"Wah~! The sky is painted in such pretty shades!" Sunoo awes naively with (y/n) by his side, unaware of the approaching six figures from behind. "(y/n), this place is—MMPH!"

A gasp erupts from the girl when she's abruptly pulled back by the shoulders by a pair of strong, large hands while Sunoo is roughly rendered immobile as his wrists are pinned to his back by a brusque grasp while another hand clamps his mouth.

His foxy eyes grow twice their size when he turns to see Heeseung smirking at him with malice glinting in his darkened eyes—immediately looking around frantically to ask for help from his other friends only to see them sporting the same countenances.

Sunoo blinks rapidly, flustered and panicked but he's still very much aware to check on (y/n)—grunting harshly below Heeseung's large, muffling palm when he sees the girl being held back by Riki.

"As much as I agree with this plan, I do think it is unwise for us to let (y/n) be a witness. She will only grow to contempt us from watching us kill her guardian angel," Jongseong voices out rationally from the side, arms crossed and sharp eyes darting between the captured two.

Jungwon clicks his tongue, dissatisfied and vexed at his older friends' rashness that lead to such a messy situation. "Well, it is much too late for that now, is it now? She's already seen us—no, she's watching us right now."

"Do not fret," Sunghoon suddenly chimes and his eyes meet with (y/n)'s glossy ones which turn to a glare instantly and he feels himself shiver with twisted delight. "I know someone who can make her forget all this ever happened. After all, my family has funded for the establishment of a mental institution near our home."

"Excellent!" Jaeyun claps his hand once to show his agreement, toothy grin flashing innocently despite being anything but.

They all then approach Sunoo, backfacing (y/n) in the process as if trying to obstruct her from viewing.

Heeseung lets go of his suffocating grip on the younger's mouth and he gasps for air desperately��panting and shaking as the lack of air catches up. But he's quick to recover.

"What is the meaning of this?!" He shrieks, glaring at the others with such ferocity that he almost seems unfamiliar to the rest. "Let me go this instant! Your pranks are not funny!"

Jungwon scoffs, lips pulled to a mocking smirk as he clutches Sunoo's dark locks within his hand and earns a sharp cry from the other. He yanks his head up as he stares daggers into his fox-like eyes. "This is not a jest, Sunoo. What it is, however, is the perfect plan to finally rid you off of your podium and let us have our rightful chance to gain (y/n)'s heart."

His words confuse the older whose brows visibly knit. "Wh-what?"

Jaeyun clicks his tongue with irritation. "Don't feign obliviousness now! You always keep (y/n) by your side, keeping her tethered to you with the excuse of you being her guardian!"

"I never!" Sunoo denies and this in turn, evokes Sunghoon's wrath.

"Is that so? Were you not the one who raged at me, accusing me of trying to 'steal' (y/n) away from you when all I did was suggest for her to get treatment for her wellbeing?" Sunghoon hisses, stepping forward while Won tightens his grip on Sunoo's hair. Hoon scowls at his rival before arching his dark brow challengingly. "Do correct me if I have wrongly misjudged you."

Sunoo can only bite his trembling lip, unable to refute and at his silence, the others begin to bombard him with complaints and curses—both aimed to bring misery and demise to the poor, young noble.

Meanwhile, (y/n) has been quiet and strangely compliant within Riki's hold and he is honestly bewildered. But his loosening grip becomes taut once more when she suddenly speaks.

"Riki."

Oh, how his heart skips beats just from hearing her mellow, sweet voice call for him.

"yEs—" He clears his throat at the unexpected crack in his voice. "Yes?"

"I thought you wanted to gain my favour," (y/n) then, says and he stays mute, not knowing what he should say. "I thought you said you wanted a chance."

He freezes, eyes widening briefly.

"Do you not want it anymore? Or maybe, were you simply just toying me around like all the others do?"

His throat dries. "I—No! Of course not! I was never toying with you! My feelings are genui—!"

"Your actions say otherwise," (y/n) spits abruptly and the ire in her tone makes his knees buckle and face pale.

Is she cross with him? Does she despise him now?

"You betray me," she says coldly, voice firm and rough despite its lack of projection. "You betray us. What we could've had."

The abrupt shift of her tone when he hears it crack and tremble into a feeble whisper makes him shake his head with horror at the realisation that he has disappointed her.

'You betray us. What we could've had.'

Her words echo in his ears and his bottom lip begins to quiver, desperate to justify himself and yet seeing the brutal scene unfolding before them—his brothers belabouring Sunoo both mentally and physically—he finds little to no chance of him saving himself.

Has he ruined his chances with her?

After she so kindly and graciously offered him one? Even when she's so patient and lenient by only setting him one condition and that was to—

"Listen," (y/n) shakily says and Riki looks down at the side of her face, heart clenching so suffocatingly he loses his breath. "I thought...you said that you'd listen—that you're a good listener. But perhaps, I should not have given you the benefit of the doubt."

CRACK!

And just like that, Riki's resolve shatters into a million shards and his thoughts have gone haywire.

He wants to rewrite himself for (y/n). He wants to prove that he can be better—he will be better.

And this objective is so strong and overwhelming, it blinded him. So, so blinding that he doesn't seem to notice how his hands have slipped from (y/n) to instead grapple another before brashly and mindlessly shoving them off the cliff.

A loud shout erupts while heads turn with shock and panic, all eyes widening and jaws falling.

