#“its blood now flows through me”...

[felassan]

I do not know if you have posted anything about this yet but can we talk about Harding turning darkspawn into stone like Bodan did in DA2???

hello! ◕‿◕ [Sandal DA2 frozen darkspawn scene] yess. 👁️ it's interesting that Bodan had a theory that maybe Sandal is lyrium-addled due to his exposure to lyrium (blood of Titans) in the Deep Roads, as the other thing that Harding's new powers bring to mind is Valta's new magical powers to shape stone at the end of Descent, after she was hit with raw lyrium during the battle with the Guardian in the Wellspring. I can't wait to find out more about the reason for Harding's new powers and what it might mean for the dwarves going forward, and/or in terms of Titan lore reveals etc.. (๑>ᴗ<๑)

[trashytracktales]

okay kinda of a weird question but how do you think lando would react at eating aphrodisiacs by accident or something and suddenly he’s all hot and salivating ….like he would definitely try to play it cool and stay nonchalant but he can feel the blood flowing south and south, he’s kinda dying inside lmao it would be so funny to witness

Phenylethylamine | LN⁴

🍫 summary ──── Lando has a habit of stealing her sweets, but after he accidentally eats her special chocolate, his girlfriend makes sure it’s the last time he touches them without asking.

🍫 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🍫 rating ──── explicit

🍫 warnings ──── 18+, graphic sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, smut, aphrodisiac use (very exaggerated symptoms for the sake of writing smut lmao), sexual frustration, teasing, mutual masturbation, pillow humping/grinding, praising, unprotected sex, soft power dynamics, light slapping, detailed descriptions of sweat, cum, and wetness + messy sex scenes with even messier finishes, overstimulation and multiple orgasms, post-sex banter (I apologize in advance for my broken humor).

🍫 word count ──── 5.3k

🍫 date ──── Jun. 30, 2025

🍫 a/n ──── I swear this was supposed to be cool and nonchalant while Lando died on the inside, but I saw this ask during ovulation so here we are, allow me ☝🏻🤓

LANDO IS IRRITATED.

He fumbles with the lock, only managing to open the door after the third attempt. The moment it swings inward, he’s hit with the familiar warmth of their apartment, but its comfort doesn’t tame the ache pounding through his bloodstream. Every inch of him thrums with a need he’s never felt before, not this intense and constant, and he can’t see the end of it, no matter how hard he tries to calm down.

He’s flushed from head to toe, his cheeks adorably painted in a pale shade of pink, his pulse visibly agitated under the hot skin. So hot that it can set him on fire.

The clothes are suffocating, making him wonder how it’s possible to feel the them on every inch of the body they make contact with, starting with his shoulders and ending with the tip of his toes.

The second the door clicks shut behind him, she hears the noise like a gunshot. It’s not just the sound, but the energy it propagates throughout the silent apartment, heavey and rushed at the same time. She also hears him muttering something to himself, which makes her smile with how bothered he seems.

Lando’s footsteps hit the floor like he’s even forgotten how to walk, but then he stops when he sees her waiting in the living room. Most likely looking forward to just point and laugh at him.

And he can’t blame her, since he probably looks like an idiot right now. A very horny idiot.

His curls are slightly damp at the temples, the collar of his team hoodie stretched and clinging to his neck with cold sweat. One hand clenches uselessly at his side, unable to sit still while switching his weight from one leg to the other. His lips are a little red and glossy, probably from licking them every few seconds, and his pupils are noticeably dilated.

He’s either already commited a crime or he’s about to, the girl thinks.

“You’re home early,” she teases, fighting a smile.

His breath comes shallow when he speaks, “Yeah, well,” Lando nods, stepping out of his shoes. Even the glide of fabric against his thighs makes him groan. Every movement of his muscles sends sparks firing straight to his cock, already hard, twitching in his boxers with every maddening beat of his heart. “Called Oscar about halfway to tell the team I wasn’t feeling well. And I’m pretty sure he heard me moan right before I hung up.”

She leans a shoulder against the doorway, arms loosely crossed. “Mhm,” she hums, “Are you sick, Lando? Coming down with fever or something?”

He snorts. “I think I blacked out driving back,” says Lando, rubbing a hand down his face like the memory — or lack of one — spooks him. “I don’t even remember when…” his eyes drop, landing directly on the hem of her shorts.

Her sleepwear is laughably minimal, he figures. Silk jersey shorts that ride high on the thigh, the kind that barely conceal the gentle curve of her ass cheeks when she shifts her weight. Plus the tank top that’s one size too small, holding her breasts like it’s one inhale away from failure. No bra, of course, because why spare him?

She catches where his gaze is pinned and lets her lips curl. “So it works then,” she purrs, stepping toward him with languid grace. “Interesting.”

Lando opens his mouth like he might agree, but nothing comes out except a strangled little exhale.

She gets in front of him, lightly brushing her chest against his, while letting her face tilt up toward his. She notices how hard he tries to remain casual and nonchalant, but she sees how he swallows his saliva every three seconds, like a thirsty, overly excited puppy.

Her mouth parts, going in for the kiss he’s clearly desperate for, but ends up planting a light peck on his cheek instead.

Lando’s jaw clenches beneath her lips. He knows her well enough to know that she will jump on any opportunity to make him suffer just to get even, so he’s in no hurry to put his thoughts in order now. In return, he grips her by the waist and yanks her flush against him. One hand slides down without hesitation and cups the underside of her ass, fingers splaying possessively over her skin. His breath catches when her body finally presses fully to his, making her gasp a little when he squeezes. His lips crash onto hers, tongue immediately sweeping past her lips as if asking would take too long.

She laughs into his mouth, amused yet breathless, because she can feel how every part of him is straining, twitching, and aching to be taken care of.

Pulling back a little, she licks her lips while keeping her eyes on his glassy, fucked-out gaze. “You’re sweating,” she informs him as if he’s not already aware of it. “You need a shower.”

“I need you,” he contradicts her with no hesitation, pressing her tighter against him.

She laughs again. “Right. As if I’ll let you have it that easy,” says the girl, pushing him in the chest in order to slip out of his embrace. “You ate my chocolate, Lando. All of it, like the greedy man that you are.”

“Exactly,” he points out. “You know I have a sweet tooth, and that makes it your fault entirely. For leaving it out on display like that.”

Lando is breathing hard as he watches her hips sway just ahead of him, each step teasing him harder than the previous one. Her shorts ride higher with every movement, revealing more of those soft curves he can’t stop thinking about, now that they’re right there.

She pauses at the bedroom door before turning around. “Well, then. Maybe next time you’ll ask before stealing, even if it is out on display like that,” she shrugs, and disappears inside, curious to see how long it takes until he’ll actually break.

Without wasting time, Lando trails behind her into the bedroom like a teenager who’s just been grounded, even more frustrated than he was a minute ago, and seconds away from whining.

“Wait, that’s it? You actually won’t let me fuck you now?” he asks, voice laced with slight annoyance. His brows are pulled together, chest rising fast beneath his hoodie. He looks half-wrecked already, like just being near her is doing damage.

As a response, the girl sits gracefully on the edge of the bed, her knees spreading slightly and her eyes holding his like a silent dare. “I will, I will,” she says calmly, voice velvet-smooth. “But you’re gonna have to work for it.”

He blinks in disbelief, a chuckle leaving his mouth in a breath. “Work for it? Look at me, darling.”

She leans back on her palms, the curve of her mouth going smug. “Yeah, I see you, needy boy. Sadly, the chocolate was meant for both of us,” she reminds him. “But you ate it all, so now you’re a mess, and I’m not even close. Not fair.”

Lando sighs, running both hands down his face. “No, you are unfair,” he accuses.

She shrugs. “Make me want it like you do,” she adds, then watches as he strips, without complaining any further, as if he already has a clear plan in mind on how to.

He yanks his hoodie over his head first, ruffling his curls and making them even messier in the process. The fabric lifts, revealing the toned stretch of his abdomen, leaving her admiring her boyfriend for a moment, until her gaze dips lower as his arms flex, veins prominent, just as he gets pissed at the drawstring of his pants like it’s personally offended him.

He kicks them off in a frenzy, almost loses balance, stumbles a step back, then mutters a breathless, “Fucking hell.”

She lets out a small laugh, biting her lip while she watches him stand there, half-naked and impossibly bothered.

His cock bobs free when he kicks off his boxers, flushed a deep red, thick with arousal and already glistening at the tip. He’s hot, and she’d have no issue letting him fuck her into oblivion like this, but the game she’s planned for Lando is more complex, meant not only to remind him not to steal her sweets again, but also to get revenge for every time he teased her while she was the needy one.

“Spread for me,” he orders soflty in a barely audible voice.

She complies, her legs parting slowly as she stares at him with a knowing look. Lando can’t read that expression at first, but when he’s close enough to kneel in front of her, the girl lifts one leg with practiced grace and places the ball of her foot gently against his chest. The pressure is light, but commanding, making him freeze in place.

“Right there,” she says. “Stay.”

The flicker in his eyes stops too, somewhere between adoration, confusion, and desperation, all at once.

Lightly, she trails her foot down his torso then up again, leaving tiny goosebumbs behind. As tamed, her hand slips beneath the waistband of her shorts, feeling her breath catching and lips curving upward in a sort of smirk, but far more intimate. Her eyes don’t leave his, especially not when her fingers easily find the clit, but then she closes them, inhaling through her mouth like she’s trying to remember how air tastes like.

Lando exhales sharply, the sound loud in the silence, doing the only thing he can at the moment: stares.

“Baby…” he starts, then trails off.

One of his palms curls around her ankle, placing a wet kiss there, his hungry eyes watching her pleasure herself as she purposefully tortures him with her pretty noises.

She hums in response, but not to mock him this time. It’s just light satisfaction, as she stays focused on the movement of her fingers, the heat building slowly but surely. Her other hand rests on the sheets beside her, gripping them tightly as she finds deeper places inside. Each breath she takes deepens the burn in his belly, too, and when she opens her eyes again, Lando’s are dark and fixed. On her.

“Come here,” she says.

Lando doesn’t hesitate. He leans over, kissing her lips like he needs to be saved. His hand rests beside her head, steadying himself in the process, while the other brushes her waist. He always loved her velvety skin, but now its smoothness sends his whole body into overdrive; he needs to grab, to squeeze and bite, to leave traces that they can admire together later.

Luckily, her mouth is meeting his with the same urgency, and she pulls him deeper into the kiss, sighing against him like it’s the only way to stay sane.

His fingers slide under her top, and she lets him undress her one piece at a time, her soaked shorts first, then the barely-there tank top. She’s so beautiful beneath him, flushed and breathless and so mean for doing this to him. And then, just when Lando thinks he might finally have her, she gently pushes him down onto the mattress.

He lies back in surprise, watching her with expectant eyes. Waiting. She straddles his hips for a second, her weight a short relief on top of him, their skin meeting just for a beat, but still enough to make him think she’s about to ride him. To finally give him the release he’s craving.

It’s such a disappointment when she leans in and tugs the pillow from beneath his head instead, causing him to lie completely flat and defenseless on the mattress.

Lando closes his eyes, frustration surfacing through his words next time he speaks, “Baby, come on,” he sighs. “I get it, yeah? What do you want from me?”

“I need this big mouth shut,” she whispers, leaving a kiss on his tensed jaw, “And your pretty eyes on me,” the girl continues.

Lando lifts his head slightly the second he feels her absence, only to watch her placing the pillow between her legs, settling herself on top of it; his breath catches in his throat so sudden that his heart skips a beat for that fraction. Her thighs part, her hips roll forward, and the movement is fluid and sensual, making his thought process devastatingly slow.

He studies every shiver though, monitoring as the soft fabric disappears into the slick heat of her pussy as she sinks on it, letting out a delicate moan. She knows how to move with intention, rising and falling like a tide that pulls Lando under without his permission. His cock twitches at the sight of her grinding against the smooth cotton as her folds glisten, dragging more sticky wetness into the fabric.

His mouth goes dry and his throat feels like he’s been drinking sand. Almost like it’s an automatism, he fists himself again, not because he wants to, but because he has to.

She’s driving him mad, and they both know it. Her body is art, guiding herself with a lush precision designed to shut down the rational part of him — if he ever had one. There’s not a shy bone in her body, and no hesitation in her pleasure. And she gives him nothing more than a front-row seat to it.

Gradually, her hips catch on, moving faster and faster, as her hands clutch the pillowcase. Lando’s name escapes her lips in short spasms as she does, and that has the power to nearly break him. On the other end, he can barely speak, burning alive in his own skin. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the way she rocks, hips flexing in a rhythm that’s pure madness.

The breathy sounds wrap around his spine, pushing Lando to keep looking, to see exactly why she’s so lost in it. He wants nothing more than to touch her. Every single cell in his body screams at him to do so. Instead, he settles for the heat of his own skin slapping against his fist, nothing compared to what he imagines hers would be like: slick and tight and pulsing around him. The thought makes his hips quiver, and he begins to stroke faster, matching her rhythm.

His voice is wrecked when he manages, “Hate this. It fuckin’ hurts, but can’t stop.”

Her moans grow louder and arches her back in response. “That’s the point,” she replies.

“Please,” he whines, but isn’t sure what’s he begging for anymore.

She smiles as she grinds harder, letting the pillow press deeper into her clit.

As if he had reached his limits, Lando can’t bear the distance anymore. The ache in his chest is consuming, matching the one in his cock. It’s an overwhelming need, not just to touch and be inside her, but to be close, to breathe her in. So he moves, cautiously, like she might banish him if he oversteps.

Lando kneels closer to her on the mattress, muscles locked with restraint and the need to just relax. His nostrils flare, eyes flickering with carnal hunger at how she bounces, her lips opening around breathless moans that immediately ripple through him like shockwaves. His thumb slides against the swollen tip at that, smearing all the pre-cum there as he watches her move.

She lifts and sinks, again and again, so needy and so close that her moans starts coming out in short, broken cries.

“Lan…”

“That’s it, fuck. Show me how good it feels,” he whispers, eyes locked on her every tremor. “Could’ve been under you, but you’re too stubborn to ride me, hm? Trying to prove a point, aren’t you?”

She cries out again, clutching the pillow more firmly while fucking it with more urgency. Her thighs tremble as her hips chase the sweet friction, each bounce sloppier than the last. And soon after that, Lando’s cock jerks in his fist harder, watching her body unraveling in front of him. The muscles in his forearm are tight, jaw clenched so hard it hurts. His eyes can’t afford to leave her now that they’re so close. Not when every little whimper and every roll of her hips is dragging him into their own heaven.

“Shit. You gonna come, baby?” he pants. “Let me see your pretty cunt soaking my pillow.”

“Come closer,” she breathes, lifting her head to give him a knowing look.

And that’s all it takes for Lando to understand.

Her eyes flick briefly between her thighs and then back to him. There’s no hesitation in what she wants: him to be there, with her. On her. In this with her, in every way she can take him without actually having him inside her. And the implication lands like a weight in Lando’s chest.

He exhales another fuck under his breath, ragged and helpless and so greedy. His body moves before his mind catches up, sliding close enough that he can see hers shaking. The image makes him stroke rougher, everything tightening inside him as he angles himself lower.

She shifts ever so slightly, adjusting her hips so she’s dragging her soaked center over the very center of the pillow, welcoming him. Lando presses forward, his hand working in a blur, eyes burning into hers as his release crashes over him like a freight train. He lets out a strangled cry as his body tenses, then jerks; thick ropes of cum spill from him, splattering across the fabric beneath her, streaks of white painting the same cotton her pussy continues to ride, her body tweaking with a choked cry.

She sobs at the feeling, thighs clamping down and grinding right into it, catching his release with her folds, smearing it all over her clit like she’s trying to claim it.

“Fuuuck,” he almost shouts, eyes following every second of her using him, even in this way. “You’re so fucking perfect. Fucking mean, but so perfect.”

She collapses at the intensity, burying her face in the scent of their bedsheets. Lando’s still breathing hard, his hand sticky with release, the pillow soaked and shining between her thighs. His eyes are glued, watching her completely wrecked, realizing how completely in love he is, and how completely sure that nothing has ever looked more beautiful than his girl on this bed, right in this moment.

She turns her head just to catch him in her periphery. “You want to feel it?” she asks, voice velvety-soft, different from before.

She lifts herself up then, careful and fluid, staying on her knees. The pillow remains between her legs, and she adjusts it just enough to keep her clit in contact with the soaked cotton as she spreads herself open on all fours. The curve of her back is sinful, her ass arching perfectly, folds glistening in the low light, shining with her own slick and now streaked with his cum.

Lando’s mouth goes completely dry.

“Show me what that chocolate did to you,” she almost begs, closing her eyes at the irony of how quickly the tables have turned.

He’s behind her in an instant.

One hand finds her hip, then cups one ass cheek, his fingers digging in like he needs to anchor himself before drowning in his own needs. The other wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself to her entrance.

She’s so wet that the tip slides easily through her folds, coating in the mess they’ve made together. And when he finally pushes in, the sound he makes is broken — a choked, inhibited whimper that shoots out of his chest like a bullet. His head drops between his shoulders as her wet heat clamps around him, drawing him in, inch by inch.

“Oh my fuck,” he breathes, hips jerking deeper involuntarily. “You feel so good, love.”

Her mouth falls open, rocking back enough to take him fully. The pillow shifts under her, and her clit finds it again, angled perfectly for her to feel it every time he moves behind her.

“Just like that… Stay close.”

Lando’s hands grip her firmly, fingertips pressing into her skin in order to make sure she’s not moving a single inch without his approval. Then, he begins to thrust, shallow and controlled for a fraction, breath catching with every grind of her hips. The slick sounds of their bodies joining blend with the wet friction of her pussy dragging against the cum-soaked cotton, making her melt under him like ice-cream forgotten in the sun, her spine flexing with every roll of his hips.

“So close, baby,” he speaks against her back, barely able to breathe from how hard he’s pushing inside her. “You take me so easy. Opening up like it’s nothing, hm?”

She responds to him by pushing back into him again, and the groan Lando lets out is harsh, and almost pained.

“More,” she tells him. “Wanna feel all of you while I ride your mess.”

The smile blooming on his face is diabolical, his hips slapping against her ass as the wet squelch of her grinding continues beneath them. She swallows her whimpers instantly, biting her lip to stifle the sounds as her clit gets overstimulated, friction sending lightning through her limbs.

He can’t stop praising her, voice breaking between thrusts, “So good around me. So fuckin’ tight. Not gonna last, baby.”

“No,” she pants. “Don’t stop.”

He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. The need to feel her around his cock like that is greater than any rational thought he’s ever had. Every time he pushes into her, it’s like the first time all over again, and he can’t see a place in time where he will ever stop.

She’s so full of him. Every inch of her stretching sweetly, clutching tight, sucking him deeper with a need that borders on pure lust. He opens her wider, but her thighs press together weakly in order to prolong the pleasure.

His second climax crashes into him violently and unannounced. Lando buries himself as deep as he can go, body locked in place, and lets go with a throaty moan that tears straight from his chest. His cock pulses hard inside her, again and again, hot spurts of cum flooding her cunt, so much of it that it spills around his length, dripping down her thighs.

Her body jolts forward with every thrust, the bed creaking beneath them and, as a result, her arms give out beneath her, causing her to collapse face-first into the pillow, all of her moans muffled that way.

Somehow, his hips are still moving.

Even as he comes, his body keeps going with hard thrusts that punch wet sounds from between them, desperate and uncontrollable.

His brain fogs over, drowned in heat and light and so much pleasure. His skin burns from his cheeks to the soles of his feet, heart pounding against his ribs like it’s trying to escape his ribcage. His muscles are on fire, too, burning from the inside out as if they’re tearing away from his bones with every twitch and instinctive snap of his hips into her soft, fucked-out body.

Lando can’t take his eyes off where she’s stretched tight around him, glistening and clenching, drawing him in, not wanting to let go. It feels like he’s getting harder inside her, the pleasure and pain blending together and sending both of them to a realm where nothing else exists, except their bodies, intertwined.

The high doesn’t fade, but tears start stinging at the corners of his eyes. Worn out, Lando leans in and pants against the sweat-damp skin of her back, overwhelmed and on the edge of begging for mercy. Or more. He presses his forehead to the space between her shoulder blades and groans, a loud noise that doesn’t sound human anymore.

“Fuck, baby,” he exhales. “This is... holy shit. I can’t stop fucking you.”

He’s leaving marks on her skin, whether he means to or not. Red smudges blooming beneath his fingertips where he grips her hips, fingerprints on her waist, even the shadow of teeth at the swell of her ass from when he’d bit down, without remembering exactly when. His thighs slap wetly against hers, over and over, as he drives his cum deeper into her, their combined mess dripping in thick trails, soaking further into the sheets.

Yet, she’s still muffling her moans into the pillow.

Lando frowns through the daze, instincts cutting through his pleasure like a blade. Gently, his hand lifts and slaps the flesh of her ass, enough to jolt her body and shake her back to the surface.

“You still with me?” he asks, barely holding together.

She lets out a soft cry, assuring him that she is.

At that, he moves without thinking, one arm wrapping around her middle, pulling her up until she’s kneeling against his chest, her back flush to his front. Her head falls back onto his shoulder, and he cups her breast with one hand, the other holding her steady as he keeps moving inside her, slower now, but no less desperate.

Her pussy squeezes around his length, still so warm, so slippery and wet from the storm of sinful whimpers and sounds between them.

“Ask your friend where she got the goddamn chocolate, yeah?” Lando urges her. “And order a dozen of ‘em.”

She would’ve laughed at the irony, but she’s far too busy to feel every sensation in her body, that’s crumbling against his heated chest with every passing second.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold them up like that. Every muscle in his body is shaking with exhaustion and bliss and something close to a irrational fear that he might actually never come down from this high.

With that in mind, Lando’s hand drifts down her stomach, then south enough to find her clit, fingers brushing the swollen bundle gently. She twitches in his arms, back arching, thighs trying to close around his wrist, but he holds her open with his knee.

“Let go all over me, beautiful,” he asks in a soft, wrecked tone.

He can feel her throbbing under his touch, puffy, drenched, and so sensitive it’s almost pains him that he’s not eating her out instead. But her hips roll into his fingers anyway, chasing the friction while grinding on his cock, the new angle hitting just right.

For a moment, Lando closes his eye only to listen to her breathing, knowing he’s the reason why she’s so utterly spent. Then he shifts the girl onto her back, her legs falling open like muscle memory. He leans over her, cock still nestled inside her heat, and continues to shove all of his need inside.

One thrust.

Then another.

Until she finally breaks.

Her cry splits the air, eyes fluttering shut as her orgasm crashes through her. Her walls are fluttering and coating his cock in fresh wetness, so much of it that he can feel it sliding down his thighs. Her body is convulsing with it, fingers digging into his shoulders, leaving behind crimson crescent moons, that she’ll kiss tomorrow morning in order to wake him up.

Lando is so lost in the feel of her, stopping for a beat just to stay inside her like that, deep and still, watching her fall apart around his cock.

He leans down then, lips pressing to her skin, tracing wet kisses down her neck, continuing up the curve of her ribs, then over her heaving chest. When he reaches her nipple, he takes it into his mouth, gently sucking until she lets out the softest whimper, then releases it with a wet pop that echoes in the room.

His nose brushes her silk skin when he pulls back to look at her again. “This taught me nothing,” Lando jokes.

“What do you mean?” she asks, brushing the hair off his damp forehead.

“I mean,” he exhales a relieved sigh, “If you wanna train me not to eat your sweets, this is not the way to do it.”

She lifts her hand to cradle his face, thumb brushing across his flushed cheek. Lando’s eyes close at the touch, lashes fluttering like he’s trying to hold back the way he’s feeling everything so deeply.

It doesn’t matter. Quite frankly, she doesn’t even care anymore.

“You’re so pretty like this,” she whispers.

That opens Lando’s eyes, and he looks at her like she’s just spoken the only truth he’s ever needed to hear.

Without warning, his mouth presses against her, all tongue and spit and too much teeth, but neither of them minds. Their bodies can barely keep up, nerves fried, but their lips move like they’ve still got everything to say without words.

Eventually, Lando lets out a breath and finally pulls out of her, both of them wincing a little at the hypersensitive drag. Their combined release spills out of her in messy drips, soaking everything around them as they let out a sigh of relief together.

The room is warm and smells like sex and sweat and something far sweeter underneath — maybe the chocolate that’s finally leaving his bloodstream, but still clinging to him like a final reminder.

She shifts against him, tired and sleepy yet satisfied, curling her body into his side and resting her head on his chest. His heart is still pounding, steady and exhausted beneath her ear, like a lullaby.

Lando glances down at her, eyes soft that makes him look so in love.

“What?” he asks, once he hears her giggle.

She bites her lower lip, grinning up at him while her fingers start drawing lazy circles on his damp chest. “I thought you were gonna hump the door the second you walked in.”

He groans, throwing an arm over his eyes dramatically. “Don’t start,” he warns.

She laughs harder at that, a little breathless still, and kisses a line along his ribs.

“I was sweating in places I didn’t even know I had pores,” Lando cotinues, “And I still feel my dick vibrating. Like, it’s just sitting there… vibrating.”

“Shit,” she chokes on another chuckle. “Is it about to detach and walk off on its own?”

Lando lifts his head slightly, giving her a tired, unamused glare. “If it does, I hope it finds you and haunts the rest of your days. Like some cursed dildo with abandonment issues.”

Her hand is slowly drifting downward, familiar and teasing, fingers just grazing his stomach with a dangerous glint in her eye.

He jerks under her, grabbing her wrist immediately. “Stop that.”

She blinks up at him, all fake innocence. “Why?”

“I’m not even joking. If you touch me right now, I will go fetal and weep,” he says flatly, eyes wide with honest fear.

“That bad?” she asks, more curious now than anything.

Lando groans and drags a pillow over his face, before realizing it’s the same pillow they’ve ruined. “Fuckin’ hell, mate,” he cries, lifting it in the air to shoot a look at it, his curls flattened to one side, eyes wide and scandalized. “I just shoved my face into our crime scene. It’s in my nostrils, fuck’s sake.”

She’s still laughing when he glances down at her, only for her expression to freeze mid-giggle, brows touching together in complete horror.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Lando.”

He blinks. “Hm?”

She points an accusing finger at his feet, “You didn’t even take your socks off?”

He lifts his head slightly, looks down at his bare chest and his entirely naked body, except for the pitiful white socks still clinging to his feet like two forgotten soldiers.

He shrugs, flopping his head back. “I was in a rush. You don’t know how it feels.”

“You animal,” she gasps, looking personally offended, like she’s just been betrayed by the man she loves. “You fucked me like a possessed man with socks on?”

“They’re my beautiful Quadrant socks,” he defends, waving a hand weakly.

“Your overpriced Quadrant socks,” she corrects him. “Who charges twenty dollars for a pair? You need to be castrated.”

Lando leans in and presses a sticky kiss to her forehead, letting out a spent chuckle. “After my bee stops buzzing, love.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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[beloveds-embrace]

(more of fae poly 141 x human queen reader || Masterlist)

It begins, as all fae things do, with something half-whispered and half-willed into being.

The Queen Mother watches from her high balcony, swathed in robes stitched from starlight and spider-silk, a goblet of elderflower wine in hand, and eyes like knives turned on her sons- indeed, only John may be her son of her own blood, but the other three have been married to him long enough she sees them all the same. Now, she is not subtle in her disappointment, but subtlety is not what’s needed now.

She wants a grandchild.

You are the wife, thus you are the womb. You are also- unfortunately- entirely unconvinced.

Which is a problem.

So the court changes. Just a little. Just enough- and all by the Queen Mother’s hand.

You notice it in the morning, when your tea no longer arrives lukewarm but steaming gently in a mug carved with delicate runes for comfort and staying warm. In the way the wind, once cruel and clawing, now stirs only to brush your hair back like a mother’s hand.

You find moss blooming along the path you take to the greenhouse- soft, lush, easier on your feet when you leave your shoes behind, as you often do. Glowy flits at your shoulder, a small sun in a kingdom that loves its shadows. Thrain trails behind with his antlers lowered, his hooves never once clicking on the stone, for the castle shifts beneath him now. Quiet, respectful for the being its Queen finds comfort in.

You don’t understand the change. You assume it’s the Queen Mother’s doing, for it certainly could not be your husbands’.

And you are not wrong- but you do not see the rest of it, nor do you understand why.

You do not see Johnny kneeling in your study after you’ve gone to sleep, trying to decipher the new system you’ve carved into court documentation like sacred text. He is muttering under his breath, muttering your name, because he can’t figure out how the taxes flow this smoothly without magic.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, frowning at a sheet full of overlapping glyphs and sigils. “How does she even- ?”

He runs a hand through his hair and exhales, defeated. “Nae way queenie’s human. No way.”

He cannot do what you do, and it terrifies him as much as it excites him.

You do not see Simon standing outside your window at dusk, his silhouette caught in the trembling light of a fae firefly swarm. He doesn’t knock. Just watches. He thinks about the way your shoulders sag when no one’s looking. He doesn’t know how to help without breaking something, yet he doesn’t acknowledge that his inaction might be just as cruel.

“She’s always tired,” he says quietly, to no one but the trees that stare at him in silent judgement and accusation. “Don’t think we’ve ever asked why.”

You do not see Kyle trimming the hedge maze into gentler curves he’s the one who shapes the new garden path into a spiral, the human symbol of devotion. You won’t recognize it, not right away, but he hopes that someday you’ll walk it barefoot and feel safe, and the thorns will no longer prick your fingers or get tangled in your dresses.

“Be nice,” he murmurs to the leaves. “If she had something made for her. Not for show. Just… hers.”

And John… he leaves you a book. Not a weapon, nor a command, but a book; a soft, leather-bound thing from the human realm, tucked into your pillow. One you’d spoken about months ago in passing when you were trying to strike up small talk, the kind of memory no one was supposed to hold on to.

But he remembered, and he knows well enough not to tell you it was him who got that book for you, because he knows you wouldn’t believe it the same way you don’t believe any of them.

“She won’t believe it’s from me,” he says to the mothlight above your bed, and Glowy sharpens its light at him, unimpressed. “But maybe she’ll enjoy the story anyways.”

Their attempts feel like guilt wrapped in ribbons, like pity painted gold, so you wear your silence like armor. Your glamours grow sharper and darker, and become even more of what they always wanted you to be: untouchable, mysterious, other. Anything except human.

Not because you want to, but because it is safer.

And they- gods, they don’t know how to undo it.

They, the fearsome four. Masters of strategy, of illusion, of war. A beloved, respected King and his beloved, respected advisors.

They are helpless in the face of your doubt. Fools, all four of them.

Which is why the Queen Mother begins to meddle in earnest.

She speaks in circles at court dinners, drops names of fertility rites and lucky moons. She gives you gowns lined with moonstone and roses that only bloom when kissed by love. She leaves baby shoes- handwoven from frost-leaves- on your writing desk like a curse you make no mention of because acknowledging it is terrifying.

And still, she does not pressure you. Not directly, anyways.

Only… makes space. Opens doors. Makes them walk through them until one by one, they begin showing up.

Johnny brings pastries he says were “extra” but are clearly from the bakery in the fae city you once mentioned yoy liked. He never stays long, just drops them off, scratches Thrain’s fur for the five seconds the great stag lets him before it tries to bite his hand and head cleanly off, and mumbles about going.

“Don’t read into it,” he says, ears flushed, hands in his pockets and away from Thrain’s hungry maw. “Jus’ thought you’d like the wee apple ones. You always looked happier w’ apple.”

Kyle hums near your bath, not entering, but talking idly through the steam about human songs you’d once sung with the will-o-wisps. He doesn’t ask to join. He just exists nearby- even less than the time Johnny had kept you company.

“Remember the one with the moon and the river?” he asks, softly. “They still echo it down the west wing.”

Simon sits on the couch of your office and watches you. Never interrupts. Just… listens. Like he’s learning you all over again, but this time he is paying attention.

“You breathe differently when you’re upset,” he murmurs one day, not looking at you. “Didn’t know that before. I do now. Let me look at that ledger.”

John brings Glowy closer to your chair when you read. Doesn’t speak. Just adjusts the wings so the glow warms your feet, and then he watches in amusement as Glowy hisses at him for his audacity to reposition it like that- yet it eagerly stays in that spot to provide warmth for you.

You glance up, and his eyes catch yours.

“Light-… Glowy was too far,” he says simply. “Can’t have you freezing.”

It is not much- but it is more than nothing.

And still, you do not trust it; love should not come only after loss; love should not bloom only when you have nothing left to give.

But the court begins to whisper. Softer now. Not prey, not little queen.

Yours, perhaps, after all.

And when you wake one morning to find your glamours replaced by simple fabric, soft and real- no magic, no sharpness, no enchanted jewellery, just skin and breath and linen- and none of them flinch, none of them turn away, not even when you catch their stares and look back, unadorned…

You wonder, just a little, if something has begun to change.

You wonder if they see you now.

Thrain noses your wrist, grumbling deep from his belly, the sound happy. Glowy settles into your collar with a delicate fwmp of its wings. The wind, the fae wind, brings you petals instead of thorns.

And beside your pillow- tucked gently against the spine of your beloved book- is a letter, penned in four distinct hands, tied with gold thread and sealed with wax.

You open it with trembling fingers, and inside it reads:

We’d like to take you to dinner. No court. No masks. Just us. At the gazebo. Say yes, and wear whatever you like. We’ll be waiting.

Yours- if you’ll still have us.

[writingunderneathawillow]

first base

summary: Bucky and you have to go undercover as a married couple for a mission. In order to soothe your nerves, he shows you that kissing him is not a big deal. Or is it? content warnings: fluff, mutual pining, handsome bucky hehehe, kinda suggestive but really tame, pretty angsty (mentioned character death, but the person’s made up), female reader word count: 2k a/n: today i looked up how the whole first base, second base, etc is defined and that gave me the idea for this :) also it’s been around since the 1940s (ish) this was supposed to be super cute and fluffy but i just love angst so much and i couldn’t help myself

The dress that wrapped itself around every curve of your body was surprisingly comfortable. Its satin flowed smoothly and pooled like a waterfall around your legs, allowing for plenty of movement which eased your nerves a little. Still, you felt the blood pounding in your ears as you applied the dark crimson to your lips and blended out the sharp corner of your eyeliner. The person that stared back at you in the mirror had little resemblance to you. Gabriela Alderton, your alias for the next few days, was dressed up in expensive silks, owned a purse that was sold for more than what you had saved over the last few years and wore jewellery that your yearly salary could not finance. That included an engagement ring, which sparkled on your left ring finger. The band was made out of heavy gold, engraved with details so fine that only someone in your close proximity would be able to see it. The diamond that adorned the centre of the ring was so massive that it almost looked cheap again. Almost. S.H.I.E.L.D. or, much rather Tony, didn’t play when it came to undercover missions. One wrong detail, one off-hand comment could end every involved agent’s life. And you knew that too well. Which is why you had taken the time to craft a fully in depth, flushed out and comprehensive profile of your made-up personality, detailing little things such as Gabriela’s electives in middle school (badminton and pottery). A knock on your door detached your scrambling mind from listing any more childhood details under your breath and you walked over to the entrance to your bedroom, turned the knob and opened. Your throat constricted when you saw who stood there, waiting for you. There was no moment in time where Bucky had ever been unattractive – and you had lived with him for a few years now, seeing him bloodied, beaten up, hauled through dirt and grime and passed out on the couch after exhausting missions. But the way his anthracite suit jacket smoothed itself across his shoulders, not yet buttoned up and therefore allowing a glimpse of the pressed silk shirt – it just wasn’t fair how handsome he was. “Hello,” he said quietly. His own eyes darted over you, and you saw how he swallowed, the bump of his Adam’s apple quivering as he took in your dolled-up face, drinking in every inch of your powdered skin. His gaze dropped and wandered further down, assessing the hold of the fabric on your body and if you had had it in you to rip away your eyes from his face, you would have seen how his fingers twitched in a suppressed attempt to reach out for you. “Hi,” you replied, your cheeks warming under his steady evaluation and you opened the door further, beckoning him in. A sound, that was half sigh, half grunt tumbled from his throat as he entered your bedroom. The material of his pants stretched over his thoroughly trained thighs when he walked and despite the material surely being sturdy and expensive beyond your comprehension, you saw the faint outline of his leg muscles shifting. “So,” Bucky began, fumbling with something in the inside pocket of his jacket. It took him a few tries to grasp it and when he opened his palm, you saw a shining gold wedding band that matched the engagement ring on your left hand both in aesthetics and opulence. “You already got the other one, right?” The question was unnecessary as Bucky stared at the jewellery decorating your finger. An expression that you didn’t quite have the words for was plastered across his face, a mix of anticipation and… longing? You raised your hand, palm facing your face, and wiggled your finger. “Yeah, Stark gave it to me at breakfast. Told me to get used to it.” “Hmm.” His one-worded response left his feelings towards that open to interpretation but there was a timid smile on his lips, as if he might not mind the idea of you getting used to that ring and the connection that intertwined him and you along with it.

“Well, we’re… ‘married’, so you need both,” he mumbled, now shifting the ring in his hand so that he could hold it between pointer finger and thumb.

Instinctively, you stretched out your hand, resting it against his free one and let him ease the ring onto your other finger.

It fit perfectly. There was no danger of it slipping off or cutting off your blood supply, as if it had been melded to your measurements from beginning to end.

It was just as heavy as its counterpart, despite the lack of diamond. It seemed simple, a thicker band than what your mind usually connected to the words ‘wedding ring’ but the feelings it triggered in your heart threatened to affect the standards you had set for your own expectations for marriage.

“It’s beautiful,” you replied as you took notice of the heavy silence that filled the room.

The apples of Bucky’s cheeks took a slight pink hue, and he cleared his throat before replying.

“You think so?”

He looked at you, a glimmer of something you didn’t know how to place in his stare.

“Yeah, Stark did a fine job picking it out,” you answered, softly contracting the muscles in your hands which causes both rings to reflect back to you.

“I chose it.”

Your attention snapped away from the jewellery and landed right on him.

A sheepish smile ornamented his face, along with a deeper shade of pink on his face.

You had to take a few short breaths to compose yourself, to not let yourself melt.

“Oh.”

He hummed a soft response, not words but not a distinguishable sound either and just kept looking at you.

“Well,” you continued, “You seem to know my taste a lot better than I do. It really is beautiful.”

A proud smile snuck onto his face, lighting up the grey storm in his eyes to adjust to a soft blue.

Despite the calm that he brought into your room and mind, you felt your blood pressure pick up again as the clock ticked closer to 6 p.m., signalling that it was almost time to go down and wait for the driver who would pick you up and drive to the gala.

Bucky noticed your anxious shifting, the way you paced up and down the room in heels would wear you out and give you blisters before even arriving at your destination.

“You ok?” He asked and reached out, his metal fingers wrapping around your wrist. His hold was gentle, and you would’ve been able to free yourself from his grip at any time if you had wanted to. But you didn’t.

“Just nerves,” you replied, letting him still your movements.

“You’ll do great, doll. You don’t oughta worry.”

The term of endearment made the butterflies in your stomach practice summersaults and you almost closed your eyes to calm yourself.

Instead, you twirled the wedding ring, letting it circle around your skin a few times.

“I just…,” you began, trying to find the words to express what you felt without giving away too much but your mind struggled to make up a sentence that afforded that.

Bucky observed your stuttering and something seemed to click in his brain as his eyes softened.

“Is it because of… because of the last time you went undercover?”

The question hung heavily in the room, and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his face as you nodded.

The last time you went undercover, it had gone beyond sideways.

Your work partner, your long-time friend and one of the best agents you had ever known, hadn’t made it out because of two mistakes.

“I read the file, you know? Two weeks ago, Sam gave it to me. I feel like you should know that, so that you are aware that I’m… prepared.”

Bucky’s words didn’t have the effect he had intended.

Instead of soothing your worries, it upset you. “It wasn’t his fault. He was prepared. I was the one who messed up,” you snapped at him. Regret flooded your veins immediately but the tears that threatened to spill held your tongue in place, hindering you from apologising for your tone. “That’s not what I meant and I’m sure that it wasn’t your fault,” he murmured. You pulled the wedding band from your finger and held it in your hand, right under Bucky’s nose. “I made two mistakes. Two. They cost him his life that night.” You fumbled with the ring, took a deep breath that did nothing to help you relax and asked: “Do you have to return this after the mission?” Bucky nodded and before he could elaborate, you said: “Tell Stark to yell at me, not you.” Then you smacked the piece of jewellery against the table – once, twice. The third hit it took was from being thrown against the wall. The super soldier didn’t stop you – sure, he looked at you like you had lost your mind, but he didn’t try to intervene. Once you had properly let your anger on the ring, you picked it up and held it up again for Bucky to inspect. It was still beautiful, not bent, but slightly scuffed up. “It needs to look like it’s been sitting on my finger for longer than a few hours. We’re not newlyweds after all,” you explained, your voice trembling slightly. Bucky hummed a response, his eyes still fixated on you as realisation dawned on him. “Is that how they figured it out? That you guys were undercover?” He asked, his eyebrows knitted together while unease lingered on his face. No, not unease. Worry. Not for himself, but for you. “That was part of it,” you admitted then and placed the band back in its rightful place. He stayed quiet, leaving it up to you whether to open up further or keep it bottled up. You, surprising both yourself and him, continued in a quiet voice. “We had been friends for… for years. His name was Christian. And we carried out so many missions together, recon, gathering intel, anything. We had gone undercover before, but as business partners, not a couple. When Fury gave us that… that goddamn mission, Christian laughed, saying it’d be easy. And it was, everything went smoothly until the man we were spying on pointed out my ring. We tried to brush it off, saying that I had just gotten it cleaned and took great care off it. But he didn’t buy it. So, Christian did the only thing he could think of, and he kissed me. I froze.” You recounted the painful memory with a tremble, both in your vocals and your hands. Bucky listened, his palms resting inches away from your arm, almost as if he wanted to reach out to you, to ease your pain. “They shot him before I could look him in the eye, and he was… he was gone before he hit the ground.” Sympathy filled Bucky’s eyes. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t an attempt to convince you that it hadn’t been your fault. It was compassion. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” he whispered and sighed softly. You looked up at him, blinking away the tears. His face was just inches away from yours and you could feel his breath brushing up against your cheek. “I don’t want to freeze again. I don’t wanna mess this up again. I just… I was so close with Christian, but we were just friends, and it threw me off. I didn’t know how to react and I…,” you trailed off, your eyes flickering down to his lips. “You’re not gonna. We just gotta… get some practice,” Bucky murmured, and his hand came up to your cheek. “Hit first base or what?” Your question was supposed to come off as a joke, but it was a breathless plea, your fingers found themselves at the base of his neck, softly brushing up against his hair. “I can’t believe people still use that metaphor,” he replied and then he pressed his lips onto yours.

thank you for reading :) gentle reminder that likes are more than appreciated but comments and reblogs make the dream work part 2 out now

[fckwritersblock]

What I Should’ve Said (pt.2)

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x black reader

Description: TBA

Word: 3,023

A/n: I can’t even describe how surprised and happy I am, by the support and love you guys showed to part one. I am extremely obsessed and in love with these twins, and this is exactly what we all mean when we say we want to pair of Jordans, Amen?

AMEN!

Tag list: @capswife @marley1773 @kxllanxtdoor @berlinswifey @thegreatlibraryofalex @httpsangelsstuff @lovereadingfanfic @li-da-savage @reci1996 @nbanenefrmdao @theonekaysstuff @kpopslur @fjssdfb @zane2408 @saik-k @childishgambinaax @k4kashin @keliwel

Part 1 - I Never Told You

Elias?” You mumbled, staring at the scene in front of you in horror.

Blood. All the blood. It was all you could focus on—the crimson liquid seeping from the side of Stacks’ neck, painting the ground in a gruesome tapestry of life and pain. Stacks, who was withering on the ground, struggled to move, his body twitching as if trying to fight against the inevitable.