"JAEYUN!" Jongseong shouts frantically as he runs to the edge to see the younger emerging from the water. Thank goodness, the sea is serene—calm and silent other than the soft splashes made by the smallest waves that hit the ragged sides of the cliff.

He sighs with relief, grateful for nature’s patience and understanding. If the waters were raging, Jaeyun could have suffered a fate much worse.

“Riki! What is the meaning of this??” Heeseung growls, clearly disapproving and upset. “Have you lost your mind—Oh."

Ears perk at the sound of controlled surprise that left their furious eldest's mouth and they follow his hard stare to see Riki standing behind (y/n) whose hand is wrapped around Sunoo's wrist.

Heeseung, with the other 4 nobles standing firm on his side, express bewilderment at the sight of the 3 who are clearly against them. But it does not linger in Heeseung as he's suddenly smirking—a scoff of disdain escaping—and he wets his bottom lip with a swift swipe of his tongue.

"Oh, so this is how it goes? Behind our backs, you've decided to consort with the enemy and betray your lifelong brotherhood," he hisses and Sunoo furrows deeply.

"Enemy? As in...me?" The latter asks with his tone feeble and shaky. The rims of his eyes are already brimming, glistening with hot tears as he recalls what just transpired.

Jungwon clicks his tongue with irritation as a groan of exasperation rumbles through. "Yes, you! Who else could it be, Sunoo?? If you were not such a selfish bastard who hogs (y/n) all to himself, it would not have gone this far."

Sunoo gasps, his wide shocked eyes meeting the venomous feline eyes of the younger who only scorns.

"It's fine, isn't it? After all, they are still outnumbered," Jongseong points out and the realisation fills the majority group with a sense of triumph. Their previously frigid faces now grinning malevolently as they begin to step closer. "Jungwon, make sure (y/n) remains obedient, will you?"

Jungwon snickers, thrilled as a wicked grin forms. "Of course."

However, just as the four are about to commence with their plan of once again, eliminating Sunoo but now with an addition of Riki, a loud, booming thunder roars—shaking the ground beneath them—before being followed by an explosive, sharp lightning that rips the sky—making them crouch and cower as they rush to to cover their heads.

The tremble is violent, the sound akin to a banshee's shriek and a heavy storm brews abruptly—clouds thickening and ridding of any sunlight while its snowy white trait turns into a deep, dark grey. It's all so sudden and unexpected. The previous sunny day seemed to be a mere figment of their imagination from how quickly the weather shifted. It's impossible.

"The waves are picking up! I-I'm starting to get carried away! Find help! AND QUICK!" Jaeyun shouts frantically from the waters. His yell is shaky as the body of water he floats in begin to turn violent. It almost swallows him but he manages to pull himself back up with a sharp gasp of air. His eyes widen with terror as he realizes how precarious of a situation he is in and the colour drains from his face. He flounders in the water as he looks up at the top of the cliff. "HURRY! PLEASE!"

Sunghoon combs his hand through his dark locks stressfully. A sharp hiss sounding as he listens to his brother's desperate calls. "We have to save Jaeyun first. The temperature's fallen and he will soon freeze. The waves will engulf him."

"Sunghoon's right. Search the carriage. There might be a rope or something in the emergency supply box," Heeseung sighs out exasperatedly before approaching the edge to look down at the floundering Jaeyun. "Stay afloat! We will get you some help so—"

"I've tried to be patient," (y/n)'s feminine, eerily calm tune interrupts Heeseung and they all whip their heads to her just to see her with her head hung down. "I've tried to be patient...just for the sake of Sunoo. I wanted him to be able to laugh with his brothers just a bit longer...for the last time."

As if listening to her hauntingly soft voice, the aggression of the waters have quieten, the winds now absent and even the faint rustles of small creatures have vanished—creating a still dead silence that makes her voice seem to echo.

"'Last time?' What are you..." Jungwon trails off when (y/n) slowly lifts her head to reveal her ghostly pale eyes, a mix between an icy blue and an exotic, venomous caledon with shimmering silver flecks surrounding her slit, pitch black pupils.

He gasps with terror, stumbling back on his heels and crashing against Sunghoon who wears the same, pale-faced look of horror just as the rest are.

But what scares them most is when she smiles, malignant and vengeful, and reveals lines of sharp teeth, sharper than razors that even just seeing makes them feel as if their flesh is being torn by rows and rows of blades.

She's a creature—a terrorizingly beautiful and bloodthirsty monster. They can see it in her piercing, predatory eyes.

"A witch... She's a witch!" Heeseung shouts accusatorily as he attempts to step back but once again, thunder roars and lightning strikes before the heavy clouds begin to shower bullets. The sounds of turbulent waves crashing against the cliff and the deafening rain muffle their ears from hearing anything else.

"DID I NOT MENTION BEFORE—TO NOT GRAZE EVEN A HAIR ON SUNOO’S HEAD?" (y/n) vociferates with a voice shrill and booming throughout the cliff. Her figure stands at the edge as her cutting gaze fixes on a speechless, petrified Jaeyun.

Sheer fright and panic as he struggles to remain afloat from the violent fearful tremble of his limbs combined with the hostility of the waters that exert his limits.

(y/n)’s reptilian eyes narrow as the ire in them bursts. “Yet, you still foolishly ignore…and so you shall pay.”

There is no time to wonder on what she means when Jaeyun abruptly begins to scream with excruciating agony. His sounds of pain alert the others who rush to inspect the cause—eyes widening and jaws unscrewing when they witness the horrid sight.

Red begins to diffuse in the water surrounding their fallen brother as he writhes and flails frantically in the pool. Invisible forces seem to be tearing through his clothes and deep into his flesh—creating cut after cut that seems to increase in severity the more it continues.

Jaeyun gargles a mouthful of salty sea water when he momentarily submerges from the overwhelming pain and yet he’s given not a moment of rest—continuously yelling and pleading for mercy as his deep injuries sting terribly with a torment like no other.

It’s as if his whole body is engulfed in flames as the salty liquid seeps into his open flesh and he struggles more and more to stay afloat.

“H-help! Help…!” Even his desperate cries have grown weak—his throat burning from the salty pool and eyes threatening to shut as the blood loss sends his consciousness slipping.

“What is happening?? What’s causing him those injuries? Are there sharks below there??” Sunghoon frantically voices, in panic at the terrifying state of his friend.

Jungwon trembles violently, fearful and yet unable to tear his eyes away and that’s when he sees it. Sharp, shimmering tails. His face blanches immediately as throat dries, his heart thumping so forcefully and quickly from the terror that it seems to wish to escape on its own. “No…these are not sharks.”

And as if awaiting for a more dramatic flair, the figures that have been shredding Jaeyun from below the surface like piranhas emerge with mischievous, devious eyes and wicked grins that display their rows of razor teeth.

They bear the same characteristics as (y/n)—pale, icy eyes that drip with malice and an ethereal beauty so deadly it gags them.

"They cannot help you nor can you help yourself," (y/n)'s voice rings and it surrounds them from every angle, from every direction, even through the deafening storm as if she's enwrapped their heads—yet here she stands upon them. "I am your only salvation."

Chills run down their spines as they attempt to maintain a defensive stance but it's an impossible feat with how heavy the rain is—it quickly bringing them to their knees from its sheer intensity and weight. Fear dominates them as they realise how greatly disadvantaged they are—vision greatly blurred and ears deafened but ironically, they also feel a sense of...excitement.

They can't calm the trepidation and yet, neither can they contain their obvious anticipation of what's to come. Their hearts are racing, cheeks flushing as they wonder what sort of deviousness (y/n) has planned for them.

And that hopeful feeling only multiplies when the sound of her giggles echo—silencing every rational, coherent thought as they physically tremble with titillation.

It's her.

At the end of the day, it's still her. The girl they adore, the girl they admire and have fallen so deeply with to the point of an unhealthy obsession. They've always wanted her, that's the main reason why they even orchestrated to remove Sunoo in the beginning. But now, seeing as how they're so desperately craving her, needing and yearning for her despite seeing her true nature, they realise that they've gone truly insane.

Nevertheless, they think they will truly lose their mind if they are not graced by her presence in the next second.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N), D-DARLING!" Heeseung is the first to crumble as he practically uses all the air in his lungs to howl for the girl. "I'm sorry! I-I never should have acted so foolishly! It is a mistake and I will repent! Just—just let me join you, my love!"

Another giggle and he jolts in his position at the pleasant goosebumps that rise on his skin. He pants before inhaling deeply, about to holler once more but is halted by a hand clasping his mouth with a harsh slap.

(y/n) looms over him, reptilian eyes cutting into his as her long, forked tongue runs across her razor teeth and despite the horrifying nature of her form, Heeseung smiles beneath her hand.

The girl of his dreams, she's come to him.

"Silence yourself or I shall do it for you," she hisses as her fingers dig into his cheek and bends down slightly only to bare her teeth when he attempts to raise himself, desperately chasing after her. "Disgusting."

Still keeping a hand over his mouth, she shifts her focus to the other three who are already staring at her as much as they can with eyes straining due to the storm—hoping to get even a sliver of the attention that she gifts Heeseung.

"Mmph...(y/n), please. Take me back. I-I'm sorry," the eldest of the nobles muffles against her palm as he presses needy kisses against her cold skin. "Pleasepleaseplease—"

"Enough!" She snaps brusquely and he shudders, eyes fluttering at her command to which she recoils at. A pathetic specimen of a man.

This is not what she wants—she refuses to let them find pleasure nor contentment from her ministrations and yet, Heeseung’s brain is far too muddled with his affections for her that even her insults are defined as rewards.

She cannot let that be.

Heeseung’s round eyes grow twice their size, bulging out of their sockets and unconcerned for the sharp droplets stinging them as an inexplicable, unendurable pain burns at his cheek.

His voice is untamed, shouting and yelling in pure agony as the taste of his own blood spreads on his tongue—the result of (y/n) ruthlessly, in the slowest, most excruciating manner, stabbing her sharp nails through his cheek until her fingers press down on his wet pink musclle.

Heeseung writhes and thrashes, desperate to flee from her blade fingers as she continues to viciously rip through his soft tissue, nearly ripping his whole jaw but she stops before she reaches that far. She'd hate for him to die so quickly.

Pulling her hand back roughly, she revels in the way he continues to scream through the pain as bloodshot eyes flow endlessly with thick tears—his body toppling over to land on his back harshly as his skull crashes onto the stone ground.

The large hole at the side of his face oozes with thick, dark blood like a waterfall and into his own mouth as he twitches and jumps like a fish out of water.

She then turns to the other three with a sharp spin and she smiles sweetly although the blood of their brother that drips down her hands as she clasps them express otherwise. “How rude of me to not entertain the rest of my company. As an apology, I will grant each of you your own personal attendee. Now, won’t that be swell?”