The next thing you heard were gunshots, sharp and echoing in the air, as Smoke lit Mary up, each bullet finding its mark in her body. Just when you thought the chaos couldn’t escalate further, she dropped to the floor, only to rise again, defying the laws of life and death. Your ears were ringing from the close proximity of Smoke’s gunfire, but all you could see was Stacks.

As you inched toward him, desperate to reach him, Mary bolted toward you, pushing you out of the way with a force that sent you sprawling to the ground.

Hastily, you scrambled to your knees, crawling as fast as you could toward Stacks, your heart racing.

“Elias!” You screamed, horror twisting your voice.

There was an entire chunk of skin missing between the top of his neck and shoulder, a gaping wound that made you feel sick. Without a second thought, you tore off your shawl and pressed it against the injury, your hands trembling. Smoke, his face a mask of fury and fear, lifted his twin brother slightly, cradling his head in his lap.

“She fucking bit me, baby,” he coughed out, his mouth stained with blood, each word a struggle.

“Smoke, what do we do—?” you stammered, panic creeping into your voice.

“Fuck, just hold it!” he barked, his own desperation evident as he tried to help you stem the flow of blood from Stacks’ neck.

“I’m sorry,” Stacks wheezed, the sound barely escaping his lips. You felt one of his hands tap your elbow weakly.

“I don’t care! I don’t care about anything else; I just need you to stay with me, okay?” You begged, tears streaming down your cheeks as you kept pressure on the wound with one hand and reached down to hold one of his.

He squeezed your hand back, but only for a moment. You felt his grip loosen, and that arm fell limp, a chilling realization settling over you like a dark cloud.

“Elias, please!” you cried, your voice breaking as fear clawed at your insides.

“I love you,” he said, looking you dead in the eye, his gaze piercing through the pain, though his own eyes were mere slits now.

“I love you, big brother,” he murmured this time to Smoke, the words a whisper of tenderness amidst the chaos, before a gurgling sound escaped his lips, followed by an eerie silence.

“Elias?” You called, your heart racing, but there was no response.

“Elias!” You shouted again, desperation flooding your voice as you shook him gently, hoping against hope for a miracle.

But he was gone.

The world around you faded into a blur, the sounds of gunfire and chaos dimmin' as the weight of loss crashed down upon you like a heavy shroud. You felt a coldness seep into your bones, a chill that had nothin' to do with the night air—it was the icy grip of despair.

“Elias…” you whispered, his name hangin' in the air like a haunting melody, a promise left unfulfilled.

You couldn’t move. All you could do was stare at your hand clutchin' his. His hand was quickly turnin' cold, life leavin' him with every passing second.

Smoke's face twisted in agony as he cradled his brother, the bond of twinhood shattered in an instant. You could see the rage buildin' within him, a storm of emotions that threatened to erupt at any moment, ready to lash out at the world for takin' his brother away.

“Smoke, we have to move the body outside,” you urged, your voice shaky.

“Ain’t nobody touchin' my brother,” he seethed, fury and heartbreak intertwining in his words.

Coverin' your mouth to choke down another sob, the reality that Stack was no longer here played on a loop in your mind, a cruel reminder of what you’d lost.

“Y/n, you too, baby,” your sister said gently, rubbin' your shoulders, tryin' to coax you into movin'.

With trembling hands, you reached out, runnin' your fingers softly over his forehead before pressin' your own to his. You closed your eyes, wishin' for one last moment, one final chance to tell him how you felt.

“I should’ve told you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, “I should’ve told you how much you mean to me.”

Your lip trembled as you leaned over, placing a tender kiss on his forehead, a goodbye you wished you didn’t have to say. Annie helped you up and out of the room, her grip firm yet comforting.

You paused at the doorway, lookin' back at Stack one last time, the sight of him still feelin' unreal.

“Come on, y/n,” Annie urged, her voice gentle yet insistent. You turned your gaze to your sister, who could see the hurt and pain in your eyes. Her heart ached for you and for her lover. Tears flowed freely down your face.

“I didn’t get to say it back, sista,” you whispered, the weight of your unspoken words hangin' heavy between you.

Haint.

That’s what your sister thought it was, but you all quickly found out she wasn’t too far off.

See, a Haint, in plain terms, was a malicious ghost. Restless spirits who, for some reason, hadn’t moved on.

But no.

No Haint would be handled between you and Annie, but vampires? That was a whole 'nother beast.

This was another type of evil you weren’t equipped to deal with. Not one that wore the face of the person you loved. When you saw him walkin' back up to that front door, lookin' alive as if nothin' had happened, givin' you that signature smirk, gold ones shinin’ like it was any other day, you were floored. You wanted nothin' more than to reach out, grab him, and make sure he was real.

Once Smoke closed the door, it stood still in front of it, unmoving. You prayed this was all a joke. You prayed Stack would just walk through that door and tell you that everything was gonna be okay.

But that didn’t happen.

You weren’t sure how he knew you were still on the other side of the door while the others were further away, tryin' to come up with some sort of plan, but you began to hear him whisper your name.

Or did you?

You weren’t sure what was real or fake anymore, and it was startin' to drive you mad. The voice of one of your very best friends askin' you to open up, plead in' with you, tryin' to assure you that everything was okay and nothin' was as bad as it seemed.

“Bam.” You shut your eyes tight as the sweet, silky voice of the man you loved coaxed you from the other side of the door.

“Elias, please,” you whispered, your voice tremblin' with confusion and longing.

“Open the door for me, Bam.”

“Just… I don’t understand,” you stammered, your heart racin' as it fought against the logic of your mind.

Your brain knew the truth. It wasn’t him. But your heart didn’t care, and right now, the two were at war with each other.

Everything you and your sister had grown up knowin' about magic and creatures that go bump in the night—it was all real, and it was literally at your front door. Yet, your heart struggled to see anything but Stack.

The man you had fallen so deeply in love with when you were just sixteen—the man you were still hopelessly in love with now. Except now, there was no longer a livin', breathin' Elias, but rather somethin' undead.

Vampire.

“Just open up for me, and I promise you, everything is gonna be okay, baby.” His voice flowed like honey, each word drippin' with the kind of sweet reassurance that used to melt your heart.

“Elias…” you breathed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions, a fragile whisper that barely escaped your lips.

“Open the door, Bam.” This time, his tone was still gentle, yet there was an undeniable firmness to it that sent your heart racing, pulling you in like a moth to a flame.

“I can’t do that,” you sniffled, not bothering to conceal the hurt that laced your voice. “It’s not really you, ‘Lias.”

You pressed your forehead and hand against the door, wishing for nothin' more than to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin against yours, to bring him back to you in any way that you could.

“But I am, Y/n. It’s still me, girl. There’s only one me, baby.” He joked in that familiar way that made your heart swell, even now, even in this twisted moment. “I’m just… better now. Everything is so much better.”

From the outside, Stack leaned against the door, his forehead pressed against the same spot where you stood, as if he could feel your presence through the wood, tethered to you by an invisible thread.

“No fear, no pain. Shit’s just beautiful.” You listened, entranced, as he went on, his voice smooth and enticing, painting a picture of a world where everything was normal. “And you’re beautiful.”

Mary, who had originally stood by giggling, enjoying the show of what she thought was her man trying to gain entry into the juke joint, recoiled at his words, her expression shifting from amusement to disbelief.

The hive mind they had formed once connected to Remmick allowed her to see into Stack’s thoughts as well. It wasn’t what she thought it would be.

Inside Stack’s mind…

Once he became part of the hive, she assumed his deepest, most inner thoughts would be of her—of their love, their connection.

But what was funny was that the bond they shared was nothin' more than the connection of two people who loved the same person back.

See, while Stack may have loved Annie, he breathed you.

It changed the landscape of her emotions as the vampire form tried to reason within, but deep down, she knew.

Stack was never really hers.

He was yours.

He always would be.

“You are beautiful, and you will be beautiful—on the outside and the inside,” Stack spoke convincingly, his tone a mix of charm and desperation that echoed in your chest. “And you and I? We will be together. No problems, no worries.”

Your fingers played with the latch on the door, the metal cool against your skin. You knew you couldn’t invite him in, but wouldn’t it be okay if you just looked at him? If you could see him, talk to him face-to-face, maybe you could reason with him. Fix him.

“We want you,” Stack said from the other side, his voice dripping with longing, like a lover’s whisper in the dark. “I want you.”

“But Stack—” Mary tried to interject, her tone tinged with concern, but one sharp look from him silenced her instantly.

“Shut up, bitch,” he seethed, the darkness that filtered into his voice made you recoil, snapping you out of the trance you didn’t even realize you were in, the warmth of his charm replaced by a chilling edge.

“I just want you,” he repeated, urgency creeping into his voice, raw and desperate. “It could be me and you.”

“Now open the fucking door!” Stack screamed, the sound of his fist slamming against the wood made you jump back, colliding into Smoke, who you hadn’t realized was standin' there, along with the others—watchin' you with sad, worried eyes as you broke down.

Smoke gently took one of your hands and squeezed it tight, his other hand resting on your back, guiding you away from the door toward Annie, a protective shield against the darkness.

“Come on, sister. You got to stop torturing yourself.” Annie’s voice was low and steady, filled with concern that wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

“Get the fuck on outta here, Stack!” Smoke threatened, takin' your place at the front door, ready to protect you from whatever darkness loomed on the other side, his stance firm and unwavering. “Fo’ I give you the pain you lookin’ for.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve already won,” Stack said, his voice dripping with a mix of confidence and something darker, leaving a chill in the air that seeped into your bones.

You struggled to catch your breath, disoriented and unsure how you ended up in the back of a car. The vehicle felt foreign, likely belonging to someone who had come to enjoy the evening’s festivities, not knowing what they’d fall victim to.

The world around you faded into a blur, drowned out by the sound of your ragged breaths and the pounding of your heart.

You blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog from your mind. Each time you shut your eyes, the horrific memories of the last half hour flashed before you like a relentless slideshow.

Grace. Taunted by Bo before she snapped, letting the horror in.

“Bam.”

Those of you who remained inside the juke joint were doing your best to arm yourselves before the undead descended upon you, ready to invade your sanctuary.

You blinked rapidly, feeling tears swell in your eyes, the last wave of grief crashing over you as you closed them tight.

You watched Delta sacrifice himself, as you felt Mary’s claws sinking into your abdomen, her whispers echoing in your mind at the memory of her claiming him as hers, before being suddenly thrown away from you.

“Bam.”

All you could do was watch as Smoke hovered above Annie, who had spared you a glance. She was muttering words you couldn’t understand; your ears filled with a deafening white noise.

A moment later, you watched your sister’s husband drive a stake through her heart. You could feel her essence leaving this plane, taking a piece of you with her as she slipped away.

“Bam.”

Everyone was gone. The people you grew up with, the ones you loved—they were all dead or turned to the undead. You looked down, the vision of your hand blurring in and out of focus as you felt something slick coating your fingers.

Blood.

This time, the blood on your hands was yours.

“Come on, Bam, look at me.” A voice said softly.

You blinked hard, your vision clearing as you finally focused on the face before you.

“Elias?”

A feeling you couldn’t quite describe washed over you. You were torn between wanting to scream and shout or attempting to run away, even though deep down, you knew you were in no condition to do so. You should be scared of him, but you didn't have the energy to feel fear. You were dying.

The air around you was thick with dread, the acrid smell of smoke and blood mingling in your nostrils, a stark reminder of the chaos that had consumed the night. With your last few moments in this lifetime approaching fast, you considered it might be a blessing to lay eyes on the face of your soulmate one last time.

With a shaky hand, you reached up, caressing the side of his face gently, yearning for the warmth that once radiated from him.

Stack let out a sigh of relief, the sound echoing in the stillness. You had been in and out of consciousness for what felt like an eternity as he picked you up and carried you away from the madness.

Stack looked down at the spot you’d been holding, your dress now darkened with blood, a stark contrast against the fabric.

The scent of you flooded his senses, and he couldn’t help the drool that pooled in his mouth, salivating at the thought of how you would taste. Yet, he fought against his new nature, focusing solely on you.

“Did you mean it?” you choked out, bringing his attention back to your face, your voice a fragile whisper.

“I did. I do.” He confessed, relishing the warmth of your touch against his cold skin. “I’ve been in love with you since I was a youngin’. I’ll always want you, even if you don’t want me.”

You looked into his glowing red eyes, filled with sincerity, and a pained laugh escaped your lips, tinged with irony.

“Even undead, your insecurities are screamin’,” you smiled, your teeth stained with blood. Your fingertips caressed his skin, grateful you could finally see him one last time. “I never wanted Smoke, Elias. I only ever wanted you.”

“I ain’t ever been nobody’s but yours, Y/n.” His rough voice whispered, filled with longing. “I will always be yours. I just need you to stay with me.”

You thought about it. Everyone else you loved was already gone, and you felt a hollow emptiness where your heart was supposed to be. You were on the brink of death yourself.

“C’mon now. I need to hear you say it. Tell me you wanna stay.” Stack pleaded, feeling your heartbeat slow beneath his fingers. He cradled your head in his hands, desperate for you to focus on him.

He wanted you to stay with him forever, but he didn’t want to take away your choice. He had taken enough from you tonight already.

“Please don’t leave me.”

Your thumb ghosted over his lip, and even half-dead, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him one last time.

Did it have to be the last time?

“I wanna stay,” you whispered through half-lidded eyes.

It was then Stack kissed you, kissed you the way he had pictured so many times before. You reciprocated, both of you ignoring the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. When you pulled apart, he kissed your forehead a few times before resting his on yours. He then took your hand in his, kissing your palm, then your wrist.

“It’s gon’ be alright, don’t you worry. I got you.”

Then he bit you.

[shra-vasti]

DESIRE: UNLEASH, UNRAVEL, UNMASK, SJY

SYNOPSIS: When you are assigned as a psychiatric nurse in a quiet, unsettling and remote town, you expected lonesome, boredom even, and not the creeping sense that something was wrong. Then you are asked to temporarily monitor Sim Jake, a long term patient, when his regular nurse takes sudden leave. At first he's just another case for you, then you started noticing strange behaviors unfolding within the hospital walls, and now you're not just questioning your patient's mental state, you begin to question what's real, what's hidden and if you're turly safe.

• PAIRING: Sim Jaeyun x Psych nurse afab!reader

• WORD COUNT: 20k

• CONTENT TAGS: Non idol au, hospital settings, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, patient x nurse dynamics, forbidden romance core, mental illness (refer warnings section), suggestive, reader-insert, sorry attempt at writing a medical based au (I'm not a medical student so please forgive me), reader is always confused the tf out of her mind, not proofread.

• WARNINGS: MDNI, Antisocial Personality Disorder, violence, stalking, breaking in, paranoia, reader faints a couple of times, mentions of blood and injuries, mentions of restraints, mental breakdown, manipulation, coercion, fear of abandonment (not reader), kidnapping, borderline yandere behavior, violation of rules and personal boundries, aggressive and obsessive behavior, stealing, making out, dry humping, needy reader, let me know if I need to add any<3

• AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm really not sure about this one but I hope you guys will enjoy it. This is a work of fiction and whatever is happening is happening for the plot. In no way I am trying to depict how an actual psych hospital works in this fanfic, it's more of a vague setting to build up the plot. Your comments, reblogs and ask would mean so much to me. Thank you for giving so much love to my previous work, hope you will like this one too. Happy reading♡♡

You stepped outside of the train station, head held high, eyes hidden behind sunglasses that barely hung on your face. The strap of your backpack slipped off your shoulder ruining your nonchalant persona in the blink of an eye. Adjusting it back you stood right in the middle of the road searching for any sign of life, the town was so quiet you could even hear a pin drop. The street lights flickering on and off like they were sponsored by your bad decisions. You look around, trying to spot a ride to your new apartment. The place felt like it was straight out of Miley Cyrus's Party in the USA music video, but an emotionally constipated version. You swore you even saw a single dried leaf flowing along with the dust across the road from your peripheral vision. 

You leaned your weight on your right leg, hands on your hips as you took in your surroundings. It's understandable that it was evening but not even a single soul could be seen in your near vicinity. It wasn't even dark yet. The only human interaction you had after stepping foot on this worn-out town was with the maintenance worker who gave you a nasty side-eye when you crossed paths with him and the old man sitting inside the ticket counter who maintained eye contact with you till you were out of his sight. 

You grunt, making your way back inside the station to interrogate the ticket counter. He looked at you up and down through his frameless glasses, folding his hands comically slow before heaving a sigh. You tapped your foot in sheer annoyance, he decided to finally bless you with some words of wisdom and direct you towards a local diner located not too far from the station. You threw a tight smile at him, dramatically making a turn and off you went towards the diner.

The local diner's neon sign buzzed half heartedly, you nodded solemnly at its state, the poor thing looked like it gave up on life ages ago but was still showing up for work because of money. It almost reminded you of your nursing school days, where you would show up to school regularly just because you paid the tuition fee in advance. You ran your fingers through your hair, huffing a breath, at least you could hear human voices from inside. 

"Hello, is anyone there?" You did the best you could to bring out your practiced cheerful voice when you opened the diner's door, grinning like you're trying to sell toothpaste. The cashier, a middle aged bald man with a mustache, and a relatively younger boy, locked you in place with a deadpan face and eyes staring with premium disinterest. "Unfortunately, yes." You made your way inside, removing your sunglasses as you approached them. The smile wiping off your face faster than the wifi signal during zoom meetings. 

"Does this place have any cab or bus facility? The person at the ticket counter sent me here." You awkwardly tapped against the counter waiting for their reply. Both of them exchanged glances at each other before they focused right back on you. And, now, somehow you were second guessing ever agreeing to come in this ghost of a town. "You're new here?" Now it was your turn to fix them with a deadpan look, "Unfortunately, yes." The younger guy sighed at your words, making his way towards you. 

"You came here on purpose?" He raised his eyebrows at you, his eyes taking in the luggage beside you. You furrowed your eyebrows at his response, hands on your hips as you were left baffled by the sheer judgemental tone of his voice. "What's that supposed to mean?" The old man just shook his head and went behind the door, leaving you standing there alone with the boy. 

He shrugged in response, leaning against the counter. A small smirk appeared on his face, "No one really comes to this town, considering there's literally nothing to attract any entity. The town is small, location so far off no one gives a fuck about it." You just sighed, dragging your feet towards a chair and slouching against it. "What brought you here anyway?" 

You massaged your head a bit, perplexed at the situation you've gotten yourself into. Your mind drifting back towards the questionable choices you made before you ended up being assigned to be a psychiatric nurse located in a place you haven't even heard about. "I'm here to work as a nurse at Second chance psychiatric hospital." His eyes widened in surprise before a toothy smile graced at his lips. "Oh you'll be working with my friend Sunoo."

You gave him a tight look, clearly having zero idea about this Sunoo guy he was referring to. He ignored your obvious disinterest and sat on the chair beside you. "I'm Jungwon, I work here because I have nothing else to do. The guy I'm talking about is also a nurse at the hospital you're joining." That gained your interest as you turned towards him, "Help me go to my apartment, I've morning duty tomorrow." He beamed at you, nodding before making his way inside a room and coming back later with his apron off. "Let's go!"

"You're dropping me off?" He grabbed your luggage like it was made of thin air and made his way out of the diner. You just looked at him, not making a move to stop him cause honestly you were glad he was chivalrous enough to do that. You were as good as Macdonald's ice cream machine to even argue about moving your own luggage. You ran after him as he made his way towards his beat up car, your legs falling in rhythm with his as you told him your name. 

You reached the apartment the hospital's staff had given you information about. You made your arrangements and agreements with the owner a few weeks prior. For which you mentally gave a pat on your back because the apartment was pre-cleaned for you. You thanked Jungwon, he waved it off saying everyone knows everyone in his ghost town to help anyway, and made your way up the stairs to unlock the door. You punched in the code you'd set through your mobile app, kinda high-tech to have such security given the conditions of the town, you made your way inside the apartment. 

You set your luggage aside, deciding that unpacking was inevitably going to be a problem for tomorrow. You freshened up, throwing yourself on your bed as flashbacks for today's event slid through your mind like a scheduled Tumblr post. This town contained a type of quiet that felt like the universe had hit a forgotten password button, left isolated and on its own to function, except instead of bringing peace with the isolation, it just gave off a serious 'what's wrong with it' vibes. Basically this town was a kind of place where even the squirrels look like they are plotting world domination. 

Sleep comes easily when all you did the entire day was travel and struggle, rinse and repeat. Waking up on the other hand was a struggle you didn't realize you'd face on literally the first day of your job. You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes empty, motivation still buffering. It wasn't until your second alarm went off that you finally broke out of your daydreaming and got ready to go to the hospital. You know how much struggle you put up with your will to live every morning, so you know how to deal with that too.

You found yourself back to the same situation you were in when you stood in front of the local diner, now looking up to the rusting, 'Second Chance Psychiatric Hospital' sign barely hanging above the main entrance, threatening to fall but still somehow keeping it together. You pushed open the gate, the loudly squeaky noise of the metal gate raising goosebumps on your skin. You physically crumpled at the noise, gaining looks from a few of the staff and patients spread across the entrance of the hospital and its surrounding area. You meekly smiled at them as you continued making your way towards the hospital's door, their eyes hardly leaving yours. What's up with people of this town and the constant staredown competition they engage themselves into?

The exterior of the hospital was painted blue, almost fading, getting drowned by veils of climbers and creepers you don't want to learn about. The front yard was draped with dead leaves which had fallen on the ground like the hope you had when you were assigned to this hospital. You sighed heavily, decided to turn around and take in the state this hospital was in. It sure looked like a type of psychiatric hospital you'd hope to see in a horror movie. What were you going to tell your friends back home? Second chance? More like Secondhand misery on your part.

Stepping through the glass doors which barely sensed your presence (you had to give them a bit of manual labour) you were met with a waiting room which silently screamed at you to leave. Rusty chairs, mandatory fish tank with no fishes but a suspicious looking worn out castle inside it, few statues which had more cracks on their surface than you had on your phone screen. You made your way towards the reception area, not entirely surprised to find the receptionist having the time of her life in her sleep. You lightly banged on the surface of the counter to get her attention. She woke up agonizingly slow, looking like she had seen too much and was running purely on instant coffee and bad choices. She didn't even look surprised, yawning as she pulled out a form and slammed it against the counter in front of you. You looked at her, completely at loss. "I'm a new nurse here, not a patient." 

"Oh?" She gave you a wary look, eyebrows furrowed as if she'd heard something she shouldn't have. You rummaged through your bag, huffing slightly as you handed her your joining letter. Her eyes widened when she verified your details, sighing in resignation as she typed in something on her computer. You stood there, watching her fill out your details in the staff registry, expressions on her face changing like the slideshow of a presentation you made when you were in sixth grade. "I just need to understand," she started, giving you the joining letter back, she briefly made an eye contact and you nodded at her to continue, "what life crisis led to this?" 

"Should I be worried? Why does everyone keep on asking me this question?" You were starting to believe you hit the wrong subscribe button at this point. This town was sketchy, far off the map, with zero to limited amount of transportation, every single place in this town gave off vibes of bad decisions and pure paranoia combined. The receptionist waved your concern off, getting out of the reception area, sliding her hand around your shoulder and pushing you towards the staircase leading to the first floor. 

"The patients on the ground floor are usually handled by seasoned nurses, fresh meat like you are assigned on the first floor to deal with patients with reduced care demands who have less complex cases." She explained as she stopped you in front of a door, labeled Dr. Byeon Hyunwoo, knocked three times and left you in your misery. Your eyes followed her till she was out of your sight, not moving an inch, mind malfunctioning. It wasn't until you heard a very awkward and intended cough that you got out of whatever trance you were into. "Would you like to come in?"

"Yes, I'm sorry." You followed him in his personal office, the condition inside of it surprisingly much better than the entire hospital. He invited you to take a seat, smiling curtly you sat in front of him. He was clad in white coat which seemed to have seen quite a few things. The wrinkles on his face are a clear indication of his expertise. He smiled at you asking questions about your whereabouts since you arrived. You'd be working under him along with a few other attending physicians and nurses. You learned he's the director of the hospital, which immediately led you to straighten your back in response. Overall you were happy to finally interact with someone who was so humanly mediocre. 

Before you could open the office door a soft creak heard from outside the door halted your steps in place, followed by faintest movements of shadow flickering from the bottom gap of the door. You sighed, opening the door quicker than the lightening speed and watched three heads stumbled across the office. They bumped into each other like dominoes, frantically trying to find their footing. Then successfully stood right in front of you, awkward smiles plastered on their faces. You turned around to look at Dr. Byeon only to realize he wasn't even slightest bit interested in what was happening in his office, so begrudgingly you shut the door behind you.

 You took in the sight of them, the receptionist from earlier, another girl with short hair and then the taller guy who sheepishly smiled at you, his foxy eyes turning into crescent moon as soon as they met yours, then came the classic move, 'the awkward cough' as they looked at each other to telepathically discuss who'll be the first sacrifice. You could feel the 'we weren't trying to listen' vibes radiating off of them like wifi signals. Honestly, the entire moment of catching them eavesdropping on you and Dr. Byeon was awkwardly theatrical. 

"A little birdy told me we have a new nurse, we were too excited to wait," the guy smiled cheekily at you and despite your better judgement his energy brought a laugh out of you. Three of them exchanged looks before the guy grabbed your wrist and dragged you towards a cabin at the left side of Dr. Byeon's office. He informed the cabin on the right side is for the physicians. The cabin where you were dragged to was a bit larger than Dr. Byeon's, probably because it was for the use of multiple people. 

"Is the little birdy Ms. Receptionist?" You chuckled as you roamed around the cabin till you placed your belongings in an empty area. The guy religiously shook his head making his way towards you, extending his hand, "the little birdy is Yang Jungwon, my friend, he informed me a new nurse was joining." You shook his hand with a puzzled look on your face which then turned into a happy one when you recognized the name, "Jungwon? The diner guy?" The fox eyed guy threw his head back, laughing. "Yes, that one."

Your interaction was cut short when the short haired girl came from the other side and clung to your arm, "I'm Yerin, your fellow nurse. Then this guy, who didn't have a basic courtesy to introduce his name first is Kim Sunoo, also a nurse and the lady standing there is Jia, our receptionist." She smiled softly at you before letting go and dragging Jia where you and Sunoo were standing. "We knew you would be joining but we assumed just like many other staff you'll ghost us too, we really didn't expect you to show up." You nodded at Jia, understanding what was up with all the questionnaire and glances but her words left you with a plethora of questions. 

"Is the reason they ghost because of the very obvious suspicious location or is this place that horrific that no one wants to stay?" You all sat around each other, "and don't you have to go back to the reception area in case someone comes?" Jia just laughed at your question, waving you off yet again, she explained how the hospital rarely gets a new patient to be admitted so everything is chill. 

"Okay, now back to your earlier question," Sunoo looked at you with his big eyes as he clapped his hands to get your attention towards him, "honestly I think the main reason is the location itself, you get to learn many things, have hands on experiences and everything but it's a small town, nothing much to explore, plus this town gives a little bit of icky vibes so that adds to everything else." Little bit icky vibes? More like a movie setup for a budget horror film.

They gave you instructions about the working of the hospital, Jia bidding you goodbye to continue with her work at the reception, Yerin helped you with printing out your schedule, and Sunoo brought your uniform scrub and ID card. You changed into your scrub, and wore your ID card, smiling in the bathroom mirror to officially start your journey as the nurse. While talking with Sunoo and Yerin you learned that Jia has been working here for 7 years, Yerin for 2 years and Sunoo just joined 4 months ago. "Jia looks younger for someone who worked for 7 years," you wondered out loud, Sunoo nodded, "She was very young when she joined here, she was in need of money and the hospital needed someone desperate enough to do the job." You pondered over his words, he suggested giving you a quick and vague hospital tour before you ask any more questions.

The hospital's air smelled faintly like a mix of antiseptic, rubbing alcohol and existential crisis. You wondered if you'll become one of the patients of this sorry excuse of a hospital if it continues to give off these weird vibes even after working here for months. While you were walking down the hall of the first floor, somewhere a door squeaked dramatically, as if to assert its dominance and make its presence known. Sunoo just shook his head, laughing slightly and mumbling about how you'll get used to it. 

The walk through the first floor was easy, uneventful but insightful regardless. You'd be working on this floor for a good portion of your work, so you hung onto every word that left Sunoo's mouth. He suggested you shadow either him or Yerin for the first half of the day so you could get a hang of how everything works, and you were glad for his regards. He gave you a tour of the therapy room, which was further divided into group, individual, occupational, art/music and recreational units. You met a few patients of the general ward Sunoo was assigned for the day, realizing it will take some time for them to get comfortable with your presence. You didn't mind their rejection towards you, considering you chose this field by your own wish to help the socially marginalized individuals of the society.

He then led you towards the ground floor, the stairs creaking below your feet. Jia looked up from where she was sitting at the corner smiling, you gave her a wave with the same level of enthusiasm. One side of the ground floor was filled with medical and support facilities like; consultation rooms, medication rooms, emergency care rooms, and pharmacy. Behind the reception area had a lounge area, dining area, and bathrooms. Aside from the rusting chairs in the waiting area, you spotted a vending machine from the 90s functioning on duct tape and sheer will, and a wall clock permanently stuck at 03:33; well at least it shows correct time twice a day, truly an overachiever. 

The other side of the ground floor was what seemed to pull your gaze back at it, time and again. The large 'Intensive Care Psychiatric Unit' sign glaring at you in red, the hallway was dark even in broad daylight, shadows clung to the walls as you walked towards it. Sunoo stopped you from going further when you reached near the entrance of the patient's wards. "New nurses aren't allowed to enter this area, only the veteran nurses are allowed. You'll need to get your ID card updated with access to this area to enter."

Your eyes were trained on the hallway, the longer you looked at it, the heavier the air felt as if something was waiting for you to dare to indulge in it. You turned your head towards Sunoo, gulping slightly, "Are the patients that volatile?" Sunoo shrugged his eyes scanning the hallway which he never once entered in his 4 months of working here. "Maybe they are, I haven't seen any special case or event with my own eyes since I've worked here but I've heard stories." 

He gave you a tight smile before urging you to follow him to continue the rest of the touring, and as you nodded your head at him in agreement you felt something move, barely visible, a shadow. A nameless fear settled in your chest, sending sharp, cold ripple down your spine. You couldn't help but lean against the glass doors to find where the movement came from, but there wasn't a single soul in sight. You flinched when Sunoo called out your name, your steps retracting back towards the waiting area but your mind still hooked towards the ICPU.

Working for the hospital was much better than you had initially imagined, although severely understaffed, the environment of the hospital was thankfully healthy and supportive. Dr. Byeon, albeit strict and a man of few words, always guided you with patience, though sometimes it would wear thin. Patients were reluctant at opening up at first but once you gained their trust, you started enjoying your job more. The patients on the first floor were easier to manage at most, they maintained a sense of self awareness and would be cooperative with the treatment. So you never had to struggle too much while doing your job. 

So after several weeks of working in the hospital, and living in this ghost town there were few things which you had gathered. For instance, Dr. Byeon was not only the director but also the co-founder of the hospital, at this point if anyone told you he was also the mayor of this town you wouldn't be surprised. Some of the attending physicians here wore their egos on their sleeves for some reason. There were only two veteran nurses and both of them were assigned duties on the ground floor for ICPU, you found both of them very scary even when they showed nothing about kindness to you when you occasionally crossed paths with them. Patients here, to put in simple words, were here for a reason. 

The people of town were, you don't even know how to describe. Earlier when you walked on the uneven and cracked sidewalks, people would smile at you the way they do when you accidentally wave at someone who wasn't waving at you, awkward and suspicious. Even the cats looked at you with that, 'I know what you did last summer' stare. Now they are friendly enough to ask you for a tea and ask about your dating life before you even sit down. Everyone in the town knows about each other, their allergies, their nicknames and the story behind it. Secrets here longed as long as a cough. Still you loved how uneventful and slow it was, or maybe you're just getting Stockholm Syndrome with this town. 

"Mrs. Lee's son got into an accident, she left earlier in emergency," You along with Sunoo were huddled around Jia during your break time when you heard about Mrs. Lee, a veteran nurse assigned at ICPU. "Poor her, I've never seen her so worried before, he's her only son." You nodded at Sunoo's words, it wasn't like you could give your 2 cents into the conversation since you knew very little about everything. You wondered how Mrs. Hong was going to handle everything on her own, when Dr. Byeon called you inside his office.

Dr. Byeon opened his door before your fist could even touch it and made his way towards his chair, you peered at him up and down before shrugging and making yourself comfortable in front of his desk chair. He heaved a sigh, adjusting his glasses as he gave you a look that screamed 'help' but in a more professional manner. You smiled awkwardly at him fidgeting in your seat, the more the silence stretched the more difficult it became for you to maintain your commercial smile. "You must have an idea what happened with Mrs. Lee right?"

You reluctantly nodded your head and the way he looked at you made warning bells ring in your ears, "I'll get straight to the point. We are short on staff for ICPU, I was hoping you'd take the responsibility for the meantime." You let out a laugh which sounded like a broken tape record, high-pitched, off-key, powered entirely by denial and borderline fear. As usual, Dr. Byeon patiently waited for you to come down from your high with an expression which lacked all the seasoning and spices. You eventually stopped when you noticed he wasn't laughing with you, you put your head down on his desk. 

"What? You'll be taking over Mrs. Lee's duty?" Yerin screeched, you hushed her putting your hand on her mouth. Sunoo just stared at you, looking for more information. "Why would he appoint you though?" He wondered, "Yerin should've been his first choice, you're comparatively new." You glance at him, finally releasing Yerin from your hold, "He said first floor is mainly handled by her so she was out of the picture, and as for you," you jabbed your index finger on his chest till you backed him off against the nearest wall, "he said one time you were allocated to work in ICPU for few hours and you got so scared you turned that place to a disastrous zone in five minutes."

Sunoo gulped, avoiding your eyes like you were terms and conditions, "I...that place is shady! I couldn't help it. The patient who I was tending appeared out of nowhere and touched my feet. I jumped and dropped everything, the patient got triggered and grabbed my hair, then I screamed and Mrs. Lee had to clean up after my mess." You shook your head, slouching against your chair. Sure the ICPU gave off some serious 'don't fuck with me' vibes, but Mrs. Lee and Nurse Hong had survived years of working in that unit outstandingly. You could survive too if you only did what you were told and didn't cause much disturbance in the daily routine of the patient's admitted at that part of the hospital. Plus your legs could use some rest. 

When Nurse Hong, a sweet and soft spoken woman, gave you the temporary schedule, you did not expect to have constant rotations in your shift timings. She gave you head pats and a hug, smiling sympathetically at your baffled expression, "I heard a lot of good things about you from Dr. Byeon, I believe you can handle it well. Just be focused on your responsibilities and call for me when trouble arrives okay?" With the amount of softness her voice and eyes contained when she said those words, you'd have said yes to even rob a bank for her. But she was getting old, already had so much on her plate, you decided to be the strong independent woman you've already dreamt of being and handle your issues yourself. 

You had always watched the ICPU whenever you talked with Jia on her counter, or whenever you kicked the vending machine to get your energy drink. Your eyes followed that section wherever you were in the near vicinity. The section always called for your attention, maybe it felt that way because you were prohibited from entering that area. A forbidden apple, tempting you to take a bite with its bright red colour. Now you stood in front of the glassdoor which was once a barrier to your curious heart, sweat formed at the palm of your hands, you wiped it on your white coat and placed your ID card over the sensor. 

The sensor beeped, the sound sharp and unforgiving, it pierced through your ears. The glassdoor separated and you entered the area. Your hand unconsciously reached for your pen neatly tucked at your scrub's pocket as you forced yourself to take a step forward. The unit was unnaturally quiet, the air suffocating, not with the smell of medications or ethanol, but with the memories. The lights flickered on and off, casting a yellow light on the walls which were once white. The paint peeled off in strange patterns through the hallway. You made your way deeper into the unit, hands tight around the trolley you were moving with you. 

The hallway stretched like it had no end, doors lined up each side, differently numbered, all identical, all shut. The hallway carried an uncertain heaviness, like it remembered every scream, every breakdown, every cry for help. You could hear some muffled noise as you made your way further into the hallway, a laugh, a whisper and sometimes a scrape against the wall. Normally, sounds calmed you, grounded you but this time it only increased your heartbeat. Each little noise made you shiver. The wheels of the trolley screeched against the worn out tiles of the hospital as you moved forward, and suddenly silence wrapped around you. 

For a moment you had forgotten that you weren't alone, that everyone else could sense your presence too. Being confined into a box makes you overly sensitive towards any sort of noise, it didn't surprise you that everyone inside the rooms could detect the presence of a new person with the sound of your footsteps alone. You moved ahead till you reached the far end of the hallway, room no. 015 glaring back at you. You've heard about the infamous room no. 015 in passing before, something along the lines of too violent, too hysteric, too cruel. You recalled Sunoo telling you something about the patient's history, an outcast, admitted to the hospital by his family who then left the town and never returned. 

You gulped, taking a deep breath before knocking on the door to let your presence be known, then sliding in the key. Your eyes studied the room, it was pale, off-white, no decorations. The bed sat at one corner of the room, sheets crisp with practice precision, a single pillow, and a blanket. A chair and fixed desk were placed on the adjacent corner of the bed. A built in light fixture high on the ceiling, out of reach even if one stood on the chair. You made your way towards the window that was covered by off white curtains. You wondered why would there be a window without grill for a patient who was admitted at ICPU. You moved the curtain aside, you could see the security guard's cabin from up here, well you guessed there's no way the patient would try to run without getting noticed. 

The slow creaking of the door behind you followed by sudden movements startled you as you turned around, wide-eyed, hands on your chest. You took a deep breath, carefully watching the stranger who stood opposite of you, coming out of the bathroom, steps halted midway, eyes mimicking that of yours. He analyzed your appearance, white coat, boring scrubs, trolley inside the room, hospital's ID card hanging from your neck. His eyes met yours, and you gulped, unconsciously clutching the notepad in your hand, a corner of his lips twitched. "I'm here for your routine check up, is that okay with you?" 

The slight tremor at the end of the sentence didn't go unnoticed by him. He studied you for a few seconds before he wordlessly made his way towards the bed and sat on it. You dragged the chair towards his bed, sitting on it promptly as you studied his medical record. 

▪︎ Name: Sim Jake

▪︎ Gender: Male

▪︎ Date of Admission: November 16, 2018

▪︎ Diagnosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder

▪︎ Assigned Psychiatrist: Dr. Byeon Hyunwoo

▪︎ Assigned Nurse: Mrs. Lee Siyun

▪︎ Mood/Behavior: Patient appeared withdrawn and agitated

▪︎ Appetite: Normal

▪︎ Interactions: None

▪︎ Agitated/Aggression: High

▪︎ Nurse comments: 1. Patient has shown a recurrent pattern of agitation. 2. Cooperative during check ups though slightly sensitive and annoyed. 3. Extreme shifts in moods.

"How are you feeling?" He clicked his tongue in irritation, leaning back against the bed, "Mrs. Lee?" You looked up, his voice hoarse and rough due to lack of use, full of exhaustion. His eyes were dull, yet sharp as they peered at you. His face was framed by soft, dark hair, a bit messy but it gave him a boyish look. He had a well-defined jawline. He was handsome in a way that made your breath catch without even realizing. You shook your head, keeping your thoughts in check before you looked down at your notes, "she's on leave," you muttered checking the previous notes. 

"Irritated." Your eyes shot up as he spoke, his jaw tight and eyebrows furrowed. Your eyebrows knit slightly in confusion before they relaxed realizing he answered your initial question, you noted it. You cleared your throat, "what kind of thoughts are occupying your head today?" He scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest, "nothing important." You sighed at his vague answer wondering if he's the same with Mrs. Lee.

"How do you feel about being here?" You questioned, writing down his previous answer. He scoffed watching you write down what he said word to word, "not thrilled." You sucked in a breath, you have to remain calm for patient's sake, this wasn't even worse but somehow you'd have preferred him lashing out a whole monologue than the single word answers he threw at you. You took out your stethoscope, placing one end of it in your ears, "I'm going to touch you, is that okay?" 

He moved a bit closer, "hurry and leave." You rolled your eyes, your hand slipping beneath his shirt, your fingers were steady, practiced as they pressed gently against his chest. You felt his breath hitched before you could detect it through the stethoscope. "Breathe in, hold it." Surprisingly he did what was said, your ears filled with the irregular thump-thump rhythm of his chest. "Breathe out, slowly." Your hand shifted slightly, inspecting another spot. There was no rush, no distraction in your movements as you continued monitoring his heart beat. "Your heartbeat is slightly irregular. Try taking a deep breath slowly a couple of times so it slows down a bit." 

The rest of the routine check up went by smoothly, he didn't answer any of your questions verbally, but was cooperative for most part. He showed annoyance but wasn't aggressive. You noted everything, gave him his prescribed medicines, checked his vitals again after taking the medicines, made sure he didn't have any injuries or health concerns and the routine check up for room no. 015 was completed successfully. 

A deep breath escaped your chest as soon as the door closed behind you, relief flooded your body like sunshine through a cracked window. Your eyes flickered towards the wrist watch on your hand, lunch time. You informed Nurse Hong about your schedule and made your way out of the ICPU towards the cafeteria after her approval. You spotted Sunoo, Yerin and Jia sitting at the far corner of the cafeteria. "Hey!" Their eyes shot up in your direction, you waved at them before making yourself comfortable beside Jia. "Wow, you look like you could use some chapstick, your lips are drier than your text when you're ignoring me." Your hands immediately reached out to touch your lips, "ah, it's because I kept on biting on it while I was doing my routine check up." You thanked Sunoo when he passed you the chapstick. 

"So," Yerin leaned towards you, her expression serious but you could see the underlined lightheartedness behind her doe eyes, "Tell us brave soul, what was it like in the land of darkness?" Sunoo and Jia nodded, huddling around you, "I heard you were assigned the infamous room no. 015." You nodded, leaning back against the chair, digging your food, lost in thoughts but continued, "It was okay, it wasn't as scary as we have heard in the stories, perhaps not scary at all," you studied their confused expression, "he was a bit annoyed, reserved for most part, but he complied. Unlike all the stories we've been hearing from the past."

"Is that true? I was half wondering if I should prepare a strecher for you." Jia smacked Sunoo arms as she hushed him, Yerin turned towards you, "maybe the stories are dramatized and exaggerated in order to keep everyone in check, so that no one would go in the ICPU area, kind of like to protect the patients and not disturb them?" You shrugged looking towards Jia who shook her head at Yerin's words, "I've seen a handful of instances myself where extra security had to be called because he was getting out of control. I've seen Dr. Byeon running inside ICPU frantically to room no. 015, those instances can't be staged." 

You solemnly nodded at her words, you couldn't decide how anyone was with only one single interaction with them, but then again, the man in front of you in room no. 015 was far off from someone you imagined a person with ASPD would behave like when you did your case studies. "How does he look? Is he scary?" Yerin asked, her eyes wide as she looked at you. "He doesn't look scary, just exhausted." You mumbled quietly as your mind wandered back to his eyes, the soft puppy-like eyes, though the sparkle in them was dulled but you were sure they must've looked the prettiest when they sparkled. Jia looked at you lost in your thoughts before deciding to answer Yerin's question, "he's not handsome, he's ethereal, would've 10/10 hit on him if he wasn't a psycho." 

Sunoo and Yerin gasped, gaining a look of annoyance from people surrounding the area you were occupying, you apologetically smiled at them. Sunoo sighed, dramatically face palming himself, "Why are the hottest people always the biggest red flag?" Everyone else shrugged, continuing to eat in silence for the rest of the lunch time. Maybe there was something more to the picture than it seems, you'd heard from Nurse Hong that Jake was aggressive, he was manipulative, that before getting admitted here he was notorious for breaking rules and creating havoc. Your mind juggled between those words and what you saw in room no. 015, maybe you were judging the book too fast, maybe all you were doing was judging a book by its cover. 