The three nobles are rendered speechless from fright, throat dry and body paralyzed both from her horror and the rapidly dropping temperature. Despite it being supposedly early morning, the day is more fitting to be evening with how the sun is completely veiled behind thick layers of dark gray clouds.

Harsh winds blow, adding more to their chill as if the storm is not sufficient enough to freeze them.

“(y/n), please… I thought we had something. I thought we were companions,” Jungwon attempts to crack her stony heart and yet the frigid stare she casts him is enough to confirm that she will not be swayed—by any means possible. Tears brim his eyes and he blinks furiously as breaths begin to grow ragged and rushed, desperate.

Sunghoon’s quick to notice that he’s begun to hyperventilate and he grunts, struggling to move his laden figure and clothes to reach the younger. “J-Jungwon.”

This act doesn’t go unseen by (y/n) and yet, she simply turns her head away. They deserve not even a pinch of mercy.

Growing impatient, she thinks she might just finish the job by herself until the melodious song of her people begins to pierce through the air.

Its hypnotizing quality is overwhelming, instantly putting the nobles in a hazy condition, a brief moment of respite, before being abruptly drowned into a sense of deep desolation and uninhibited anguish.

Their previously melodious hums shifted suddenly into bloodcurdling banshee shrieks and wails as they arrive atop the cliff—all wearing white rags and hanging from their shoulders as a poor excuse of clothing however, it only makes them appear more haunting and daunting.

Akin to ghostly, vengeful spirits thirsty for blood—which in this case, is not entirely false.

The fear and shock that imbue in the kneeled nobles’ figures jolt them immediately, even Heeseung who was writhing against the floor and Jungwon who was struggling for breath.

As if orchestrated before, the maidens all divide themselves to stand behind a man each. The ominous ambiguity of what’s to come fills the humans with a dread alike no other and they’ve begun to plead for (y/n) to “grant us mercy!” or “we will change—be better men!”

All of which, she disregards.

“As promised, you all will have a woman each—is that not to your preference?” (y/n) mocks, tone light as if she is doing them a favour and yet the condescension that paints her features are a telltale sign of her true intention.

Her words make them quickly shake their heads. They’ve seen the fate that has befallen Jaeyun as he was ripped to shreds in the waters before.

As if hearing their thoughts, (y/n) grins and with a snap of her fingers, another maiden arrives with a limp body carried in her strong arms before it’s dropped carelessly in front of the four.

Their eyes widen and jaws drop to see their brother—whom they assumed was dead—wheezing laboriously as blood continues to spill out of his deep, flesh cuts that are carved into every surface of his bod.

His expensive attire now completely stained with a crimson shade while his skin is paled with almost a bluish undertone.

He’s still alive—surviving, to be exact—and yet he already looks like a corpse. Jaeyun’s eyelids flutter as he attempts to lift them but to no avail and he continues to pant and moan feebly at the excruciating torment, not even aware that his brothers are by his side.

“Jaeyun!” Jungwon calls out, feline eyes round, but he’s restricted from uttering another word when the siren behind him roughly clasps his mouth with her cold hand, the other grappling his shoulder with long sharp nails that sink into his flesh.

He grunts against her palm as blood seeps through his shirt from his fresh wounds.

(y/n) giggles, a sound too sweet for someone so diabolical and the nobles thrash within the grasps of their captor when they’re abruptly immobilized by the siren standing behind them.

Each of the mystical being now standing on their knees as their arms wrap around the man relentlessly—mimicking (y/n) who holds the same pose with the dying Jaeyun in her embrace.

“They’ve made quite the masterpiece with Jaeyun,” (y/n) starts as her lips graze the shell of his ear down to the crook of his neck, the smell and taste of his blood drowning her senses—pupils dilating and forked tongue running across her bottom lip. She then turns to the sirens with a glint in her eye. “If you will, ladies, mirror the art that I hold now?”

And without warning, shrieks and screams of terror and agony rip through the heavy storm as the sirens mercilessly begin to ravage the nobles with their sharp long nails and predatory teeth.

Even when the humans beg to be saved, plead for them to stop, they all fall on deaf ears as the sirens seem to find enjoyment in their torture.

High pitched giggles and laughter emit from the group of enchanting women as they continue their ruthless savagery to the battered lords.

(y/n) stares with sparkling orbs, awed, before she turns her head to the side to face Sunoo and Riki who are held tightly by a siren each—although, not quite in the same predicament as their brothers.

She tilts her head, brows dip and lips in a faux pout. “Do you see what happens to bad men? You should be grateful that you are not among them.”

Riki with dark hair matted to his forehead from the rain, gulps as his fingers twitch by his sides. His eyes refuse to stray from his childhood friends despite the gruesome sight that is displayed. However, deep within his chest, he can’t help but feel somewhat…relieved.

With his five brothers gone, there are less rivals to compete with to gain (y/n)’s affections. With his brothers gone, he can finally do as he wishes without their haughty, domineering presences that always overlook him due to his young age.

With them gone, he can finally have (y/n) all to himself. Of course, there is a matter of Sunoo but he has always been the softest, kindest among them. He’s more than certain that Sunoo will be willing to share. Especially now that he’s lost all of his friends, Sunoo is expected to want to hold anyone that’s left close to him—and that is Riki.