The rest of the week went by the same, though Jake's irritation turned into mild annoyance as he got accustomed to your presence. Nurse Hong explained to you about your duties in the second half of your lunch time which you would be spending on providing mental health assessment and therapeutic counselling towards the patients she entrusted you with. You were thankful she was mindful enough to not overwhelm you with each patient of ICPU, cause you swore they were there for a very good reason, and you had a very long way to go before you could handle them like Mrs. Lee and Nurse Hong did.

"You're smiling weirdly," Sunoo eyed you from where you were gathering your notepad and stethoscope while simultaneously wearing your coat. "What do you mean?" You shot him a side-eye that could curdle the milk. Sunoo shrugged, still eyeing you with suspicion laced in his eyes, scrutinizing you, "you seem way too excited for someone who's working an early shift on Monday morning, it's because of Jake right?" Your eyes widened as his words sank in, you threw a crumpled paper in his direction, he dodged it, "It's nothing like that! Don't make up things. I've to go. I'm getting late for my rounds. Bye!" You didn't give Sunoo another chance to speak as you bolted out of the cabin and into the ICPU. Sunoo shook his head, clearly enjoying your denial about your growing attachment towards Jake. He could detect the shift in your energy from miles away whenever Jake was mentioned and he wondered if you'd ever realize it and if you did what would be your next step.

"Good morning." You greeted Nurse Hong who smiled at you softly greeting you back as she continued her routine. There was a faint skip in your steps which you didn't realize. Even though you were denying looking forward to being back in ICPU, you couldn't help but agree with the fact that you were looking forward to seeing Jake. You were starting to believe in your abilities in handling complex cases like the patients from ICPU, especially Jake. Over the course of a week you noticed the little changes that happened in his behavior, his shoulders were less stressed, he didn't cross his arms over his chest tightly and did not isolate himself whenever you were present with him. By the end of the week he had started answering your questions without rejection. The answers were still a bit vague but they were better than the single worded answer he gave you initially. He even laughed at something you said once, which was very brief and he instantly denied doing that, but you were happy he was opening up to you anyway. 

As you were making your way down the hallway your steps halted when the lights lining up the hallway started flickering followed by a loud thunderstorm and then silence. You gulped, the smile wiping off your face at the dull atmosphere that suddenly surrounded you. You stood in the middle, eyes trained towards the door at the end of the hallway. Hushed voices could be heard from the rooms near you, patients getting anxious due to sudden power failure. You heaved a sigh of relief when the hospital's tired and true companion of a thousand years, the generator, finally started working, lightening up the hallway again. You made your way towards room no. 015.

As usual you knocked on the door before sliding in the key, your heart still racing slightly. The thunderstorm had quiet down a bit, but it had started raining heavily creating loud echoes of rain hitting any possible surface. You hesitated for a moment, hand wrapped around the doorknob, you took in a few deep breaths and pushed the door open. You entered the room, the curtains drawn back, and raindrops from the open window splattered against your face. You closed your eyes, not anticipating the unexpected intrusion. You looked around the room, everything was the same as you remembered. You closed the window to stop the rain from entering inside the room but decided to keep the curtains drawn. 

The sudden movement of the door behind you caught your attention, you flinched, not because you didn't anticipate it but because of the sheer amount of force applied for the door to be yanked open. You turned around, hands still on the window, as you watched Jake eyeing you up and down. His clothes were disheveled, his shirt crumpled, two of his top buttons were open, showing a bit of his collarbone. His hair was messier, like he had been pulling them for sometime. His chest heaved heavy breaths, his lips chapped. 

Everything about him was different from the Jake you met last week but what startled you most was his eyes. They were cold and sharp, an unfocused gleam beneath the eyelids. He looked at you, eyes staring into yours like he wanted to look at your soul. There was almost a magnetic charm in his looks, something you hadn't seen before. "Jake?" You called softly when he made no attempts at moving from his place, his eyebrows furrowed as he tilted his head at you. "I'm here for your routine check up, is that okay with you?" He closed the bathroom door behind him, slowly, step by step making his way towards you. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" 

"Ye-yes! How about you sit on your bed while I do my routine?" He stood a couple feet away from you, hands inside his pockets, resting his weight lazily on one leg. His eyes were relaxed now, pupils slightly dilated, he bit his lower lip as if he was in deep thought. "Bed feels like a good option," a lazy smirk graced his lips as he moved closer to you. You took a hesitant step back, then again, till your back hit the window. His steps never flattered, he walked with an ease you never thought he had, he stopped when he was mere inches away from you. Sweat formed on your palms, your fingers automatically digging inside your scrub's pocket to curl around the pen in panic. His hand rose, steady and purposeful, as he wiped a few of the raindrops from one side of your face, slow and careful, like he was afraid you would break if he was harsh. 

Your breath hitched, eyes falling shut for a moment. He scanned your face, smoothing your hair behind your ear, he stepped back till he reached his bed. "Aren't you going to check up on me pretty?" Your eyes shot open, he sat on the bed, hands behind his head as he smiled at you. You studied him for a moment, he was way more relaxed at chatty than he normally was. Normally Jake never talked with you more than necessary, and was pretty much closed off. But the Jake now in front of you was much more talkative, laid back even, his eyes carried a glint you couldn't pinpoint. You made your way towards him, deciding to sit with him on his bed instead. You did your routine, asked him various questions and he gave you the answers with practiced ease. You checked his vitals and everything was normal. No irregular heartbeats, breathing regular and unlabored. 

You knew something was off, he wasn't behaving like he normally did. Still, somehow, the reports were abnormally normal. You noted everything, and he watched you like a hawk all throughout with a lopsided smile. You gave him his medicine, checked his vitals again, everything was normal, yet there was a voice deep in your mind which told you that no, this wasn't normal. But hospitals never worked on gut feelings and instincts, they needed observations which you had but it suggested a completely different conclusion. You sighed, packing up the things and making sure there weren't any potentially harmful things left behind. 

As the medication took effect, Jake laid down ready to drift off to sleep, one of his hands hanging down the bed. You made your way towards him, pulling a blanket over as you watched him before putting his hand under the blanket. That's when you noticed, faint purplish marks encircling his wrist, you inspected his other hand which bore similar bruises. You knew those scars very well, the unmistakable imprint of being restrained by chains. You got out of the room, locking it behind you as you made your way out of the ICPU. You don't recall Nurse Hong informing you anything about restraining Jake with chains, surely if he did have an episode, you'd have been informed prior. The fact only confused you more.

You spotted Nurse Hong talking with Dr. Byeon at far corner of the waiting area, their faces contoured and voices hushed as they discussed something. You stood near the staircase, scanning the notes in your hands, there was something you were missing surely but couldn't point out. You greeted Dr. Byeon when he passed by you and stopped Nurse Hong to have a chat, "the patient from room no. 015, Jake Sim, has he been restrained before?" She looked at you nodding her head, "yes, why? He did try to hurt you?" You shook your head no, informing her about the marks you saw on his wrists. "When he becomes violent, he breaks everything in this close vicinity so it's necessary to apply physical restraints as a precaution."

You thanked her for taking her time to answer you amidst her busy schedule. She smiled, patting your shoulder in comfort, "It's great that you think about your patient's health this much, though Jake has been assigned to Mrs. Lee, I've monitored him too, I'm sure Mrs. Lee knows much more about him than any of us will ever do." You smiled at her words, and she bid you goodbye to take care of other things. So the stories about him being physically violent were true, but the Jake you met on your first week of working at ICPU didn't exhibit any violent tendencies. That was weird because he wasn't violent when he first met you, just cautious. Maybe he just didn't want to get restrained yet again. Moreover, he always had his hands crossed over his chest, so maybe you just never noticed the marks around his wrists. 

The rest of the week went by with the same level of unease you felt on Monday, you initially thought it was because you were meeting Jake after a long time but clearly you were wrong. Every Time you went to monitor him, he had this smile, beautiful yet cunning plastered on his face which would make your skin crawl instead of raising goosebumps in flattery. He was very open to have any sort of conversation with you, often going off the topic and more into you. He was charming, his eyes gleaming as he teased you during monitoring. He was behaving so far off from the Jake you met first, and that made you rethink about everything you'd learned about him. You still noted as much as you could, maybe a discussion with Dr. Byeon would do. But it wasn't easy to do, due to the hospital being understaffed, he was pretty much busy all the time to come and sit with you and discuss it. 

You sighed, the pen in your hand clicked in a rhythm only your thoughts could follow, as your mind reflected on the interaction you had with him earlier today, "you look cute when you're nervous." That's what he said as you were auscultating him, you looked up, your fingers twitching around the cold disc you had placed on his chest. His heartbeat was unbearably steady, even as he spoke and watched you with those intense eyes of his. One of his bruised covered hands tugged the stethoscope down your neck, his other firmly wrapping around your hand which was on his chest. You gulped, sitting up straight. You couldn't pull yourself away, it was like he had cast some unspoken spell over you. He laughed at your bewildered expression, hands releasing you from its hold. 

You stood up, heart beating loudly while grabbing the medication and handing it to him. His touch sends shivers down your spine. You watched him take the medicines, your eyes focused on his wrist, he gave you a wink as he settled back on his bed. You packed your things ready to go out of the room and away from him when he called out your name. You pushed the trolley out the room as you made your way back towards him. He leaned lazily against his elbow, a smirk forming on his plush lips, his eyes were drowsy and unfocused but they were still undeniably focused on you, "your left eyebrow twitches when you get nervous, and there's something so honest about you getting nervous, it's kind of beautiful. Don't hide your nervousness from me, I like it when you're unsure and a little shaky." 

"What an odd thing to say, Jake." You deadpanned as you turned towards the door to leave. His laugh anchored you mid-step, turning back you saw his head thrown back before his eyes once again locked with yours, his hair fell haphazardly on his forehead due to his abrupt movements, face turned completely cold, his eyes losing their focus as the time passed, the medications kicking in. "I believe you're forgetting something, pretty." His hand rose till it was eye level, fingers curled around a pen as he casually twirled it, the corners of his lips twitching slowly as he eyed you. 

You tapped your hands over your scrub's pocket unconsciously recalling your pen to be the exact same model, your movements getting frantic as you couldn't feel your pen. Your hands dived inside your scrub's and coat's pocket, trying to locate your pen, eyes widening in realization that during the course of your routine with him, he had somehow managed to steal your pen away without you noticing. You rushed towards his bed and snatched your pen from his hands, "taking what doesn't belong to you without the owner's permission can lead you to serious repercussions both by the hospital board and law. I'm warning you right now before you engage in more trouble Jake." He laid back on the bed, a lazily smile hung upon his lips as you warned him about his actions, he just shrugged after you were done explaining, a light teasing tone in his voice when he said, "I like watching you lose control, it makes me feel good to know I'm getting under your skin."

"You're going to murder that pen." You were pulled back from your thoughts by Sunoo's voice, the clicking of pen halting, you threw the pen in your coat's pocket as you made your way towards him. "I think I'm losing my mind Sunoo," you whined as your steps fell in rhythm with his. "Honestly that's shocking, I thought I'd hear this on your first day of working in ICPU not the second week," you pushed him a little, your thoughts jumping back and forth between your and Jake's interaction. You weren't sure how your future interactions with Jake would unfold but you hoped it wouldn't be anything worse than it already was, "I can't wait to go home and get some well deserved sleep."

Your apartment wasn't too far away from the hospital and you preferred walking so you could have time to mull over things. The sidewalks were cracked, a little bit uneven in their placements, as you walked over it. Evenings in this town would always be your roman empire, the town was beautiful and welcoming in the mornings but turned solemn and hostile as darkness consumed it. Some of the street lights flickered while others gave up on their life long ago. You sighed as you spotted your apartment building, grunting as you made your way up towards your floor. You stood still in front of your door, struggling to breathe, maybe you should start daily workouts soon. 

Your hand shot up to enter the password when you felt a heavy, invisible weight on your shoulder. The air around you suddenly thickened. You turned around, eyes and ears alert as you scanned the area surrounding your apartment, yet there was nothing.  Blaming it on your exhaustion from work, you punched in the code and welcomed yourself inside your apartment nonetheless. You hung your jacket and removed your shoes, dragging your feet towards the kitchen to drink some water. You made your way inside your bedroom, placing your backpack inside the closet, you grabbed a tshirt and shorts and made your way inside your bathroom to take a shower. 

You sighed a breath of relief as the warm water hit your skin, your hands massaging your shoulders as you whined in pain. All of the tension melted as you lost yourself into the feeling of warm water running down your skin. You squeezed some amount of shower gel on your palms, gently lathering it on your body. You rinsed it off, turning the water off as you stepped outside of the shower area. You wrapped a towel around yourself and grabbed another to dry yourself off. The bathroom mirror turned foggy, steam clinging onto the glass due to the heat of the shower. You lift your hand to swipe across it, the reflection of your face clearly visible now. You smiled tiredly at your reflection, you could see the weight of the everyday exhaustion in your eyes. You shook your head, deciding to continue your nightly skincare routine and changed into your comfort clothes. 

You made yourself comfortable on your bed, eyes staring at your ceiling as your mind drifted off towards Jake again. You shut your eyes close, turning on your side trying your best to think about something, anything other than the person occupying room no. 015. You would be lying if you said he didn't occupy most of your thoughts even after you left work, in fact he has been a constant part of your mind ever since you first interacted with him. There was no doubt he was insanely handsome, and somewhere deep down you knew Sunoo was right about your growing interest towards him. 

He was already consuming your thoughts when you first interacted with him, but even in his cynical form you couldn't help but let your mind wander back towards him. When you first met him, he was stoic, reserved but he was endearing. He was soft in a way it tugged at your heart. But now, with his constant flirting, advances and even his tucked up self was making your heart race unbelievably fast. You were about to lose your mind after working in the hospital but not in the way you initially thought you would. Whatever thoughts and interest you had towards a patient you were tending to, wasn't very professional of you. Your eyes shot open in denial, no, you had to stop whatever that was growing inside your heart. You couldn't possibly get romantically involved with one of your patients, let alone a psych patient at that.

Monday rolled around quicker than you imagined, your mind still hazy from the weekend's leisure. You stood outside the hospital's main gate, the security guard giving you a small smile before resuming his duty, you made your way towards the hospital. Jia greeted you as soon as she saw you from the glass door, you quickly pulled her into a hug. "Thank god I can see your spark back, last week it was almost as if someone had suck your soul out." You laughed at her words but didn't disagree. You mind was still fresh with memories of last week but weekend soothed your head like a balm. You were sure being back at the hospital would probably make you stressed for another week to come but you knew this is exactly what was waiting for you when you decided to become a psych nurse anyway. 

In a well-worn pattern, you checked in with each patient that was assigned to you for the week, like a clockwork, you knocked on the door of room no. 015 before unlocking it. This time, Jake was sitting on the desk chair, blanket wrapped around him. He looked at you when he heard his name slip past your lips. A soft, barely there, smile graced his lips, "routine check up? Is this place fine or would you like me to move to my bed?" For a moment you just stood in your place, looking at him with curious gaze, he mimicked your expressions when you didn't answer him. "Are you okay?" You questioned as you made your way towards him, his head tilted up when you moved close to where he was sitting, his puppy-like eyes staring back at you. 

"I'm okay!" He nodded, eyes drifting away under your scrutinizing gaze. He sat crossed legged on the chair, covered fully by the blanket, his hair was messy but it reminded you more of the Jake you met on your first week. His eyes were soft around the edges even though they carried a guarded look. What proved to be more unexpected to you was how closed off he was, he neither tried to invade your personal space nor he threw any flirty remarks at you, just casual conversation. 

You made your way towards his bed, sitting on the edge of it, as you asked him some questions. He moved so his chair was now facing towards you, answers sliding off his tongue like honey on warm bread. You noted his answers, studied his body language, observed the room for anything remotely suspicious, "Can you remove the blanket so I can monitor your vitals?" He nodded wordlessly, opening his arms but not removing the blanket completely. You gave him a look but didn't press further as you checked his heartbeat, irregular thump-thump rang in your ears. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, what was even happening? "I think I'm catching a cold, that's the reason I have draped the blanket over me." You nodded at his words, administering him his medication and bid him goodbye. You locked the door behind you, slowly making your way out of the ICPU for your lunch but your mind was, yet again, left inside room no. 015. He showed very distinct shifts in his behavior every week, you don't remember any of the physicians or nurses notes providing any insight on this very specific observation of yours. Or maybe you were just overthinking it, patients do tend to show shifts in mood. 

You fell into the familiar routine, yet again, for the rest of the week. Jake had been down with a cold but got better with medications as days passed. He was covered in a blanket most of the time, even when he was inside the bathroom. You made fun of him for looking like a goofball and the way he pouted at you made your heart skip a beat or two. You liked this version of Jake, reserved but amiable, you didn't feel intimidated by him like you did last week. He didn't bluntly flirt with you, maintained a safe distance and didn't do anything which would make you work up. Still you couldn't forget how distinctly different he behaved as weeks passed by.

You pushed your trolley inside Jake's room, it was friday, your last routine check up for the week. He smiled at you from where he was seated on his bed. "How's Mrs. Lee's son?" You were surprised he initiated the conversation, he hadn't done that at all this week, yet you smiled at him, "he's recovering well but since Mrs. Lee is his only family, she needs to be with him till he recovers well enough to function on his own." He thoughtfully nodded at your words, you made your way towards him and sat on the edge of the bed. "How about we skip all the formalities today and speak with each other like friends? How does that sound?" 

His gaze lingered on you as he thought about your question, "okay...." You smiled, holding your notepad in your hands regardless, "how's your cold now?" You asked, playing with the clip of the clipboard. "It's gone, I'm feeling much better now. I don't think I'll need this blanket as my 24/7 support system now." You laughed along with him as you asked him a few more casual questions to keep the flow of the conversation. He answered each of your questions diligently. "Okay a few more questions and then we can end this session with monitoring your vitals and administering medications okay?" 

He nodded at your words and you continued, "can you tell me how are you feeling now as compared to last week?" You noticed Jake's breath hitching before he mumbled, "I wasn't in my best state, my mind was clouded. I don't remember most of it." You took note of the slight tremor at the end of the sentence. "You aren't planning on stealing anything now right?" His eyes widened as if he heard the sentence for the first time, "stealing? No, like I said I wasn't in my best state." You laughed softly, reminding him that you don't mind if he's regretting what he did. "You were quite chatty last week, I would say bold, to put it more clearly and you even touched me a decent amount of times, do you remember any of that happening?" You could see the sweat forming on his face, he shifted a bit, avoiding your eyes, "I don't remember it, I'm sorry. But I don't want this session to continue, can you please proceed further?" 

You sighed but accepted his wish nonetheless. His comfort was your priority over anything, you didn't want him to feel agitated and lose control. You checked his vitals, his heartbeat haywire, at this point eveb Jake knew how obvious he was being, his nervousness as clear as day. But you didn't press, he didn't question why you didn't. You asked him to sit up straight so you could give him medicines. He did as you ask, his movements making the blanket pool at his waist. Your hands froze mid-air, your eyes trained on Jake when he lifted his hand to grab the medicines from your hand, a flicker of confusion crossed your face before shock sat in like ice on a cold morning. 

You put the water bottle and medicines back on the trolley, your feet working before your mind did. You took both of his hands in yours, were you shocked? Bewildered? Confused? Borderline creeped out? You weren't sure. Words spilled out of your lips before you could stop them, Jake's eyes widened as he pulled away from your hold, sliding back towards the wall, "answer me Jake? What is happening?" You could see the panic on his face, the way his eyes shook, the way his hands trembled as you kept asking questions after questions. You should've stopped when Jake asked you to as he covered his ears, but you didn't. 

You were sure you were losing your mind, if you kept working on Jake's case you'd probably end up as one of the patients of this hospital too. There was not a single thing which made sense in your mind, you were spiraling more than Jake. Your breaths came out laboured but you didn't move, you wanted, no needed answers and Jake was the only person who could give them to you. "Jake answer me, I'm here to help you, if you'll hide things from me how am I going to help you out?" Your words only fueled the fire in the wrong direction and before you could comprehend Jake hand was wrapped around your throat as he pushed you against the wall. 

Your eyes widened, your hands wrapping around his wrist to free yourself, he didn't apply pressure, didn't even hold it tightly but his hold was firm, "don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong." You gasped, pushing him away with one hand and he let you. His hold loosened as he stepped back. Your hand instinctively made its way up your neck, you slumped against the wall, frozen by the shock of it all. Your eyes met Jake's glassy one, his face was stoic but the way his lips trembled ever so lightly, the way he was clenching his fists to stop the trembling of his hands, and the way his chest heaved heavy breaths, they told a different story. 

A single tear escaped his eye, and in a violent motion he slammed his hands against the trolley, the metal clattering across the floor. You hissed when a sharp object cut through your skin, albeit not that deep. The sound loud enough to be heard from outside. Still you were perched upon the floor, eyes locked with his. He clicked his tongue, "stay away from me." That was the last thing you heard before the room was forced open by the security guards, taking in the condition of the room and you, they immediately pulled Jake away from you. He did nothing to stop them, his eyes never leaving you even as Nurse Hong gently supported you and helped you out of the room. 

Dr. Byeon and a few attending physicians ran past you and into room no. 015 and you didn't want to imagine what was going to happen in that room. You were still in disbelief, your mind couldn't wrap around anything that happened inside the room. One minute you were laughing with each other and the next minute he was throwing things at you purposefully. The last thing you remembered before exhaustion took over your body was what triggered this whole ordeal in the first place, the faint lines of restraints which caught your eyes last week were now spotless, almost unnaturally so.

When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by Sunoo, he handed you an energy drink while sipping his coffee. He didn't ask you questions, didn't even acknowledge the situation that brought you to the hospital bed with an IV drip inserted in you and you were grateful to him. After a while Dr. Byeon made his way towards you, "how are you feeling?" You tried to sit up but he waved you off before continuing, "I'm sorry you had to experience that, I should've sent someone with better experience than you to handle him, even though the injuries you got aren't life threatening I'll give you next week off so that you can heal properly, okay?" You nodded your head and he made his way back towards his office. Honestly, whatever happened was terrifying and you definitely need a week-long leave to get your head straight but you were determined to find out everything you could about Jake Sim after your return, that was for sure.

"It's still Wednesday but I miss you so much!" You pouted hearing Sunoo whine from the other end, walking towards your apartment after going out to a local diner to have some coffee. Sunoo has been in contact with you daily since last friday, never letting you feel alone. You were glad to have a friend like him in an unknown town. He visited you every weekend, sometimes alone and sometimes Jungwon would tag along with you both. You avoided talking about the incident with both of them but the town was small and you knew Jungwon would be well aware of everything. None of them broke your little bubble, your wounds were fresh at that time. Still you were glad that Sunoo called you daily after his shifts ended to know about your whereabouts. Yerin and Jia did too, but their schedules were more packed than Sunoo's. 

"I'll be back in no time," You smiled, "don't rush yourself, if you feel like you're not ready Dr. Byeon said he can extend your leave." You were glad everyone was being supportive but if you're in a profession which handles mental health patients, cases like this would continue to happen and you can't forever hide from them. You ended the call with Sunoo when you reached your apartment building, making your way up the stairs. The wind howled in the hallway of the apartment building, rattling the railings and windows which were left open. You felt relieved that you reached your apartment before the weather got tricky. You welcomed yourself in your apartment, removing your shoes and hanging your jacket you made your way towards the living room.

You stared at the store-bought snacks you never picked up from the coffee table while you were binge watching movies earlier when the loud bang of your bedroom window being slammed open caught your attention. You hurriedly made your way towards your bedroom, it had started raining heavily, grimacing, you struggled to tame the wildly flying curtains and shut the window close. You roughly wiped the droplets of water from your face, looking down to see your clothes being soaked. You made your way towards your bathroom for a quick shower. 

The thunderstorm continued even after you were done with your shower, along with the heavy rain, frequent lightning, and loud claps of thunder. You made your way towards your window, water streamed down the glass, the sky dark with grayish hues. Suddenly the thunder cracked again, loud and close, you flinched hard backtracking your steps, hands pressed hard against your ears. The lights went off and then turned back on with the thunder, and then after a moment everything stilled. You relaxed in yourself, taking a few deep breaths to calm the erracting beating of your heart. Everything was quite quiet, too quiet, your stomach churned with unease or maybe just hunger, you weren't sure. You could hear your own breath clear in your ear and in that momentary silence you heard it, a soft crunch. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stayed glued to your place, maybe you were hearing things, then another soft crunch. You gulped, slowly inching towards the noise, the lights went off again, you looked side by side, eyes scanning the darkness, something felt weird. A chill rushes down your spine and the uncanny pressure of being watched makes you sweat. Then from the shadows of your bedroom door, a low voice, calm and amused, speaks, "Come on, pretty...don't take all night to react. I've been waiting for you here for a while now." A loud gasp escapes your lips, the voice too familiar, too close. You turn towards the voice, steps backtracking slowly. The light flickered once, dimly, casting shadows on your face, then it came fully.

"Jake?" You whispered as you stepped backward, heart beating loudly. You couldn't even bring yourself to speak any louder. Your left eyebrow twitching as you spoke, "who- how the fuck did you enter my house?" He laughed throwing his head back as he started closing the distance you were creating between you two. His eyes dark, sickening smirk engraved on his lips mocking your defense, "you aren't much careful when you punch in your code, not your fault, I'm just very good at what I do, pretty." He pouted enjoying watching you panic. 

You gulped watching him inch closer, and closer. Your mind was everywhere and nowhere at once. Your thoughts trailed over your apartment's main door before your eyes did and without wasting another second you dashed towards the door, barefoot, hastily rotating the door knob. Jake's steps were rushed but not hurried as he approached you, the door opened and you made a run towards the stairs, repeating 'don't look back just run forward' as a mantra. It was late in the evening, no one normally roamed outside at this hour, and fresh smell of rain was still lingering in the atmosphere, it almost impossible for someone to be out, but maybe, just maybe you could find someone for help. 

You jumped down from the last three stairs, wincing when your foot landed on a sharp rock, you looked side by side, and desperately banged the door of the old man who lived on the ground floor, you ran towards the street, searching for a presence when the door didn't open. Your thoughts wandered towards how he would've left the hospital in the first place, they would've surely sensed his absence by now, maybe they are on the way. You sighed in relief when you saw a person walking down not too far away from you, "Hey! Please help me!!" You yelled, running and waving your hand frantically in the air as if it would somehow gain their attention. 

The person's footsteps halted in the middle of the walk, he took one of his headphones out and turned back to see if he was hallucinating someone calling out in the middle of night. He shrugged when he found the whole street empty, putting back his headphones on as he made his way towards his home. 

Your back stung as the wall scraped against it, tears streaming down your face as you watched Jake apply more pressure on your mouth to make you quiet. You winced when your head made contact with the grainy wall due to his movements. He strained his neck to look for anyone, sighing in relief as he managed to get a hold of you before anyone could see you. He held both of your hands behind your back with one hand and pressed another one on your mouth. Your vision was blurry, blood oozing out of the foot that got injured, your hand ached with the banging of the door, your throat itchy and horse with all the yelling. 

Jake's breaths were shallow and quick, he turned his head towards yours, "no one's here to help you pretty, this place is mine, I know how this town works." You twisted your hands, trying to break free which only resulted in his hand wrapping more tightly around yours. His other hand glided from your mouth to your throat in a quick motion. The tight grip making it hard to even say a single word. You gasped for air, his eyebrows furrowed and pupils dilated. His eyes were sharp, gaze strong enough to lock you in your place. His body was pressed tightly against yours so you won't move your legs. He leaned down enough to graze his lips on your ear as he whispered, "be a good girl and walk back to your apartment with me, don't try to be smart, I won't hesitate to hurt you, pretty."

You sucked in air like you were drowning, like you'd been underwater for hours, his grip lifted but its memory stayed in your throat, bruising each of your breaths with fear. "I can be harsher than that," he huffed as he brought your hands in front, pulled out a strip of white plastic with a ridged surface, one swift pull and it tightened around your wrists like a noose. He wrapped your mouth with his handkerchief and picked you up bridal style, "thought I wouldn't be prepared?" You closed your eyes bracing for whatever that was going to happen with you. Your head rolled back in exhaustion, your vision blurring on the edges of your eyes as you slipped into darkness, and he just pulled you closer so your head would fall on his shoulders. 

Jake watched your face as he made his way back to your apartment, then let his eyes scan the street as if it personally offended him. He chuckled at himself, he thought you would fight more than you did. You looked pretty sleeping in his arms and he could almost imagine his future with this image. He stopped near your apartment, leaning against the apartment wall, he pulled off the handkerchief from your mouth. He made his way upstairs, deliberately checking if anyone woke up from all of the commotion. He knew the old man living on the ground floor took sleeping medication at night, he had made sure of that while he kept his eye on you from past 3 days. He didn't like doing things without being sure of everything. He loved destroying things with plan. 

He entered your apartment, made his way towards your bedroom and laid you against the headboard. He searched for your phone, keeping it in his pocket he moved back into the living room. He pushed the loveseat of your couch towards the entrance, huffing, as he straightened his back and finally secured it against the main door, now even if you were to run, you would struggle a bit till he caught up to you. He walked back towards you with a glass of water and put it on the night stand. He searched for a first aid kit in your bathroom, then in your nightstand, making his way towards your leg. He cleaned up your wound and bandaged it. The wound wasnt deep, you could still walk better. He pulled out your desk chair when he was done and sat as he waited for you to wake up. 

You opened your eyes, neck sore from the weird position, you wince a bit. "Thought you would directly wake up tomorrow..." your eyes snap towards Jake smiling at you from where he was sitting, a half eaten apple lying on the desk behind him. Everything that had happened in the last few hours crashed down on you as if someone had thrown icy water at you in the middle of the winter. He made his way towards you, plopping himself beside your trembling form, he raised his hand to brush your hair out of your face, eyes gleaming in satisfaction as you coiled into yourself. He wiped the tears that escaped your eyes, his other hand guiding the glass of water to your lips. His finger dragged through your hair and harshly tugged at it, your head tilting upwards as he helped you drink the water. 

"Why are you doing this? All I wanted was to help you," your voice was almost inaudible if Jake wasn't sitting so close to you, he chuckled, shaking his head at your words. "Help me?" A crease formed between his eyebrows as he tilted his head, you broke eye contact, staring at your lap as you fiddled with your fingers. His hand made their way towards your bounded ones, his thumb brushing around your wrist where the zip tie was irritating your skin. Your eyes landed on his wrist then on your own, noticing the similarities, only his had faded lightly. His hand cupped your jaw, locking your head in place so you won't have any other choice but to look at him, "is that what you said to me when you came to check up on me last friday?" 

"Why? You don't remember what you did?" You retorted, eyes sharp as you looked at him. A flicker of recognition crossed his mind and he laughed, the sound coming straight from the bottom of his heart. You looked at him like he grew some extra heads on his shoulders. "Can't believe this..." he muttered under his breath but you heard it, his eyes locked in yours, the smile never fading off his lips, "you're very likable pretty, wish we could've met under different circumstances." 

"Why are you doing this? I never did anything to hurt you! How did you ever escape the hospital? You realize that they will find you wherever you go, right?....you won't escape this, you won't get away with this." Your lips trembled as you spoke, voice cracking, as you tried to compose yourself in front of him. "No one will find out about me, not even the hospital." You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. He cupped your jaw, his eyes his intense but soft around the edges as he wiped the tears, his lips brushed your forehead and he pulled you in his embrace. 

"Go back to the hospital, don't do this to yourself, I know you don't mean harm, please, I just want to help you." You pulled away trying to coerce him into believing that you're on his side. He looked at you then back at the zip tie, he broke it with the help of scissors and threw them back inside the drawers. "I want to be with you, not the hospital." You shook your head, placing both of your hands on his cheeks, "get better for me? We can live happily after..." his eyes snapped towards you, letting your words skin down in him, "you wanna do so?" You nodded your head, thinking of the ways you could turn this around, "I do. I really like you Jake," he sighed as he leaned his head on your forehead, "we can run away, we don't have to go back to that hell-hole." His words muffled as he kissed your cheeks, your eyes closing on instinct. He continued to shower your face in kisses, your heartbeat erratic as you let him be. 

He pulled away, his eyes scanning your face as if he wanted to commit your face in his memory. You sighed shifting your hands on his wrists as he cradled your face, "Jake, you can sleep here today but tomorrow we will go back to the hospital and I'll help you get better, believe me? Hm?" He looked at you, and for a minute you thought you almost had him where you wanted. He closed the distance between you, your lips parting in surprise. He waited until you reciprocated and he deepened the kiss. His one hand travelled back to hold your nape and bring your body closer, your hands found your way towards his hair. He groaned as he moved your body till you were lying on your back. His kisses soft as compared to how roughly he held you. 

His hands travelled down your body, squeezing and grabbing as they travelled across your body, you moaned into the kiss. Your body reacted heavily towards his actions, back arching off the bed as you melted into his. You were hot, breath ragged as he lips travelled down your throat, harshly sucking and biting on your skin, inevitably leaving marks. Your eyes were focused on your ceiling fan, your mind haywire with everything. Your wrist was still stinging because of the zip tie. You gasped when his teeth grazed a sensitive spot behind your ear. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you let him hold you, there was something wrong. You had dreamt of this moment ever since your eyes landed on Jake, it didn't feel it same as it did in your dreams. But that was the difference, between dream and reality, reality always slaps you in your face. After a while he pulled back, kissing your lips once before hiding his face at the crook of your neck. You closed your eyes and ran your fingers down his back to help him sleep. You don't remember how long you waited, but you did, till Jake turned in his sleep and you were free from his hold. 

Your foot still burned because of the injury, you sat up slightly to find it already being patched up. Your eyes landed on Jake who was peacefully sleeping beside you, mouth agape as he snored lightly. You couldn't locate your phone, groaning slightly as he may have hidden it. You slipped out of your bed, half limping, half tiptoeing across the room, turning every 2 seconds to see if he was awake. You slowly closed the bedroom door behind you and locked it from outside, wincing when the lock made an obnoxiously loud sound. You made your way towards the door to see it blocked by the loveseat, you tried your best to move it enough to get out of the apartment. 

You were almost done, a little more, and you'll be able to open the door. You sighed, pulling on the loveseat one last time when you heard a loud bang against your bedroom door. "You're gonna regret doing this, I will make sure!" You turned around flinching hard at his voice, chest heaving but thankful that the bedroom door was closed. You pulled the loveseat, opening the door as wore your shoes hastily and ran out. Your foot was paining but it was now or never, you couldn't risk getting caught by him this time around. 

Halfway through you weren't even sure where your steps were taking you, it was late at night, the local diner was closed hours ago. You decided hospital would be your safe space. You ran and ran and ran until your legs gave out. You looked back to check if he was coming but there wasn't anyone in sight. You pushed yourself to run towards the hospital, the rows of houses and shops fading away as the hospital was situated at the end of the town. You were scared, the road was slippery because of the rain, your feet led you towards where the hospital was located as if it was a muscle memory, you turned to look back every minute in case you needed to hide.

Your legs buckled and you lost your balance when your injured foot landed on rock again. You closed your eyes to brace yourself from the impact but a strong pair of arms caught you before you could land face first on the slipper road. You could feel your heart in your throat, every ounce of energy leaving your body. The hospital was close, close. The hands holding you up helped you in stabilizing yourself, your hands grabbing theirs to ground yourself, for a second you froze, a flicker of hope burning at the back of your mind, but then you looked up, "you alright?" And saw *him*. The world seemed to tilt as your throat closed, the arms which held you now felt like a trap. 

"No...let me go!" You yelled, eyes wide, voice cracking. Your body reacts before your mind could, you shoved him, hard, with all of the power left in you. He stumbled back, his eyes wide in shock as he found his footing back on the ground. Desperation surged through your body like electricity, you were just afraid you were functioning on your pure need to survive. You staggered back, hitting your heart with your hand to somehow make it less frantic. Tears welled in your eyes, but they didn't dare to fall. 'This place is mine, I know how this town works' his words from earlier echoed in your mind, your lips quivered, there was no escaping him. 

"Why are you doing this to me? All I ever wanted was to help people like you, leave me alone, I beg you, please." You fell on your knees as you sobbed knowing well that he had been a part of this town longer than you had, he knew this town, you were stupid enough to think that you tricked him. You felt him kneel in front of you but he didn't touch you. "What are you saying?" You glared at him as much as you could with your slight blurry vision, you grabbed the collar of his shirt as you choked on your words, "I hate you." Your fingers released his shirt in exhaustion and he immediately pulled you towards him, and held you close, his breaths heavy. He didn't speak much, just rubbed your back and let you cry your heart out right in the middle of the road. 

"Hate me all you want, but I need to know the reason behind it," his voice was laced with pain as he pulled away from you, his hands on your shoulder as he watched you wipe your tears. You took a sharp breath and he held his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your shoulder. His touch was soft, as if he wasn't the reason your life was a havoc. Your eyes met his, and he urged you to continue, your mouth opened, mind filled with thousands of questions yet you weren't sure how to start. Did he get episodes like this where he completely forgets what he did before? He was looking at you like it is physically hurting him to see you like this. 

His eyes wandered towards the road behind you when he caught a movement, eyes widening in realization as he looked at you, now alert, before moving back towards the road, "can you walk?" His question caught you off guard but you shook your head no, the pain in your leg was unbearable. He frantically got up, crouching down to pick you up bridal style as he started walking in the opposite direction from where you were coming. "Trust me please, I'm not going to hurt you." His voice was almost begging you to cooperate, you tried to look over his shoulder but he turned around a corner just in time. "Where are you taking me?" 

"To the hospital, or at least somewhere safe." Somewhere safe? He wants to go back to the hospital? You almost ask him what he meant by that when a voice cut through the air, "going somewhere?" Jake's steps halted in their place, he put you down carefully and stood in front of you as if shielding you. "It's none of your concern," Jake gritted off his teeth, his hand holding yours firmly. You looked over his shoulder, limping slightly as you stood beside him. Your breath caught mid-inhale, confusion cracked through you like lightning, your vision blurred, not from tears, but from your exhausted mind who couldn't differentiate hallucination from reality. 

Your world split into two, there he stood, the man in front of you, who had the same height, same face, same eyes that haunted you. Your thoughts tangled with the mix of terror, confusion and disbelief. Same face, different souls? Your body screamed to run, but your feet won't move, your mind swirling with different possibilities. Was this a trick? Or the truth? What if they were together in this, playing with you from the start? Everything clicked together like missing pieces of puzzle as your eyes moved from the man standing in front of you to the man standing beside you. Your eyes landed on the hand that was wrapped around yours, fresh bruises adorning his wrist reminding you of it had been the one holding you who attacked you last week.

"Why are you out of the hospital?" The man in front of you said, gaining your attention, your head started hurting at this point. "Why are YOU out of the hospital? You were supposed to be inside this week!" Jake, who stood beside you hissed, the other man just laughed sarcastically, his eyes growing narrow before they landed on you, "I just missed her, was thinking why she didn't show up," You hid behind Jake as the man in front of you stepped a bit forward, the grip on your wrist tightened slightly, firmer hold, "leave her out of this, Jake! Why are you playing with her?" 

"Can't you see Jaeyun? I like her!" Though there was a visible facade of hurt on Jake's face, you could clearly see the fury behind his eyes threatening to overtake any minute. "Like her enough that you were going to abandon your own brother?" The hand that was holding you made its way towards your cheek, he leaned forward to whisper, "I'm so sorry you got dragged into this, I should have protected you better." You could see how hurt he was, the slight tremble of his lips, the hesitation when he touched you, the slight glossiness of his eyes, the shallow breaths. These twins, Jake and Jaeyun, were so alike yet completely different from one another.

Suddenly Jaeyun was pulled backwards by his hair, his feet scrambled beneath him, thrown off balance by the push. Your hands instinctively reached forward to grip him but a sudden, tight and strong grip on your throat held you in place. You screamed in pain, accidently putting your weight on your injured leg due to the sheer pressure of his actions. "You're supposed to be mine, mine to hold, mine to keep....you understand?" Your nails scratched his forearm, "I-I can't b-breathe." You could almost see whites behind your eyes due to the force he was exerting on your neck, and you heard Jaeyun before you could even see him throw a punch on Jake's face, "I warned you to leave her out of this didn't I?" Your hand found its way towards your neck as you coughed and Jake stumbled back.

"Did you just-? Did you just hit me?" Jake looked at his twin, baffled by his actions. Between both of them Jaeyun had always been the tamed one, the one who was shy, quiet, reserved and soft in a way everyone liked him whereas Jake was the bratty one, the one who was confident, loud, reckless and harsh in a way he always called for trouble. He remembers constantly being compared to his twin who was much better than him in everything, yet Jaeyun was kind enough to always see the good in him and forever stand by his side. Jaeyun never abandoned Jake, not when the school expelled him for constantly breaking the rules, destroying school's property and harming few students and a teacher in a fit of rage, not when he broke the neighbors front door when they were out because they complained to their parents about loud noises when he played games at midnight, not when his parents contemplated about sending him to psychiatric hospital when he got diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder. 

He remembers his mother crying day and night over his actions, and his father consoling her. Jaeyun was by his side through everything, he made sure his brother knew that he had someone by his side. Their parents stopped him from going out all together so he won't hurt anyone, and despite Jake becoming an outcast Jaeyun was the only person keeping him grounded. He remembers Jaeyun fighting with their parents to stop them from sending him to a psychiatric hospital, and how shocked he was to find Jaeyun knocking on his window one fateful night after months of being in no contact with any of his family members. Jaeyun believed all Jake wanted was to be treated like a normal person, he couldn't imagine his brother confined into a single room for heaven knows how long. Their parents abandoned him so Jaeyun abandoned them in retaliation. 

That's how it all started, Jaeyun would switch with Jake in the hospital for a week so Jake could live like a normal person. It was a point in Jake's life when he realized his brother would do anything for him, and he couldn't be more thankful to have him by his side. But Jake has always been selfish, and he knew Jaeyun's soft heart would never really understand how twisted he really was. Jaeyun was the only person who Jake trusted with all his heart. Jaeyun never really questioned him whenever he went a little too far with his actions. That was a new normal for them, Jaeyun sacrificed his own freedom and let Jake have half of it. 

Jaeyun was the first brother you met, and like a clockwork, he acted indifferent towards you like he did with everyone, but he couldn't help his heartbeat around you, couldn't help how drawn he was to you. And Jake knew Jaeyun like the back of his hand, he notices every little change, so he noticed the changes in Jaeyun's behavior too. Jake found you interesting when he first saw you, so unguarded, so serene, he couldn't help but want to taint your calm. It gave him an adrenaline whenever he watched you get flustered, nervous, a mess in front of him. It made him feel something after years of feeling nothing. 

Then the following weeks came, when he started noticing more about your and Jaeyun's bond, he watched it all, through the bathroom's crooked door space. That's the place they always switched their presence without anyone noticing for years, the worn-out, rusty ventilation window of the bathroom, big enough to climb and pass through. The security guard was always asleep during night time anyway, and both of the brothers were precise in their actions, years of sneaking in and out making them more sleath. Jaeyun knew his twin all the same, he could sense something was going on in his head when Jake started being more chirpy about the idea of meeting you. 

But Jaeyun shrugged it off, Mrs. Lee or Dr. Byeon never caught up to their switches, all both of them had to do was stay indifferent, answer shortly, avoid speaking too much. Sometimes Jake would lose cool, which would end up with him being chained up to safeguard everyone and him. But it was a passing problem, Jake realized that soon enough, manipulating his behavior to gain the trust and go back to the routine, the handful of nurses and doctors of the old hospital were too tired to bother about minute differences in details anyway. And both of them thought no one would even bother with their little slip ups, so when you questioned Jaeyun about the previous week's checkup and about the disappearance of the bruises on his wrist, which he never really paid attention to before, he was terrified. He did what he could think was the best for you in those few seconds, he scared you, just like they did with every other new nurse who showed even the slightest bit of suspicion. Jaeyun thought it would be best if you leave, he did it to protect you from getting cornered by his brother, even when it broke his heart to treat you so poorly. 