His dark, twisted mindset is left unknown by Sunoo whose face is flushed red and moist not only from the rain but the thick waterfall of tears that cascade down his cheeks.

The latter is trembling in his stance as his hands are clenched tightly. Watching his friends, his brothers, family, being murdered right in front of him ruins his mentality in a way that can’t be reversed.

He’s despondent, grieving and sympathetic yet at the same time, he’s confused, awed and accepting. Because who is he to deny the accusations that they are men of corruption? They’re vile people, wicked and selfish. It is no wonder that they are now suffering from the price of their sins.

Yet at the same time, they’re his close friends. They grew up together, spent time with each other more than they do with their own families. So to see them being tortured in such inhumane way ruins him.

“(y-y/n),” he managed to croak out and despite it being deafened completely by the raging storm, (y/n) manages to catch it—eyes shifting from Riki to him in an instant. “Please...”

Hearing his plead, (y/n) ponders for a moment before suddenly raising her hand that previously held Jaeyun’s jaw and the sirens halt.

Despite their pause however, the four men continue to writhe and groan exhaustedly as the pain from their multiple injuries continues to send ineffable agonizing sensations shooting through their limbs and shutting every other sensations.

“Sunoo,” (y/n) calls, her voice in that same echoey, haunting yet dulcet quality. Her arm outstretches to him and the siren that holds him easily loosens her grip to which he quickly escapes to instead, run to the maiden that holds his heart.

“Please stop this,” Sunoo whispers with a crack in his voice, eyes constantly flooding with tears even as he searches her face for an answer. His pale, quivering hands reach up to cup her face as his thumbs gently caress her wet skin. “Please, please, (y/n). I can’t bare to watch this any longer.”

His words are heavy, deep with genuine remorse and desperation before he breaks down into complete sobs. Short inhales and shuddering exhales as he brings his face closer to the girl—nose brushing against hers before he places a chaste kiss on her lips. “I beg of you.”

He pulls away, expecting to see that delicate, fond smile that she always graces him and yet what greets him is pure nonchalance, almost like the face of a porcelain doll as she blinks.

“How brazen. Do you truly think you are innocent enough simply because I do not punish you as I do them? How adorable,” she coos condescendingly and Sunoo’s face falls, shocked and bewildered. He yelps when she abruptly yanks his head back by the hair—the pain stinging and bringing tears to his already brimming eyes. “Do you think that just because I hold affection for you, your past sins are now irrelevant? Because that is simply foolish, Sunoo. There are many, many that have become victims to your iniquitous deeds. And until now, they are still suffering.”

Sunoo can only bite his tongue at her words. She’s right. She has always been. It is true that he’s done a great deed of evil and it costed the peace and sometimes even, lives, of others.

And he’s only begun to realise that when she came into his life. He strived to be better for her, to provide his people with a comfort that they rightfully deserve since way before and he’s proved that he’s capable of it. He has changed.

But never once did he ever regret his undoing from the past. Never once did he take a moment to sit and mourn for the people whose lives he has ruined. He has completely forgotten them, hoping to simply conceal them from existence by being good.

“I-I’m sorry,” Sunoo sniffles, biting his lip with an intensity that draws blood. “I’m sorry.”

(y/n)’s heart aches and she frowns, tightening her grip on his hair before tossing him away haphazardly. “It is not me you should apologise too, but the people.”

He crashes against the stony ground of the cliff and the sounds of his brothers screaming and howling fill his ears once more as the sirens resume their activity.

Sunoo curls into a ball with hands tight against his ears as if it will drown out the product of his brothers’ misery.

And this goes on and on until they’re practically holding onto their dear life by a thread. With eyes that struggle to open, mauled chests that rise and drop as if they’re weighted by bricks and figures completely marred by lacerations on every surface of their skin and flesh. Their faces and limbs mangled beyond recognition.

The storm calms too, now turned into a light drizzle and Sunoo finally rises to sit albeit weakly before whimpering as the sight of his friends lying inert in their own pool of blood greets his vision. He can still hear their desperate, harrowing screams for mercy, to be alleviated from the pain with a quick death—“just KILL ME! please! PLEASE!”—echoing in his head like an everlasting mantra.

The sirens now completely vanished from thin air as if they were never there. Only the damage they've inflicted on his brothers are proof of their existence.

“Riki, come here,” (y/n) beckons and the young lord immediately moves as soon as he's unbound—being in a much better condition than Sunoo although the thick gloss on his eyes, grit teeth and knit in his brows belie his indifferent front.

He lowers himself to one knee beside (y/n) and tries his best not to cast his gaze onto the whimpering, debilitated Jaeyun in her hold and yet his attempts are proven futile at (y/n)'s request.

"Can you help me clean up?"

Riki blinks before nodding without a moment's hesitation. "What do you want me to tidy?"

The girl says nothing although the sly yet, almost sympathetic mien that forms on her visage tells him.

His plush lips part as the air is knocked out of his lungs. Even the light and warmth of the sun that has finally begun to peek from behind the clouds do nothing to comfort him.

"Y-yes?" He sounds shakily, eyes darting to Jaeyun and at (y/n)'s definitive nod, he slumps—eyes wide and spirit withered as if it wasn't already draining before.

"Is this not exactly what you wanted? To have me all to yourself?" The maiden tempts, voice wispy and melodious, upon seeing the hesitation flickering in his quivering pupils and he inhales sharply at the feel of her cold hand against his cheek before being completely rendered breathless by the proximity of her face.

She smiles against his lips and he feels it through the slight graze she graces him with—adam's apple bobbing as he feels his rationale and kinship towards his brothers beginning to diminish to the back of his head. (y/n) pulls away just enough to run her gaze across his features, seeing the black of his eyes widen as ears blush before angling her head and leaning forward.

However, just as their upper lips touch, she retracts completely and Riki grunts softly at the lack of contact—frowning in protest and yet, unable to complain.

Her ministrations are brief, fleeting and still, so seductive.

The promise of getting that attention from her is enough to fuel his fire and that's what brings him to the edge of the cliff with the limp body of Jaeyun in his arms.

"R-Riki?" Sunoo stutters, eyes wide with fear at what the younger is about to commit while the latter ignores—taking only a few seconds pause before his arms drop and Jaeyun's figure falls freely with a harsh, heavy splash.

And at that moment, Riki can only think of one thing: how truly grateful he is that they're dying. He can't trust himself to be able to do the same thing if they still had the will to fight for their lives.

"Riki, stop!" Sunoo pleads, voice hoarse as he stumbles to his feet.

SPLASH! Down goes Heeseung.

"Riki! Please!"

SPLASH! And now the water is Jongseong's eternal bed.

"STOP!" Sunoo commands as he rushes to reach the younger.

SPLASH! The pearls are returned home with Sunghoon's descent.

"NISHIMURA RIKI!" Sunoo roars, hand tights around Riki's forearm as he brings Jungwon's flailing body in his hold. The youngest turns to meet the furious yet deeply broken gaze of the older as he pants. "What...what are you doing?"

"She asked me to," Riki simply replies, face stoic. "And I listened."

Sunoo's grip tightens. "How could you?? Have you gone insa—??"

"Have you not?" Riki abruptly interjects and the other flinches backwards when the former turns his whole body towards him. "After witnessing the horrors that have been bestowed upon, you've still retained your sanity?"

The older's fingers uncurl from the other.

"No... Actually, you've lost your mind way earlier before, haven't you? The first of us to," Riki scoffs while the other furrows, unnerved. "You're the first to have fallen into her trap, hyung. You've kept her with you, allowing her to poison our heads and making us her victims one by one while simultaneously making sure you've monopolized her—that end of the day, she will always return to you."

His accusations are sharp and yet, groundless. It's incredulous. He's ridiculous. "What on Earth are you saying? I never had such motive!" Sunoo denies.

Riki laughs, head thrown back as his grip around Jungwon’s mangled form tightens, making the weakened man to flinch amidst his state between conscious and unconsciousness. And yet, their youngest barely bats an eye. “You may think I’m a fool just like the others always do. Must think I’m daft enough to not be able to see through that halo you wear on your head. But I am not—I can see how selfish you truly are, how greedy. You cannot tell me that you don’t feel the slightest bit of relief knowing that you no longer have to share (y/n) with the hyungs. I know that deep down, you’re just as corrupted as we all are—after all, you are friends with us.”

The older curls his fingers into a fist, shaking and foxy eyes sharpened. Riki’s wrong. He’s not what the younger says he is. He’s better than them. Despite those adamant refute in his head however, Sunoo can’t seem to find his voice to verbalize them.

Because hidden underneath, stuffed inside a heavily guarded and locked chest in his heart, Sunoo himself seems to realise that the younger’s words are nothing short of truth.

And Riki, the ever so observant Riki who is always overlooked, knows this.

He takes another step forward, practically a hair’s width away from the pretty faced noble if it isn’t for Jungwon that remains caged in his arms and separating the two. A long exhale escapes as he looks down at the shorter with crazed eyes paired with the devious smirk that curls onto his face—bending down slightly to be face-to-face.

“I’m sorry to say however, that you still have to share (y/n),” Ki taunts, wet hair falling over his eyes and making look more insane and villainous than he already is. The drizzle that continues making the atmosphere more grim and Sunoo’s eyes widen at his statement. “Because lo and behold, I am still here and you can do nothing about it. Sunoo hyung is after all, much too soft that even when his lovely girl was having fun with his friends he chose to turn a blind eye. Unfortunately for him, I’m not as delicate and I will not stop until I make (y/n) mine and mine alone.”

Hearing those words spill past his lips, that declaration that drips with venom, Sunoo’s mouth gapes as his whole body stiffens.

‘He’s going to take (y/n)?’ His mind asks as warning sirens blare incessantly in his head and deafen his every thought except for that of Riki’s statement to take his beloved for himself. ‘He wishes to rob my love away from me? To deny me of her?’

All while this plays, (y/n) watches from afar like one does in theatre—sitting leisurely on her legs with hands folded on her lap as she stares. Her pupils large as they flicker between the two with interest.

She awaits for the conclusion, to see how long this feud will last and who will remain standing. If she has to choose however, secretly she hopes that Sunoo will prevail. After all, she’s grown quite fond of him. But at the same time, it’s dangerous—to be attached to someone is daunting.

Not that she thinks that Sunoo will win of course. Because in order to be like her, one must know when to be cold-hearted when needed, to be unafraid to get their hands dirty. To be able to stay by her side and be her companion, she needs not a man who will die for her, no. Instead, she needs someone who will live and kill for her.

And Sunoo is just as Riki says, too sof—

SPLASH! SPLASH!