"I told you to stay away from her Jake," Jaeyun softly pushed you behind him with his hand on your stomach. His other hand was still clenched in fist, aching from the punch he threw at Jake. He felt betrayed by Jake in a way, he waited for him to show up to switch places like usual but he was nowhere to be found. Now, Jaeyun agrees there have been instances where this had happened before and it wasn't a big deal, but Jaeyun was scared Jake knew about his feelings for you and he was afraid it wouldn't do any good for either of you. He waited and waited but his anxiety took the best of him and he left in search of his brother, but stumbled upon you in the middle of the road instead. 

From where you stood behind Jaeyun, you could see Jake's gaze trained on the way Jaeyun's hand held you, then back towards you face. His lips twitched, a scoff of disbelief escaping him as he glared at you. You recoiled a few steps away, hands instinctively going up towards your neck, which was now sore and had definitely started forming bruises. He took a few steps towards you and Jaeyun cut him off by firmly standing in between you, the tension between them palpable. 

"Can't you see Jaeyun? I really love her, I want to be with her, she feels the same, I visited her in her apartment," you could see the slight tension in Jaeyun's shoulder as those words left his brother's mouth. He took a deep breath trying to rationalize with Jake, "you're not in love with her, you're being obsessed, there's a difference, and following her and breaking into her house isn't normal." Jaeyun's voice was low but steady, almost as a warning waiting to be heard. Jaeyun took a few steps back, your hand finding his, he turned his head towards you for a brief moment, his fingers intertwined with yours in a subtle way to assure you he's with you. Jake took a few more steps forward, the gleam in his eyes was dark and calculating as he glared at Jaeyun, "oh so now I get it, when she smiles at you, it's destiny. But when she talks with me, I'm obsessed and it's not normal?" 

Jaeyun's breath hitch, "you're twisting things, you always do this-" Jake cut him off, "because you make it easier for me to do that. Don't you think she'd want to be with someone who is confident like me? Someone who will do anything for her? You think being the good one will make her choose you because of some moral obligations?" He leaned closer towards Jaeyun, "you know she kissed me in her apartment, she even promised to help me heal and be with me." Jaeyun's expressions faltered for a second and that was enough for Jake to know he's got his brother where he wanted him to be.

"See?" Jake whispered, "she doesn't want you the way she wants me, she's just a bit rattled. Maybe deep down she knows the one who's willing to fight for her love at all cost might love her harder than the one who's currently trying to be her knight in shining armor." You limped forward, pulling Jaeyun towards you to break the tension in between them by creating some distance. Jaeyun stepped back, his face void of color but his eyes burning, "don't drag her into this, don't try to turn her into a prize just because she was able to ignite some emotions in you. And I won't let you break her just so you could win to satisfy your ego." 

"Are you hurt because you thought I'm abandoning you for her? I wanted to get you out of that hospital and we could've lived happily after. But you just ruined that by running away from the hospital." At Jake's words Jaeyun exploded, lightly removing your hands from him before grabbing his brother's collar, "you weren't going to do any of that, you don't care about anyone else but yourself! You only want her because you know that I do! For you this is just another game, to win, to let your ego know that you're the better twin!" Jake stared back, cold and composed but you could feel the anger threatening to spill out from his eyes, "is that what you think? You finally agree that you'd choose a girl rather than your brother's happiness? I think you're starting to finally show that you hate me. Maybe you silently prayed that I never existed."

Silence stretched between them, both of them just waiting for the other to back down, then Jake huffed a breath, "you've always been the favorite child, the golden one if you asked me. Everyone loved you, trusted you, spoke highly of you. They never cared about me, never really heard my story unless it was you who narrated it. I'm tired of you." Jaeyun released his hold, breathing hard at Jake's confession, "I did choose you, Jake. Everytime you rebelled, everytime you destroyed things, everytime you hurt someone, I covered for you, I stood by your side. I even abandoned our parents because they abandoned you. I came back to you, agreed to give up everything so you could get an ounce of freedom and what did you conclude? I've loved you more than you ever deserved Jake!"

Jaeyun continued, "You've always found a way to let things go your way...I won't let that happen with her. Not because I want to win against you but because I know you'll destroy her." Jake's eyes travelled towards you then back at Jaeyun, "you think I'm that fucked in the head?" Jaeyun's eyes wandered towards the sky before they landed back on Jake, "I know you are." You stood quietly, letting them have their moment, it was funny really, two brothers fighting over you yet you didn't have a say in it. But as Jaeyun hugged Jake tightly, holding him close as if it was the last time he'll ever hold his brother like this, you realized who you had chosen after all.

Jake's eyes wandered towards you as he hugged Jaeyun back, taking in your condition. The dirty clothes, the bruised hands and neck, hair messy, face smudged with a mix of tears and dirt, your shoe bloodied due to the injury. Jake broke the hug as he made his way towards you. You took a step back, eyes darting towards Jaeyun who nodded reassuringly at you. "Will you be by his side forever?" His eyebrow arched as he waited to hear your answer, a hint of confusion gracing your features, "why are you asking me that?" You weren't sure if he would once again trick and harm you so you maintained your distance. 

Jake took out your phone from his pocket, dangling in front of your face before continuing, "do you have feelings for him or not?" You tried to grab your phone when he stretched his hand out of your reach, "you need to answer first pretty..." you shivered at the pet name used, eyes trailing towards Jaeyun then back at Jake's, you nodded your head reluctantly, eyebrows creasing in awkwardness because this is the first time you've admitted about your feelings in front of other. Jaeyun's breath hitched and Jake looked down for a second, deep in thought. For a few minutes, all of you just stayed still, processing everything, then Jake cleared his throat, opening your phone and typing something before tossing the phone back in your hand. 

He put his hands in his pocket, turning around towards his twin and just took in his presence. Jaeyun looked at him confused, his steps leading him towards where you and Jake were standing. Screeching of tyres and car engines disrupted the stillness established, you and Jaeyun exchanged glances as no one dared to move. Two cars stopped right in front of you, your eyes widening in realization, 4 security guards, Dr. Byeon, and Nurse Hong made their way towards you. Their gaze confused as they landed on Jake and Jaeyun, your stopped breathing, trembling hands unlocking your phone to check the last activity. Jake had messaged the hospital about his whereabouts. 

Jake made his way towards the security guards, to enter the car when Jaeyun stopped him, his eyes filled with tears as he hugged his twin. Jake sighed as he briefly hugged Jaeyun then pushed him in your direction, then turning towards Dr. Byeon to explain everything. You took a step forward, hands sliding in Jaeyun's in silent comfort. You could feel the pain, the love, the longing he felt as he watched Jake enter the car to go back to the hospital, his words loud and clear even from the distance, "maybe it's time for me to actually get better, I promise I'll be out of the hospital in no time in a much better state." Jaeyun sobbed in your shoulder as he watched the cars go. 

You decided it would be best for you to have a long vacation before you rejoined the hospital, Jaeyun was by your side taking care of you the whole time. The town was still the same, but it didn't feel that detached because he was by your side. You don't feel lonely now. You and Jaeyun decided it would be better to find another apartment for you since that place gave you nightmares, and it was only after all your injuries were healed that Jaeyun discussed his need to go for therapy. You assured him that it was the best decision and that you supported him. Your new apartment was right beside Sunoo's so now you had a companion to be with while going to work. His mom occasionally sends you food and invites you home so you don't feel homesick. 

The hospital authority finally decided to renovate the building, and more alert security was placed around the hospital. The room no. 015 was now completely sealed and turned into a storage room. It was safe to say everyone was baffled to their core when they learned how the brother's used to swap the places. More staff were appointed to the hospital to not burden the current staff to the point that mistakes like this happened again. And as for Jake, Jaeyun occasionally visited him, who was reluctant at first to meet his brother but then eased off since Jaeyun was very persuasive. Dr. Byeon decided he himself would monitor Jake and had informed you about his progress and cooperation and even though you still get chills from that night, you still hope he'll recover fast. 

"Hello, is anyone there!" You grinned when you enter the local diner, Uncle Noh, the middle aged cashier just gave you his signature deadpan look, "your smile gives me chills, but to answer your question unfortunately, yes..." you closed the door and made your way towards him anyway, now completely immune to his edgy personality. He called out Jaeyun's name before you could even reach him, a mop of dark hair peeking from behind the back door. You waved at him enthusiastically and he lit up as he rounded the counter and hugged you tight. 

"Gross, children nowadays make me sick with their pda," you laughed in Jaeyun's chest as Uncle Noh made his way inside the backroom, again. You felt Jaeyun kiss the top of your head, you pulled back slightly, your arms wrapped loosely around his waist. He kissed your temple before leaning in to put his forehead against yours. "You're done with your work early today," you smiled at his words as you kissed his nose, "I wanted to spend some time with you, so I completed my work with more enthusiasm, it's the weekend now." Jaeyun laughed at your excited tone, ruffling your hair a bit, he excused himself to gather his things so you could go back to your house. Initially Jaeyun decided it would be better to live separately, he wanted to learn how to live his life on his own and not be dependent on you. When you felt confident that he could survive on his own, you asked him if he would be okay with moving in and he agreed.

Jaeyun cooked dinner and while you finished taking a shower, you made your way towards him. He jumped slightly but relaxed when he felt your arms sneak inside his shirt and rest. He relaxed his body as you prepped kisses on his neck and shoulder. Your fingernails gently scratching his skin from his chest to his hips. He shuddered at your touch, biting back a whimper when you bit his ear. His hands held yours as he exhaled and let you continue. He would be lying if he said he didn't miss having you like this. 

"You visited Jake today, right?" You felt him nod his head, "he says Mrs. Lee told him he's improving." You smiled at his words and listened as he carefully told you about his visit. "He says he wants to apologize to you, but isn't sure if you're okay with it..." Jaeyun's voice was careful and cautious as he said those words to you, you stilled for a moment, though you acknowledged and encouraged Jake's will to get better you were yet to gain courage to face him. But maybe it was time to put all those things in the past and start anew. 

Jaeyun turned around in your arms after turning off the stove, then lifting you up and placing you on the counter. Your hands found home around his neck, his hands squeezing your plush things before sliding towards your knees. He pulled you towards the edge of the counter, parting your legs and smirking while slotting himself in between him. A small whine left your lips when he rubbed against your sensitive spot, a small smirk playing on his lips as he dipped his head low and captured your lips with his. Your one hand slid through his hair, scratching at his scalp while the other held onto his shoulder for dear life. He slid his tongue across your bottom lips and you parted your lips to let him deepen the kiss. One of his hands wrapped around the nape of your neck to pull you closer while his other roamed around your body till it reached your boobs. 

You moaned in his mouth when he gently squeezed it, hips grinding against his to create some friction to your aching core. He groaned sensing your needy state, his mind contemplating between eating the dinner or eating you out instead, his personal favorite was the latter. He secured your legs around his waist and carried you towards the bedroom, not breaking the kiss. He hoisted you against the closed door of your bedroom, a bit impatient, his hands searching for the door knob as he trailed kisses from your jaw to your neck and collarbone. You whined as he bit your sensitive spot, then soothe it with his tongue. It was messy, the way he made love with you but it was endearing nonetheless. 

He sighed deeply, opening the door and placing you on the mattress, his steps clumsy but you were too needy for his touch to even care. He climbed on top of you, your hands reaching for the buttons on his shirt and opening them with your trembling fingers, he chuckled lightly at you before helping you with the rest of the buttons and threw his shirt somewhere behind him. Your fingernails trailed down from his chest to his stomach and he shuddered, leaning down till he caged you in between his arms. His lips met yours again, his hands pulling at the hem of your (his) shirt that you were wearing. You pushed him a little bit, getting up to pull the shirt off of you. He hissed when he saw that you wore nothing underneath the shirt. 

"You're going to be the death of me," he murmured against your skin as he lapped at the sensitive skin of your breast, purposefully ignoring the spot you needed him to pay attention to. Your back arched off the bed, wanting, needing, craving his mouth around your nipples. You pulled his hair, hard, your action making him moan, you could feel him grow hard from where he was situated in between your thighs, your hips rutting against it. "You're being too impatient today baby," yet he couldn't help but grind his hips against yours to maximize the friction. "Need you Jae, so bad," his lips met yours to drown out your moans. Your neediness makes him lose control, "yeah baby? How bad? Can't even wait to take the clothes off before you cum?" 

You nodded your head, your eyes glassy with lust. He groaned, adjusting his position so his clothed bulge was pressed directly upon your clothed pussy, he spread your legs wider, folding your knees for better access. You pulled him close so his body was pressed against yours as he began moving back and forth against your pussy. "So needy," he huffed and you closed your eyes feeling overwhelmed by the emotions. Jaeyun, ever the sweet guy, noticed your actions, he put his forehead on yours, not once stopping the movements of his hips against yours, "you close baby?" you moaned in response, your body trembling as you reached your climax, your breath heavy as you opened your eyes, he followed right after you, collapsing on top of you. 

You rubbed his back while he caught his breath. His head nuzzled at the crook of your neck. He pulled away slightly to kiss you softly, "I love you baby." You smiled at his shy expression, cupping his cheek as you mumbled a quiet, "I love you too." He ran towards the bathroom, changing into clean sweatpants, and came back with a wet cloth to help you clean. You stayed sprawled on the bed as he removed your shorts along with your panties and cleaned you up. He threw the cloth on the laundry basket and helped you get dressed into clean pajamas. You spread your arms when you were done with everything, he happily obliged, head nuzzling on your chest as he let himself rest. 

"You know," He started after a few moments of silence, you hummed in response, feeling tired, "even though we met in very unusual circumstances, I'm glad I met you. You're one of the best things that has happened in my life." Your heartbeat quickened at his unexpected confession, knowing that being vulnerable is something he had always struggled with. He chuckled at your raised heartbeat, "I can hear your heartbeat you know, it's kinda funny it's you who is flustered." You pushed him off of you, grabbing the pillow at hitting him, "you should be glad I love you, don't forget how your heartbeat used to get hiked up whenever I used to perform an auscultation on you." He laughed at your words, grabbing your hands and pulling your body flush against his, "I know, I found you so pretty I couldn't help myself, God forbid a man is utterly infatuated by the love of his life." You just shook your head, hands wrapping around his torso, you could get used to this. 

[applecaviar]

getting the boys name tattooed on you.

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I'm ovulating again 😩😩, send help!.

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Art: omi-resources

TW:Smut

Zayne paused, his heart stilling as he noticed the delicate marking on your wrist. His eyes, usually intense and focused, widened slightly in surprise as he leaned in closer to examine it. He released your wrist from its pinned position as he brought your hand up to his face for a better look.

The marking was a perfect, tiny heart. It was situated right over your radial pulse point, the very spot where your blood flowed. The heart was detailed, with a small 'Z' written in the center, initialing it as undeniably his.

As he studied it, he could see the heart moving with each beat of your pulse, causing it to rise and fall in a mesmerizing rhythm. The tattoo was fresh, the skin around it a slight shade pinker than the rest of your wrist.

His expression softened as he looked at it, a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes. His thumb gently brushed over the tiny heart, feeling the warmth of your skin and the steady throb of your pulse beneath his touch.

"When did you get this?" Zayne asked. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching, curious. It was a rare moment of vulnerability from him, a glimpse behind his icy walls. In that moment, you could see the impact this small tattoo had on him, the unspoken meaning it held.

"Today"

His cock remained hilted inside you, unmoving for the moment as he focused on your wrist. The heat of him, the weight of his body pinning you down, was a tangible presence.

Zayne's gaze returned to the heart, his thumb continuing its gentle caress. "It's perfect," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "Just like you."

He leaned down, his lips brushing over the tiny heart in a feather light kiss, it was a gesture of reverence. His lips lingered on it for a few seconds before he pulled back slightly, his eyes once again meeting yours. "Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

"It was a surprise for you, Zayne"

His hand remained on your wrist, while the other slid up your side, spanning the curve of your waist before coming to rest just below your breast.

His hips began to move again, pulling out his cock until only the tip remained inside you before thrusting forward, burying himself to the hilt once more. Each thrust pushing you up the bed slightly.

"Does this mean your heart belongs to me now?"

"It will always be yours," you said, your voice trembling slightly with emotion and the building heat of your desire. His heart clenched in his chest, a surge of possessiveness and tenderness intertwining within him.

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned down and dragged the flat of his tongue over the delicate heart on your wrist. The wet heat of his mouth lingered on your skin, his tongue tracing the delicate lines of the heart and his initial.

The hand that had been resting just below your breast crept upwards, fingers finding your nipple. He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it, teasing it, sending jolts of pleasure to your core.

Your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping your lips at the sensations of his tongue on your wrist and his fingers on your breast. The stimulation made your heart race, pounding against your ribcage as if trying to escape, to throw itself at Zayne's mercy.

Sensing the increased tempo of your heartbeat beneath his tongue, Zayne's hips began to move faster.

As your pleasure crested your legs instinctively spread wider, inviting Zayne to thrust even deeper into you. The sensation of his thick cock stroking your depths with each thrust was too intense, too exquisite, and it pushed you over the edge.

He captured both of your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head again, your fingers splaying and curling as the pleasure consumed you.

He continued to pound into you, each thrust extending your climax, drawing out your ecstasy. Your body trembled beneath his, back bowed, breasts heaving. He could feel your release gushing around his cock, soaking his length and dripping down his heavy balls.

With a groan, Zayne followed you into bliss. He pressed his thumb down hard over the tiny heart on your wrist, as if claiming it, branding it as his own. His hips jerked, losing rhythm as his orgasm overtook him.

His hot seed spilled into you, coating your insides, marking your womb. He continued to grind against you, working himself through the aftershocks ensuring not a single drop of his cum was wasted, then he leaned down and pressed his lips to your wrist again. It was a silent promise, a vow whispered without words. This heart, the one on your skin and the one beating wildly in your chest, belonged to him. And in turn, his heart, though icy and guarded, belonged to you.

Your fingers dig into the firm muscles of his chest as you ride him with need, nails leaving crescent indents in his skin. He can feel every inch of you, slick and perfect, as you take him deep inside you.

His hands grip your hips, squeezing the flesh as he guides your movements. Thumbs brush over the sharp jut of your hipbones, tracing the delicate line of your waist. He drinks in the sight of you, features flushed and eyes dark with lust, hair a wild tangle of silk swaying with each roll of your hips.

Then his eyes drift l,ower, catching sight of a small black mark on your ring finger.

Quickly, Rafayel snatches your hand and yanks it towards his face, nearly causing you to lose your balance and tumble against his chest. He holds your slender fingers aloft, bringing them inches from his eyes as he inspects the delicate tattoo around your ring finger with intense focus.

The cursive letters are small and elegant, each stroke of his name inked with precision and care. The black lines seem to dance beneath his gaze making his heart clench in his ribcage.

His name, permanently marked on your skin. A silent vow whispered in the language of eternity. His breath catches in his throat as he traces the letters with the pad of his thumb, committing the feeling of the raised ink to memory.

He can feel the weight of your stare, the sudden stillness of your body as you pause your undulations atop him. The absence of your movement leaves him aching, your halted motions denying him the sweet friction he craves. Yet, the sight of his name on your finger is worth the momentary pause, a glimpse of the future he so desperately yearns for.

"Do you like it?" you ask softly

"Like it?" he repeats, a hint of incredulity coloring his tone. "Y/N, it's...it's perfect." His voice is low, as if he's speaking of something sacred.

He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his name "Seeing my name on you...it's everything I've ever wanted. Everything I've been waiting for."

His other hand slides up your spine, fingers splaying across the curve of your shoulder blades as he pulls you down against him "You're not getting rid of me now, cutie. Not now, not ever."

His arms wrap around you like bands of steel, crushing you against his chest as he begins to thrust up into you. His hips move rapidly beneath you, each snap of his pelvis knocking the breath from your lungs in sharp, gasping bursts. The sudden pace catches you off guard, your body struggling to keep up with his rhythm.

He's not holding back, his earlier teasing and playful touches replaced by a raw need. Each thrust pushes you upwards before he yanks you back down to meet his next one. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips and teeth busy at work, marking your flesh with stinging kisses and love bites "My Y/N. I can't...I need...I love..."He's chasing something, a release, a completion, and he refuses to stop until he's had his fill of you.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, clawing at his skin as you cling to him, anchoring yourself as the world shatters around you. Your body trembles, shaking apart in his arms as pleasure courses through you like liquid fire.

But Rafayel doesn't relent. He can feel your walls clenching around him, feel the way your body tries to pull him deeper, to keep him inside you as you shatter. But he's too far gone, too consumed by his own need to stop now.

Tears streak down your face as you sob his name, your voice hoarse and broken as you beg for mercy. But there is no mercy in Rafayel's touch, no respite in his lovemaking. Right now he is a man possessed, driven by a singular purpose: to bind your very soul to his own until there is no discernible difference between you.

"Mine, forever and always. I won't let you go. I can't..." With a final thrust, he hilts himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his own completion. His seed floods your depths, painting your insides, his mark searing your very core.

Gradually, his breathing slows, the pounding of his heart against your own beginning to ease. He lifts his head, his eyes finding yours, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I think...since you've gone and marked yourself as mine so beautifully..." he reaches out, tracing the elegant letters of your name with his fingertip, "...I'm going to have to get a matching one."

Sylus loses himself in the taste of you, his tongue delving deep into your heat. The flavor of your arousal floods his senses, intoxicating and addictive, fueling his hunger. His fingers dig into the soft globes of your ass, kneading and squeezing as he holds you open for his mouth.

"Fuck, you taste divine." He groans against your sex "I could devour this sweet cunt for hours."

He knows every inch of your body, every secret spot that makes you mewl and writhe. He maps out the terrain of your desire with lips and tongue, tracing patterns he's long since memorized. Your clit, that sensitive bud at the apex of your sex, he takes between his lips and suckles.

"This pretty pussy belongs to me."

"Please, Sy,..."

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your skirt and tugs it down your legs, tossing it carelessly to the side, leaving you exposed. And there, etched into your soft skin, he sees it.

"Fuck, kitten..." He breathes out, crimson eyes darkening with lust and possession  "You've marked yourself for me?"

His name is tattooed in an elegant, flowing script beneath each of your hip bones. Sylus. The letters curve and dip, mirroring the shape of your curves.

"Such a good girl, so eager to be mine." He praises, fingers ghosting over the ink " You know how much I love this spot, don't you, sweetie? How I like to hold on tight to it while I split you open on my cock."

"Fuck, I love this view." He drinks in the sight of your body splayed out before him, thighs spread wide in invitation. "Seeing my name on your skin, knowing this cunt belongs to me..."

With a slow thrust of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt inside your soaked pussy. A groan tears from his throat at the exquisite feel of your walls clenching.

"Gods, kitten, you're always so fucking tight." He grunts, fighting the urge to just rut into you mindlessly. "I love how you squeeze around my cock, like you can't get enough."

He sets a rhythm, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. He angles his hips to hit deep inside you while keeping a bruising grip on your hips, thumbs digging into the soft flesh just above your tattooed skin.

Sylus doesn't give you the clit stimulation you crave. Instead, he focuses all his efforts on pounding into you, hitting that spot inside again and again with perfect precision.

"The fucking sight of you...gonna make me lose control." He snarls "Cum on my cock, Y/N. Fucking soak me with it."

He watches as your body starts to tense, back arching off the bed. He feels your walls beginning to flutter and clench around him, gripping him like a fist.

"That's it, fuck... Give it to me"

"Fuck...Sy...godimgonnacumimgonnacu..."

And just like that, you shatter.

"The fucking hell, look at you... beautiful." he buries his face against your neck, biting down hard on the tender skin as his orgasm crashes over him. A groan tears from his throat as his cock throbs and pulses inside you.

He slows his thrusts and looks downat you, brushing sweat dampened hair from your face tenderly. His eyes meet yours and he takes in your blissed out expression.

"I love the way my name looks on your pretty skin, kitten." He murmurs, tracing the letters of his name, now glistening with a sheen of sweat. "Seeing it there, a permanent mark of your devotion, it's...fucking intoxicating."

"I know your body belongs to me inside and out. But having my name written on your skin, it's the ultimate act of surrender, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it..."

Xavier's breath hitched when he saw the tattoo across your pubic area, mere inches above your puffy clit. His name, etched in an elegant, cursive font that seemed to dance and sway with each subtle shift of your hips. It was a sight that made his heart race and his cock throb growing impossibly harder.

You could practically feel the heat of his stare scorching your sensitive skin.

He always had been obsessed with your pussy, could spend what felt like hours with his face buried between your thighs, lapping at your folds until you were a writhing, screaming mess. The tattoo only seemed to fuel that obsession, a reminder of what was his.

He reached out with a slightly trembling hand, tracing the letters with the pad of his thumb as if committing them to memory.

"Fuck, bunny... " Xavier breathed out "My name right there, so close to..." He pressed his thumb against the soft swell of your mons, right above where your slit began. "It's like you're marking yourself as mine"

"Do you like it, Xav"

"Your pussy is absolutely stunning just the way it is," he murmured "So perfect and beautiful, like a work of art." He leaned in closer, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh, making you shiver. "But seeing my name right there, permanently marked on this part of you? Fuck, it's the hottest thing I've ever seen." Xavier traced the letters again, more firmly this time, his touch sending sparks of pleasure to your core.

"Knowing that I'm the only one who gets to see this, the only one who gets to touch and taste and fuck this pretty little pussy..." He pressed a soft, open mouthed kiss right above his name, his lips lingering on your skin. "It makes me feel so damn lucky. And so fucking turned on." He gives it another kiss, more insistent this time, his tongue darting out to give you a teasing lick.

He started slow and teasing, just the way he knew you liked it, his touch light. He traced the shape of your slit with the tip of his tongue, not penetrating, but teasing along the outside, tasting your arousal.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs just a bit wider, giving him better access to your pussy. He could feel your heartbeat in your clit, could sense your growing arousal with each pass of his tongue. He took his sweet time, savoring the taste and scent of your sex, his own arousal building in tandem with yours.

"You taste so fucking good"

He sealed his lips around your clit, suckling gently as he slid a finger slowly into your tight heat. He pumped it in and out, matching the rhythm of his licks and sucks, his eyes focused on the sight of his name.

Suddenly he gripped your hips tightly, flipping you over on your hands and knees. Without missing a beat, he guided you to straddle his face, burying his nose and mouth right against your wet core.

The sight of his blue eyes gazing up at you, his nose nestled in between your folds was sinful. It ignited something inside you, and without hesitation, you started to grind yourself against his face.

He gripped your ass, kneading the fat of your cheeks as he pulled you harder against his mouth. He was encouraging you to ride his face, to take your pleasure from him. His tongue plunged deep inside you, fucking your tight cunt as he gazed up at you with hooded eyes

You gripped his chest with your hands behind you, nails digging into his skin as you felt your climax rapidly approaching. Your hips began to move on their own, grinding your dripping pussy against his face with urgency. The sight of his pink tongue peeking out from between your folds, the tip circling and flicking over your throbbing clit, was too much.

"Fuck, Xavier!" you screamed "Oh god, yes! Don't stop!" You could feel your release gushing out of you, coating his chin and neck, but he didn't let up.

Your fingers curled into his chest, no doubt leaving red crescent marks on his skin as you used his body for your pleasure.

The overstimulation became too much to bear, and you had to push his face away, your hands gripping his hair and tugging gently but firmly.

"Xavier, stop! I... I can't take anymore," you gasped out, your chest heaving with labored breaths. The sensitivity of your sex was almost painful, and the continued stimulation of his tongue and lips was pushing you past your limits.

Xavier allowed you to push him away, his face emerging from between your thighs with a final, lingering kiss to your folds.

His eyes moved to the tattoo once again, his brows furrowing slightly. It was then that a sudden realization seemed to strike him, and his body tensed underneath you. He tilted his head to the side, looking up at you with curiosity and something else...

"Who exactly tattooed my name on your pretty pussy?" Xavier asked, his voice taking on a slightly gruff edge. It was as if the thought of someone else being so intimate with your naked body was not sitting well with him.

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at his sudden display of jealousy. Here was this big, strong, fearless Deepspace Hunter, looking all cute and vulnerable underneath you. 

"It was a friend," you replied with a mischievous grin, enjoying the way his eyes widened slightly at your words. "A female friend, actually." You were amused by his reaction, finding it oddly endearing that he could be jealous over something so innocuous. But you knew better than to fuel the flames of his imagination. There was no reason for him to worry, you were all his, and he was all yours.

Caleb's thumb brushes over your lower lip, the pad of his finger dragging across the sensitive skin. His touch lingers, tracing the curve of your lip, before he suddenly pulls downwards. It was a familiar gesture, one he always did before you took him into your mouth.

His eyes widen as he stares at your lip, his brows furrowing in confusion. He releases your lip as if it had burned him, his hand jerking back. For a moment, he simply looks at you, his gaze intense and searching. Then, slowly, he reaches out again. His thumb returns to your lip, but this time, he's gentler.

As he drags his thumb downwards again you feel the skin of your lip stretch and tighten. And then, he sees it. Black ink against the pink of your mouth. His eyes narrow as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin.

The letters are small, neat, and perfectly formed, as if they've always been a part of you.

Caleb's name, permanently inked into a part of you that has touched every inch of him, from his chest to his cock. The part that has moaned his name in ecstasy, in pleasure, in desperation.

He stares at it, his expression unreadable. You can't tell if he's shocked, turned on, or something else entirely.

"When did you...?

"Do you like it?"

"I...I don't know what to say," he murmurs, "I never thought...I mean, seeing my name on..." He shakes his head slightly, as if trying to clear it. "It's fucking intense, Y/N."

He tilts your chin up, forcing you to hold his gaze. "Do you have any idea what it does to me, knowing that my name is a part of you?" His thumb pulls your lip down again, but this time he runs his finger on the letters, "Fuck, I want to taste it. I want to feel it against my tongue as I fuck you, as I make you scream my name."

Suddenly, you feel the hard, thick length of him pressing against your lips. The tip of his cock, slick with precum, traces the curve of your lip. It's hot and smooth, the skin velvety soft, yet hard as steel.

Caleb's name disappears beneath his cockhead as he rubs it over the letters. The wetness from his slit smears over your lip, the salty taste of his arousal exploding on your tongue. He takes his time, tracing the curve of his name, marking it with his pre.

A low groan rumbles in his chest as he watches the lewd display. When you moan he feels your breath, hot and needy, washing over him. It makes him throb and leak more of that slick, sticky fluid.

"Fuck, listen to that mouth, so fucking greedy for me already."

He grips your hair when he feels your lips wrap around his cock. He lets out a hiss, teeth clenching at the sudden pleasure of your mouth engulfing him.

"Fuck, just like that, Pips," Caleb grunts, his hips rocking forward slightly as he pushes himself deeper into your mouth. "Take it all, just like you always do."

He looks down, his eyes dark and hungry as he watches inch after inch of his thick cock disappearing between your stretched lips. The sight of your mouth stretched around him, your cheeks hollowed as you suck, is too much to take in. Almost as good as the feeling of your tongue, slick, warm and eager, swirling around his tip.

"You love having my cock in your mouth, don't you Princess? Love the way it makes you feel?"

He starts to really thrust into your mouth. It's a new sensation, a new intensity that he's never dared to unleash before. His hips move with a mind of their own, driven by the urge to take and possess.

He can feel the tight, wet heat of your throat clenching around him. The sound of your gagging, the way your throat convulses around him, only spurs him on, makes him thrust harder, deeper.

He looks down at you, your eyes watering from the force of his thrusts. But the sight of you, choked up and teary eyed but still trying to take him, only makes him crave you more. It's a heady feeling, knowing that he can overwhelm you like this, that he can bring you to the edge of your limits.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Caleb grits out "I can't...I can't stop. You feel too fucking good."

He can feel your nose pressing against his pelvis, your breath coming in short breaths through your nostrils as you struggle to breathe around him. The knowledge that you're sacrificing your comfort, your air, for his pleasure makes him throb harder.

With a grunt, he wrenches your head back, pulling you off his cock. Strings of your saliva stretch between your lips and his slick, glistening shaft as he tugs you away.

The sight is filthy, his cock, coated in your drool, jumps and pulses as he strokes it fast and hard. Pearly beads of precum ooze from the tip, mixing with the mess of spit already painting his thick length.

"Open your mouth, Y/N, open wide and stick out your tongue."

Your mouth falls open, your tongue lolling out and dripping with the drool that doesn't have a chance to be swallowed. There's a moment of anticipation as Caleb looms over you, his face etched with the strain of his climax.

And then, with a harsh groan, he cums. Thick ropes of cum erupt from the swollen head, splattering across your waiting tongue and lips. The first shot paints your taste buds white, the essence of his orgasm flooding your mouth. His hips jerk forward, pushing his cock past your lips to coat the inside of your cheek with his seed.

He doesn't stop, can't stop, He pulls your lip down, exposing the delicate skin and aims the last spurts of his climax at the letters of his name.

Jizz drips down the letters etched on the inside of your lip, smearing the black ink until it's almost unreadable beneath the sheen of his spend.

His head falls back after he watches you swallow his release. The sight of your throat bobbing, gulping down every drop of his cum, is his undoing. He could see the thick, pearly essence pooled on your tongue before it disappears, vanishing into your mouth and belly.

You find yourself suddenly lifted, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he pulls you flush against him.

"You are trying to kill me, aren't you?"

You giggle and say "Nooo..."

"I can't get enough of you, I don't think I ever will. You're like a drug Pips, and I'm already fucking addicted"

[mystellenia]

dom!abby losing control୨ৎ

summary: abby's composed and rough facade is destroyed by an unexpected and embarrassing orgasm.

content: answer to this req!! dom!abby, kinda mean! abby, sub!reader, make out, fingering (r!receiving), teasing, humiliation if you squint and shake the phone, strap on sex (muehehehhehe) (r!receiving), overstim (a!receiving), abby being rough with reader, degrading (r!receiving)

notes: havent posted in almost 2 months 😍 school is whooping my ass and midterms are coming up so basically i’ll be killing myself soon. enjoy this to feed on for the next x weeks until i post again

(wc 1.8k)

abby's rough hands grip onto the backs of your thighs and lift you up, dropping you harshly on the kitchen counter as she cups the back of your neck to pull you back in for a kiss. you throw your arms around her neck, and your fingers make quick work of undoing the golden braid falling down the length of her back, scratching her scalp and making her groan. 

you grab her hair in fistfuls and pull on them to expose her neck, abby hissing at the twisted pleasure prickling across her scalp. her throat bobs with a thick swallow while you coat the skin of her neck with sloppy kisses, her hips hungrily grinding up into yours.  

"jesus, baby... fuck." abby's hands grab the hem of your loose t-shirt to lift it over your head, your braless tits exposed and nipples hardening at the sharp chill of the air. her swollen lips latch onto the side of your neck and make you dizzy, and you swiftly undo her belt buckle and pull it out of her jeans' belt loops. just when you unbutton them and grab onto the zipper to unzip it, her thick, rough palm closes around your throat, and you choke on your saliva at the startle. 

"you're being especially whorish today. slow down—you're not the one in control here." her thumb and first two fingers squeeze on the sides of your throat and restrict the blood flow to your head, making it feel heavy on your shoulders and your vision deliciously fog up.  

she slowly releases her iron grip on your throat and slides her hand down to your chest, her left hand tweaking and palming at your nipple. with her other hand, slow and deliberately teasing, she unties the drawstring of your pajama pants and pulls one leg out of them, spreading your legs wide to make room for her muscular body to fit in between them.  

you're left with only underwear on, your thin pajama pants floppily dangling from your foot from behind abby's back. abby roughly shoves her hand into your underwear and cups you, feeling your thrumming clit on her palm and the small wet spot on your underwear on her knuckles. 

breathing into your ear, she mumbles, "be good for me and don't fucking move, 'kay?" she then harshly thrusts her middle finger into your pussy, its soft walls quickly morphing to make room for the intrusion. you cry out and throw your head back into the kitchen cabinet, softly wincing at the impact.  

she presses inside you on that smooth spot at exactly the depth of her finger, almost as if she was the only one meant to find it, and your eyes water the way they always do when she massages inside you. her now swollen lips scatter bruises and marks along the side of your neck in a line, breadcrumbs to remind you in the morning of the skilled way she undoes your composure so easily.  

"i'll never get enough of the way your skin tastes," she purrs into your shoulder, and you pathetically whine in response, her brazen praises flustering you beyond words. she tries, and fails, to ignore the needy throbbing of her neglected clit underneath the seam of her pants, the slightest movement pressing the seam up against it and making her clench. 

golden waves cascade down her face and frame her strong cheekbones, hiding the way her eyes stayed high up in the back of her head at the smell of your skin. your fingers tightly thread through her hair, your grip tightening as you periodically let out little mewls into the shell of her ear.  

she trades the massaging of your g-spot for slow, but deep thrusts into your pussy, adding her index finger without warning and making your back bow. 

"oh, my go- my- abby," you pant out, unable to get more than three words out at a time before her careless ruining of your weeping cunt sucks the air out of you. you start babbling how she shouldn't stop, a telltale sign that your climax was approaching. 

your hand shoots to the wrist pumping her fingers into your pussy, your fingers wrapping around it in a vice-like grip to try and slow her movements down in overstimulation. her free hand snaps to your jaw and squeezes your cheeks together, condescendingly shaking your head side to side. 

"why you grabbing my wrist, baby? you want me to stop? yeah?" her voice raises in pitch to mock your whining. "you wanted this so fucking bad, so take it, slut." 

she throws your head back against the cabinet and shakes her wrist of your hand, beginning to jackhammer her fingers into your abused hole at a murderous pace. in the corner of your nearly closed eyes, you see your pajama pants fall from your foot to the floor. your whining and whimpering quickly fills the room, all the while abby watches every change in your face with a close eye.  

you cum with a yelp, both hands flying to her own to stop her brutal assault while you dumbly stare into her eyes slack jawed with your brows tightly twisted in ecstasy. abby removes her fingers from inside you and immediately pulls your face to hers, teeth clashing in a lewdly sloppy kiss.  

planting her hands underneath your thighs, she effortlessly hoists you up and carries you down the hall to your shared bedroom, all without disconnecting your lips once. upon entering, she throws you down onto the bed and swiftly pulls her henley over her head, her small boobs clad in a simple, grey bra. 

"go get me my cock, baby. the black one." her pants were already unbuttoned from your earlier rushed undressing, but the zipper still remained untouched. her thick fingers pinch the silver and slowly slide it down, and you quite literally salivate at the sight.  

pushing down a thick swallow, your body turns towards the closet to get abby's strap. your head closely follows after tearing your sticky gaze from her now exposed v-line, little tufts of light brown hair leading to her core in a teasing, almost coaxing way. upon entering the closet, you bend down to the dark blue box in the corner of the small room, and your nipples brush your knee, suddenly making you aware that she so effortlessly ordered you to get her strap, and you so pliably listened, almost fully naked, at that. you might as well have crawled to the closet on all fours with how you mindlessly obeyed her like a dog does its owner. 

shaking your mild embarrassment, you palm the long, dark strap and pivot back around to return to abby. she stands tall and sturdy—unmoving like a tree—watching your naked figure make its way back to her. 

"take your underwear off for me," she says under her breath, her breathing made heavy by hunger. 

you perch on the edge of the bed and scoot back, pulling your underwear down your legs and kicking it off to some spot on the floor. abby pushes her jeans and boxers over her ass just enough for the base of the strap to sit snugly against her pounding clit once she steps into the harness, the contact enough to make her sharply wince. 

grabbing you by the ankles, she roughly pulls you to the edge of the bed and lifts your feet up near each side of her head, rubbing her warm palms up and down your legs. simultaneously, her hips push forward and slide the length of the strap along your pussy, the toy gliding against your skin with ease thanks to the obscene amount of cum that coated your lips from your orgasm. 

"please... just... just put it in," you whisper, tired of the teasing. 

"i will. just wait a little—be patient." she gently lowers your legs to wrap around her hips and lock behind her back. then, she pauses before adding, "do you know how to do that when you're acting like such a slut?" like she'd caught herself being too nice and had to balance it out. 

all you can do is whine in response and hope to feel the delicious sting of her pushing the tip in soon. her hips rock back and forth one, two, three times while she intently watches, entranced by the way your pussy clenches every time the tip of her cock passes over your clit. 

her hips sharply jerk back, and she incoherently mutters a string of words under her breath. ending her cruel teasing, she swipes her hand down your swollen cunt to gather your cum and coats the tip of the strap with it. lining it up with your twitching hole, she sinks into you and smirks at your jaw dropping ever lower in pleasure. 

she starts her thrusts in a rather swift cadence, luring sweet cries out from your throat, suppressed grunts coming from her own. 

"fuck, i've been thinking about this all day. you don't even know, baby." her speech comes out fast and strained as she tries to speak before her groans and grunts interrupt the words. "i could live in this pussy, and it would welcome me with tears running down your legs." 

"yes," you pant out, the one word your dumbified brain can remember. 

very quickly, though, abby's thrusts get random and sloppy. shrill, high-pitched squeaks spill from her lips, a striking contrast to her formerly composed grunts and dirty words. she abruptly pulls out, and her hands frantically dart to her hips to push the base of the strap off her engorged clit, her lower stomach hurting from overstimulation. 

with the harness shoved down to her mid-thigh, she sat on the edge of the bed partially turned away, muttering a quiet shit to herself. you gawk at her with scared, wide eyes, terrified that something had gone wrong or hurt her. you see her eyelids flutter as she turned away in what seemed like embarrassment. her chest was madly rising and falling, too, from her attempts to catch her breath, and you scoff in both disbelief and twisted arousal. 

"baby," you call out, placing your hand on her bicep. "did you just cum?" 

she's quiet for a long while before shoving her face into her hands to hide her humiliation. "god, i didn't mean to." 

you can't help but let out a little giggle, and she falls back onto the bed, throwing her arm over her eyes. "it's not funny!" 

"it kinda is," you tease, but your laughter dies in your throat when you see a small wet patch on her pants where the base of the strap touched the fabric. 

you lick your lips, letting your eyes drop to her bra and thinking of the skin it so cruelly hid. 

"it was really hot, too." 

@abbysbug @abbys-gay @abbysunderwear @moonalumi @andersonsprincess

@abbysgirl1 @totalfinalgirl @90yearoldbear @hypnagogics @pretty-forest-nymph

@sapphicxprincess @carti9 @seraphicsentences @wxwrites @veraandrea7

all done yayaya. i dont know why i cant write something under 1k words like i told myself this was gonna be short and then i hit 4 pages and was like oopsies. u better like it bc i have a huge exam tomorrow that i shouldve been studying for but instead i was writing this erotica to post on tumblr.com. so go ahead and smash that subscribe button and reblog a billion times and comment your favorite part of this video (erotica posted to tumblr.com)

kay night night western hemisphere baddies goodmorning/afternoon everyone else love u bye bye

[silasours]

ৎ⸝⸝⠀BELLY BULGE ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino x gn reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. unprotected sex. edging. size kink. praise kink. sub reader. belly bulging. creampie. breeding kink. overstimulation. toy usage. mirror sex. #summary : hazbin men fucking so deep to the point where they can see and feel the bulge on your belly from their dick! wow, and it turns them on further!! #note : greetings and salutations everyone! i'm back (kinda) from my long ass close-to-three-months hiatus. i'm so sorry for disappearing so suddenly, and thank you so much for 1k followers while i was gone! have this and a few other upcoming smuts while i figure out on how to finish the alastor fic :').

ʚ LUCIFER .

how many rounds has it been? you honestly lost count. your ability to recall memories from earlier tonight slowly slips out of your grasps with each deep thrust of lucifer's hips. the sole thing you're able to focus your mind on is the sensation that travels throughout your whole body every time he hits that one spot inside of you, the feeling of multiple fire spark burning through your nerves.

his breathing is as ragged as yours, his usual slicked-back hair now messy and sticking to his sweaty forehead. your fingers fist the soft pillow supporting your face on the wide bed that you share, whimpers and cries being the only sounds that pour out of your sore lips. lucifer gives a moderate playful slap onto your bare hip, earning a small whine from you.