(y/n) snaps her head back to where the two stood, momentarily distracted by her thoughts and she’s just about to stand and congratulate Riki for his victory—that is, until she’s met with the unexpected sight of Sunoo standing at the edge of the cliff with arms quivering violently by his sides and nails digging into his palms so severely that it draws blood.

He stands…alone, in all his glory.

The maiden’s tinted lips part as she approaches the young man and her hand gently rests on his shoulder that rises and falls strongly at the heavy yet shaky breaths that he takes. “Sunoo…”

Her voice returns to how it usually is, soothing and lulling without that haunting echo that follows and the other’s breaths hitch. She momentarily shifts her gaze to the waters far below them, seeing the fallen bodies of her victims with an addition of one who in fact, did not perish by her hands.

Riki’s floundering frantically in the pool, struggling to stay afloat and yelling for help but he’s instantly hushed by a pair of bony fingers that cup his eyes—blinding him before they dig into his sockets, ridding him of his pretty orbs with her long, unforgiving sharp nails.

The siren giggles gleefully at his roars and yells of pain before she mercilessly drags him deep down under, prolonging his death as he slowly drowns.

And then, utter silence.

No more rain, no more wind and not a single wave crashing nor birds chirping.

It’s done. Everything…is done.

“He threatened to take you from me,” Sunoo suddenly says, voice just above a whisper as his breaths slow to a calm. His eyes still set on the sea below them yet mind elsewhere. “He wanted to steal you away. To deprive me of you. I abhorred it.”

He turns his head to her, finally facing him and the insanity that swirls in his otherwise hollow eyes brings shivers up and down her spine—even more so when his hands reach to cup her face. The trembles are unceasing and he stares into her eyes almost manically, searching and digging through them with a sentiment even she’s unsure of. “No one can take you from me. No one. I am yours, all yours, just as you are mine. You know that, right? You understand why I had to do what I did, right? Right, (y/n)?”

The need for her to validate him, for her to accept him even after the sins he’s committed is heavy, overwhelming.

He did it for her, she knows that, right? She has to.

(y/n) only smiles as she keeps her gaze on his and that alone is enough for him—instantly pulling her into a bone-crushing embrace as if the slightest space between them will cause for her to slip away.

His face is deep in the crook of her neck and she stays as he continues to drench her skin with his hot, rapid tears. His amalgamation of each and every emotion sending him into a wreck and he only sobs and pants more when he feels her hand stroking the back of his head—her touches now harmless and tender at the absence of her tearing nails.

“You’ll be with me forever,” he shakily declares, breath steaming against her neck and she nods, imbuing a sense of contentment within him as he sighs.

“You lived for me, and killed for me,” (y/n) states endearingly and she smiles. “You’re truly perfect.”

And the two lovers stayed there, in each other’s warm embrace and silent company before they disappear from the eyes of humans, never to be seen again.

.

...

.....

.......

Many, many centuries later…

“Walk faster, man! Why are you so slow??” Jake grunts at Jay and the latter rolls his eyes obnoxiously.

"Maybe, if someone helped, things would be much quicker," Jay huffs with a glare directed to the younger as he lifts his arms up to secure his grip on the girl he carries.

Jake shrugs. "I won the drinking game so you and Sunghoon have to do the dirty work."

Not long after, Hoon can be seen tagging behind with another unconscious girl in his hold. His brows knit at the two's bickering but soon their focus shifts as a black, classy van slows down beside them at a distance away from the club they emerged from.

The three young men quieten as the door slides open and Heeseung steps out.

"About time!" Sunghoon complains and Heeseung ignores, his eyes instead zoning in on the two girls the younger three have chosen. His face remains indifferent and...bored. For some reason, Seung can't find seem to feel any spark for anyone no matter how eye-catching or charming they may be.

And yet, he keeps doing it. They all keep doing it—going to the club at random nights, hooking up with various different girls and sometimes even going as far as spiking their drinks, getting them intoxicated before bringing them home.

Even after so long, they've remained so...corrupt.

"Jungwon," Jay greets with a nod when the said boy climbs out of the van to let Sunghoon and him lay the girls in. The older's brows knit as he peers behind him. "Where's Ni-ki?"

He's promptly answered when the mentioned guy joins them, black headphones covering his ears and overgrown bangs falling over his eyes.

He only glances at his hyungs and their chosen girls for the night before focusing back on his phone, gaming without end. Unlike the rest of his friends, he's not very enthusiastic—not very involved in their activities and prefers being on his own.

But he and Jake are neighbours, always been since they were young so naturally, he spends most of his time with Jake who spends a lot of his time with the other four.

He's never been the one to take part in their 'hobbies,' and yet he's always the one who cleans them up—to be the one to comfort the girls when they wake up, to explain and apologize with thick, sticky guilt coursing through his veins and clogging up his throat.

To be the shoulder they cry on or the punching bag they strike just so they can feel better before they get sent away with the hyungs giving them hush money.

It’s a repetitive cycle.

“They’re so out cold,” Jake almost cackles when he sees the girls unconscious at the back of their van and he runs his tongue across his bottom lip.

Heeseung sighs, hands in his pockets as he opens the driver seat door. “Come on, let’s go.”

They all start climbing back into the vehicle, the youngest being last but he stops just as his foot makes it in—focus stolen by another who stands a few steps away from them.

Ni-ki furrows as he meets eyes with the other who seems strangely poised and…expectant as he continues his staring contest. A glint in his foxy eyes while unblemished milky pale skin seems to glitter beneath the moonlight. His lips and cheeks are in a soft rosy shade while bleached, silky blonde locks fall perfectly onto his forehead and eyes, adorning his visages.