"such wonderful sight, look at you." his hand slides from your hip until his thumb reaches to stretch your flesh, revealing white streams of thick liquid rolling down from your pulsing hole to your inner thigh, an evidence of your partner's previous releases filling you up full. he watches the way his seeds spill out with every push of his hips, when his dick takes up the space inside of you instead and forcing the liquid to be squeezed out.

his tongue pokes out to lick his lips, his free hand once again moving forward to wrap its fingers around your neck firmly. with a soft hum, lucifer pulls your upper body up from the previous position, now having your back press against his chest. you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, the faint thumping of his heart through the layers of flesh.

you can barely feel your legs. they had gone numb from how long you've kept them up, the blood flow being reduced and now leaving you with legs that you can barely control by yourself. you gasp at the feeling of lucifer's length reaching deeper inside of you, the tip poking at places that you never knew one could reach inside of you. your hands moved by themselves and held onto whatever that can support your body on this new position, lucifer's ruthless thrust now increasing its pace without mercy.

he keeps a hand wrapped around your neck, holding you still while the other explores your body despite already left countless marks and touch on every inch of your body. your head tilts back to rest on his shoulder, moans and cries never stopped rolling off of your tongue as lucifer whispers sweet nothings into your ear. it was then he felt something he did not feel on your body before this.

curious, his thrusts slows down just a little as his eyes peek from beside your head, his hand caressing the bump that he feels on your stomach. he feels his breath hitch, realizing that the bump would poke out every time he thrusts into you. he feels heat spread all over his body, like he's growing aroused all over again despite the previous releases.

you hear him mutter something along the lines of 'you're so attractive' followed with a few curses. he harshly thrusts into you, digging his hips deep into yours while holding a hand of yours to the same area where your belly would bulge with every thrust. you feel the air of his breath hit your sticky skin as he snickers.

"be good and keep your hand here for me, yeah? we're going for a few more rounds."

ʚ ALASTOR .

"yes, keep going my dear. you're doing great." alastor's clawed fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your hips as you lower yourself further down onto his length. his words may sound like sweet praises, but his tone hides a hint of petty tease while he speaks. such an annoying demon he is, always teasing you by making you work yourself on him just so he could grab every chance possible to run that dirty tongue of his.

you grumble lightly, ignoring the smug look on his face as you pause your actions, earning a confused look from the demon laying below you. he allowed a short staring contest with each other until he got impatient with how badly he needs to feel your walls pulse around him. he mutters something incomprehensible, tightening his grip on you and forcibly push you down without warning to take in every single inch he has to offer.

your breath catches in your throat almost instantly, eyes widening in surprise and gradually rolling to the back of your head. alastor has an advantage, and he knows just how to use it in his favor. he chuckles at the sight displayed in front of him; you, the same person who had just tried to tick him off earlier now struggling to adjust to the size of his dick stretching you apart.

of course, he knew this is exactly how you liked him to play even though you never directly expressed it.

alastor completely retracts almost all of his length, leaving just the tip nestled in the warmth of your walls and watches you clench around nothing as if you're asking for him to fill you up again. your teary eyes glance down at him, unhappy at the fact that he's still playing tricks on you before letting him draw a loud moan from you with a sudden thrust of his hips.

your arms reach out to catch your body from the back, body leaning back. you struggle to keep yourself upright while riding him, your legs giving out easily as per usual. your hips rock along with his, your sweet spot constantly being stimulated because of how perfect this angle of position is.

alastor savors every reaction and sounds from you, his eyes twitching ever so often from how well you squeeze around him. the bulge on you belly catches his eye; his pupils shake with excitement, muscles pulsing at the delicious sight of the bulge disappearing and reappearing. his mind grows fuzzy from the strange enjoyment he never knew he had for things like this.

"ah, fuck." a clearly audible groan slips past his lips, his hips involuntarily buckles up as ropes of hot release paints your inner walls. his static voice seems to crackle slightly when he cursed which indicates that he feels good. really good. your heart jumps with excitement yet your body crumbles, the coil in your stomach snaps quickly after alastor's, pushing you into a moaning mess.

oxygen seems to have escaped his lungs as he pants for air, the back of his hand covering his eyes. the heat on his face is painfully visible even in the dark room you're currently situated in and the blurred vision you have from tears gathering around your eyes. you were about to move and cup his face to adore his blushing look before his voice rang through your ears, stopping you.

"ah ah, stay there now. keep putting on a pretty show for me. i'm still up for more of it, you see."

ʚ VOX .

"isn't the mirror perfect? my eyes never miss." vox laughs at his own playful comment yet his lustful eyes never left your reflection in the mirror. you advert your gaze from his hungry ones, unable to even properly look at yourself in the mirror without getting all flustered again. the clothes currently hugging your body is a sensual outfit that vox had specifically tailored for you, with the perfect size and design to his liking. anyone would be lying if they said you don't look luscious for eyes to feast on.

of course his comment wouldn't be on the mirror alone, it was mostly towards the outfit you're wearing. he hums, pulling your body closer to his till you're both tangled together in front of the big mirror, your back stuck to his chest. his lips sucks on the sensitive skin on your neck, kiss marks blooming all over like flowers during the spring season. hell, even the noises you make sound extra alluring tonight.

vox's hand slide down your body and presses firmly on your stomach, drinking in your whines as he presses on something bulging. bullseye. he recently discovered that you especially love it when he does this, and it also arouses him a ton.

"mm. you like that? wanna feel my dick from here while i fuck ya?"

a hard exhale leaves your lips as you nod, intertwining your fingers with his and allowing him to have total control over your body. he chuckles at the tightened walls around him before rocking his hips. moans spill out of your lips as he guides your hand to press against your stomach, making you feel just how deep he's going.

"eyes on the mirror, baby." you do your best to lift your eyelids and slide your gaze onto the big mirror set in front of you; vox's eyes glow like a hunter looking at its prey in the reflection, peering from your shoulder.

you question if it was the right choice to drag your lover out from the office he's always holed up in to shop at multiple stores today. he was reluctant at first, making up different excuses to stay in his office. 'i could just have them deliver to our doorstep, baby! we're rich as fuck, remember?' or 'another day, let me stay in today.'

if it wasn't because of how stubborn you were to drag him out even for a small walk, he wouldn't have agreed to go out with you and got a ton of stuff, including this mirror that's sitting by the wall, in front of the bed.

you feel immense embarrassment burning all over your skin from how you're completely displayed in the reflection for the both of you to see, yet your eyes lock with the demon's through the mirror. his smile is brutal. "there we go, now don't look away."

his merciless thrusts brought more blood rushing to your face along with shameless moans from you, followed by grunts that's audible to you from vox. your legs tremble, threatening to give out and the loud sounds of skin slapping gradually fills your head, cutting out the ability to comprehend anything in you.

your gaze fixates on the belly bulge that's painfully visible in the reflection, the sight only tightening the sweet coil hidden in your stomach. the demon groans at you squeezing around his length, knowing that you're enjoying this as much as he currently is brought him dangerously close to the edge. it wasn't long until the both you reach peak, vox pulling out just in time to witness the beautiful sight of his seed staining your inner thighs.

one thing's for sure, he definitely loves going on shopping sprees with you from now on.

ʚ VALENTINO .

work pissed him off. valentino always had a very short temper and gets ticked off by the smallest things at work the moment it doesn't goes the way he wants them to. and the easiest way for him to cool off? it'll either be a good smoke or dragging you to somewhere less busy for a quickie. perhaps both works as well, if he wishes for it.

your body presses up against the cold, hard wall as his breath tickles the back of your ear, his slippery tongue sliding and flicking around damping your earlobe. his actions are quick and rushed, yet somehow careful with everything he does to you by not going too rough on you.

his lower pair of arms slightly fumbles while undressing your lower body from how narrow the space is. you wanted to ask why didn't he choose somewhere with more space, but words stopped right on your tongue when he suddenly inserted his full length into you. you cursed and press your forehead against the wall hard, a strange mixture of pain and pleasure blooms in your stomach while struggling to breathe, adjusting to his size.

"relax a bit carino, you're gonna squeeze my dick off if you don't."

"doesn't help, val. that- fuck w-wait," valentino doesn't allow you to finish your complain, cutting you off with a rough thrust. your words turn into whines, nails digging into his arms that are wrapped around your trembling body. he carried on teasing you with irregular thrusts before pulling out fully, a mysteriously playful chuckle bubbling from his chest. you glance at him with a confused expression.

it wasn't long until you hear a familiar buzzing sound of a vibrator. he barely gave you enough time to process the information and question him, inserting the small toy deep inside of you. you gasp; the weird feeling of something vibrating inside of you made it hard for you to understand what to feel. it felt so weird to the point where it's pleasurable, something so unfamiliar yet a turn on.

"what the fuck are you- hey! that shit's still inside- val!" moans slip in between your words as valentino's length replaced his slender fingers inside of you, the tip pushing the vibrating toy deeper into your pulsing walls. choked moans are let out from your throat, the brimming tears spill from your eyes and down to your cheeks.

valentino pushes both of his fingers that were used to insert the toy into your mouth, muttering praises as you instinctively lick and suck on them. your tongue slips in between and around his fingers, coating it with your saliva while some spills out from the corner of your lips and rolls off of your chin.

he shows no mercy with his ruthless thrusts, the toy growing a weird pleasure in your stomach by hitting the perfect areas inside of you. with how deep it is, your belly bulges with every rough thrust of the demon. val whistles the moment he notices it, his gaze now only fixates on your stomach from above, admiring the bulge as his thrusts only grew harsher.

hell, even the size of his dick seems to be growing bigger while your velvet walls remained engulfing it. any thoughts regarding his work are now clouded and replaced with lust, yearning for more of you.

"know what? go on and cum for me, amor. we'll take this to the bedroom then."

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[missadangel]

⊱ AMOR MEUS AETERNUS ⊰

(Marcus Acacius x Ofc)

II. Tensio

prev chapter series masterlist next chapter

Chapter Summary:  You’re making Marcus regret bringing you, and he’s considering a decision you won’t like. Chapter W. Count and warnings: 11k; romantic comedy, ancient rome, using drugs (tranquilizer), anxiety attacks, violence, power imbalance, a little angst, mention about marriage. authors note: conubium: Roman law; the right to intermarry. pater familias: He is the oldest living male in a household. Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Ofc!Reader (Her name is Rose, and her hair is dyed) Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI, Smut General Warnings: Harsh, cold, grumpy Marcus, and the reader is NOT innocent a little bitchy, Lucilla is mean, Lucius is a jerk(but falls in love with reader), its Septimius Severus' era but Geta and Caracalla are the prince of Rome, time travel, modern-ancient era travels, falling in love, slow burn, rough sex, smut, sex, oral sex (both f&m receiving), all sex, dirty talk, gladiators, battle, war, violence, blood, ancient time language, fluffy, injury, forced marriage, arranged marriage, sexism, haters to lovers, first love, angst, vestal virgins, vestal priestesses, age gap; reader is 25 Marcus is 42, reincarnation my masterlist

gif by nicolethered

chapter theme (sorry tumblr didn't let me to add this before)

A searing headache throbbed in your temples, reminiscent of the intense pain that often accompanied your period. Oh, right—your cycle was just around the corner. Thankfully, you had taken your painkillers from the pharmacy and stashed them in your bag alongside your depression medication. You should taken it immediately because this was unbearable.

And that smell—

Wait, was that a horse neighing?

With a jolt, you realized something was pressing against your face. You blinked your eyes open, only to find your head resting on a shaggy bale of hay. A massive horse loomed inches away from you, its large, dark eyes fixed on yours.

This wasn't a dream.

“Aaaaah!” you screamed, your voice piercing the stillness of the small stable, the sound reverberating off the wooden beams. Startled, the horse reared back, its powerful hooves striking the ground with a resounding clatter that echoed like thunder in the confined space.

“Why are you screaming?” an irate voice demanded.

And there he was.

Him.

That psycho.

The source of all your frustrations.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

A tremor of rage coursed through you as your anger bubbled up. The surrounding scene intensified your fury, and you asked, “Where the hell am I?”

“I had to carry you here after you lost consciousness,” he replied.

Wait a minute—what were you wearing? Had he draped that black robe over you?

“Why am I dressed like this, and why are we in this… place?”

"Wearing your usual unconventional attire may attract attention. Besides, I need to make sure your legs are covered properly."

“That sounds rather bigoted,” you grumbled.

Marcus let out a troubled sigh, the annoyance stretching across his face. "Could you rise if you are feeling capable? I need to proceed to the villa now."

With hands pressed into the dirt-strewn floor for support, you attempted to rise but staggered, the earth beneath you gritty and unpleasant. “It stinks! Everything stinks!” you whined, finally managing to stand upright.

He had the audacity to not even offer a hand to help you up.

Rude bastard.

The flowing black robe cloaked you entirely, brushing the ground with each step. Marcus’s expression remained stoic as his gaze raked over you from head to toe. "At least you're less conspicuous now. Let’s pull this over your face,” he instructed, tugging the hood down to obscure your features.

“What’s wrong with my face?” you frowned.

“Your hair looks a bit odd compared to the other women around here,” he explained.

You let out a hysterical laugh, incredulous. “I just dyed it a salted caramel color. Do you have any idea how expensive that is?”

He paused, seemingly baffled. “I wonder why a woman would choose to change her hair color at all?”

“What do you know anyway? You’re practically a caveman,” you muttered beneath your breath.

He didn’t understand your sarcasm, as usual. “I need to lay down some rules, and I ask that you please follow them, alright?”

You shrugged your shoulders, noncommittal.

“First off, in your time, I may appear as a nobody, but here I possess some dignity. When with my family, you will refer to me by my title, not by my name. You will not speak disrespectfully to them, and foul language is strictly off-limits. If you’re asked a question, I’ll take care of it. It’s best if you just keep your mouth shut unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Crossing your arms defiantly, you retorted, “Why should I abide by any of this? Why did you drag me here if your reputation means so much to you?”

Marcus rolled his eyes, his expression hardening. “It’s going to be more difficult for both of us if you don’t comply. I’m trying to help you.”

“Hah! Help! Of course!” you scoffed.

“Stop it,” he warned, his tone low and menacing. “Act like a woman.”

“What did you just say?”

He let out a deep sigh. "You’re acting like a child. Can't you show a little more maturity? I truly regret what’s happened to you, but I need you to trust me. I promised I’d do everything I could to find a way to send you back."

“You’d better find it,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes defiantly.

“I will,” he replied.

“Ugh, let’s hurry up and get out of here. The stench is making me want to hurl,” you said, your face contorting as a wave of nausea struck.

“Follow me closely and quietly,” he instructed, stepping cautiously out of the stables first.

You clutched your -his- robe tightly around you and trailed behind him. However, it was a bad idea, as you walked, your foot suddenly squished down onto something soft, warm, and utterly revolting.

“Aaaaaaaaa! Damn it! Ugh!” 

Marcus pivoted sharply, rushing back to you and clamping his large hand over your mouth. “Didn’t I tell you to keep quiet?” 

Muffled protests escaped you, anger bubbling within. He removed his hand to understand what you were saying, but he regretted it. “I just stepped in something disgusting! What do you expect? My Converses are ruined! It's all your fault!” You lifted your shoe, revealing the smeared evidence of horse manure that now coated it.

“What kind of woman...” he muttered through clenched teeth. “You’ve never encountered horse manure before?”

“Do you think I would react this way if I had?” you yelled at his face, frantically attempting to wipe the muck off your shoe against the ground.

Marcus shut his eyes tightly, exhaling a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gods, have mercy on me and grant me the patience I need. Just be more careful with your steps,” he scolded, exasperation lacing his tone. “You can clean them once we reach the villa, but for the love of all that’s holy, keep it down until then,” he said, turning away in annoyance.

With gritted teeth, you followed behind him, your eyes narrowed with frustration. 

As you walked through the gloomy, dark streets of the ancient city, your jaw dropped in disbelief. You still couldn’t fathom it—you were truly in ancient Rome. Shops lined the streets, their facades adorned with elaborate carvings, while majestic temples loomed in the distance. The rich fabrics draped across the citizens—very few of whom were out at this hour—were a stark contrast to the modern world you knew. It was as if you had stepped onto a film set, and part of you desperately wished it were just that. Tears began to form in your eyes as you fought the urge to scream. How did you end up in this bewildering situation?

The structures surrounding you took your breath away. Many of them existed only as crumbling ruins back home, yet here they stood tall and resplendent, as if freshly crafted by artisans. You felt as though you were walking through a living, breathing history lesson, and the sheer beauty left you trembling. 

You desperately wanted to retrieve your calming medication from your bag, anxious to ward off the looming threat of an anxiety attack just at the fringes of your mind. It was maddening that Mr. Psycho clutched your bag as if it were something undesirable. Of course, if you carry it yourself, your robe would come undone, leaving your legs exposed.

What a true gentleman, indeed!

After what felt like an eternity of walking, your feet began to protest, aching with each step. Finally, he stopped and surveyed the surroundings. “Here we are,” he announced, casting a glance about.

You followed his gaze, taking in the imposing wall that surrounded the area, shadows dancing along the surface of the torch-lit stone. He pushed open a heavy wooden door, gesturing for you to enter.

As you stepped inside, your breath hitched in your throat. It was a stunning ancient Roman villa, far more magnificent than anything portrayed in virtual re-enactments. The centerpiece was a grand fountain, water glimmering in the dim light. Towering columns of white inlaid marble reached for the sky, while lifelike statues adorned the space, all framed by a beautifully landscaped garden. A film crew would have gaped in awe at such splendor—if only you had thought to capture a picture with your phone.

“Domina!” 

You were pulled from your reverie by a woman's voice echoing through the spacious hall. She appeared to be in her middle years, her eyes wide with a blend of anxiety and hope as she called up the polished marble stairs. Clad in a modest dress that whispered of simpler times, she was a vivid reminder of the era—this was ancient Rome, a place where the specter of slavery loomed large. You had made a dress like that before, back when you were crafting costumes in the set.

Before long, a couple more men and women showed up, and then an older woman made her way down the stairs. Her silver hair gleamed like moonlight, and despite her age—perhaps seventy—she carried herself with an air of vitality. “Acacius! My son!” she called out, her voice filled with both worry and relief.

Wait, what? *My son?*

You couldn't help but stifle a chuckle as you leaned closer to Marcus, whispering behind him, “So the great Mr. General lives with his mother.” 

He shot you a stern look from the corner of his eye, a silent warning that made you quickly redirect your gaze.

As the old woman carefully descended the stairs, Marcus stepped forward to greet her. Just then, a tall, good-looking guy walked into the courtyard, his eyes wide. “Brother,” he said, wrapping Marcus in a warm hug. “It’s really you! Where have you been?”

The old lady placed her hands on Marcus’ shoulders, concern etched on her face. “We feared the worst, dear son. We couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Marcus let out a weary sigh. "I was attacked, but I'm alright, truly. I was meant to be away from Rome.... for a while," he said, casting a sidelong glance in your direction.

Suddenly, every eye shifted toward you with curiosity. You raised a hand slightly. “Hi.”

“Who is this young man?” the woman inquired, her brow furrowed in confusion as she took a closer look.

You raised your eyebrows, letting out a laugh that turned hysterical. The woman's eyes widened as she realized you were a woman after removing your hood and revealing your face.

“This woman will stay here for a while. She will be our guest,” Marcus interjected, his voice firm and assertive.

“*This woman?*” you echoed incredulously. “I have a name, you know.”

Marcus shot you a warning glare, his patience thinning.

The old woman, along with the handsome man, exchanged perplexed glances. 

“Is she outlander? Barbarian? Or a savage?” the woman questioned, her gaze roving over you with a scrutinizing intensity. “Did she brought here as a prisoner of war? Or Gods forbid... a whore?”

“Hey!” you snapped, your indignation flaring.

Marcus raised a hand, silencing your protest. “She’s neither. Rather, she’s an outlander who helped me. She will be residing here for a few days, after which I will ensure her safe return to her homeland."

The old woman and the other man shared a look that hinted they weren’t completely convinced. “Very well, if that’s what you believe. Let the girls take care of her,” the woman said, nodding toward the two young girls. “You need rest too my son; you must be tired.”

Marcus nodded and turned back to the other man.

The two girls gently took hold of your arms, urging you to follow. “Come with us. This way,” one of them said.

You turned to look at Marcus again, but he wouldn’t even glance your way.

Bastard.

“Hey! Psycho! Where are they taking me?” you called out, frustration spilling over.

Your shout caught his attention, and he finally turned around, annoyance flashing across his face. The girls exchanged glances, trying not to laugh.

“Calm yourself; a room will be provided for you shortly,” he replied, a hint of indifference in his tone. With a dismissive wave, he signaled to the girls and turned back to the other man, leaving you fuming with annoyance.

What an asshole.

The girls pulled you into a cramped little room, and one of them quickly untied your robe, letting it slide off your shoulders. Their gazes widened in astonishment as they took in your short shorts and halter top—garments that were completely foreign to them. 

“This is quite peculiar, the attire you wear,” one of them remarked, her brows furrowing in confusion. 

“It resembles what the tribes don,” another mused, tilting her head as if trying to figure it all out. 

You kicked off your Converse sneakers and tossed them aside, feeling a bit annoyed when one of the girls reached out to help you. “I got this, okay?” you snapped. 

“Just trying to help—” she began, but you cut her off.

“No thanks, I can handle it,” you said, pushing her hand away. 

Her expression shifted to one of surprise, and she shared a glance with the other girl, whose head bobbed in agreement. 

After a brief moment of consideration, the girl returned, a cloth draped over her arm. “Here, dress yourself then,” she said, her tone soft but firm.

“How am I supposed to change with you all just staring at me?” 

They looked at each other, clearly not getting it. “Alright, fine, but where can I take a shower?” you asked, a little desperate for some privacy.

“Shower?” one of the girls echoed, disbelief etched on her face.

Right, that slipped your mind. “I mean a bath,” you corrected, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you.

“You can go there during the daytime. Didn’t you know?” she replied, bewilderment lingering in her voice.

“Where are you truly from? You’ve obviously never set foot in Rome or heard of it. You’re a total outlander,” she continued, her eyes searching yours for answers.

Well you had been living in Rome for many years, but it was the Rome of the future.

How ironic.

“How did you come to meet the general? What was your purpose in coming here?” they probed, their curiosity unyielding.

“Isn’t it funny how, regardless of how many centuries I travel back, women’s curiosity remains unchanged?” you giggled.

But their expressions remained serious, their eyes reflecting concern as if you had just shared a bewildering riddle. 

“That guy forced me here,” you explained, taking off your shorts and blouse as they gasped at the sight of your underwear. They had no clue what it was. 

“It’s, uh, an accessory,” you tried to make sense of it, but you knew they wouldn’t get it. After slipping on the weird dress they gave you, you realized it was just way too revealing. Your black bra was sticking out, and you were feeling a little odd. 

“I think you should remove that... thing,” one of them suggested, a slight frown marring her features. “It looks strange.”

“Yeah I agree,” you muttered, you couldn’t judge them for their confusion, so you took off your bra. But the panties? No way you were parting with those. How did they get around without them, anyway? It was a question you couldn't shake.

In the morning, you jolted up at the sound of a rooster crowing and birds chirping. It felt just like your alarm clock going off. You jumped out of bed like you were shot out of a cannon. “Grab the fabrics, get the drawings approved by the head designer, make sure the stuntman’s suit is done by five, and don’t forget to take your meds.” Those words had turned into a daily mantra you whispered to yourself each morning, coming out without a second thought. But the place around you was nothing like the chaos those words suggested. It felt like you were stuck on a movie set with no way out. A sudden pain shot through your back, prompting you to pat the aching spot. “Ugh, what kind of bed is this?” you complained as you hopped out. This tiny room looked like some slave quarters you’d seen in a museum in Rome. Tears threatened to spill and you buried your face in your hands. “Is this real? Wasn’t it all just a nightmare? Wake up! Please wake up! Why, God, why? What have I done to deserve this?”

A chill swept through you, and panic set in. You had to find your meds. Oh no, your bag was still with that psycho.

You bolted out of the room, your bare feet hitting the cool marble—it was at least clean, not gross dirt. How many rooms were in this place? The courtyard was so bright now, the complete opposite of last night’s darkness. You squinted against the sun and ran to the expansive courtyard. If you weren’t already anxious, you might have taken a moment to appreciate the view, but all you could think about was your meds. Where were all the people?

“Psycho!” you shouted.

As soon as you stepped into the courtyard, a few girls and guys in matching clothes and necklaces turned to stare at you. Of course, that look again—the stunned expression. But maybe it was because you were yelling; well you didn’t shout just for fun.

But where was he?

You spotted one of the girls from the previous day and sprinted toward her, desperation in your voice. “Hey! Have you seen that psych-? I mean, Marcus?”

Her eyes widened in alarm before she glanced apologetically over your shoulder. Confused, you turned to find the old woman from yesterday, seated upon a throne-like chair that seemed to hold both authority and menace, giving you a piercing glare that could shatter glass.

“Hello,” you offered, lifting your hand in a tentative greeting as you approached her cautiously. “Um, you’re Marcus’s mother, right? I’m looking for him. Have you seen him?”

She raised a gaunt finger, stopping you in your tracks. “What kind of disrespectful girl are you to address the general by his name? Your mother or father clearly never instilled any manners in you.”

“Look, I—”

“How dare you interrupt Domina!” a man beside her growled, his voice like thunder.

“You truly lack decorum. Weren’t you taught how to show respect patricians where you come from? Acacius may be kind, but I will not tolerate this insolence.”

Kind? That psycho? Seriously?

You suppressed a laugh.

“Cicero, take this girl away from my sight,” she ordered. 

What the fuck?  Were you an object? 

“But you don’t understand, I need my meds. I have anxiety, and my bag is with that- General.” 

She sighed, gestured Cicero who grabbed your arm and started to drag you away. “Look, this is a tough spot for me too, but I really need my meds.”

He clearly didn’t care; his grip tightened as he pulled you toward inner courtyard, barking the two girls from yesterday. Keep a close watch on her,” he warned, his tone brooking no argument. “She is strictly forbidden from stepping foot in the main courtyard. If anything goes awry, I’ll ensure Domina hears that it’s your fault.” 

The girls nodded frantically, clearly afraid.

What on earth was this madness?

“Seriously, how could you stand up to Domina? Are you insane?” one of the girls whispered harshly.

“I wasn’t-- I just want to find Marcus. He has my bag!” You felt frustration bubbling within, the absurdity of the situation overshadowing your growing fear.

“Refrain from using his name. It’s simply not appropriate here; such disrespect is utterly unacceptable,” another girl scoffed.

With an exasperated huff, you retorted, “Fine! But where is he? Where can I find him?”

“He must have left early for his duties. He won’t return until nightfall,” one of the girls informed you.

“What?” you squealed, the panic rising in your throat. “I can’t wait that long! Just tell me where his room is—my bag must be there.”

Their eyes widened incredulously as if you were proposing the most outrageous act. “Are you mad? They warned you not to go into the courtyard, and now you want to invade the general’s chambers?”

“This girl is truly a savage! Are you a member of a barbarian tribe?” another girl chimed in, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Just please, stay in your room and wait quietly for evening. Do not provoke Domina; she has no tolerance for disrespect.” 

They warned you as they led you towards the room. They closed the door and left.

This room was just like a prison cell. Small, bare, and totally lacking a window, it felt stifling. As someone who struggled with anxiety—unable to even ride in an elevator without freaking out—you knew this wasn't going to last long. How on earth would you manage to spend the whole day like this? It was a miracle you got any sleep last night. Now, with the sun creeping in—was it maybe 8 or 9 a.m.?—the idea of being stuck here until evening twisted your stomach.

And Lizzie... what was she going to think when she found out you were missing? Just 17, still a kid really, and you were all she had. What about your dad, the hospital, your job, the rent and all those bills?

Life is moving on out there but you trapped here, this world and you can't do anything to go back, unable to return your time.

Was time different here?

You recalled the fantasy worlds depicted in movies, such as Narnia. In Narnia, time doesn't align with Earth; it generally moves much faster. Another example is the movie "Interstellar," which is Lizzie's favorite. In it, there is significant time dilation—one scene features a difference of around 23 years!

Suddenly, a wave of panic surged within you, your burried your face in your hands—“Oh my God!!!”

You had to escape before you lost it completely, just like Jack Nicholson in "The Shining." Bursting out of the room, you gasped for air. Your stomach growled angrily—how could they not provide food or water? 

You loathed it.

Fortunately, the area seemed eerily deserted. From the distant clatter and murmur of voices, it was evident the kitchens were bustling, filled with the sounds of life beyond this cold corridor. You needed to find the stairs leading to the upper floors where the owners probably stayed.

“Looking for the general's chambers?” A voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a woman about your age, dressed like she belonged to the upper crust.

“Well, I am, yes,” you managed to reply, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Head upstairs, turn right down the hallway, and you'll find it,” she said, her smile curving with an unsettling warmth that sent a chill racing down your spine.

Why was she aiding you?

You had no time to ponder motives though; you needed to get to your bag. 

“Thanks,” you answered, forcing a smile as you extended your hand, “but who are you? My name is Rose.”

She scrutinized your offered hand as if it were tainted. “Lydia. How did you and the General meet, and what's going on between you? No one has ever seen him with a woman before.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing like that, really. It’s complicated and very strange.” 

Lydia squinted, taking a moment to consider your words. “Hmm, I see. Walk quickly before someone notices you.” 

Nodding, you rushed upstairs, completely unaware of the cruel smile that crept onto her lips as you turned away.

Upon entering the room, you were struck by its grandeur—everything looked rich and authentic, but it felt more like a woman’s chamber than a general's.

“Domina! Mother! This is unacceptable!” Lydia's voice rang out, startling you. Before you could react, she grabbed your arm and dragged you back down the stairs. 

“What are you doing?” you protested, bewildered.

“Shut your mouth! How dare you enter Domina's room? You there! Come back here this instant!” 

Your expression morphed into one of shock and disbelief.

She had trickd you, but why? 

The tension swelled around you as they had gathered in the stairs below. 

“Lydia, my daughter, what in the world was all that commotion about?” 

“I caught this brazen girl trespassing in your room!” Lydia exclaimed, her voice sharp. “Who knows what her intentions were?” 

“Hey, no! She's lying! You told me it was the general's room!” You interjected, desperation rising in your throat. “She's deceiving you—believe me! She’s a liar!”

Out of nowhere, the old woman’s hand flew across your face, delivering a stinging slap that left you momentarily speechless. A sharp pain erupted on your cheek, and reflexively, you pressed your palm against it, feeling the heat radiate from the spot as tears blurred your vision. “How dare you call my daughter a liar?” she thundered, her voice cracking like a whip. “What right do you have to step foot in my room after I told you to stay out of my sight?”

“I didn’t know it was your room—” Before you could even finish your sentence, she gripped your hair with surprising strength, yanking it as if trying to pull you closer. “Shut your mouth,” she commanded, her voice low and threatening, leaving you feeling both powerless and shocked. “Bring the whip at once. Apparently, this is how I must teach you rules and manners. Bring the girls responsible for this girl here too.”

Did she just say 'the whip'?

No, that couldn't be right; they couldn't be so primitive, so cruel.

Could they?

They brought the whip along with the other two girls. They fell at her feet, begging for forgiveness. It broke your heart to see them in such a state. This was a consequence of your own foolishness and Lydia's deceit. 

She looked at you and the girls, smiling cruelly. 

What a bitch.

So, even in ancient Rome, there were undoubtedly cruel individuals. Why were you surprised anyway?

Such people have always existed and will continue to exist in the world. 

“It’s my fault,” you suddenly said. “These girls didn’t know, they're innocent. I will take the punishment; please spare them.” 

Lydia almost laughed and felt cheerful as she looked at her mother.

"Very well." Domina signaled to the slaves and two of them came to you and turned you around. One of them stripped off your dress exposing your back. You were trembling with fear; you had never felt so scared in your life.

“Grab her arms,” she said, adding more fear to your fear. Your body shook uncontrollably, and your tears flowed like waterfalls.

All those movies came to your mind, depicting scenes of whipping and wounds.

“Oh, God, please,” you murmured, pleading, hoping for something to happen.

In that moment, a masculine voice shouted, “Mother!” It was filled with anger and warning, but it was too late. You felt the blow of the whip on your bare back with a great reverberation. You gasped, as if your ribs had been crushed from back to front and your heart was about to jump out of your throat. And the pain came later than the sound, searing, crushing, so strong and sharp that your brain stopped functioning. If they hadn't been holding you tightly, you would have collapsed violently to the ground already. You couldn't feel your feet; all you could feel was the wound in your back as if they had cut you with a knife.

Your cries reverberating in the courtyard. That voice you just heard, the commanding voice of a man, echoed around you, likely directed at his mother, but the words were drowned out by the buzzing in your ears. Every thought focused on the searing pain from your wound, and your vision blurred, turned murky as if shrouded in fog. Just as you felt yourself slipping away, strong arms enveloped you, preventing your fall before you could collapse to the ground. 

Looking up, you were met not by the face you had expected, it wasn't him, it was his brother. Suddenly, it was as if the world sharpened around you, and you could hear his voice cutting through the haze. “How dare you treat my brother's guest like some common slave? What are we going to say to him now?” he snapped at his mother, his tone laced with indignation. 

He lifted you with unexpected gentleness, surprising both you and the onlookers around you. The weightlessness was brief as he carried you to a different room, where he gently set you down on a luxurious lectus. His demeanor shifted; he hesitated to touch you, yet he grasped your chin with careful fingers, lifting your gaze to meet his. “Are you alright?” he asked, a storm of concern evident in his eyes.

How could you even answer that?

You were far from alright; you were in terrible pain, feeling paralyzed by it. 

He glanced away, frustration flickering across his features. “Damn it. My brother Acacius sent me to check on you, and look what I found. Oh mother, why did you do this?” His voice softened as he urged, “Lie down here. I'll find the medicus and come back shortly.” 

You could barely catch his words; your eyelids were heavy, and all you could focus on was that soothing hum in the background.

When you finally opened your eyes, the rough texture of the wall met your gaze as a low murmur pierced the haze of your mind. A voice drifted to you from behind. “Fortunately, the whip’s blow wasn’t deep; the bleeding has ceased. If she applies the ointment I prepared, it will mend in a few weeks.”

You closed your eyes again, the ache in your back still pulsing. When you opened them again, a familiar voice drifted in, but it felt far away. “You may hold the title of Domina in this house, but remember, I am not your trueborn son. As the paterfamilias, it is I who commands, and everyone under this roof must heed my authority.”

Closing your eyes again, you felt the weight of your own anger seep into every fiber of your being. A hand brushed against your back, the coolness of an ointment container sending a shiver through you. When you turned, his face was stark against the dim light, concern etched on his features.

“Are you awake? Stay still while I apply the ointment,” he said, his tone laced with an authority you found infuriating.

So frustrated, you propped yourself up and slapped him across the face, tears of anger stinging your eyes. “This is all your fault! Why did you just disappear and leave me with these people? Where the hell have you been?”

He didn't even flinch. “Are you still in pain? I heard Julius arrived just in time.” His tone was even, but the lack of sympathy ignited the fire within you.

“I’m in pain, yes, but not because of my wound. It’s the humiliation—the way they treated me,” you spat, turning your back on him in frustration. He continued to apply the ointment quietly, a reminder of your wounded pride.

“Is it always like this? How one person tie up another like an animal? Do you have to be the daughter of someone important for anyone to care about what you say? Nobody takes a slave an outlander seriously, but if a noble girl lies, everyone believes her, right? Is this what Rome is like?”

Ignoring your questions but contemplating about them at the same time, he stood and placed the pot of ointment onto the nearby table. “Can you stand?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

“I thought that if I could take you there and you read the words inscribed in the parchment. Maybe this time it might open a path for you to return to your own time at last”

“First, give me my bag.” 

He nodded, calling out, “Julius!” 

Moments later, Julius entered with your bag in hand, his expression solemn. “Do you feel well, now?” he asked as he handed it over.

“Yes,” you replied, accepting it with gratitude. “Thank you for saving me,” you muttered, your anger dissipating slightly.

“No. I’m sorry I wasn’t there in time to prevent her,” he said, extending his hand toward you. “How is your wound?”

“Better, and it will be well,” Marcus answered for you, his voice firm. “We should leave now.” 

You eagerly rummaged through your bag, relief flooding over you as you confirmed everything was intact—reminders of your life, your comrades. A smile tugged at your lips when you found the painkiller. “I need some water, psycho. I have to take this pill,” you murmured.

Julius chuckled lightly, while Marcus shot him a disapproving look, his brow furrowed with annoyance.

What was that?

One of the slaves trembled as he offered you water. 

“Oh right, I asked the great general for water. My bad,” you said, popping the pill into your mouth.

“It’s not that you asked for water; it���s that you called me that peculiar, disrespectful term,” Marcus hissed.

You rolled your eyes, sipping the water. “I’m not from here, I am an outlander, so I can say what I want.” 

“No, you cannot,” he retorted sternly. “I hope this time it works—so you can leave soon,” he added before turning to exit the room.

“I want to return more than you want me to!” you called after him.

Julius burst into laughter. “I’ve never encountered a woman like you before. You’re truly something else.” 

“Believe me, you haven’t,” you laughed back as he extended his hand to help you up.

“Besides, I’ve never seen my brother so anxious in the presence of a woman before. In fact, no one has. Perhaps it’s because you traveled from another time.”

That caught you by surprise.

“True, he shared everything with me. Don’t worry, nobody else knows.” 

“So you just believed him right away?”

“My brother never tells lies; I trust his every word. He’s a man of honor.” 

You examined his face, noting the softer features that set him apart from Marcus. He looked a decade younger, his skin caramel and hair tousled, a perpetual smile illuminating his countenance. He exuded warmth and friendliness that drew you in, and despite the chaos around you, you found yourself liking him.

"Why, why, why, why?"

You were stuck on those words in the parchment, reading them over and over, but nothing happened. It felt like you were running in place, just trying to grasp something that slipped right through your fingers.

"You spell it like this last time, and... the... path... opened...?" Julius inquired, his voice laced with uncertainty as he leaned closer, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your gaze drifting toward Marcus. "Was anything different when you traveled to my time that night? Has anything changed compared to tonight? Was the place altered somehow? Please, just one detail could make a difference! Try to remember."

Marcus crossed his arms, a stark figure of calmness that only fanned the flames of your frustration. "I wasn't here that night."

Shock rippled through you. "What? You weren't here?"

‘He was in the barracks,’ Julius interjected.

Marcus nodded. "They attacked me there, and I… died. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in your time."

Your heart raced, eyes widening as the weight of his words sank in. "What did you say? Died? Why didn’t you mention that before?"

"You wouldn’t have believed me," Marcus replied, adjusting the lethal strips of his armor with casualness. "You kept addressing me with words I didn’t know the meaning of and never believed what I was saying. Would it have made any difference if I said it?"

You sighed, lips tight. "But seriously? You’re dead? Dying and coming back… how does that even work? This is just... bullshit." You ran your fingers through your hair, feeling totally lost. "I can’t wrap my head around this. I don’t even know where to begin." Then a wild thought popped into your head. "Wait, do I have to die too? Maybe that’s how I’ll wake up there. What do you think?"

Both men stared at you like you’d gone off the deep end. 

Marcus then responded, a hint of sarcasm in his tone as he kept his serious look. "Are you really considering ending your life? If it doesn’t work, you die for nothing? That idea is completely unreasonable."

"Well then, Mr. General, what do you suggest?" 

"This parchment is a prayer. If we can find who wrote it, maybe we’ll have a clue," Marcus murmured.

"Priests and priestesses, they who inscribe the sacred symbols of the divine, much like on your own bulla... brother." Julius hesitated at the end of his sentence, a flicker of apprehension crossing his features as if he regretted speaking at all.

Suddenly, a shadow crossed Marcus’s face—pain or anger, or both, you couldn’t tell for sure. 

Wait a minute, can they see those symbols? Katie didn't notice them last time.

What the fuck?

"So? What does that mean?"

"Tomorrow, I’ll go to the temple and speak to the pontifex maximus (the high priest)," he said, his voice cracking. Marcus wrestled with unseen emotions before regaining his composure; you wondered what caused this change in him. "We need to move forward promptly, night is approaching. I can’t take you back to the villa in case something happens while I’m away. So, I’ll take you somewhere safer."

‘Wait a minute,’ you stopped him, an idea sparking in your mind. ‘To the barracks? If I can read the words there, I can—’

"No, you can’t set foot in there," he growled, turning sharply away.

You furrowed your brow in frustration. "Why is he so angry?"

"It’s no place for women," Julius explained, falling into step beside you as you both trailed after Marcus.

"So, where are we going?"

"To the house of the second person my brother trusts most in this life," he replied, his voice softening slightly as a hint of familiarity entered it.

“Who is it?”

“Lady Lucilla.”

"There's no way I'm riding that!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with disbelief as you stared at the majestic horse before you. 

“Have you never ridden a horse before?” Julius asked, his eyes widening with surprise.

“We drive in cars, not horses. Sure, I know some folks ride in the countryside or for sport, but honestly, I've never even sat on one before,” you admitted, your heart thumping in rhythm with your anxiety as you eyed the large beast with trepidation.

“It is quite a distance to our destination, and walking may be time-consuming and exhausting," Marcus said, mounting the horse expertly. “Julius, help her get on my back.”

Julius nodded, extending his hands toward you. “Just give me a moment!” you protested, halting him with outstretched palms, eyes locked on the horse. “I need to prepare myself mentally first.”

He chuckled. “Don’t be scared, I’m here. Just place your foot here.” He motioned to the stirrup while enveloping your waist with one steady arm.

Marcus rolled his eyes, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features at the sight of Julius’s unguarded touch lingering on you. “Take my hand,” he urged, his voice resolute and sounding like a warning, extending his hand toward you.

You complied, gripping it tightly as you placed your foot in the stirrup. Julius supported you as you clambered onto Marcus's back, mindful of the wound on your back. Once seated, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his torso, clutching him tightly. In your fear, you closed your eyes, unaware of how uncomfortable you were making him. His breath hitched in his chest, and he felt your warmth pressed against him, the thin fabric of your black robe a mere barrier between you.

“How can I breathe when you cling to me like that?” he grumbled, wrestling your hands free to ease the pressure.

Opening your eyes, you replied, “It’s my first time on a horse! Can’t you be a little understanding? Aaaah!”

With a sudden jolt, he urged the horse forward, and your grip tightened once more, this time eliciting an unexpected smirk from him. As your initial panic began to fade, he turned the horse around to gather his thoughts. Casting a glance back at Julius, he said, “You go on ahead. I will ensure her safe arrival there and return to the villa."

“What? You’re going to leave me and return?” you squeaked, incredulous.

Julius smiled at you. “I hope to see you again.”

Before you could grasp the gravity of his words, Marcus kicked the horse into motion again, this time heading down the road. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your head against his back. 

“Does your back hurt?” he asked over the rhythmic pounding of hooves.

“A little, but it’s nothing serious. Why do you ask?”

In response, he kicked the horse's flanks, propelling it forward at a faster pace. A small scream escaped your lips. “Goodness! Don’t ride so fast, you psycho! Are you trying to scare me to death?"

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying your dismay. “Cover your head,” he instructed as you approached a grand garden and a tall gate. He pulled the horse to a halt, and the sight of a man in polished armor standing by the gate captured your attention. 

“General,” the armored man saluted.

As the gate swung open, you couldn’t tear your gaze from the intricately designed metal armor. Its craftsmanship was astonishing, far beyond anything you had ever seen or created in your costume design endeavors. It all felt surreal.

Marcus stopped the horse by a beautiful fountain, where bystanders began to approach, their curious gazes lingering on you. Dismounting, he turned to face you, his expression now serious. “Now, I want you to lower your foot off the horse.”

You nodded hesitantly. “What if I fall?”

“I won’t let you fall,” he assured you, holding out his hand. “Trust me.”

“Better catch me, or—” you began to protest as you attempted to swing your leg around. “Why is this dress so long?” you exclaimed, lifting the fabric only to realize it was inching dangerously close to revealing more than intended. 

Fortunately, Marcus caught you as you slipped, his grip firm yet gentle, but his hands inadvertently brushed against the back of your thighs.  He quickly set you down, maybe a bit more forcefully than he intended, his hands clenching into fists like he was trying to shake off the awkwardness of that brief touch. “Stop fiddling with that dress. Do you take pleasure in revealing your legs?  Be more careful!” he scolded.

“Revealing... What? What can I do about it? It’s too long!” you shot back, still trying to manage the fabric.

“General Acacius,” a woman said with a tone of respect and authority.

You both turned and looked at the owner of the voice. It was a tall blonde woman who looked exactly like a Roman noble lady. Just like the statues in those museums. She was beautiful and charming despite her age.

Marcus bowed his head. "My lady."

Her jewelry clinked as she approached. "Who is this girl? To what do I owe the honor of your coming to my villa at this hour?" She looked you up and down and you smiled nervously.

“Forgive me, my lady, I wouldn't bother you at this hour if I didn't need help.”

You looked at him with your eyes wide open. That rude, grumpy, cold man had suddenly become a kind man.

"Why don't we talk inside?" she said, inviting you in. "Leta! Serve wine to our guests," she said to someone at the couryard and turned away so you can follow her inside.

You leaned toward Marcus as you walked together behind her. "Is she your girlfriend or something? Beautiful woman, congrats dude."

He looked at you sharply. "Cease your nonsene, never talk like that in front of her. Remember what I told you before and don't disrespect her. You'd better keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking."

"Do you want me to leave you two alone?" you taunted playfully stretching out the word 'alone.'

His expression hardened even more. "You truly are a shameless woman with no respect."

“And you're a caveman with no sense of humor,” you muttered.

The woman invited you to sit at a table. There were fruits and something bread-like on it. Finally something to eat. As soon as you sat down, you grabbed the apple from the fruit plate, ignoring Marcus' judgmental gaze on you as you ate it, looking at her and smiling. “I'm sorry, but I haven't eaten since this morning, thanks to some people.” you said, squinting at Marcus.

Lucilla laughed and looked at the woman serving wine. “Leta, bring her some proper food.”

"Thank you very much, ma'am, um my lady."

The food they brought was very good, but you were eating a little too fast because you were starving. "You could eat a little more politely," Marcus hissed.

"I'm famished," you grumbled. "And I can't get better if I don't eat properly," you said with your mouth full.

Marcus turned his head away, obviously embarrassed by you.

“I’m truly sorry I couldn’t attend the banquet,” she said to Marcus, stifling a laugh at your unapologetic behavior.

"My lady, please rest assured, there was nothing of interest anyway."

"I heard about that you were attacked. Did you find out who did it?"

"Yes, and I punished them, but I couldn' let them talk."

“Could it be Severus?"

"Emperor Severus? I doubt it. Why do you think he would?"

Lucilla smoothed her dress and adjusted herself more comfortably in her ornate chair. “He might harbor resentment towards you for helping Lucius. Never place your trust in him, Acacius.”

They both turned to the sound of your coughing. Marcus handed you some wine. "I told you to eat slowly," he scolded.

Lucilla looked at you both and stood up. "Acacius," she said, calling him to her side.

They walked slowly towards the fountain, a distance you couldn't hear.

“She is a little odd, an outlander maybe? I have never seen her before.”

"My lady, this is a difficult thing to say. I can only say that I promised to send her back and she needs to stay somewhere until I find a way."

"Lady Balbina and your sister Lydia have obviously been difficult on her. Since you brought her here."

“You are correct, my lady. If her presence is an inconvenience, I will take her elsewhere; I certainly do not wish for her to cause any disturbance.”

“Of course, she is welcome to stay. I must express my astonishment though, I've never seen you with a woman since...”

Marcus paused and looked directly at her. “It's not like that, I assure you, my lady. I only made a promise and I must fulfill it, there is no other meaning.”

"Well, it would be good to see you with a woman rather than always grieving. I thought for a moment you had opened your closed heart to this woman that you couldn't even open to me."

Marcus looked away, his expression dark, gaze cold as ice. "As I’ve already stated, there’s no hidden meaning behind it. I ask you to endure this for just a few days; you may confine her if it eases your mind. I will now take my leave," he nodded to her and turned to leave.

"I'll return tomorrow evening, so there's no need for concern. Please don't create difficulties for Lady Lucilla during my absence; behave yourself and wait for my return."

Marcus’s words echoed in your mind as he rode off into the distance, disappearing, leaving you alone in this unfamiliar and somewhat unsettling place. Lady Lucilla appeared to be kind, but there was an air of strangeness that had settled since your arrival. Still, she was certainly a relief compared to Marcus’s cruel stepmother and evil sister, and you were allowed to wander through the sprawling courtyard.

Now, nestled in the soothing warmth of your tranquilizer pill, a wave of comfort enveloped you. Morning light filtered through the grand windows as you pulled your phone from your bag, only to be met with a frustrating ‘no network’ error. What had you expected? This was ancient Rome, devoid of GSM or Wi-Fi. With your battery at 67%, you decided to turn it off, conserving it for later.

But your chill vibe was quickly ruined by the awful smell of horse manure in the air. You really needed a shower; it was like a craving. Based on what you knew about Roman villas and their grandeur—this one was way bigger than Marcus's place—there had to be a bath somewhere. And sure enough, Lady Lucilla had mentioned you could use it, which brought a wave of relief. Once you were inside, you almost jumped for joy. The space was huge, with stone walls and steam rising everywhere, like a fancy bathhouse rather than just a simple pool. But then it hit you: no soap or shampoo—those were luxuries that hadn’t been invented yet. A little panic set in at the thought of dirty hair, but then some slaves brought you flower essences and oils that surprisingly smelled good.

As you soaked in the hot water, the pleasant smells revitalized you. Just when you were starting to unwind, a sharp pain shot from the wound on your back—a reminder that you’d forgotten to use the ointment Marcus gave you. You cursed yourself for not including a proper first aid kit in your bag; instead, you made do with only hand and face cream.

Then, amidst the tranquility, you heard a whistle—sharp and unexpected. A deep, unfamiliar, masculine voice followed, cutting through your moment of solace. "Gods above. What have we got here? Am I dreaming or what?" You instinctively crossed your arms over your chest, a sudden wave of vulnerability crashing over you.

What was a man doing here?

You froze in panic. When you turned to see who was talking, there was a man close to your age, with a playful grin o his face, his head tilted to the side as he clearly enjoyed the sight.

Frustration bubbled up inside you. “What are you staring at? Turn around and get lost!”

Instead of leaving, he laughed hard, stepped closer, a predatory gleam in his eyes. In a panic, you sank deeper into the water, the heat now a fierce contrast to the throbbing pain in your back. “Don’t come any closer or—”

“Or?” he challenged, his grin widening.

“Or I’ll scream!” You could feel the rising tide of emotion pushing to break free.

He chuckled, undeterred, and crouched before you, curiosity dancing in his gaze. With no choice left, you screamed at the top of your lungs, "Lady Lucilla! Leta! Help!"

“Oh, stop squealing like a damn rat,” he growled.

Within moments, a bunch of slaves rushed in, looking both concerned and annoyed. Lady Lucilla soon followed, glancing between you and the guy. “Lucius! My son!”

Your heart raced—her son? You watched them hug, the warmth of their family bond hitting you hard while your anxiety spiked. Lucius turned your way, curiosity painted on his face. "Who’s this girl? She doesn’t even look like a slave."

Lucilla sighed, focus returning to you, as she commanded one of the slaves, “Leta, get her dressed and get her out of there. Enough with the bath.” Her demeanor softened as she turned back to Lucius. "When did you arrive? I didn’t expect you so soon. I couldn't even speak to Severus."

“I arrrived this morning. Acacius' men brought me,” he replied.

Lucilla paused for a moment, a hint of worry flashing across her face before she focused back on the situation. "Come, I'll feed you. You must be hungry."

“Oh my god! It’s Marcus Aurelius.” 

The moment your eyes landed on the bust of the emperor, which was Lizzie's favorite in the grand courtyard, your heart raced as if it might leap from your chest. Just last month, you had marveled at the original in a museum, but this one looked absolutely amazing, with a brighter contrast to the original.

“That girl is really disrespectful; she talks like she’s met my grandfather,” Lucius remarked, swirling his goblet of wine. 

Lucilla, lounging gracefully in her chair, rolled her eyes. 

Did he just say grandfather?

No way. 

A wave of anxiety washed over you again.

“Your name is Lucius Verus Aurelius, and your name is Annia Aurelia Galeria Lucilla. Is that true?” you ventured, not quite believing what you were saying. 

Lucius flashed a roguish grin. “Even a five-year-old knows that. Why are you so surprised?” 

“My sister admires him—well, your father, my lady,” you corrected quickly.

Lucilla reclined back, a soft smile dancing on her lips. “My father was a very wise man, a good emperor. Many still hold him in high regard.” 

“I wish we could say the same about the current emperor,” Lucius muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. 

Lucilla shot him a warning glance that could silence a storm. 

Right, the current emperor.

You couldn’t ask about that directly. You could already feel the awkwardness creeping in. You racked your brain, trying to recall your Roman history. It couldn’t be Commodus; it had to be after him. Oh, those years with all those emperors. Which one was it again? You figured it was best to talk to Marcus when he showed up. But he didn’t come. It was dark now, and he was still missing. 

Living in this ridiculous, twisted reality without him was nearly unbearable. Being around living versions of those historical figures you only knew from books and museums felt surreal. You needed something to take the edge off, another pill.

“I wouldn’t do that,” a voice drawled from the corridor, making you jump. 

Lucius approached, his presence both imposing and oddly captivating, as he leaned casually against the stone pillars. 

“You wouldn’t do what?” you asked, confused.

“I mean I wouldn’t venture out into the courtyard,” he explained, his gaze drifting over the stone wall. “They’re here.” 

“Who?” you followed his line of sight.

In the shadows of the courtyard, illuminated by flickering torches, two young blonde men sat facing Lucilla. One was tall and striking, exuding an air of authority; the other, shorter and clearly overwhelmed, seemed to shrink under the weight of expectation. When you caught sight of the golden crowns atop their heads, panic seized your gut. “Who are they?” you stammered.

“They are Geta, the cunning one, and Caracalla, the mad one."

Your eyes widened in disbelief. 

“The sons of Emperor Septimius Severus?” 

His silence confirmed your fears. 

“Oh, no. Fuck. Why? Why?” you moaned, pressing your hands against your temples, feeling the heat of dread seep into your bones. 

“What’s wrong with you? Your face has turned pale,” Lucius observed, his smirk painting an amused picture against your turmoil. 

You sank your head into your hands. “How much worse can this get? I just want this nightmare to end. That psycho is nowhere to be found. He promised he’d come,” you lamented.

“General?” he chuckled. “You actually believe he’ll return?” 

You eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean by that?” 

“He must want to be rid of you if he brought you here,” he replied, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. 

"Stay out of stuff you don’t get."

“This is a prison,” he said. “Once something enters these walls, it rarely escapes. Just think about it—my mother, Lucilla, hasn’t seen the outside world since that day—only allowed out for the Princes’ birthday celebrations. She was practically coerced into attending that damned banquet.”

"But she’s the princess, right? She’s kind of important, and there are soldiers—"

“Praetorians,” he corrected, his voice dripping with disdain. “And they’re the emperor’s dogs. They do whatever he says."

“So your mother is being held here against her will, like some form of house arrest?” you asked.

“Yes, because of her importance and me, and also because of the general.” 

“What do you mean?"

"The general serves the emperor, not my mother. Severus didn't deserve the throne. After my uncle's death, everything became chaotic. Severus manipulated the military to seize power over the Senate. It could have been different if Acacius had assisted me, but he didn't. Unlike Severus, he has no interest in politics, Acacius is a man of war, eager for battle—though I know the real reason behind that."

"What reason?" Your heart raced, curiosity fighting against your unease.

He grinned, brushing his finger against your cheek. His touch made you uneasy. “That one thing that bothers all men.” 

You recoiled, pushing his hand away, your pulse quickening. “Anyway, I believe he will come—he promised me.” 

“Keep waiting then, flower.” 

You stood there, eyes wide, watching him walk away, his words ringing in your head.

The only thing that bothers all men. 

What could that possibly mean?

Or was he alluding to love or something equally absurd? That cold, grump guy—love? What could he possibly know about any of that?

It felt like the most absurd joke ever.

“We must do this to eliminate Acacius.”

You turned your head, it was Geta. You were curious about what he was talking about. And why did Lucilla seem so unfazed? Then you remembered Marcus’s earlier words: “Someone betrayed me; I need to find out who.” 

Was it Lucilla?

What kind of outrageous nonsense is this?!

This was all beginning to feel like one of those dramatic soap operas—full of intrigue, even in the world of ancient Rome.

You reached into your bag, fingers grazing the familiar contours of a pillbox, but just as you grasped it, an unexpected yelp rent the air. A quick flicker of movement caught your eye—a creature, not quite human, darted past you with astonishing speed, snatching the pillbox from your grip. It leaped away with the agility of mischief incarnate.

A fucking monkey? 

For a moment, you froze, utterly astonished. Then instinct kicked in, propelling you into a chase. “Hey! Come back here, you little thief!” you shouted, your heart racing as you pursued the nimble primate. It was a ridiculous pursuit; the monkey, far too agile, danced and dodged your every effort, leaving you flustered.

“Dondus! Where—” 

Before you could figure out who shouted, you collided with someone and fell to the ground.

“What the hell?” the person exclaimed, clearly annoyed.

You rubbed your head where it bumped against his. “Watch where you’re going!” you shot back, realizing too late you just insulted a prince—probably Caracalla.

“How dare you!” he bellowed, scrambling to his feet, his garments slightly askew. Perched on his shoulder was the very monkey you were still trying to catch, nibbling curiously on your pill box.

You pointed accusingly at him. “That’s mine!”

“Brother, what’s happening here?” Geta called out, approaching with Lucilla by his side.

“This insolent wretch dared to throw herself at me, sending me sprawling!” Caracalla’s voice dripped with indignation.

Your blood boiled. “I didn’t mean to! The monkey stole my medicine!”

Geta wrinkled his nose, scrutinizing you with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. “How dare you treat my brother, your prince, with such disrespect?” His sudden grip on your hair made you gasp, panic surging as you felt his intimidating presence. “Do you wish for your life to be snuffed out?” The menace woven in his tone made you swallow hard.

“Who is this? A slave of yours?” he tossed at Lucilla.

Lucilla rolled her eyes at you, her lips parting to speak when the thunderous neigh of a horse interrupted. 

“My Lady!” 

All eyes turned toward the sound, and relief washed over you as you spotted Marcus. In a flash, you elbowed Geta, urgency driving you to escape from his grasp. He groaned as you dashed toward Marcus who leaped down from his horse. You huddled behind him, a barrier against the escalating tension. Marcus nodded toward the princes, a mix of confusion and caution shadowing his posture.

“Acacius?” Caracalla narrowed his gaze, suspicion oozing from his words.

“You whore!” Geta thundered, clutching his side where you had elbowed him earlier. “General Acacius, I insist you tell me—what is your connection to this insolent girl? Speak up immediately!"

"Do you know her?” Caracalla asked.

Marcus glanced at Lucilla, then swiftly nodded. “Yes, your highness, I do.”

“I swear I didn’t do anything,” you whispered to him, desperation crystallizing your words. “His monkey took my medicine. He started it!”

“Do not say another word, girl or I'll cut off your tongue,” Marcus snarled through clenched teeth, clearly tense, startling you.

You pressed your lips together in response, a wave of fear silencing the words that lingered on the tip of your tongue.

It became clear that you had both landed in a perilous situation. 

“There’s one more thing I’m curious about: Do you visit Lucilla often?” Geta's tone dripped with dry sarcasm, a predator circling its prey.

Marcus's eyes hardened. "I was surprised to find you here at this hour. I thought you might be with your father, who told me you weren't joining him for dinner and asked if I could help. It seems I was right to look for you here."

“Are you demanding an explanation from us, general? We can go wherever we please!” Caracalla retorted, anger flaring in his words.

“Of course, you may, it is not my place to tell you otherwise. However, as I mentioned, the emperor is concerned, and it is my duty to serve him,” Marcus replied, steady and resolute.

"Looks like you're dodging the real issue here, Acacius," Geta said, shooting you a pointed look. "I wonder why..."

With a gesture, he signaled one of the guards standing by the fountain. The guard bowed his head and approached you, reaching out to grab your arm. Marcus’s muscles tensed, an uncertain battle waging within him as he watched, powerless to intervene.

The piercing sound of metal as the guard unsheathed his sword reverberated in your ears, but when it was pressed against your throat you felt your heart beating right there.

You gasped and screamed.

“Please! I didn’t do anything!” Your heart raced with fear, body trembling.

"Do you hold any concern for this woman? No? If she’s merely a slave, I assume you find it acceptable for her to suffer the consequences of this defiance against your prince."

What the hell is this?

'Suffer the consequences…'

You looked at Marcus, your eyes wide, but he didn’t even flinch—just cold and blank. Then it hit you: everyone else was the same, totally chill like this kind of thing happened all the time. Was offing someone part of their daily routine? Panic shot through you because you had zero plans of being a victim. “Do something, you psycho! Tell him I saved your life!” you shouted, feeling the guard shake you hard in his rage. Caracalla’s laughter sliced through the air, wild and menacing, like a predator enjoying the hunt.

“Is that even true?” Geta said, clearly amused.

“Come on! Tell them you forced me here! Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you really just going to let them kill me? After everything I’ve done for you? What if I hadn’t come to get you from that police station—”

“Shut…” he growled, then went on in a quieter tone. “…that mouth.”

Geta and Caracalla traded glances and burst out laughing.

"Do you have feelings for this girl, general? Our father will be deeply affected when he finds out about this; was she the cause of your rejection of the unions he proposed for you?" Geta teased, still chuckling at Caracalla.

Lucilla crossed her arms, all of them looking at Marcus, waiting for an explanation. 

With a heavy exhale, Marcus gathered himself, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “This woman...” He swallowed hard, searching for the right words, but found there was no escape from the truth. “It’s all true...” His gaze flicked to you for a heartbeat and then fell away, as if he couldn’t bear the intensity of the moment. “I brought her here because...” He closed his eyes, letting out a pained breath. “She is the woman I love.”

There was silence, you stood there with your eyes and mouth wide open, almost forgetting the sword pressed against your throat.

“I ask you to release her. I promise you that nothing like this will ever happen again. Forgive me for everything that has transpired. My lady, I beg you to forgive me as well. I have caused you trouble.”

Wait a minute — that “trouble” was you?

With a dismissive gesture, Geta motioned to the guards, who stepped back to release you. “So the rumors had a kernel of truth. My father will certainly be surprised to hear this, Acacius,” Geta chuckled, his grin widening as he ambled towards the waiting carriage in the garden. Caracalla snatched the medicine box and threw it in your direction. “Don't appear before me again."

You squinted at him, relief flooding through you as he returned your medicine box. Lucilla’s gaze lingered on you as their carriage rolled away. “Did you lie to me, Acacius? I never took you for a dishonest man. You’ve disappointed me.”

Marcus bowed his head. “My lady, I implore your forgiveness.”

“Regardless, it’s not suitable for this woman to remain here now that Lucius is present. Please, take her and leave.” With a casual wave of her hand, she turned and strode back inside.

I didn't like staying here anyway, you thought to yourself.

Marcus turned and walked to his horse, where a slave was holding the reins. The slave gave a quick salute, he then grabbed the reins, and hopped on without hesitation.

“Are you really going to leave me here?” you wailed, jogging to catch up with him.

He glanced over his shoulder, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes, then extended his hand. You reached for it, trying to pull yourself up onto the saddle, but stumbled and landed hard on your butt. “Aah, shit,” you groaned, wincing at your clumsiness. 

With a deep sigh, Marcus dismounted. “You really are a troublesome one,” he remarked, and before you could protest, he grasped you by the waist, effortlessly lifting you and placing you onto the horse like you were as light as a feather. He swiftly mounted, took the reins, and urged the horse into a gallop. The wind whipped through your hair as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, exhilarated to escape from this place, though a wave of nervousness washed over you about what awaited next.

Julius was waiting for you near the Pantheon in the distance. Marcus dismounted, gently lowering you to the ground before turning back to guide his horse toward his brother. You rushed after him, your bag slung over your shoulder, urgency in your steps as you looked up at his face. “Hey, are you mad at me or something? It was not my fault, I swear. As if it wasn’t enough dealing with that Lucius guy, then that monkey came along and stole my medicine. How was I supposed to know it was Caracalla’s monkey? I still can’t believe he’s the real Caracalla. Do you know how significant he was in my time?” Despite your frantic words, he remained silent, his focus ahead, lost in thought as he strode forward.

“Um... did you mean what you said back there? Were you serious? I mean, I was really surprised. You don’t exactly seem like the love type, and you’re always so grumpy with me. You won't even look me in the eye. Seriously, you’re still not making eye contact.” He turned his head, when you were stealing a glance at his face. “Look, you’re still avoiding my gaze.” 

He picked up the pace, and you hurried to keep up. “Honestly, I’m mad at you. It was dark, you didn’t show, and that Lucius guy said you weren’t coming, and I—” Suddenly, he grabbed your wrist, spun you around, and pulled you in close, your body bumping against his shoulder. “Never approach someone with a sword from behind. And never touch him without warning. If you do, your hands will be cut off immediately.’" Then he shoved you forward, and you stumbled, nearly losing your balance. Anger bubbled up inside you as you shot him a look—still rubbing that sore spot where his hand had grabbed you. “Wow, you’re seriously rude! You’ve got zero sense of humor."

“What I said earlier...” he started to explain.

“Yeah, I get it,” you cut him off.

He blinked, looking caught off guard. “Get... what?”

“You had to say it; I get it. I’m not stupid. And honestly, I don’t care. I’ve got no interest in arrogant guys like you. Let’s just say I didn’t hear a thing.”

“Good,” he muttered, his voice barely making it out.

Feeling a sudden jolt of courage, you stepped in closer, put your hand on the corner of your mouth, and whispered playfully, “But too late; I’ve already heard everything,” nudging him with your elbow before darting off toward Julius, who was standing on the steps of the grand temple. Marcus just stared after you, his fingers still lingering where you nudged him. 'Gods. Among all those people from her time, why did it have to be her, why?' he thought angrily.

Once again, the night had turned out to be a total bust. Even though you had put in the effort to spell out the ancient parchment's inscriptions, nothing had changed. A wave of despair washed over you as the thought crossed your mind: 'What if I never make it back home?' Your thoughts lingered on your sister and father; your work felt minuscule compared to family. You longed to escape this bizarre, anachronistic world that felt so alien.

While you journeyed through your thoughts, the horse abruptly halted, jolting you back to reality—you were at Marcus’s villa. The thought of entering sent a shiver down your spine. “That woman won’t want me here,” you mumbled, dread twisting in your gut.

Marcus looked at you with unwavering eyes. “No one will ever harm you again, you have my word,” he said with a conviction that defied doubt.

“Why are you so confident? That woman—and her daughter—they scare me,” you admitted, anxiety clawing at your insides.

“Trust me,” he asured you before stepping into the courtyard.

You looked at Julius, whose gentle smile offered slight reassurance. “Trust my brother,” he insisted.

What was he insinuating? 

You didn’t have many options left but to take a leap of faith; you were stuck here, after all.

As you stepped into the grand courtyard, the old woman and her daughter regarded you, their eyes widening in surprise. They rose from their seats, gliding toward Marcus, and your nerves instantly tightened with memories.

Marcus surveyed the gathering, as if to ensure that every ear was attentive, preparing them for something significant. His gaze darted to you momentarily, then he composed himself, taking a deep breath as he addressed everyone. “I’m going to say this just once, so listen carefully. As the eldest living male in our family, I’ve reached a decision that you all must honor.” He paused, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of contemplation and determination. Then, with a commanding gesture, he continued, “This woman will now be considered part of our household, treated as if she were our own kin. Any hint of disrespect towards her will be viewed as a direct affront to me.”

A grateful, warm smile emerged on your face, yet the anger brewing inside Balbina was evident, prompting you to suppress a mocking laugh.

“Acacius, my son,” she began, her voice laced with scorn. “What title will this woman have while she is here? Considering that Julius is a widower and you are an unmarried man, her staying here might raise questions about propriety and attract unnecessary gossip. You are aware of how individuals can be quick to judge, especially in your position as a general. Such circumstances could potentially jeopardize your reputation. Furthermore, I want to remind you that she is not a citizen.”

“Do you think I’m unaware of these implications? I will petition the Emperor for special permission to grant her conubium,” he declared.

Gasps erupted from the residents of the house. 

Lydia fumbled, dropping the glass in her hand, her jaw hanging open in disbelief. Balbina pressed a trembling hand against her chest, shock evident on her face. Julius's expression mirrored the astonishment shared by everyone present. Even the slaves froze, exchanging wide-eyed glances, as though witnessing something very rare.

You, however, were completely lost. The word “conubium” escaped your mind entirely, leaving you confused as you tried to remember its meaning.

“Preparations will commence tomorrow,” Marcus continued, his voice assertive. “Prepare one of the other rooms for her, she shall stay there until then.” With that, he strode purposefully up the stairs, leaving the courtyard in a hush of murmurs, disbelief, chaos.

Lydia steadying her flustered mother, they were still caught in shock, trading looks of disbelief.

“What’s going on? Why is everyone so surprised?” you asked Julius, your eyes still on Marcus, who was ascending the stairs without looking back at you or anyone else.

“Don’t you understand?” 

You shook your head. “I mean, I’m not certain what that word means.” 

He sighed, a hint of bewilderment slipping through. “Honestly, I’m surprised too; I never guessed my brother would do this.”

“What? Why? What did he just say?” 

“He conveyed his intention to marry you,” he revealed softly.

In that fleeting moment, the meaning of “conubium” surged back into your mind, and it was your turn to freeze, caught off guard by the situation.

hope you enjoyed the chapter babies, thanks for reading ❤️

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[heirofnight]

it's the shadows, pt. 2

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 4.9k

summary: after a drunken night with your bffs rhys, cassian, and azriel - one where you'd admitted to thinking azriel would be the most capable in bed (and az admitted to using his shadows on his partners lol) - the inner circle takes a vacation to a secluded cabin in the woods. and azriel's main goal is to show you what his shadows can actually do in the bedroom. part two of it's the shadows.

warnings: this is smut ok. pure smut. p in v smut. shadow smut. read at your own risk, ok.

a/n: OK highly requested part 2 to this series. first time publishing smut, pls be nice. but let me know what you think!!! enjoy <3

read part one here

azriel had a deep, dark secret.

a tidbit of information that he'd tried his best to ignore for the first several years after initially meeting you. now, he was far passed the point of acting as though it didn't exist - like it didn't drive him insane.

how could he? when you looked at him like that, when you made him laugh like that, when you'd outwardly flirt with him like that, when you'd all but crawled into his lap in the sitting room after he'd admitted to utilizing his shadows in less than innocent ways.

no, azriel was truly fucked, and his dirty little secret was threatening to crawl its way up his throat and launch itself from his lips.

he wanted you, bad.

since that drunken night a couple of weeks ago, azriel's want need for you had multiplied, had split in half and quadrupled and was now flowing through his veins as if it were his own blood. his brain was foggy, he was distracted, and all he could think about was you: your voice, your smile, your laughter, your lips, your scent. gods, your scent.

he felt like a lost puppy, trailing after you as though you'd lead him to salvation.

that salvation just happened to be between your thighs.

he'd become more in tune with you, your daily routine. he somehow was now able to pick up on your lingering scent, even if you'd left your preoccupied space hours earlier. he'd known you were there. and he'd sought you out in every situation he could. he longed to be next to you. during breakfast, dinner. during any meeting rhysand held that involved the entire family. while you baked in the kitchen alongside nuala and cerridwen - he was there. glued to your side.

he'd wondered if you'd noticed. the two of you were close to begin with, so perhaps you hadn't picked up on his increased attachment. regardless, you didn't seem to mind.

he'd picked up on your heartbeat changing when he drew near, and one time, he'd made a risky move - grazing your knee under the dinner table with a firm, scarred hand. he'd definitely noticed the change in your scent then - the aroma of your sweet arousal enveloped him almost immediately. he'd had to excuse himself from the meal earlier than normal after that.

he'd almost lost his shit and devoured you on the dinner table in front of his entire family, instead.

so when rhysand had declared that the entire family would be taking a weekend vacation, azriel's heart had almost torn through his chest. he'd get to be even closer to you, in a secluded location, with uninterrupted proximity.

rhys had recently purchased a gorgeous cabin on the opposite side of the city - it was perched on a high hill within the forest, and boasted views of the snowy mountain ranges that stood proudly alongside velaris.

the term cabin was a stretch - while the vacation home was a wooden structure, immensely cozy, and had cabin-like interior design, it was definitely on the more luxurious side. which came to no surprise, since it was rhysand's purchase, and the male loved extravagant things.

regardless, it was perfect. and azriel couldn't wait to take advantage of this much-needed vacation - one that included you, and an opportunity to get you alone.

you were obviously interested, he knew that. you'd alluded to it for years. and after he let it slip that he often let his shadows loose while bedding his partners, you'd fought to reign in your composure.

what he didn't know, though, was whether or not you were interested in him. beyond a sexual escapade. beyond two friends who were attracted to each other acting on impulse. actually interested - in loving him, all of him, and allowing him to do the same.

because that was azriel's deep, dark secret: he was in too deep, was falling over himself for you.

however, if sex was all you wanted, azriel would comply. he'd have you in any way that you'd allow, and he'd be damned sure to worship you in ways that would leave you absolutely ruined.

you'd all arrived to the cabin as dusk was painting the sky in pinks and oranges. his family shuffled through the large wooden front doors, and azriel felt the tension and stress escaping from each of his friend's tightly-wound muscles as though they'd left the qualms of reality outside in the snow.

not azriel's, though. his pent-up tension could only be released in one way in particular.

you'd set your bags down in the threshold of the designated living space, your head on a swivel as you peered upward - taking in the surroundings of the opulent cabin.

"this is why i'm friends with you, rhys," you'd joked, pushing your hair over your shoulders, "the perks are just too spectacular to pass up," you laughed this breathy little laugh, and azriel felt his spine tingle at the sound.

rhys chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded you, "careful, y/n," he tutted, his violet eyes watching cassian as he began to fumble with the large fireplace in the corner of the room, "before i use my other high lord perks to order you to sleep in a tent outside," he bantered, raising his eyebrows in silent challenge.

you placed a dainty hand to your chest in mock offense, shuffling closer to azriel for protection. "you would never," you balked, spine straightening, "az would never let that happen, right, az?," you turned towards the shadowsinger, giving him a look of pure innocence.

azriel faltered for a moment as he met your gaze, but he caught himself quickly. "right, sweet," he almost cooed, using that nickname that set your heart running at full-speed. he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder in solidarity, turning towards rhys. the high lord was watching you both with a look of pure, knowing amusement.

"well, lucky for you two lovebirds," rhys began, pointer finger gesturing to the snowy evening beyond the large glass windows, "the tent in question is big enough for two," he waggled his dark eyebrows, huffing out a laugh.

azriel's cheeks tinted only slightly at his words, his mind immediately overcome with visions of all the compromising positions the two of you could end up in. alone. in a tent.

before az could fully recover from that revelation, you'd stunned him with your next statement.

"perfect, i'm sure az and i would have no issues keeping each other warm," you mused, voice low and playfully suggestive. you wrapped your hand around his large bicep then, hmphing quietly to drive your point home.

rhys barked out a laugh at your words, shaking his head before retreating to help a grumbling cassian with the fireplace.

azriel felt warm. too warm for the snowy environment you'd found yourselves in. your words set an inferno blazing within his chest and limbs. his instincts screamed at him to carry you to the nearest bed and have his way with you, once and for all. but instead, he cleared his throat, looking down at you with pink cheeks and ears.

you looked up at him expectantly, a sweet grin splitting your cheeks.

he heard you mention something about going to find your rooms, and he dazedly watched you grab your belongings before sauntering up the stairs. but azriel was frozen in place as if cassian had superglued his boots to the wooden floor.

he would not survive this trip.

feyre and elain had provided dinner for all of you, and after taking your seats at the cozy dining table that looked over the snow-capped mountain range in the distance, you all began to eat. it was a peaceful, warm family dinner. everyone was so relaxed, so happy to be amongst the company of loved ones.

azriel had taken his usual place next to you, just as he always did. different environment, same habits. you'd smiled up at him as he took his seat, and he'd silently begun to fill your plate with food before worrying over his own.

you'd reached over as you realized what he was doing, placing a hand on his muscular thigh. "hey," you whispered affectionately, so only he could hear. "you don't have to do that," you smiled, meeting his gentle eyes with a sweet gaze of your own.

his skin was on fire at the contact you'd graced him with, and he gave you a small smirk.

"i want to," his deep, rough voice rasped. and you felt your stomach lurch at the tone.

and so, he served you. and you let him.

as dinner progressed, you'd found yourself absent-mindedly moving closer to azriel's side. at one point, you all giggled endlessly at an overly-animated cassian as he told a story from the past - and when you leaned into azriel in a fit of laughter, your head resting on his shoulder, he'd made a move. he'd wrapped his left arm around the back of your chair, around you. he'd pulled you further into his warm side. and then he'd reached down, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. you'd peered up at him then, eyes full of adoration.

he met your eyes, and although he couldn't see himself, he knew his honey gaze was reflecting the very same feeling.

his lips lowered then, whispering right against the shell of your ear, voice low, "which rooms did you choose?," he questioned, nodding his chin towards the floor above the both of you.

you smiled softly, whispering back, "the one right next to yours," he watched as your stare traveled between both of his eyes, down to his full lips, and back up to his steady gaze. his heart rammed against his ribs.

he reached over to your lap, rubbing a thumb along the back of your hand tenderly.

"just so you're aware, i always sleep with my door unlocked," he spoke against your ear once more, the statement laced with undertones you quickly picked up on.

you hummed against his cheek, pulling back to catch his eyes, "noted," you said pointedly, sending him a flirtatious wink through your long lashes.

he was sure, in that moment, that he needed you more than he needed his next breath of oxygen.

hours later, azriel was sprawled on top of his bedding, eyes cast towards the ceiling.

the entire house had since made their way to their own rooms, settling in for the evening, and he briefly glanced over to the large windows that made up the entire left wall of his space.

the onyx sky looked like velvet, and azriel lost himself for a moment as he stared out at the smattering of stars that looked as though they'd been placed with precise care throughout the heavens.

the sound of a door clicking shut, followed by slippered feet tiptoeing from the next room over, broke through his distracted thoughts.

he immediately tensed up - it was you. this was actually happening.

the doorknob began to twist, the sound so quiet, he had to focus his eyes on the fixture to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

slowly, the door creaked open, and there you stood: in a black lace, silky nightgown that hit the tops of your thighs, your hair unbound and cascading down your chest, and a matching robe haphazardly falling from your shoulders.

you looked ethereal.

azriel audibly swallowed, and he didn't even remember standing up and crossing the room in long strides, but when he blinked, you were standing right before him - all twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks.

you smirked up at him - you were so confident, so sure. he huffed out a small laugh, raking his eyes down your body in a way that was absolutely not subtle.

"well," you spoke quietly, cocking your head as you studied his expression curiously, "i have to say, azriel. it took you long enough," you scoffed playfully, stepping closer to him.

he hummed, placing scarred hands on your shoulders before slowly sliding them down your arms, your robe dropping to the floor as he did so.

"if you've been wanting this as badly as i have, why didn't you just tell me?," he whispered, voice sultry as his hands traveled down your skin.

you pursed your lips, standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. it all felt so familiar, so normal. as if you'd both done this song and dance countless times before. the way the both of you intertwined and came together so effortlessly had azriel's head spinning.

finally, you spoke, "maybe i wanted to refrain long enough to see if you felt the same way," you considered, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, "maybe i wanted to make you work for it," your voice lowered, looking up at him from under your lashes.

azriel felt his knees threaten to buckle, and he closed his eyes before releasing a long, slow breath. he had to take his time with you, he refused to lose control this quickly.

but gods, you were making it hard.

and you knew it, too. you'd set your sights on breaking him down bit by bit, thrilled by the prospect of seeing cold, stoic azriel shadowsinger lose every bit of his composure at the hands of lust.

you preened, nipping and kitten-licking along his jaw so slowly, azriel began to feel dizzy.

"enough," he commanded, voice hoarse. he removed your hands from where they were hooked around his neck, holding your wrists together with one large hand.

"enough," he repeated, eyes darkening. "you've driven me absolutely insane for years, y/n," he spoke, voice made of gravel. "how amusing was it, hm?," he pushed you towards his bed slowly, each step punctuating his words, "to drive me mad the way you have, on purpose," he spat.

your knees hit the back of his mattress, and before you knew it, you were spread out on top of his soft sheets. you let out the tiniest whimper, a noise so obscene, azriel almost groaned out loud.

he sent a tendril of shadows darting towards your body, watching closely as they bound your hands together, resembling handcuffs made of smoke.

you grinned unabashedly at the sight, your eyes flicking from your hands and back up to his hardened gaze, "you really do use them, then," you stated, referring to the inky strands that were engulfing his body.

he looked like the angel of death coming to claim you.

he grinned at this, a sight that would be terrifying if it weren't so damned sexy.

"oh, sweet," he ground out, lowering himself over you so that his hands were braced on each side of your head, "you have no idea," his voice was low and full of carnal promise.

your breath hitched as his words, and you watched as he sent another tendril towards your throat. it wrapped around your neck effortlessly, much like it had that one drunken night several weeks ago. but this time, you knew the circumstances were different.

"i cannot wait to worship you," he drawled, eyes dragging down your lithe body. you could see the lust swirling within his gaze - his pupils were blown, his breathing was ragged.

you breathed out a moan of pure need, and his eyes snapped back up to your face. another shadow darted from his side, slowly working the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders. the same shadow pulled the silken garment down until your breasts were fully revealed to him - your nipples already painfully hard.

you needed him to touch you. somewhere, anywhere.

he let out a quiet grunt at the sight of you, reveling in you being laid bare for him.

"fuck," he grumbled, voice already hoarse with need.

leaning down, he wasted no time in sucking your left breast into his warm mouth, lavishing your nipple with licks, and sucks, and small bites. you began to writhe beneath him, and that's when azriel learned just how much you loved to have your nipples played with. breathy moans tumbled from your lips, and azriel almost lost his shit at the sound.

he began to slowly grind his still-clothed lower half against the edge of the mattress, low, erotic groans trickling up his throat and falling from his mouth as his tongue continued its ministrations. he'd glance up at you every now and then, and every time he caught the look on your face - mouth agape and eyes twisted shut in pleasure, he'd have to drag his aching cock even harder against the bed beneath him.

just when you thought it couldn't possibly get any better than his mouth against your aching breast, azriel upped the ante.

you'd felt another strand of shadow dart towards your right nipple, it's cool, ghosted touch swirling around the sensitive skin.

"oh, gods", you moaned, your hips beginning to buck and grind against his lower stomach. the scent of your arousal had overtaken his senses, and his eyes rolled back each time he inhaled greedily - he couldn't get enough. you were everything, everywhere.

the shadow continued to flick and dance across your right nipple, pinching and twirling around and around, back and forth. you'd tilted your head back, and you knew you could climax from this feeling alone if azriel kept it up for much longer.

"now, now, sweet," he abruptly pulled back from your chest, halting his actions. the other shadow that was swirling across your nipple had darted back to its master's side, too.

you whined quietly, jerking your head forward to meet his stare in utter disappointment.

"don't be a brat," he tutted, biting at your nipple once more in reprimand. you arched your chest to meet his mouth eagerly, and he grinned wickedly at the action, a devastating dimple peeking through as he did so.

"i said i was going to worship you, my love," his deep voice sounded like pure sex, "and i intend to do so," he pulled your nightgown completely down your legs as he spoke, discarding it to the floor.

he returned to hovering over you, tugging your lower lip into your mouth greedily. he hummed at the taste of you, before he began pressing kisses down your throat, your chest, your stomach, and down to your thighs.

you moaned quietly, spreading your legs open for him, giving him space to ravish you as he pleased.

but azriel had other plans.

he pulled his shirt off over his head, wasting no time in completely discarding his own clothing.

his thick cock sprung proudly from the confines of his pants, already leaking from the tip. your eyes darkened at the sight, and you felt your pupils dilate as he absentmindedly wrapped his large hand around his length, squeezing once to offer himself some relief.

he let out a groan from deep in his throat as he did so, and he couldn't stop himself from pumping his fist once, twice.

"i won't be able to hold myself back from you for much longer," he confessed, his voice strained.

"then don't," you whispered, the feeling of pure lust so strong, it almost made you tremble.

"i want to watch for awhile first," he grunted, eyes traveling over the length of your naked body before him. he granted himself one more rough stroke of his cock, large veins bulging along the shaft.

your eyebrows knitted together, head spinning.

"watch?," you asked, eyes glued to the hand he'd wrapped around himself.

he smirked knowingly, watching as a lone tendril of shadow darted from his side to between your legs.

you barely had time to react, barely had time to catch your breath before azriel's shadow began absolutely torturing you, in the best way possible.

it swirled between your legs, running along your clit in counterclockwise motions that felt so good, you couldn't control the sound that left your mouth in response.

your head was thrown back against the mattress once more, breathy moans growing louder as you felt it slide inside of you, fucking into you as it continued to tease your clit. its cool sensation against the heat of your center made your thighs shake uncontrollably.

you felt your hands slide towards your chest, needing to touch yourself, play with your nipples. you longed for azriel's mouth to return to your skin, missing the feeling of his warm tongue against you.

you heard azriel tsk from where he stood in front of you, practicing as much restraint as he could muster. he'd continued to tease himself every now and then, when he absolutely couldn't help himself. he'd grip his cock firmly, squeezing once. or he'd slide a hand down his shaft roughly, his hand slick from his own precum.

before you could open your eyes to see why azriel had reprimanded you, you'd felt the cool brush of shadows against your wrists once more. they'd bound your arms together, holding them above your head.

you whined, writhing as the shadow between your legs continued to drive you to the edge. and azriel stood, watching, eyes heavy and cock throbbing.

"az, i can't-", you moaned out, breathing ragged. "i'm going to cu-", you started, but were cut off.

"no, you aren't," he spoke, stepping closer to you, "because you aren't allowed to," he strained, voice cold and rough.

a moan tumbled from deep in your throat, and you finally looked up to find his eyes once more. he stood right next to the edge of the bed, watching the shadow between your legs with such intensity, it forced a shiver to wrack through you.

"look at you," he mused, voice taking on a softer tone, "i haven't even touched you yet, fucked you yet," he grunted, squeezing his cock once more. "you've already made such a mess," he drawled, awestruck.

"i can't wait to feel you," he met your eyes as he spoke, and you felt yourself careening straight for the edge you were warned to stay away from.

"az," you moaned, trying to clench your thighs shut, but his strong hand reached down to force them apart. "you have to make it stop, i can't-," you whined helplessly.

he abruptly called his shadow back to his side once more, and you cried out in frustration at the absence of touch where you needed it the most.

"come here, sweet," he commanded, voice gentle. you sat up slowly, the shadow he'd adorned your neck with tightening ever-so-slightly as you did. it made you dizzy, but you did as you were told.

"put the tip in your mouth," he demanded, pushing his throbbing cock in your direction.

you did as instructed, wrapping your lips around the leaking tip eagerly. you gazed up at him from under your eyelashes, and a groan from deep within his chest tumbled from his lips.

"lick," he strained out, grabbing a fistful of your hair, tugging your mouth back.

you slowly stuck your tongue out, making a show of swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. your eyes rolled back erotically at the taste of him, and you flicked the tip of your tongue against him several times - trying your best to push the male to the point of losing his restraint.

it worked. azriel snapped.

a primal growl left his throat and before you knew it, you were pushed backwards on the mattress once more. he grabbed your thighs greedily, shoving them apart before aligning himself with your soaked entrance.