He’s beautiful—too beautiful, even. Almost inhumanly at that so why, why does Ni-ki feel a foreboding chill shiver down his spine?

Especially when the other tilts his head with a taunting smirk, eyes squinting to give a playful sentiment with a brow cocking upwards.

“Ni-ki! What’s going on out—”

Jaeyun too, freezes the moment he sees the seventh presence that watches them from afar and finding his reaction strange, the others make their own exit—each and every one of them sporting the same look and mannerism upon seeing the unknown young man.

“Long time no see,” Sunoo says from afar, voice slightly raised to reach them as he approaches. The chill of the night seems to peak and the six figures shiver subtly, white puffs of air escaping past their lips. “A really long time, actually. I doubt you’ll remember me—not without her help, anyways.”

For a reason unknown (to the six at least), Ni-ki flinches backwards right as Sunoo halts in front of them—almost as if he’s fearful to which Sun only grins at.

“Who…who are you?” Jungwon asks, voice only above a whisper but the tension encasing them is so thick and suffocating that the air feels stiff, any other sound deafened that his whisper almost resounds.

Sunoo grins, eyes upturned to a deceivingly sweet extent. “It’s not me you should ask about.”

An abrupt gust of wind knocks them off their feet and they stumble to the floor—all but Ni-ki who remains unaffected alongisde Sunoo.

“What the fck?? Is a storm coming??” Jake grunts as he groans, sitting on his heels as he begins to stand but is stopped by another presence that towers above him. A sweet scent surrounds him and his heart skips beat after beat, racing erratically from fear? Excitement?

He’s not sure but he’s unable to resist the temptation to lift his head—meeting eyes with whom he can say the most ethereal, breathtaking bell he has ever laid eyes on.

And yet, the smile playing on her lips and gaze that bores into his speaks of a calamitous quality. Her beguiling beauty a mere facade to the devastating catastrophe that she carries.

But does Jake turn away? Not even once.

“(y/n)…” He mumbles, eyes wide and pupils blown as they study her features.

She grins. “Hi, Jaeyun—or do you prefer Jake? As that is your name in the present.”

Jake blinks rapidly, confused at his own utterance when she suddenly steps back to review the group as a whole—Sunoo immediately latching himself behind her as he buries his nose into her hair, sighing with an inexplicable relief and delight from her presence.

“After all these years, you’ve stayed the same. Can’t say that I’m surprised,” (y/n) scoffs, eyeing each and every one of their bemused yet deeply enraptured miens until she stops at one.

Nishimura Riki.

Upon meeting his eyes, the smirk on her face softens and her smile shifts to something more genuine, more endearing and she offers a hand to which he feels a strong, overwhelming urge to hold.

“This time, you’ll help me again, won’t you?” (y/n) asks and although her request is vague, Riki doesn’t resist the temptation to accept—his hand instantly finding place over hers and receiving a jolting buzz that fires through him.

He gasps, eyes widening as memories from centuries away flood through his mind and he grunts, hands flying to clasp his head from the overbearing pain that knocks against his skull.

But (y/n) pays no mind, only reaching out again to hold his wrist which catches his attention.

She flutters her lashes, sickeningly sweet, as her lips pull to a delicate smile. “But this time, you’ll be by my side just as Sunoo is. They’ve been bad, haven’t they? To you, to everyone?”

Riki sniffs, unaware of the tears that spill past his lash line as his memories return. Trembling lips agape, he lets out a shaky breath before nodding, palms still tight against his head.

(y/n) coos, comforting him before her eyes shift to the 5 others who seem dazed, stuck under an enchantment as they struggle to keep themselves grounded. “You’ll listen again this time, won’t you?”

Again, Ni-ki nods, finding comfort in her being as he melts into her hand that cups his cheek.

The girl titters and her eyes shift to that icy pale hue that both deters and pulls him in. “Don’t worry, after just a little change, you’ll be perfect. You agree, don’t you, Sunoo?”

Ni-ki gulps when he moves his stare to Sunoo whose arms tighten around her waist. He nods, muttering an ‘Of course,’ through the light kisses he plants on her hair but when he turns to the younger, the latter’s rendered breathless by the sight of his icy, serpentine eyes and forked tongue that slithers out as he grins manically.

“He’ll be the perfect addition.”

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

inspired by ‘milk of the sirens’ by melanie martinez and ‘siren’ by kailee morgue

𝜗𝜚 sorry for the very late update but i hope you guys enjoy this chapter and hopefully, will meet you all again in my future works!! anyways, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog for some motivation!! but please, do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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[mortiscausa]

I wish to make brief mention of an acquaintance which was made in private between the moon and the sun. Do you know of whom I mean to speak? He who was lord of the knights, and who was renowned above them all, ought surely to be called the sun. I refer, of course, to my lord Gawain, for chivalry is enhanced by him just as when the morning sun sheds its rays abroad and lights all places where it shines. And I call her the moon, who cannot be otherwise because of her sense and courtesy. However, I call her so not only because of her good repute, but because her name is, in fact, Lunete. Yvain, or the Knight of the Lion | Chrétien de Troyes

for some reason this little friendship/flirtation has always stuck in my mind and I've wanted to draw something for it for ages. i just like the idea of Gawain having lots of gal pals haha

march to camelot #3: kinship