"i can't control myself with you, y/n," he whispered into your neck, sucking harshly against the skin, "i won't be able to be gentle," he warned, biting at your shoulder so hard, you could have sworn he broke skin.

"then don't," you repeated your earlier words back to him.

"when i've fantasized about this," you added, wrapping your legs around his strong waist, "i cum the hardest when i think about you fucking me," you whispered against his ear, lighting the fuse inside him that would cause him to explode - just like you wanted.

"fuck," he groaned, his movements becoming urgent as he reached down to line himself up with you once more. "fuck fuck fuck," he rushed out, and then he thrusted into you with one hard movement.

you both moaned in tandem, the feeling of him stretching you out one of pure bliss. azriel had to rest his forehead against your shoulder to prevent himself from absolutely losing himself, losing control. his whole body tensed in restraint, his hips bucking involuntarily as he tried to give you a moment to get used to his size.

and fuck, was he huge. pain sluiced through you, and he stilled his movements once he was wholly inside of you. your pussy clenched around him once, and he huffed out a breath against your skin.

"don't do that," he grunted, grabbing a fistful of sheets from where he was braced above you.

you smirked, the pain finally giving way to soul-shattering pleasure. you clenched around him again, on purpose this time. "or what?", you whispered into his ear, challenging him.

he growled, pulling out of you completely before he thrusted all the way back in roughly.

"brat," he sneered, and then he was completely unwound, fucking into you with no control over his movements.

moans left your mouth with no abandon, no concern for who may hear you in the surrounding rooms. you panted, whined, pleaded.

you said his name in breathy moans that often made azriel have to stop for several seconds, or else he'd end up finishing way too soon.

"fuck, you are divine, sweet," he grunted against your lips, his forehead resting on yours.

you moaned into his mouth, biting at his bottom lip.

at one point, he'd flipped you onto all fours, drilling into you from behind. that shadow around your neck tightened, another shadow holding your arms and wrists behind your back. you felt the edges of your vision blur as your pleasure continued to reach new heights.

azriel was so close, so, so close. this position had made you impossibly tighter. he used every ounce of control he could muster to last as long as possible, the feeling of you wrapped around him was euphoric. every single fantasy he'd had about you had never come close to this.

as he felt himself drawing nearer to that edge of no return, he pulled out of you momentarily. you groaned at the feeling of being empty, but he'd only smirked and lightly slapped your ass in response.

he sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling you onto his lap gently. you straddled him, and as you lowered yourself down, you took every inch of him with newfound ease - as if you were made to take his cock.

he grunted, watching himself disappear inside of you with blown out pupils. his skin was slick, his curls stuck to his forehead. he looked delicious, you couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

"you feel so fucking good, az," you said on a breath. a moan left your lips as you lifted yourself up slightly, just to slam back down against his lap.

he grabbed your hips, taking your nipple into his mouth greedily. "keep saying shit like that, y/n, and i'm going to fall in love with you," he mused, grinding his hips against yours.

you moaned out his name, grinding your own hips down to meet his.

"oh yeah?," you urged, grabbing his shoulders as you began to ride him - swirling your hips as you bounced. "in that case, you look so, so pretty, az," you hummed, sucking onto his bottom lip, "so pretty when you fuck me," you nuzzled your nose against his, jutting your hips against his for emphasis. you reached up, daring to touch the top left corner of his flared wing, right in that spot that you knew would drive him wild.

azriel dug his hands into your hips, bucking wildly as he took over, fucking up into you from where he sat. he was always a sucker for praise, you knew that. and now, you were weaponizing it.

"fucking gods," he growled, his shadows encompassing you as they swirled through your hair, across your nipples, down your back and arms. the added sensation had you throwing your head back, meeting each rough thrust of his with your own.

your moans became almost constant, and he felt you growing even tighter around him as he became relentless with his movements. it was rough, his movements stuttering.

"let go for me, my love," he murmured, pressing kisses into every bit of skin he could reach. "i need to feel you," he urged, breathing ragged.

you nodded in response, pressing your forehead against his.

"my pretty y/n," he praised, licking your bottom lip messily.

and shortly after, you were coming undone around him, letting out a cry of his name that absolutely was heard by every member of the house.

azriel spilled into you, finally letting himself come completely unwound whenever he felt you pulsing around him. it seemed to never end, and he let out breathy whines and grunts as he rode his high, his cum leaking from between your legs in the most vulgar way.

you fell against him, the both of you breathing heavy. he wrapped his arms around you, then his wings, feeling so content and satisfied and whole.

and he was sure that he'd actually fallen in love with you.

"shit," you finally breathed out, completely exhausted.

"i knew you were the best in bed," you huffed out a laugh, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

azriel laughed, running a hand down the back of your hair affectionately.

"only for you," he whispered, kissing the side of your neck.

a/n: ok so. i need a cold shower after this. pls let me know what you think, i'm half asleep and have never published smut. for all of you that wanted a part 2, i hope you liked it! i'm nervous. ok love u <3

[whirlybirbs]

— THE FOOL ; KYOJURO RENGOKU ; 煉獄

summary: all you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside to the ubuyashiki mansion's onsen. pairing: kyojuro rengoku / f!hashira!reader wc: 3.6k tags: set-pre season 1, rated T, hashira dynamics, kyojuro's impeccable manners, tengen uzui is a son of a bitch, good fluff, embarrassed flirting, slightly forbidden romance, retable reader insert who just wants to be left alone to bathe in peace a/n: don't look at me.

Your bones are tired. 

Not just your bones — but every ounce of marrow in those very bones. The expression 'bone tired'? Yea, it was written and smithed with you in mind. Tonight, you're the muse for true exhaustion — battered, bruised, and barely hanging on. 

The short walk up to the Ubuyashiki Mansion's onsen is proving formidable. 

Every muscle in your body aches and with each step closer, you pray you'll have a moment of quiet peace to yourself. After all, Shinobu insisted (read as threatened) that you soak in the hot spring after administering simple medical aid post-mission. 

Something, something, hot spring stimulates blood flow, blah, blah, strong healing properties.

All you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. Here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside through the willows of wisteria on a lantern-lit path to the hot spring.

Your geta catches on a root and you trip up, scoffing tiredly as you catch yourself and grumble a curse. Ow. Irritation simmers under your skin, and you wonder absently what's gotten into you. 

It normally takes more for you to be so... cranky. And openly so.

When you reach the gate of the onsen, your eye twitches.

Son of a —

There's Hashira abound tonight. 

"Look who's back from her little foray out East!"

Did Tengen need to be so loud? 

All the damn time?

The small, dimly lit spot is surrounded by wisteria and maple. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you sigh and shut the red gate behind you, paying careful mind not to catch your fingers in the latch. Lanterns are perched on rocks, candles only beginning to run with wax in the evening air. The open-air bath overlooks the sprawling estate down the mountain. 

You sigh deeply from your chest, your eyes practically at half-mast when you turn around to snipe Tengen with an unamused look.

"Our dear Dream Hashira... you look like shit," comes the rogue commentary, "No offense, beautiful."

Tengen is at the far edge of the steaming bath with both arms outstretched along the edge. As always, he's taking up as much space as humanly possible. His silver hair hangs about his shoulders — and he even goes so far as to pin you with a rogueish smile. You stare flatly at him in response.

Then: the middle finger. 

"Woof. Tough crowd tonight," he rumbles as he slides a look towards a decidedly uninterested Sanemi. The Wind Hashira has his head hung back against the edge with a towel over his forehead — his eyes are closed. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was asleep. 

"Tengen, do me a favor," comes the gritted reply from the scarred man, "and shut the hell up." 

You motion plainly to Sanemi — the gesture says thank you — with your brows raising in silent agreeance. Even the act of speaking right now is all too much. 

"I must agree with Tengen," comes the wistful and soft voice of Muichiro Tokito as he lifts his chin from its submerged position; his hair is swimming about him. The Mist Hashira looks... almost peaceful; but his words are damning, "You do look like shit."

Somehow it's worse when Tokito says it.

That makes Sanemi lift his head and pry one eye open. 

You serve him an unenthused look from your spot by the benches. You hope for a bit of sympathy, but instead:

"...What the fuck happened to you?" comes his dry response to your current state of being. 

Which — fine, maybe it's fair. The others rarely ever see you in any state aside from perfect. You're meticulous about your appearance; from your uniform to your posture, you value perfection over all else. The devil that has always haunted you is the details. Perhaps it was your rigid upbringing, but regardless—

"Ah!" suddenly, there's a resoundingly warm voice booming across the small courtyard from the onsen's koshitsu, "I see you've returned, Lady— Oh... my, are you quite alright...?"

You've got to be kidding me.

Kyojuro Rengoku's face is twisted into genuine worry. He's standing in the middle of the path, his focus entirely on you. His hair is undone and the sunburst strands are spilling along his chest and back. There's a small cotton towel slung around his narrow waist. You purposefully level your eyes with his, not daring to let your gaze waver — and then you curse Kocho Shinobu a thousand times over for sending you here.  

(Tengen is smirking. You want to throw your sandal at his head.)

Finally, you speak. 

"I'm fine." 

You don't sound fine. You sound like a woman who'd endured being unceremoniously whipped about by a snake Demon in a swamp for three hours before she could finally land a killing blow. 

Kyojuro frowns. His eyes — like two gems of carnelian — are nearly glowing with concern. Those dark brows of his knit and you try to grit out a tight smile. It fails. It looks more like a wince than anything.

It's... pathetic.

"Perhaps a soak will help," the Flame Hashira offers gently. His tone is soft with pity.

Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Fucking Shinobu, fucking hot spring, fucking swamp demon, fucking—

Right. Right, a soak. It's the thing that Tengen Uzui is somehow singlehandedly making more unbearable — he's dragging Sanemi and Muichiro by the necks from the onsen — by leaving you alone with Rengoku. 

"Go on you two! We're just leaving anyways, right fellas?"

"Die," you spit hoarsly in his direction; your expression is flat.

Tengen throws you a wink. "Relax a little, pretty. You deserve it!"

You could still hit him with your geta. Maybe if you put enough force behind it, it could kill him. 

After all, he's been doing this ever since you let it slip about your little crush. 

And just when a girl thinks she can trust an ex-shinobi... never again. You don't care if Tengen is the one offering to buy the sake, you're never drinking with that man again. He's a gossip and a whore. A gossiping whore. A devoted husband-whore who gossips like no-fucking-other. 

Admitting to Tengen Uzui's stupid face that you've been avoiding Kyojuro Rengoku because of your feelings was the second worst mistake you ever made.

Your first worst mistake was not dragging your sorry ass back down the mountain after you and Kyojuro were left alone in the onsen. 

At least — at the very least — it's quieter now, even if the silence feels oddly intimate. 

You're thankful Kyojuro has retreated into the water of the bath; the distance allows you to ignore the burning pit in your gut at the thought of him and you together. In the onsen. Alone.

You've bathed alongside the other Hashira before. The whole lot of you are warriors. There's no shame in the body — and admittedly, you grew up around konyoku onsen in Tokyo. 

It wasn't the nakedness that was the problem. 

...Maybe it was a little bit of the nakedness. 

But, mostly the fact it's Kyojuro Rengoku: the kindest man you've ever met, a man whose smile is nearly as bright as the morning sun, a man whose laugh feels like a summer thunderstorm. A man who is tall, strong, and handsome. It's no small secret he's well-loved among the ranks; respected, admired, sought after... Who wouldn't make an attempt atcatching his eye? After all, he's capable, swift, courageous, honorable—

Having a heart attack.

He's having a heart attack.

I mean — it's you. And him. Alone. 

...Naked. And alone.

He himself could have strangled Tengen when the ex-shinobi scurried off, leaving him here — though he'd never admit it. That sneaky bastard is fully aware of Kyojuro's feelings towards you, and Kyojuro swears the Sound Hashira gets off on forcing him to confront the very thing he forbids himself to even dwell upon. 

Your voice pulls him from his enraptured internal monologue.

"I am fine," you break the silence as your fingers work at the obi around your waist in nervousness. Your back is to him, and as the grey kimono slips down your shoulders, he panics, "I swear."

"I'm not sure I've ever seen you in such a state as this," he tries to sound level, confident, as he turns in the water; suddenly the mountainside is very beautiful. Yes, very nice. Very... mountain-y. 

Kyojuro's eyes flick over his shoulder briefly, back at you.

He sees skin. More of your skin than he's ever seen. There are dimples at the base of your spine. Good god. He swallows tightly and turns his gaze forward once more. 

Even the act of shrugging your kimono off is enough to make you rasp. The ribs Shinobu had been so concerned about are protesting now. It's fine. Everything is fine. You peek over your shoulder. Relief floods you as you realize Rengoku's back is turned. 

Quickly, you slip into the onsen. It's the quickest you've moved all night. 

You plunge in deep, ignoring the burn of the water along of the more raw marks and bruises bitten into your skin. Your ribs wail in protest as you inhale sharply at the heat, and you try your best to coach your expression into unwavering when Kyojuro turns back around. 

"Better?"

All you can do is grunt from your submerged position.

That makes him laugh.

You try to memorize the warm sound and tuck it neatly into your heart. It's cute, the way his eyes scrunch when he laughs. You find yourself staring for a second before swallowing down your affections.

"Shinobu demanded I come," you explain slowly, lifting your hands and playing with the surface of the water, "If I had it my way, I'd be in bed."

Or murdering Tengen in his sleep.

"The hot springs are good for healing," Kyojuro chirps brightly, canting his head as he speaks almost as if he's going to reprimand you. His voice drops an octave, "You know that, Lady Hashira."

He's teasing you.

He's — he's seriously teasing you.

You're naked and he's teasing you.

You sink a little lower into the water and narrow your eyes at him — the act makes you look a bit like an angry, wet cat. Kyojuro can only grin. Truly this is rare form for you. Your disposition is usually sunny, if not well-manicured and mindfully well-mannered. You are every bit a Lady Hashira. Moreso than Shinobu or Mitsuri in a way. 

You are the Dream Pillar, after all, and a woman composed purely of romanticism in his eyes. It's the way he could see you, in another life, in a fine silk kimono and delicate make-up; he could see you in gold and pearls, pouring tea worth more than his monthly salary into fine ceramic cups. Suitors abound.

Though, perhaps that's not so different than now.

Not with the way you're delicately pouring yourself a helping of Tengen's abandoned sake at the edge of the onsen. You'd think it was the most expensive liquor in the land with the care you take to not spill a drop. 

You slide him a hesitant look over your shoulder, the water lapping at your bruised back. Kyojuro lifts a brow.

"What?" you ask, feigning innocence as you turn back to the task at hand, "It'd be a shame if it went to waste."

"I didn't know sake had healing properties," Kyojuro offers slowly, his lips twitching upwards as he watches you take a long sip from the cup.

"Something, something, blood flow," you murmur mostly to yourself, tossing back the rest with a scowl and a wince, "I'm sure Shinobu would agree."

Kyojuro leans back against the wall, sinking a little deeper as he settles onto the seat beneath the water. The ends of his hair are soaked, turning an even darker shade of crimson. His shoulders flex as he relaxes his arms against the stones. 

His own body is tired. Beneath the water, he absently stretches his legs and pays careful mind to the twinge of pain in his left knee.

"Whether she agrees or disagrees is none of my business," he supplies diplomatically.

You reach for the jug, giving it a light shake. It's nearly empty anyway. 

You extend it, offering it to Kyojuro.

The Flame Hashira shakes his head. "No thank you. I reserve drink for special occasions only."

You quirk a brow. Your tone is light. Airy, almost. "I didn't know that about you."

He hums. You place the sake down, sink lower into the water, and try to focus on his face — not the strength in his forearms, nor the water running in rivets down his chest. 

"My father has quite a love for the stuff," he admits with a controlled frown, "I avoid it when I can."

Ah. 

Right. 

Your own father, also a retired Hashira, voiced many a feeling about Shinjuro Rengoku when he was given the chance. You'd visited home months ago and when you mentioned serving alongside Kyojuro, his eyes narrowed dangerously and impeccably sharp. His tongue lashed out at you — as if you were the retired Flame Pillar himself. 

There's a history there, it seems.

"I apologize."

"Don't," he says; firm yet soft.

"It is better that way, really," you mumble in an attempt to soothe the ache you can see across his face, "Liquor leads to making many a fool."

Kyojuro's brow quirks. "You sound as though you're speaking from experience."

"Perhaps," you say slyly, wandering to the far end of the pool. You're nearly submerged to your nose, "A lady shall never tell."

"And if I asked Tengen?"

"You wouldn't dare." The water splashes as you whip around and glare — though Kyojuro senses no real malice. 

It was no small secret you'd been dragged through the mud after you and Tengen's night on the town. Why the Master called a meeting that morning was beyond you, but there's a part of you that wonders if he was slightly amused at your less-than-pleasant state. You swore you were going to puke all over the engawa when you bowed — never mind the fact the morning sun's brightness was enough to nearly drill your brain into a pulp. 

Kyojuro had never seen you so... disheveled. 

Second to tonight, that is.

The Flame Hashira smirks. "If the lady forbades it, then who am I to ignore her wishes?"

Fucking Tengen, fucking Shinobu, fucking Kyojuro—

Fucking honorable, respectable, polite Kyojuro.

"Well, this lady does forbade it," you say with narrowed eyes, "So there."

"You really are in rare form this evening."

He's smirking. That's new.

"Yes, well," you mumble as you lull your head back and wet the rest of your hair; the warmth seeps through the strands and feels soothing on your scalp. You already feel better. Less like a swamp demon's plaything, more like a girl trying her best not to let her petal-mouthed feelings slip out, "We can blame Muzan Kibutsuji for that."

"I surmise it has been a difficult day?" he rumbles quietly from his spot in the onsen.

"You haven't the slightest idea."

"Care to enlighten me?" 

"And embarrass myself?" she mutters, splashing absently, "I'd prefer to remain capable in your eyes, Rengoku. I'll spare you the details. And anyone else who asks."

He's grinning. That sort that appears in an optimist's dream. Bright, sunny and so enrapturing it feels like your heart is being scorched by its warmth. 

"Your capability will never waver in my eyes," Kyojuro supplies as he flicks the water absently; his gaze has fallen to the sway of the wisteria in the evening air, "You are amazing. One particularly bad day does not diminish that fact."

Maybe it's the sake. Maybe it's the compliment. Either way, the tips of your ears feel warm. 

That little, nibbling feeling is back in his chest. The very one he's been trying his best to ignore for months. 

"You are only being kind," you mutter, "Because, as the other's made very clear, I look like shit." 

Kyojuro finds himself smiling a bit at the jest — his fingers glide along the top of the water, tracing idly patterns into it as he watches you sink deeper and deeper into the hot spring. Finally, for a moment, you descend below the surface.

Then, you break the surface slowly. Your hair is swimming around you, clinging to your bare shoulders. You exhale, brush water from your lashes, and inhale. You look... beautiful. A different sort of beautiful than he's used to. This sort of beauty is relaxed. Tired. You seem a bit freer than usual — unrestrained by the image you aim to keep well protected amongst the others. 

Kyojuro sinks a little deeper himself.

He's still watching you.

Your eyes find his. 

There's a moment where all you two can do is blink — Flame and Dream mingling for a breath beneath the stars. Wide eyes bound by a moment of silence, a moment of hesitation. He feels like all the breath has been swept from his lungs. All Kyojuro can do is stare into your eyes.

Then, he speaks.

Blurts, more aptly.

"You are beautiful."

...Did he just say that? 

Your lips part in quiet shock.

Suddenly, his posture is more rigid, and his expression a bit panicked — perhaps because your own eyes widen a mile at the words that spill from his mouth. Kyojuro raises his hands as he inhales sharply, the heat of the bath inching a degree hotter. Whether it's from the sudden admission or a misfire of his breathing technique, you're unsure. 

His cheeks are hot. He leans forward, shaking his head.

Damn you, Tengen. Damn you, damn you—

"I-I simply mean — you... You do not look like shit—" He attempts to explain.

"Oh—"

"Yes, yes, I—"

"Thank you," you say quickly, trying to calm your own racing heart as he swallows down a bought of embarrassment and offers a pained smile your way. It's enough to quell his panic.

"Of course," he breathes out, sagging a bit deeper into the water as he fiddles with his hands. He has a habit of rubbing at his callouses. Kyojuro swallows, then hoarsly admits: "One might think that I was drinking the sake with the way I'm making a fool of myself."

Your laugh is like a balm. 

"Hardly," you offer as you sink into the water with a smile; your eyes are glimmering with something a bit mischievous as you swim towards the water's edge. You pause, then slip a look his way over your bare shoulder, "...Do you mean it?"

"That I'm a fool? Of course."

You scoff quietly. Kyojuro's smile is tight — knowing. 

Then, he speaks warmly and kindly. He confirms your question with ease. His arms are wound across his chest. "You are truly beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever had the grace to lay eyes upon, my Lady." 

Maybe you could drown yourself here. 

You're not entirely sure how you'll ever recover from this — not from how tender he says it, not from how honest his words sound. So suddenly you feel as though he's hung every star in the sky for your eyes only, having wished upon them, time and time again, for nothing more than a moment of your time. It's reverent is what it is.

You're about to open your mouth and say something when a bright, girlish giggle cuts through the tension—

Kyojuro Rengoku has never been more thankful for Mitsuri Kanroji's ill timing. Behind her is Lady Shinobu. 

The pink and green-haired Hashira is ecstatic to find both yourself and Rengoku in the hot spring — her delight is palpable as she waves her arms and cheers brightly into the air. Her crow caws overhead. Her darker-haired counterpart levels them both with polite smiles.

"Oh, this is just lovely! My friends!" she's chirping as she closes the gate, "I am so glad to see you both back safe and sound—"

"Heading my advice, it seems," Shinobu says slowly — almost like she knows something you don't. Her pale, lilac eyes flick between you and Rengoku. For a moment, you almost suspect she's about to ask something.

"How are you feeling?" Mitsuri cries in your direction, shrugging her kimono off with ease — unbothered entirely by Rengoku's presence. The two are like brother and sister, and Mitsuri has never batted an eye about nudity, "How are your ribs?"

Kyojuro levels you with a look. 

You offer a sheepish grin. 

"Yes," Shinobu mutters as she slips out of her geta, "Four broken ribs."

Kyojuro's nostrils flare. "You said nothing about the sort."

You lift your chin in defiance. "I told you I was sparing you the details."

Mitsuri's bright eyes dart between the two of you — a little bit of giddiness blooming at the sight of Kyojuro looking so worried about their fellow Dream Hashira. 

He slides a look towards Kocho. Then rolls his shoulders. With a sigh, he moves to stand, the water lapping at his waist. You decidedly find the edge of the onsen very interesting as you try to coach yourself through the overwhelming urge to stare. 

"I trust you'll monitor her condition, Kocho," he murmurs as he moves through the water; the words sit nicely in your heart and you feel a little pride swell at his indication that he cares if you're alright, "I'll let you ladies have some time amongst yourselves."

You catch his eyes for a second. A moment. A lingering little breath that mingles between you — like Kocho and Mitsuri aren't there. Then, he stepped from the bath and gathered his robe.

For now, the two of you will pretend earlier never happened.

For now.

Just a little thing between the two of you — and suddenly, you're not so cranky. Once the muse for exhaustion, you're now the muse of lovesickness. 

When the gate closes behind Kyojuro, Kocho speaks.

"...What was all that?"

Nevermind. The crankiness is back.

"Shut up."

[bitterrfruit]

houndtooth [18]

[masterlist]

ghost x f! reader. 7.4k words cw: smut. 18+ mdni thank you to the divine and talented @theorist-fox for helping me figure out this chapter <3

he softens.

You steep in the bathwater like tea. 

Loose leaves, dispersing and unfurling in the heat, essences osmosing out through your skin and evaporating in tongues of silver steam. You trace lines into the surface of the aquamarine water, watching the ripples dance away from your touch and ricochet off the walls of the tub. 

There’s an ache somewhere in the back of your head, dull, thumping. A dread that lingers, black and sticky like a tumour, feeding on the liquid fear that courses through every blood vessel in your skull. One that continues to grow, even as its presence has eluded you, if only for the time being. 

You’re warm. Skin lacquered in ephemeral honey, blanketing and sweet — it placates you, for now. Mollified by a false peace, the comfort of quiet and the gloaming of soft touch. 

You should regret what you did. 

Begging for him like a degenerate — the memory should be sour to reflect on. Should taste like bile in your mouth as you reminisce on kissing him, on biting him, on coming on his tongue. 

It doesn’t. 

It was what you needed. 

Needed, not wanted, you needed it with the same exigency as a starving animal in need of food, of a wilting flower in need of water. That’s the only way you could begin to explain it. Overwhelmed by such a dearth of comfort that you acted on the impulse to sate it because it was needed to survive. 

You hear the flick of a lighter, where Simon sits against the wall beside the tub. Knee propped up, he hangs an arm over it as he pinches a cigarette with the other, sucks down a deep drag. 

He looks at you with lidded eyes as the smoke flows from his nostrils in curls, before he reaches over to hand you the roll. 

You lean against the side of the tub, forearms propped up on the edge, chin resting on the back of your hands. You free one to take it from him, sip a short puff, and give it back.

In the dim light of the bathroom, he looks like a different man. 

His cheeks are pinker, eyes a little brighter. Softer lips. Gentler stare. Perhaps you’re making it up, to make yourself feel better for using him so brazenly.  

His familiar mask is still downstairs, tossed somewhere to oblivion. Jersey in a pile on the kitchen floor. His bare chest is bruised, scratched, bitten — blood-red weals where you had abused him with your teeth and your claws, spotted bruises on his neck and shoulders where you suckled on him like a leech. 

Your eyes scour the marks that weren’t left by you; white cords of poorly healed gashes, craters left by bullets, knurled and pink where he had been burned. He is covered in them. 

“I hope I didn’t hurt you,” you say, as mild as a whisper, a pang of embarrassment at the tip of your tongue. 

“Hurt me?” He asks, a low rumble, through a bemused smirk. 

You extend a hand over the edge of the tub, trace the tip of your finger against a throbbing red imprint of your teeth in his pectoral, a bite mark so deep it lingers even an hour after its infliction. 

He looks down his nose at where you touch him, releasing a pent breath in a huff of laughter. 

“Mh,” he grunts, as though only now noticing how you had maimed him. “You’re a little animal.”

“Sorry,” you puff, tucking your hand back under the other. 

“Didn’t hurt,” he says simply, poking his cigarette in his lips to punctuate it. “Felt good.” 

You smile wryly at that, before you sheepishly glance at the floor. 

“More worried that I hurt you,” he says, after a languid pause. Cigarette smoke in a mist around his head, he hands it to you again.

You keep it for a bit, sucking in two consecutive puffs to slow your heart down before giving it back. 

“You didn’t,” you reply. 

He rocks his head back, leaning it against the dark tiles of the wall. His eyes turn sombre, and he rubs his brow with a tense thumb. 

“What,” you ask edgily. 

He exhales out a cloud of smoke. “Nothing.” he mutters, under breath, as though to himself. 

You shift uneasily in the water and the waves splash quietly against the ceramic walls of the tub. “Do you regret it?” 

His stare is heavy. Pointed. Rust-brown eyes laden with quiet guilt and an anger you can’t place — at you, or at somebody else, you cannot be certain. 

“Fucking you?” 

Your brows twitch into a frown, but soften quickly. You aren’t sure why you’re taken aback by his bluntness — fucking you — given he hasn’t shown much in the way of subtlety in the short time you have known him. 

What you don’t like, though, is that he believes himself to have done something to you. He fucked you. A one-way act. 

You’re used to being fucked in such a way. A man fucks you, a sire fucks a bitch. In either case, you’re the receptacle. The sleeve for a cock. A passive recipient of fucking, your contribution irrelevant, or worse, unnecessary. 

This was different. 

“Yeah,” is all you say, resting your chin on the back of your hands. 

He lets out a ragged sigh. “No,” he says brusquely, “I’m glad I did.” 

Strawberry red stains your cheeks, sugary heat suffusing under your skin. Your tongue is heavy and uncooperative and you have nothing to say. 

“I’m glad I made you feel good,” he adds, a murmur. “I’m glad I took you from that fuckin’ mansion. I’m glad I shot your husband. And I’m glad I hit Makarov. I only wish I’d shot him as well.” 

He ends his tirade with a final puff of his short cigarette, sucking it down to the filter, before squishing the butt into the marble and adding it to the pile of the last three he already finished. 

Your chest is tight, ribs enclosing, lungs sipping shallow. Heart tumescent at the base of your throat and thumping between your collarbones. 

“I’m glad too,” you breathe, not quite able to let the words slip out confidently, because you can’t believe you’re saying them. You’re not even sure uttering them aloud makes the sentiment true, but it feels that way.

The silence that follows is as tepid as your bathwater. He shuts his eyes, head leaning against the black tile behind him. 

“Will you get in with me?” You surprise yourself when you ask it, and he cracks open an eye to look at you. 

“I’ll dirty up your water,” he says frankly. 

“I don’t care,” you whisper. 

His lips curl as he decides whether or not to entertain you. It was an admittedly uncouth request, and you begin to mourn asking — until he reaches forward and pulls loose the laces of his boots, kicking them off with his socks, they bounce and thud on the tile. 

With a grunt he pushes himself up to stand. His pants are already unbuckled, left that way after your tryst in the kitchen, so he simply shucks them down and unabashedly tugs his boxers with them. 

You sit upright in the water, and you feel like a little lecher for watching so raptly. You didn’t get to see much when he had you on the kitchen counter — only his torso, which you weren’t upset about. But you did not expect that he’d bare himself so willingly, a man whose face you had barely become accustomed to, previously hidden by a permanent mask.  

His legs are long, they look as tall as you — just as wide, too, thighs like hocks of pork and hirsute with straw curls. Tattoos bedizen a single leg, his left; a large gun on his shin, a nautical star on the side of his thigh, other engravings you can’t make out in the dim light of the orange sconce by the mirror. 

Your prurient eyes latch to something else, though, as it swings heavy between his legs on his way towards the tub. Even soft, you cannot fathom that you had fit it inside you. Uncircumcised, unlike Victor’s. A hearty mauve at the thick head, sheathed in ruddy foreskin. Pale at the base, corded with veins, and pendulous under its own weight. 

It makes you swallow as he lifts a colossal leg over the edge of the tub, settling immediately into the water and forcing waves to splash up the sides and dribble onto the floor. With his added mass the water’s surface brushes your nipples, they stiffen when it tickles. 

He sinks into the water with a strained sigh, head hanging back over the rounded edge of the tub. The water laps just below his sternum, and his legs overlap with yours — great big knees jutting out of the glossy surface on either side of you, you tuck your knees together, but wedge a foot at either side of his waist. Takes up the entire fucking tub, titanic as he is. 

“Nice, isn’t it?” You say quietly, amused. 

“Mh,” he hums. 

“Bet you haven’t had a bath in a while.”

“You saying’ I smell?”

You snort. “No, I just mean, you know, like, specifically—”

He cracks a wide smile, eyes shut. “I know,” he says. “It has been a while.”

In the quiet you hang your arms over your knees, silently observing every scar on his freckled body, each more grisly than the last. Your eyes fix to a burl of keloid under his ribs, thick and purple, scarred skin shiny where it healed wrong.

“You have a lot of scars,” you quietly muse. 

He only grunts. 

“Are they all from — fighting, and stuff?”

His eyes open and cut across the tub, as if to check why you’d ask such a thing. You feel a bit guilty having asked it, but you know so little about him; the man himself is a mystery, enigmatic as he is reclusive, and you’ve let him inside you. Some part of you feels owed a glimpse of who he is. 

“Some of them,” he says. 

“Not all of them?”

“No.”

“What else are they from?”

His stare is forlorn. He seems to take a moment to decide whether or not to answer you. 

“Couple from when I was a kid,” he says mutedly, swiping the pink slit in his top lip. You don’t want to know how he got that as a little boy. “The rest are from Mexico.” 

“What happened in Mexico,” you ask, near a whisper, curiosity getting the better of you. 

He sucks deep a breath, drumming on the edge of the tub with the pads of his fingers. You haven’t yet seen him so uneasy, so patently upset. His eyes are black with it, pools of tar that swirl and bubble, plainly haunted by something you don’t need to see to understand. 

“Sorry,” you say abruptly. “Don’t tell me. You don’t need to tell me.” 

He drops a hand from where it rests on the lip of the tub, and plants it on your calf. Grazes your skin with his thumb. He gives you a faint nod, and he doesn’t elaborate. You wonder if he would have felt obligated to tell you if you hadn’t relented. 

“What happens next?” You ask, if only to fill the silence. 

He licks his teeth. “That depends on what we got tonight.” 

“Oh, shit!—” you suddenly blurt, jolting up, and he looks taken aback. “I heard some things when they were in the dining room.” 

He straightens himself, sitting upright and watching you keenly. “What.”

“Um — they said something about a vault. At the house in Russia, I think, after I lied and said I heard the assassins talking about a USB drive. Sergei said, um, Victor’s digital assets hadn’t been compromised, and that you hadn’t touched the vault. So maybe there’s something important in there.” 

“Did they say where the vault was?” 

“No — only that you didn’t find it, so I guess… somewhere you didn’t look,” you explain. “They’re getting someone else to sweep the mansion again. Vladimir said — he said Konni, I think, are inept, so must have missed something. Then Sergei said he’d talk to someone called Arkady.”

He chews on that for a moment, glaring into the surface of the water. 

“You know him?” You ask. 

“I do,” he says. “Anything else?”

You take a second to think, to comb through the weeds of everything else that had happened in the last few hours. 

“Well, when… when you interrogated me, you asked about a factory, so I told them I overheard the people who killed Victor talking about a factory.” You say, suddenly feeling like the only information you had gleaned was vague and useless, and you pick at your fingernails. “But I was vague about it, I didn’t want them to think — you know, that I knew too much. So I told them I thought it meant warehouse. Then one of them said, ‘they know about Mialstor’.”

He cocks his head at that. “What?” 

“Mialstor, is what he said,” you repeat. “I guess that’s the name of the factory.”

He suddenly grins, eyes wide with a vigour you had not yet seen at all in him. He reaches forward with both hands, and your instinct is to recoil — but he grabs you by the cheeks and tugs you towards him. 

“Fuckin’ brilliant,” he hails, pressing his forehead to yours and almost shaking you in exuberance. “You’re brilliant, Mia.”

A rush of blood rises up from your chest, turning you pink, and you’re not yet sure what you did right. “Do you know it?”

“Yeah, I know it,” he says, reeling back from you slightly. “Just can’t fuckin’ believe we hadn’t thought of it already.”

“So — so, that’s good?” You ask anxiously, “I got something?” 

He chuckles dryly, grin wide; tilts your head downward to plant his lips on your forehead, and your blood turns to syrup. 

“Yeah, you fuckin’ did,” he croons. 

His praise sends a tickling warmth down your spine, gooseflesh pricking up on the surface of your flushed skin. Turns you to pudding. Not just the assurance that you had done something right, that you were inching closer to your freedom — but an expression of genuine pride, of unburdened affection, truly alien to you. Surreal. Much like most of the last several days, tonight especially. 

You rest a wet hand on his knee, unsure where else to put it, his skin is cold in your palm. 

You have always had little control over what your body chooses to do, proven further as you tilt your head upward, until your mouth meets his chin, his stubble prickly on your lips. 

And as though hearing the thoughts even you could not, he takes the burden from you — his lips find yours, and his mouth opens to take you. You draw in a shuddering breath, his tongue glides against yours, and he breathes your air from its source. 

There is no reluctance left in him, seems you have bled him dry of any remaining reservations. No longer wastes his energy questioning the morality of how he touches you. His hands jump from your cheeks to your hips, and he hoists you up and between his knees — plants you astride his pelvis, his thighs a backrest, a seat made for you. 

His lips take no pause, lavishing from your neck to your collarbone, taking your soft breast in his mouth as you straighten your spine. His tongue feathers over your nipple and a whine escapes your throat, hands firm in the hollows of your waist, holding you in place as he indulges himself. 

He bucks his hips to tip you forward as he leans back against the reclined wall of the tub, wide hand fixes to the back of your neck, under your hair. 

You kiss him without haste but no less eager, tobacco on your tongue, hunger in your teeth. He smooths a free hand down your spine and it makes your hairs stand on end, grazing until it reaches your ass, and he burrows his fingers unabashedly into the pillow of your flesh. 

The silence of the room is peppered with quiet splashes of water and breathing turning heavier, then the whimper that escapes you as you feel his cock growing harder underneath you. Wedged in the petals of your pussy, suddenly taking up more space as it steels in the cleft of you. 

You arch your spine to glide your cunt down his shaft, gripping in the soapy wetness of the bathwater — curl forward as you grind upward, releasing a puff of wanton air as your clit rubs against the bulb of his head, where it lies flat against his stomach. 

He hisses as you knead against him with your full weight, gluttonous hands boring into your hips to compel you even further downwards; but you persist unfettered, rocking your pelvis back and forth along his shaft until you can feel your slick between his skin and yours, not yet dissolved in the bathwater. 

You can feel him growing frustrated. He tries his hardest not to burrow his fingernails into your skin, masseters jutting out as he grits his jaw, temples divoting in the strain. 

You straighten your back, looking down your nose at him; cheeks calescent red and lids heavy, luxuriating in his desperation, panting through your open mouth. 

“What do you want,” you ask, voice low, resting a hand flat on his rigid pectoral to balance yourself. 

He glowers at you, panting, hopelessly grinding his hips up into you to chase the friction. 

“You know what I want,” he grits, enormous hands briefly loosening to slide to your waist, before they dig in there instead. 

“Say it,” you hum, stilling with the blunt head of his cock nestled between your folds. 

He cracks a grin, jaw slack, he laughs at you incredulously. At a loss for words, for a beat, as he futilely rolls his hips. 

But his eyes are dark, and they do not leave you. Through a smirk, he says; “I want you.” 

You liquefy when he says it. Insides turn as gummy and bittersweet as jam. 

You know he means your body, your cunt; you, the parts of you that matter. You can’t help but burden his hungry words with a weight they were not intended to carry. 

Still, you raise yourself just enough to reach beneath you, taking his cock in your kittenish fingers — your tongue wettens when you touch it, hard as titanium and hot as molten iron. Girth dizzying now that it is tangible in your hand, when you wrap your fingers around it and hold it upright. 

His eyes go glassy when you slot the head of his cock between your labia, nudging it at your entrance — you gasp through wet lips as you sink back down, lancing yourself on the length of him until you sit flush with his hips, impaled to the helve. 

It’s harder to breathe around the size of him in this position. It ached delightfully the first time, when his head mashed into your cervix, when he buried deep — now he takes up all the space inside you, bullying your womb out of the way to fit, and he hadn’t even moved yet. 

He keeps his hips still, in fact. Busies himself with his hands, they graze over your thighs, up your waist, around your breasts, along your collarbones.

“Say it again,” you breathe, voice broken.

He smooths a flat hand down your sternum, between your breasts, over your belly as if just to feel the warmth of your skin. 

“I want you,” he murmurs, no longer smiling. 

A heat blooms in the hollows of your eyes, tumid with unspent tears, and you keel forward to taste him again; with an open mouth you seal your lips to his, and exhale all of yourself into him. A wide hand weaves into the hair at the back of your head, the other sweeps from your waist and around your ribs, settling in the divot of your spine.

Still, he does not move. Doesn’t rut himself deeper, doesn’t reel back his hips to indulge himself with the slightest friction. Instead, he moves his lips to your cheek, curling his hand to the top of your head, before nestling your face into the crook of his neck. 

You wonder what thoughts of yours he can hear, can feel through your skin, can taste in your mouth, that you yourself are not privy to. Because with a free hand he scoops underneath you, lifting you like you’re weightless in the water, and unsheathing his cock from inside you. Sits you back down on your side against him, with your knees tucked in. 

You’ve resolved not to cry, but quiet tears drip from your eyes regardless of your attempt to subdue them. Their origin eludes you, they roll anyway. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak, into the balmy skin of his neck.

He draws in a slow breath, your head rises with his chest, lets it out just as languidly. His hand knots a little firmer against your scalp, his lips press into your hair. 

“Don’t be.” 

He can’t explain it. 

Whatever it is, palpitating behind his sternum, aching like cardiac failure. 

He’d have called it guilt, perhaps, in the days leading up to now, while he has you purring on his chest like a cat. He pets you like one, a listless hand stroking your damp hair from your forehead to the back of your neck. Keeps still like you’re as skittish as one, liable to jump off his lap and scurry away into the shadow if he moves too quickly. 

He’s not sure what he’d call it, now.  

It was hatred, first, bubbling and acerbic in his chest at the sight of you. That hadn’t lasted long, though. Then, it was pity, when he watched you cower away from himself and others who hurt or threatened you, or when he had to listen to your husband unjustly berate you. Then, it was shame, for salivating over you like an animal despite how he exploited you. Next was guilt, for exploiting you at all. 

Whatever it is now, he doesn’t have a name for it. 

He would have indulged you, if you wanted him to. He’d have fucked you to sleep in the bathwater, or simply coaxed another orgasm out of you with his fingers, or his tongue, if you asked. He could never be unwilling to surfeit you if that were what you needed from him. 

He could tell, though, read it on your lips, see it in your eyes, that it wasn’t what you needed. That you were acting out of routine, out of habit, a machine on autopilot. He’s sure that you know well how potently magnetising you are. That any man would lust over you, would fuck you in a heartbeat, and would tell you so. You don’t need him to attest to that. 

He’s certain you’d be expectant of it. Certain that sex is the only affection you are accustomed to receiving, and that anything else has been a means to an end. 

He has always had a similar attitude. 

He doesn’t dole out affection freely, nor does he willingly receive it. A fuck was once all he needed, and he decided himself uninterested in, or unworthy of, anything more than that. He has always prided himself on it, in fact, that he never needs anything else. Doesn’t need reassurance, or care, or sympathy. Doesn’t need touch beyond the kind that gets his cock hard. 

Can’t explain why he doesn’t want to be that for you. 

He doesn’t want to be another dog, so you called them; an animal that mauls, that bites, that scratches and grabs, hits and breaks. He doesn’t want to be a creature of hunger and hatred, destined only to consume, to masticate then swallow. 

He doesn’t want to prove you right. He has already been that creature, that dog, for all of his life. Sharp-toothed and brutal, permanently apoplectic with a rage that never dissipates, turbid in his blood like silt. Antipathy aimed indiscriminately, at everybody, himself no exception. 

That sediment that terminally thunders through him has settled, temporarily. A momentary taste of amity, while you lie curled up on his stomach, gently breathing against the skin of his neck. 

Pride beats through him, too. He’s bright with it. He’s fucking proud of you — not a sentiment he would ever have expected to hold. 

Clever girl, using what little knowledge you had gleaned from him to fish out intel he would never have found himself. Clever girl, feigning uncertainty about the very language you’re fluent in to milk them of even more. Staggered by your courage, brave girl, maintaining strength within arm’s reach of those wolves who so deeply terrify you. Brave girl, standing up to the warmongering sadist even as he had his hands around your throat.

He wants to tell you so, but it’s not in his nature, would go against his grain — regardless, it seems you have fallen asleep, judging by the shift in your breathing. Slow, deep, in a torpor that leaves you limp against him.  

The water isn’t hot anymore. Not quite lukewarm, either; the exact temperature of the surface of his skin, so it feels as though he isn’t submerged at all. 

He’d leave you sleeping, if he could, but he can’t have you spend the night in cold water. If he had another set of arms, he could gracefully get out of the tub and carry you to bed without needing to wake you. Alas.

He adjusts himself, skin squeaking against the ceramic walls of the tub, and that seems to be enough to disturb your slumber. 

You quickly push yourself upright with your hands on his chest, and he releases you. Your stare jumps around as though you had forgotten where you were, until his hand falls to the small of your back, and you catch his eye in the dim yellow light. 

A pent breath escapes you, and you rub an eye with the heel of your palm. “Sorry,” you croak. 

“For what,” he says torpidly. 

“For — for falling asleep on you.” 

He lets out a puff of laughter. “Seems like you needed it.” 

You smile sheepishly, and his stomach tightens up. “Guess so.” 

You stare at him, for a beat, and he swears you tilt your head in thought — lids heavy, eyes shadowed by exhaustion but laden with a quiet comfort. Not once would he ever have thought he’d see such an expression in them, so used to them being wide and frightened, or wet and ruddy with tears. 

“What do we do now?” You ask quietly, and he wonders how metaphorical you’re being. “Have we — is there more to do, still?” 

Not metaphorical at all, evidently. “There’s more to do,” he replies, remorseful. 

Your expression sinks, and he feels guilty again. “Right,” you breathe. “Do I have to see him again?” 

Him, he needn’t ask. The way you say it, thick with hate, speaks his name for you. 

He reaches for you, brushes your jaw with his thumb, sweeps a damp curl of hair behind your ear. “No.” 

You all but deflate with relief once he says it. 

“I need to check in with my team,” he adds, with a huff. “C.O. will figure out what happens next.” 

“The Captain?” You ask, a grumble. 

He nods. 

You chew on something to say, a divot between your brows. “I don’t like him.” 

He smirks at that. Hopes he gets to tell him that, one day. Bird says she doesn’t like you. “He’s not everyone’s cup o’ tea.” 

“No, I mean, I don’t trust him.” 

“No?” 

He doesn’t blame you, he’d never vouch for the man. He just wants to know if the Captain had done something to you to make you feel that way, while he wasn’t around to see it. 

“If he had his way I’d be dead already,” you say sombrely. 

He grimaces. You’re probably right. 

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” he grunts, hand smoothing over the curve of your shoulder, brushing down your arm. He can’t stop touching you. 

You adjust your position on his lap, not quite getting comfortable, but turning to face him better. “How can you guarantee that if he’s your commander?” You ask, tone interrogative. “What if he orders you to kill me?” 

“I wouldn’t,” he says, more forcefully, anger bubbling in the back of his throat at the thought. 

He hasn’t considered it, going against direct command, breaking the chain of authority that he has been beholden to since birth. His eyes go dark as he thinks about it. Such an order an immovable object, his newborn compulsion to safeguard you an unstoppable force. 

He doesn’t know what would happen. Only that you’d be alive at the end of it. 

Concern bleeds into your features, but it seems you elect to believe him, answering only with a faint nod. “Okay.” 

“You should get some sleep,” he says. 

“Do we have time to?” You ask dubiously, dread in your throat. 

He huffs. “You do.” 

A look of pity cracks through your features, but you relent with a nod. “Okay.”

With some maneuvering, you push yourself up and step a leg out of the tub, standing on the tufted bathmat. Your skin prickles up in the cold, tiny bumps of gooseflesh feather your skin, faint hairs standing on end. 

There’s no caution in your nakedness, no lingering reluctance in having his eyes soak you in. You stand unblushing, and he watches as you float to the towel rail; the way your calves tighten, lush thighs bounce with each small step. The way the faint light catches in the valley of your spine, shimmers on your soft skin embellished with drops of water, carves out the nectarine contours of your ass.

He’s not ignorant of his lechery. Acknowledges that simply having sex with you should not embolden him to abandon all shame as he relishes in the sight of you, he can’t quite justify it — but there’s more to it than that. 

Not anything he can articulate nor make sense of. But you let him admire you, so he admires you. 

You’ve already collected a towel for him by the time he gets out to follow you, handing it to him as you drape your own around your own shoulders. He’s not shy about spectating you as you dry yourself off, running the plush towel down your torso, arms, legs, before wrapping it around your hair and wringing out your locks. 

You dump your towel on the floor by the vanity once you deem yourself dry enough, leaving your hair damp down your back. He puts his boxers back on, slightly less comfortable with his nudity than you. He’s not sure why, perhaps just habit. He’s used to staying hidden. 

Seems you get stuck in the mirror. 

He watches, quietly, as you glower into it like you can see somebody on the other side. Eyes penetrating like you hate her. White-knuckled hands clutch the edge of the vanity, as you let out a frayed sigh. 

He shuffles over until he stands behind you. More than a head above you in the reflection, the shadow you cast. 

Even with your brows curled in worry, lips in a caustic line, you’re pretty. So pretty. He wants to tell you so. His mouth won’t let him utter the words. 

“Do you ever look in a mirror, and—” you hesitate, “and think, ‘who the fuck is that’?” 

He bites down on nothing, but nods in response. “Most of the time.”

You blink at yourself, a slender finger lifting to graze the yellowing bruise under your eye. 

“I used to look so normal,” you say quietly, musing to yourself. 

He exhales as if to laugh — can’t imagine that you ever looked normal. You’re abnormal, by nature. He’s sure it would come across as an insult if he were to say so, but he doesn’t mean it as one. Even as he imagines you in a hoodie and jeans, crossing the street, buying cigarettes from the corner shop — you’d glow.

He lacks the eloquence to say such a thing, so he says nothing. Instead cranes his head and presses his lips into the swell of your shoulder. Fleeting, a simple kiss, he doesn’t linger. 

“Go to bed,” he tells you. 

“What will you do?” You ask quietly, pretty eyes fluttering shut as his lips graze your skin, before he steps back. 

“Got some calls to make,” he answers. 

“You’ll stay in the house, right?” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

Yet would have been accurate to disclaim, but he doesn’t want to frighten you. He knows you’d hardly sleep. 

You nod, finally acquiescing, and he follows a few paces behind you as you wander out of the bathroom towards your bedroom. Leans against the jamb of the doorframe and watches as you pull a comically oversized t-shirt over your head, brush out your hair in front of your mirror, tug open the drawer of your nightstand. 

Grits his teeth as you toss two oxycodone tablets into your open mouth, and swallow them with a placated sigh. Comforts himself with the promise that you’ll break your habit when you’re free from the hell you’re imprisoned in. 

When you’re free, he thinks — ruminates on the prospect. He was ambivalent about your liberation when he first took you on, considered you deserving of whatever fate befell you. Let the Captain believe that you were unlikely to make it out of the arrangement alive, so no additional measures needed to be taken to ensure your emancipation. 

He’ll make it right. 

Observes silently as you settle yourself into bed on your side, tugging your thick covers up until they brush your cheeks, shimmying yourself deeper into the mattress. Thanks to him, it has been several nights since you have slept in a bed, and the relief is visible in the softening of your eyes and the pleased curl in your lips. 

Sweet thing. He’ll get you out, or die trying. 

“Night,” he grumbles, and your eyes blink open before landing on him. 

“You’ll wake me up, won’t you?” You ask, “when it’s time to go?” 

“Course.” 

You nod. “Okay. G’night.”

He flicks off the light switch on the wall with the back of his finger. Remains in the door for far longer than necessary. Attentive as your breathing settles, as your eyes grow heavier, as your lips part slightly in your slumber. The shadow of his silhouette drapes over your body under the covers, haunting you, he’s sure. Only once you roll over to your other side, does he step away from the frame, and carefully shut the door behind him.

He pulls out his satellite phone as he meanders down the hallway away from your bedroom, dialing up the Captain and holding it to his ear. 

He picks up on the first beep. 

“Jesus, I’ve been waiting for you to check in for fuckin’ hours. Thought you’d gone AWOL.” 

“Not quite,” he murmurs. 

“Why’re you so quiet? S’the weather dirty?” 

“It’s clear,” he says, as he makes his way down the staircase, out of earshot. Dithers for a moment about whether he’ll disclose why. “Didn’t want to wake the bird.” 

“She’s still kicking?”

“Affirmative.” 

Price chortles on the end of the line. “You’re a bloody good guard dog, I’ll give you that. How’d she do?” 

“She did good.”

“Go on then, we don’t have time to piss around here.” 

He makes his way to the kitchen. Eyes catch on the counter. On the glitter of the broken glass that sprinkles over its surface. 

“We need to get ‘er out, sir,” he says rigidly. 

“What?” 

“Mia,” he grits. “I’m not leaving her in this fuckin’ shithole.” 

An uneasy pause cuts through the line, as Price considers his response. 

“What’s changed? Has she ended the damn war?” 

“She’s not a war criminal. They’ve kept her prisoner for years, captain, they fuckin’ torture her.” 

“She’s gotten in your head, then, has she?” 

“If you’d spoken to her, John, you’d see the same.” 

“See what, exactly.” 

“An innocent girl.” 

Price lets out a beleaguered sigh. “Christ,” he grumbles. “What’ve you gotten yourself into?” 

A mess. 

“Just get her the damn passport,” he demands, patience wearing thin. “She’s earned it.”

“Has she? You haven’t even told me if she found anything of any value.” 

“Guarantee it.” 

“Guarantee what?” 

Ghost rolls his eyes. “That she’ll be sent home, for fuck’s sake.” 

“When she’s done her job, I’ll see what I can do.” 

“She has.” 

“Not while we’ve got no missiles, she hasn’t.” 

“Mialstor Munitions Factory,” he grunts, finally revealing the intel he called to share. “That’s where they’re making the missiles.” 

“She found that out?”

“Affirmative.” 

“That’s only a few clicks north of you.” 

“Just under one-fifty.” 

“D’she get anything else?”

“Sounds like we missed a few spots at the first estate,” he answers reluctantly. “Digital assets in a vault we weren’t aware of.” 

“Right,” Price says urgently, a familiar rigidity that portends a plan. “I’ll call you back in a minute.” 

The call ends with a click, and Ghost busies himself by collecting the gear that is scattered around the mansion. Finds his jersey and t-shirt on the floor of the kitchen, and his mask hanging from a cupboard handle, where it had fortuitously landed when you tossed it away. Gets himself dressed again, returning the balaclava to its rightful place. Grabs his tac vest from floor by in the foyer, handgun still tucked into the holster on its side. Returns to the bathroom and puts his trousers back on, boots to follow. 

He knows what Price will inevitably ask of him. He just hopes he can get you out before he is ferried off to fulfil his next mission. Knows how dangerously distracted he’ll be if you’re stuck here without him. 

His sat phone rings as he does up his belt. He picks it up immediately. 

“Yep,” he answers quickly. 

“Zero-seven, we’re sending a bird to you at 0400 hours. Bravo and Delta teams will meet you two clicks south of the factory.” 

He checks his watch. Just before two. 

“We’re storming it?” 

“Affirmative, lieutenant. No time to waste.” 

“Seems a little rash for you, captain.” 

“You trust your bird, don’t you?”

His jaw tightens. “I do.”

“Then there’s no use sitting on our hands, is there?” Price barks. “MacTavish will be joining you at Mialstor. Garrick and I will be heading back to the estate to find what you missed.” 

“They’ll be sweeping the mansion again,” he says. “It’ll be swarming.” 

“Counting on it.” 

Not unlike the Captain to dive right into the hornet's nest. 

“You sorted exfil for the bird, then, I take it?” 

“Jesus, lieutenant, get your bloody priorities straight. There are lives on the line.” 

“So is hers,” he spits. “If they get to her they’ll fuckin’ kill her. Worse than that.” 

“She should’ve thought about that before she married one o’ them.” 

Ghost swallows his simmering insubordination before allowing himself to speak. 

“Do you hear yourself?” 

The silence that follows is ugly. He can hear the Captain gritting his teeth through the phone, can see the line that forms in his ever-severe lips. The man has always been callous, dangerously pragmatic — but this level of cold apathy is out of character. Pure desperation. 

They’ve been hunting the same organisation for the better part of a decade. Makarov has never been so within reach, so close to being ensnared in their maws — seems the Captain has lost sight of his own humanity in the pursuit of his heroism. 

Far be it from Ghost to be the one to discern it. Until now, their roles have been reversed. Ghost the cur, Price the muzzle. 

A perturbed grunt crackles through the phone speaker. “Look, If her intel was good, if we find those missiles — I’ll get her out.”

“I don’t give a shit what we find there,” he growls. “I don’t care if we get there and it’s a fucking empty field. We’re getting that girl home.” 

“What’s she done to you, Simon?” Price asks, earnestly, and Ghost’s knuckles turn white. “Alright. We can’t get another bird out before the operation. But afterwards, I’ll try.”

“You’ll try?” He grits. “Or you will?” 

“I’ll do my best,” the Captain replies. “Just — don’t let her distract you, eh? Remember what’s at stake.” 

“Haven’t forgotten, sir.” 

“Good. I’ll check in with you when you’re on the helo. Get a few zees in while you can, yeah? Need you sharp.” 

“Copy that.” 

Price closes the call with over and out and Ghost fights the urge to throw the chunk of plastic into the vanity mirror. 

The thought makes him sick. Leaving you here. Alone, unguarded, in a mansion with no defenses, no bulwark to shield you from the men who wrestle to maim you. 

Abandoning you, just as he said he wouldn’t. 

He doesn’t have a choice. 

Guilt swelters within him as he makes his way down the same corridor, hovering outside your bedroom door, hand yet unwilling to touch the handle. The thought of telling you makes his tongue swell up. Having to utter the words aloud, having to see your face when you learn he has no choice but to leave you here. 

How could you believe him when he says he’ll be back? What stock remains in his promises? 

He loathes confessing to it, but he reminds himself that the Ultranationalist scum have no reason to return to your summer house, yourself notwithstanding. Makarov’s sadism is unearthly, but he would not jeopardise a decades-long scheme just to have his fun with you. He’ll come back for you eventually, no doubting that. The creature oozes such repulsive lust for you that it lingers in the air even after he was forced to leave the estate. 

Simon will return to you before he even gets the chance. He’ll come back to guarantee it. To ensure your safety. 

He twists the door knob, and it opens quietly, hinges fresh and well-maintained. A crack of light slices into the room through the opening door, cloaking where you lie on your back, a single forearm jutting out of the duvet and resting softly on the pillow. Deep in slumber. 

You don’t stir as he makes his way into your room, feet heavy on the carpeted floor. Gentle face doesn’t twitch as he sweeps a tuft of your hair with a thick finger, from where it had draped over your nose, scooping it behind your ear, off of your neck. Eyes fix to the beating of your carotid artery beneath the velvet skin of your throat. The divots that carve beneath your collarbones as you breathe deeply. 

Makes his chest sink to imagine that you’d sleep so tranquilly in his presence. That you could ever let your guard down in his proximity. He wonders how long it will take for the other shoe to drop.

Still, he leaves his tac vest leaning against the foot of the bed. Dumps his boots off beside it, upright and neat, as he was trained to leave them.

He looks at his watch again; 02:01. Gives him just under two hours to get some sleep. He could sleep anywhere — decades in the military have inured him to sleeping on raw dirt, hung over the back of a truck, upright in a plane. 

Doesn’t want to, though. 

He drops into the bed beside you, atop the covers, flat on his back. Heavy head sinks into the thick down pillow beneath his head. Luxury, all of it — not only the dizzyingly opulent bedding, but the body lying next to him. 

You shuffle slightly before rolling onto your side. Eyes still shut, you nestle your forehead into the swell of his bicep, sleepy hand scooping under his arm to hold it close to you. 

You let out a satisfied sigh, and sleep immediately swallows him whole. 

[mommykye]

war beast

young!Ambessa Medarda x pregnant!reader

summary: Ambessa’s wife is the only thing she truly fears in her own sense.

request are open

masterlist

The air in the Noxian war camp clung heavy and metallic, a damp chill seeping from the Black Cliffs. General Ambessa Medarda, a formidable silhouette against the bruised pre-dawn sky, her scarred light armor a silent testament to battles won and prices paid, held her legion in an iron grip of silence. The start of command had forged her presence into a palpable force; a single glance from her steely eyes could still the blood of the most seasoned warrior. Yet, as her gaze swept the assembled ranks, a fleeting tremor, a microscopic shift in her granite composure, betrayed the iron will. Somewhere beyond the camp's perimeter, nestled within this harsh landscape, was her, carrying their child, a walking tempest of fierce affection and the unpredictable currents of new motherhood. Ambessa knew this well. She understood the delicate balance of power in their unconventional partnership, the potent force of the woman who now held her heart captive and whose ire she would navigate with the utmost care.

Your bare feet struck the cool, white marble of their shared estate with sharp thwacks, each footfall echoing through the long halls. The flowing crimson of your Noxian silk dress billowed around your swollen form, a vibrant splash against the pristine backdrop. Your jaw was tight, your lips a thin, angry line. A small, worried entourage trailed behind you: the hushed whispers of the midwives, their hands hovering nervously; the rustle of starched linen as the maids struggled to keep pace with your furious stride; the silent, wide-eyed young male servants, their movements cautious as if treading on shattered glass.

"Honestly!" you snapped, your voice echoing off the high ceilings, causing a flinch amongst your followers. "Do they think I have all day to wait? The sun is practically at its zenith! Does she expect me to simply wither away in hunger?" You punctuated your words with a sharp gesture, the movement emphasizing the perceived slight. "Lunch was hours ago! Hours!"

One of the elder midwives, her face etched with concern, dared to speak, her voice a soft tremor. "My Lady, perhaps the General has been detained by important matters of war..."

"War!" you scoffed, your voice laced with disdain. "Always war! As if a simple meal with her wife, carrying her child, is less important than flexing her muscles on some dusty training ground!" You rounded a corner sharply, the sudden movement causing the maids to stumble. "Does she think this babe sustains itself on air and battlefield strategies? Honestly, the audacity!"

You continued your relentless pace, your bare feet padding with surprising speed despite your advanced pregnancy. The coolness of the marble against your skin was a small comfort, a stark contrast to the simmering heat of your frustration. You passed through the sun-drenched atrium, the gentle murmur of the fountain doing little to soothe your agitation. Your eyes, the color of storm clouds gathering, scanned the familiar surroundings, each elegant detail now a reminder of Ambessa's absence.

"It's always something," you muttered, mostly to yourself, but loud enough for your retinue to hear. "A strategy meeting, a troop inspection, some new dreary report from the front lines. Does she not realize that this," you placed a protective hand on your rounded belly, "is the most important front line of all?"

You reached the grand double doors leading to the gardens, your breath coming in slightly sharper bursts now. The exertion, coupled with your simmering anger, was beginning to take its toll, but you refused to slow your pace. The thought of Ambessa, likely barking orders and surrounded by her stoic officers while you languished in hunger, only fueled your fury.

Pushing open the heavy doors with a surprising burst of strength, you stepped out into the bright sunlight. The meticulously manicured gardens, usually a source of peace, now seemed to mock your inner turmoil. The vibrant blooms and fragrant herbs did nothing to sweeten your mood.

"She probably thinks I'll just nibble on some delicate little pastries," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "As if that will satisfy the hunger of two! This child has her appetite, you know. A veritable beast!" You shot a pointed look at one of the younger servants, who quickly averted his gaze.

The path leading down to the beach and the training grounds stretched before you, a winding ribbon of white gravel. You started down it, your bare feet crunching on the small stones, the sensation surprisingly grounding amidst the storm of your emotions. Your followers hurried after you, their expressions a mixture of apprehension and loyalty.

As you approached the edge of the cliffs overlooking the beach, the sounds of shouted commands and the rhythmic clang of steel grew louder. You could just make out the figures below: Ambessa, a towering presence even from this distance, surrounded by her officers and the disciplined ranks of her legion. The sight of her, so focused and formidable, did little to quell your anger. In fact, it seemed to intensify it.

You began your descent down the winding path to the beach, your movements surprisingly agile despite your condition. The midwives exchanged worried glances, but none dared to voice their concerns. They knew better than to interfere with your current state of mind.

Finally, you reached the sandy expanse of the beach. The air here was thick with the salty tang of the sea and the earthy scent of the training grounds. Soldiers paused in their drills, their heads turning in your direction, a ripple of surprise and curiosity spreading through their ranks. The high-ranking officers surrounding Ambessa also turned, their expressions shifting from professional attention to something akin to nervous anticipation.

Ambessa, her broad shoulders casting a long shadow in the afternoon sun, turned last. Her steely gaze met yours across the distance, and for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossed her features. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a more guarded expression.

You continued your march towards her, your red dress a defiant splash of color against the muted tones of the military encampment. Your bare feet sank slightly into the sand, but you paid it no mind. You stopped a few feet away from Ambessa, your chest heaving slightly from the exertion and your simmering rage.

The surrounding soldiers and officers stood in stunned silence, unsure of how to react to this unexpected interruption. The usual rigid discipline of the Noxian war camp seemed to waver under the intensity of your gaze.

"Ambessa," you began, your voice dangerously low, yet carrying across the hushed beach. "There you are. Busy, as always." You punctuated the word "busy" with a pointed look at the sweat glistening on her brow and the worn leather of her training armor.

"Indeed," Ambessa replied, her voice carefully neutral, though a muscle twitched in her jaw. "Training is essential, especially with the upcoming campaigns."

"Oh, yes, the campaigns," you echoed, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "So much more vital than ensuring your heavily pregnant wife receives a timely meal. I'm sure the logistical strategies of troop deployment are far more intricate than, say, the simple act of providing sustenance for your own offspring." A few of the younger soldiers near the edge of the group snickered, quickly stifling their amusement when Ambessa shot them a sharp, almost imperceptible glance.

"My Lady," one of the senior officers, a grizzled veteran with scars crisscrossing his face, began hesitantly, "the General has been overseeing a new…"

"Unless this 'new' development involves conjuring a roasted pheasant out of thin air," you interrupted, your eyes narrowing at the officer, "I suggest you save your breath, Captain Valerius. My current concerns lie less with battlefield innovations and more with the distinct lack of food in my stomach." Valerius paled slightly and fell silent, his gaze fixed on a pebble at his feet. Ambessa’s eyes flickered towards him, a hint of warning in their depths.

"Surely the kitchens…" Ambessa started, attempting to regain control of the situation.

"The kitchens prepared lunch hours ago, Ambessa," you stated, your voice rising slightly. "Hours! My stomach thinks it's perpetually twilight. And this little… this war beast you’ve planted within me," you placed a hand firmly on your swollen belly, "has inherited your insatiable appetite, apparently. It demands sustenance, and it demands it now."

Another ripple of suppressed laughter went through a section of the soldiers, this time a bit bolder. Ambessa’s gaze swept over them, a silent threat that effectively quelled the noise. You, however, seemed to derive a small measure of satisfaction from their amusement.

"So," you continued, your gaze fixed intently on Ambessa, "since you were clearly too engrossed in your… manly pursuits to consider the delicate state of your wife and unborn child, I have taken it upon myself to rectify the situation." You turned sharply, your crimson silk billowing dramatically. "Come," you commanded your entourage, "we are going back to the estate. And Ambessa," you paused, turning back to face her, your eyes like chips of ice, "you will personally ensure that a feast fit for a pregnant woman – and her ravenous heir – is prepared. And it better be ready before my next hunger pang strikes, or you might find yourself facing a domestic campaign far more brutal than any you’ve encountered on the battlefield."

You turned again and began your trek back towards the estate, your bare feet kicking up small puffs of sand. Ambessa watched you go for a moment, a complex mix of emotions playing across her strong features. A hint of a smile touched the corner of her lips.

"Dismissed!" she barked at her officers, her voice regaining its usual authoritative tone. "See to your duties."

As the officers dispersed, casting curious glances in your direction, Ambessa started after you, her long strides quickly closing the distance.

"My love," she said, her voice softer now, a stark contrast to the commanding tones she used with her troops.

You didn't break your stride. "Don't 'my love' me, Ambessa. My stomach is currently engaged in its own internal war, and you are dangerously close to becoming the primary target."

"I understand," she said, falling into step beside you, her hand hovering near your arm but not quite touching. "My apologies. I became… engrossed."

"Engrossed?" you scoffed. "You were probably reveling in the smell of sweat and steel. Honestly, sometimes I think you prefer the company of your legion to your own family."

"That's not fair," Ambessa countered, a hint of defensiveness in her voice.

"Isn't it?" you challenged, glancing at her sideways. "When was the last time you joined me for a leisurely afternoon stroll in the gardens? Or perhaps read to me from those dusty old tomes you hoard in your study?”

Ambessa sighed. "My duties…"

"Always your duties," you finished for her, a wave of weary frustration washing over you. "This child will have your blood running through its veins, Ambessa. Will you always place your 'duties' before it as well?"

Ambessa stopped, gently taking your arm, forcing you to halt. Her gaze was earnest, her usually stern eyes softened with a genuine concern. "Never. Never would I do that. This child… you… you are everything to me. But you know my responsibilities. Noxus demands…"

"Oh, Noxus can wait for one damn meal," you snapped, pulling your arm away, though the heat of her touch lingered. "I am carrying your heir, Ambessa. That, I would argue, is a matter of significant import to Noxus as well."

A small smile played on Ambessa's lips again. "You are magnificent when you are angry."

"Magnificently hungry, you mean," you retorted, starting to walk again, though your pace had slowed slightly. The path was becoming steeper as you ascended the small incline leading to the estate gardens.

Ambessa chuckled softly and this time, she firmly took your arm, her grip surprisingly gentle yet supportive. "Allow me."

You didn't resist, though you kept your gaze fixed straight ahead. "See that you do. After all, you’re the one who put this… this miniature legionnaire inside me. The least you can do is ensure it’s properly fed."

"A miniature legionnaire," Ambessa mused, a hint of pride in her voice. "I like that."

"Don't get any ideas about enlisting it before it can even walk," you warned, a hint of a smile finally breaking through your stern facade.

You continued your ascent, Ambessa’s steady presence a comforting anchor despite your still-simmering frustration. The midday sun warmed your face, a stark contrast to the cool marble of the estate.

“And don’t think for one moment,” you continued, your voice regaining some of its earlier heat, “that I haven’t considered the implications if this child inherits your… enthusiasm for early mornings and loud noises. If I find myself woken before dawn by miniature war cries and the rhythmic banging of tiny training swords, I swear, Ambessa, I will personally dismantle every piece of ‘essential’ military equipment in this entire territory. With my bare hands.” You punctuated this threat with a dramatic flourish, nearly losing your balance on the uneven path. Ambessa’s grip tightened infinitesimally.

“I have no doubt you would,” she murmured, a hint of amusement lacing her tone. Her gaze drifted downwards, lingering for a moment on the swell of your belly beneath the crimson silk. A soft smile touched her lips, a genuine expression of tenderness that often melted your anger despite your best efforts.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you grumbled, though the edge in your voice had softened.

“Like what?” Ambessa asked innocently, her eyes lifting to meet yours, though the playful glint within them betrayed her.

You sighed, the last vestiges of your irritation fading. “Like you’re already picturing tiny versions of yourself wreaking havoc.”

Ambessa chuckled, a low, resonant sound that always sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Perhaps I am envisioning a future leader with a strong voice and a dedicated training regimen. Qualities I find rather… admirable.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “A strong voice for demanding more sweets and a dedicated training regimen for climbing the highest furniture, no doubt.”

She squeezed your hand gently. “They will have your intelligence and your… persuasive nature as well. A formidable combination.”

The path leveled out as you reached a small, secluded garden nestled amongst the higher terraces of the estate. The air here was fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine and lavender, a peaceful sanctuary away from the bustling activity below. A stone bench sat beneath the shade of a sprawling olive tree, inviting respite.

“Let’s rest here for a moment,” Ambessa suggested, guiding you towards the bench. She carefully helped you to sit, her movements always mindful of your growing form.

As you settled onto the cool stone, the panoramic view of the valley unfolded before you. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the rolling hills, painting the landscape in hues of gold and amber. The distant sounds of the city – the murmur of voices, the clang of a blacksmith’s hammer – were softened by the distance, creating a sense of tranquility.

The warmth of the stone seeped through your thin silk, a grounding sensation as Ambessa settled beside you, her large hand covering yours on the cool surface. The scent of jasmine and lavender, usually a balm, now carried a hint of the earthiness clinging to her currently light armor, a reminder of the world she inhabited and the constant pull it exerted.

You watched the distant shimmer of the city, its activity a muted hum against the vast stillness of the valley. A gentle breeze stirred the olive leaves overhead, dappling the sunlight on your crimson dress. Ambessa’s thumb traced slow circles on the back of your hand, a silent apology and a familiar comfort. The tension that had coiled so tightly within you began to ease, replaced by a weary fondness. You knew this dance, this push and pull between the demands of her duty and the needs of your unconventional family. It was a precarious balance, weighted by the fierce love that bound you, a love as formidable and complex as the woman beside you, a woman who could command legions with a single glance yet now sat, humbled and contrite, under the soft afternoon light, awaiting your forgiveness and the inevitable, rumbling demand for food from the miniature legionnaire growing within you.

[redcherrykook]

✰ said you wanna be good but you're beggin' me to come over.

✰ 01 / 2 / 03 / series m list.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

tags: bestfriendsboyfriend!jungkook, boxer!jungkook, cheater!jungkook (not on oc) , oral (male rec), backshots, choking, praise, clit play, hickies, adressing the problem (not really)

note from cherry: shameless two !! Took me ages,, unedited!!

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

He smells like bitter cigaretts and a wet dream ripping you out of your slumber with gentle agression.

Especially after knocking out another opponent with gloved cushioned hands, the red running down his nose accentuates his pink lips. They tend to remain with the taste of iron even after the referee lifts his muscular, bruised arm- even after the celebratory hug to his coach, the sweat droplets mixing in as he barely kisses her over the bounds of the ring, like a boyfriend should. But when the lights dim, and Jungkook looks for you between faces he should feel attached to, you stand out with a proud smile, wrap your arms around his figure and whisper a short word of congratulations into his ear.

Unlike her, you don't bother for his stench ruining your lavender perfume, or the fact that his hair is damp and reeks of leather and iron.

You don't wipe your glossed lips with the back of your hand after the sloppy kisses behind the fighters lockers, instead your tongue seeks him out; seeks his blood, his hard work - you honor it, his win, his strength, his sins, his prayers.

"That was for you, i hope you know" he mutters, smearing the dried blood off his roughed up skin as you kiss down his neck, savouring the sloppy, lazy slump his body makes reactively,

"Not for her?" Jungkook hums, runs his hand through his dishevled hair as the sly grin spreads across his busted lip,

"It's never for her baby"

You're not the girl he kisses first when he beats someone in the ring. You're not the song that rips through his notifications when he doesn't call back immediately, or the one he goes on dinner dates with, buys fresh tulips for. You would never be. It's impossible - almost unfair to attempt and shove you in a box of senseless relationships and ordinary life. Youre not, you can never be. Yet, you desire to be.

His heart doesn't race when she looks at him with wide innocent eyes, not anymore- his cock doesn't twitch when her sliver of skin beneath the hem of her crop top shows as it rides up. She's familiar, he's gotten used to the burn in his nose from her gucci flora that invades him with a simple hug, the routine habit of washing his hoodies after every meeting feels colorless, likewise with the words he forgets to feel everytime they run past him, flow out before he registers that he spoke them.

And when he hears his own deep voice lie to her undeserving face, he doesn't care to stop in utter shame anymore, Jungkook's shameless now. You made him shameless.

"Why don't you just leave her gguk" the statement floats heavy between your desire fueled bodies, your hands dig down his shorts waistband, taking his heavy cock out to slap against his ripped abandomen, he groans, finds grounding in the roots of your strands.

"I promised i will, jus' need time..- mhh- fuck" throaty moans rip from his lips that part as yours do, his head leans back into the hard metal of his locker, gazes down to your seated form in between his muscular thighs

"don't wanna think about her when my pretty girl is on her knees for me" you can't help the giggle that slips between kitten licks to his leaking, pink tip, he recriporates it with low hums, threading his fingers through tangles he created. His other large hand makes its way to cradle your jaw between his fingers,

"wider baby, c'mon"

You comply wordlessly, tear open your jaw for him to grab the base of his girth, slap it against your salivating tongue, "gooood girl" he rasps, turning the sound into a delicious moan.

Heat rises to your cheeks, burning down your body to pool in your panties while he thrusts his hips forward, resting himself into your hot, wet mouth, he hits the back of your throat effortlessly- grips the back of your head like he physically needs to feel your nose hit his pelvis and you gagging around his leaking tip.

Jungkook looses himself in the insistant drag of his cock in your mouth- back, forth, bottoming out, gliding back into it. Wires of warm saliva and little vibrating whimpers hug him into the sensations, he feels dizzy from the pleasure, tugs at your hair in an effort to stablize but it's no use,

"just like that- aah fuck baby" he repeats- chants the strom of eroticism and your sensually deep bobbs into words of praise and groans, lets his eyelids flutter, dim the sight of your arousing frame until all he can do is feel- feel so much at once, that he fails to warn you as the tight rope snaps,

It runs down your throat, creamy and slightly salty and somehow you still swallow every drop jungkook allows you to have, let it drip on your swollen bottom lip when he retracts his flaccid length from your warm mouth.

"Such a good girl, need to get your little pussy filled don't you?" he mutters, already having found the small of your back in his hands, draped you over the bench so your rear would point up to him- show your all to him. His long, tired fingers run along your wetness, stimulate the throbbing button that makes you shrierk- makes you grip the bench with your chipped nails.

"mhh, so wet f'me. My pussy, gonna give it to you sweet thing. Fill that needy little hole"

Jungkooks teeth graze your shoulder for a brief moment, his cock stands tall in the grip of his palm as he rubs it against your entrance, teasing, testing how loud he can make you beg for it- for his ego, for his validation, he does it for all that, but mostly to please you. To ascend your youthful scheme into something flourishingly adolescent with the seemingly only thing he could bring himself to give you. With orgams, his lips, his hands, his cock, his needy groans. All, into something that grew up, grew old, grew stable. Something that, akin to a relationship, stands on footing with ingrown, woven roots.

The feeling that surged in him when he first indulged into your seduction continues to grow aswell- seek his knowledge that he's the one making you cum, he's the one thats filling you with every inch of his cock, watching your pussy stretch around him, take it all. Your siren like, rotten sweet moans confirm his every suspition, deny his every doubt with every repetito of his name that tumbles down your tongue,

"fuck- jungkook right there - h-aah- oh god fuck, fuck"

"mhm.. i know doll.. s'fuckin tight for me"

His eyes practically gleam while watching you- you were just so beautiful, so sexy- bend over just for him, with your spine glistening, his fingers digging bruises into the flesh of your ass- the repeated, sexual noise of his hips slamming into you, his cock plunging in your drenched cunt that sounded so much like love, it felt dangerous

The way he grabbed you by the neck- never stopped to think twice as he pulled you into his uncontrollably raging body- moved in deeper, synced your high pitched cries with his guttural noises, none of it was remotely safe- and while he knew he shouldnt suck on your neck, bite into your skin where everyone would see- jungkook was an animal. Sucked, licked, dug until your neck was decorated with his borderline purple claims, threatening to rock into you so far he'd bruise your cervix

"m'gonna come so hard- ohh fuckk kook"

You, exhausted, blissed, drinking in every deep thrust of is- felt every suck on your neck- couldnt help but fall into his perfectly set trap like a unknowning doe. Succumb to his thumb that reached around to hastily circle your clit, you cry for him- let him know how good he feels, how your body belongs to him.

Because you, are far from a helpless little doe. You- although he was well aware, craved him. Wanted him. Need him too deeply to care- to consider how someone you loved was going to fall into specs, you desired to own jungkook. To the untrained, naked eye, this is all superficial perversion, lack of dignity.

It was disgusting to wash yourself of his traces, disgusting that you would miss his reminder on your body, disgusting that you grew in love with knowing- he doesn't fuck her like this.

Even more disgusting, filthy even, that fucking him was all you had- and the sole thought made your stomach churn in possessive anger.

And in this very moment, in the midst of melting yourself, watching each other bloom through sloppy thrusts and half annunciated pleas, he gave himself to you- all he gave himself premisision to- once again.

"aah- shiit.. filled you up so goddamn much- lookkk at thaaat.. fuckk.."

The spoken words stretch, short gasps leave your lips while you spasm from loss of contact. He rubs your cheeks, spreads them to watch his cum slowly drop out of your weeping cunt, presses a wet kiss to the leaking entrance to know how it would taste like if he got what he truly wanted - what he was afraid of. Like the shadow of it hadnt been cast for a long time , the unity between your bodies, reaching its daggers further into your vulnerable beings.

"Where did you get those from?" she asked- hushed, with a smirk on her face after youve watched her unwrap her arms around her boyfriend, who, hid the matching pieces to her little puzzle under his shirt.

"A dude from the club. He was.. a bit passionate, i guess" you giggle at her, innocently flash your smile with burning glances to the man behind her, who is paying to mind to you, engaged in conversation with a mutual friend.

"Mhm, damn" she pauses, letting herself soak in a tiny second of sorrow, leans into you a bit, continues- "you know, i kinda miss having sex"

"What? He still doesn't..? Its been a bit"

your heart excelerates, steadily drums pride into your bloodstream, you dont show- instead, your lips contort into a small pout, your trained hand rubs her arm as she sighs in consideration,

"No.. i do feel like.. i don't know its stupid but.." she trails of, biting her lip conflicted.

"No, no tell me. Im sure its not stupid"

deep breath in, as she exhales, it sends a shiver down your spine,

"I kind of.. i dont know, i think he might be cheating on me"

[blackcat-star]

[Married] Wiege.

Husband!Jinwoo x Fem!Reader.

« Someone who loves you | That's all he needs »

_____________________________

"흠, 음, 아가 (Hush, my little child)

어서 잠들거라 (And drift into your dream)

눈을 감으면 낙원에서 (A place where you can leisurely play)

뛰놀거라" (Our paradise)

Night has fallen over Seoul. It is time to start your bedtime routine which will help you unwind and sleep deeply tonight.

The moon radiates its bright light from the night sky tonight as it floats above like a large shining pearl. A soft spring wind moves across the landscape and enters the small room of a house near the city limits.

The pale curtains move slightly with the passing of a soft wind. Soft moonlight enters through the window to brighten the space where stuffed animals mingle with children's books in a pleasant and magical setting.

The room remains dark because the main lights are off while the night lamp shines softly and moonlight enters through the window.

Tonight is another quiet and peaceful spring night.

People who want peace should choose to live in the areas beyond the city limits. The outer city area remains quiet throughout the night with no vehicle noise or crowds like downtown but instead offers peaceful sounds of a baby sleeping next to its mother.

Sung Jinwoo remained still at the entryway while gazing into the room. He had just returned, he always came home late, his wife often nagged him about it. What could he do, the night was his territory, the most suitable time for all investigations and crimes. His job was to investigate and detain criminals, it sounded heavy and tiring.

But he did all this just to return to the warmth of his family's love.

His liitle, beloved family.

You were sitting by the crib, holding your little child in your arms. Your lips moved slightly, singing a lullaby in a deep, sweet voice like honey, so gentle that it made his heart skip a beat. You reached out to pat his back, your eyes strangely gentle.

He should have showered, changed, and crawled into bed like every other day. But that lullaby stopped him. Fixed him there, as if if he stepped into... this peaceful moment, it would shatter like glass.

Suho slept soundly in his mother's arms. Enveloped in the warm breath of mother's arms, mother's heart and the warmth of home.

Jinwoo's heart suddenly felt like it was melting.

He never thought that one day he would be able to start a small family of his own. The E-rank hunter back then never thought that his life would be like this, he didn't even dare to dream. Back then, he only cared about how to live, how to make money, he didn't think about falling in love, getting married, and having children.

Looking back at himself now, Jinwoo felt that he had accomplished so much. This was the greatest achievement he had ever had.

His wife and son.

You used to be a very strong and free-spirited person. You were always full of life and enthusiasm. Now that image has been replaced by a gentle image of you, the image of a mother and a wife.

You were once the brightest light on the battlefield.

He met you during the most chaotic days of his life.

A young girl with eyes that never looked down, walking through the ruins of a destroyed gate as if victory was inevitable. I once told him.

"This world is cruel, Jinwoo. But if we don't fight it, who will protect the weaker ones?"

You once stood alone in front of a high-level ogre, blood flowing from your forehead to your chin but my lips still curled into a smile. You once carried the wounded Jinwoo out of the battlefield, cursing profusely while your hands trembled with worry. You once rushed forward first, drawing your weapon from your backpack and shouting.

"Back off! Let me clear the way!"

Jinwoo never forgot that small but burning figure. Like a flame that resisted the storm.

You were never afraid. You were the first person to teach him how to hold a knife properly, the first person to swing a shield for Jinah when she was ambushed near the school gate. You were the one who climbed over the corpses of monsters alone to save a living child. And who once said, "We do not fight for fame, but for those who cannot fight."

There was a fire in you - strong, fierce, unyielding.

Yet, you were the one who put down your weapon first.

During your daily morning routine you started talking as you both drank coffee on the balcony. During your morning coffee you asked "What if I stop wanting to fight tomorrow? All I want is to become a wife and mother while devoting my time to my family."

Jinwoo paused to think before responding with a smile. "You made me realize this is the most lovely statement I have ever heard."

You smiled. Those eyes were no longer as fierce as on the battlefield. But gentle. Soft. But still you.

Jinwoo entered the room, very quietly, as if afraid to break the warm image. He sat down next to you, looking at the little boy who was dozing off. Suho's jet-black hair was like his, but those plump lips and rosy cheeks - they were clearly yours.

You didn't say anything, just leaned against your husband, your hand still patting Suho's back, the lullaby still on your lips.

"부드러운 (The gentle wind)

바람이 춤추고 (Writing its symphony)

간절하게  (The morning comes)

숨결을 스며들 때 (Unshaken and so certain)"

Suho is still sleeping soundly in his mother's arms.

Little Suho doesn't need to worry about anything, because his mother is always here to take care of him, his father is still here as a strong shield, protecting him from nightmares. And the shadow soldiers, always silently following behind, making sure everything is okay.

Suho was born with all the joy and love, so don't worry about anything, just sleep well, sleep soundly.

Jinwoo gently touched his son's cheek with one finger. The baby moved slightly, his tiny hand waving as if welcoming his father's presence, then lay still in your arms.

Then he looked at you. The soft light fell on your face, highlighting your eyes and lips.

In Jinwoo's eyes, you were always beautiful.

Jinwoo suddenly wanted to cry.

He would give anything for moments like this.

He would give up everything, even his blood and life, just to be able to keep this moment forever.

Jinwoo reached out, gently grasping the hand that was placed on Suho's back. That hand was still as strong as before, pulling him back from the brink of life and death. Now, that hand was caressing a small creature, with all the gentleness in the world.

The moonlight fell on your hair, creating a soft glow around your face. You were no longer the warrior you once were – no more blood, no more wounds, no more strong eyes that always looked forward. Now, you were Suho's mother. Jinwoo's wife. Home.

He just sat next to you, quietly listening to Suho's steady breathing, your lullaby, the spring breeze gently blowing through the window, and... the sound of his own heart beating.

He had thought he was dead, since the day his father went missing, then his mother fell into a coma, since his heart was covered in darkness, since he stepped into those dark and bloody dungeons. He had thought his heart would only live for fighting, for revenge, for protection.

But after he had solved everything, his heart beat for something else – for love.

Jinwoo lifted his gaze to study the window frame. The moon shines like a perfect round pearl in the night sky. The spring breeze continues to softly move through the grass blades as if a gentle spirit touches everything.

"자연스레 (Without a word)

품을 거야 (You will embrace)

노래하던 바다" (The endless sea that sings)

TAfter the song ended you placed Suho back into his crib.

Jinwoo held you close as he asked "Do you need rest?"

You leaned against his chest for support and pressed your face into his muscles while saying "Yeah...Suho tested my patience tonight and took forever to fall asleep."

He laughed quietly before placing a kiss on your hair and said "Thanks, love."

You studied him as you asked, "Why do you thank me?"

Jinwoo held your hand softly while keeping his gaze fixed on the peaceful face. "For choosing me. For staying here. For giving me a lovely family."

The moonlight remained suspended like a precious stone above the night sky. The soft spring air brought the fragrance of flowers and the night's fresh air into the room. Inside the small room three hearts made a soft family beat as they all throbbed in harmony.

"You are my home."

"And you are the last person I trust to turn my back on without defense."

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the song lyric: Wiege - Alien Stage

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Part of LIFE WITH YOU.

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