#I just want everything to go well and be done now

[keferon]

“I've done something wrong again. It's not moving.”

There was a lot of stuff spread out in front of him. Old spare parts, pieces of armor, tools. Lots of warped plates.

And his creation. A real golem. An entity woven of metal and magic.

Shockwave walked around the table and stopped right above the head of the figure lying on it

“Golems exist to serve, my friend. It won't move unless you ask it to.”

Orion clutched his servos. The figure remained stone still. There was no ventilation noise, no engine sound, not even the barely audible spinning of a spark. It could just as easily have been a long-cooled dead body lying in front of him.

“Wake up.”

___________________

Magical Golem Prowl anyone? ‘,:) This story exists in the same universe as Spellbound au. and Monster hunter au and ties them together so I highly recommend you read all of them.

The fic under the cut⤵️

He seemed to be nothing.

The emptiness that infinitely defined his nonexistent self bounced off the metal plates and glinted in the droplets of still-warm energon. He was nothing, but there was so much around him that the space was like an infinite buzz of cluttered noise. The voices above him sounded excited. The metal slab beneath him was cold and hard.

“Good. Now you need to put a piece of your armor on this. Somewhere it will be in plain sight and easily reachable.”

“Oh...wouldn't it make more sense to hide it under the armor? I mean, it's an obvious weak point.”

He idly thought, his hands felt numb.

“No no, that's the whole point. You're using an artifact you haven't fully studied and you don't know exactly how it's going to turn out. If it goes crazy and becomes dangerous, you should have an easy way to destroy it. Where's the artifact by the way?”

The tinkling of metal.

The sound of a crystal clattering against armor.

Warm hands on his head.

“Here.”

“Excellent. Now. This will be the base on which the entire spell will be held, so you want to hide this artifact very well and secure it carefully so it doesn't break by mistake.”

Did he have hands too? He was nothing, why did he have hands? It didn't make sense.

Orion took a couple steps away from the table and stood pensively.

“I've done something wrong again. It's not moving.”

There was a lot of stuff spread out in front of him. Old spare parts, pieces of armor, tools. Lots of warped plates.

And his creation. A real golem. An entity woven of metal and magic.

Shockwave, hitherto distracted by an almost invisible spot on his shoulderplate, glanced leisurely over Orion's shoulder

“Golems don't need much to function. You made a good shell. The magical structure is strong as well, I see.”

Orion hesitantly pointed to the golem's forehead, decorated with a neat sharp chevron.

“I added some things that weren't in your instructions and I think I made a mistake somewhere.”

“Golem making is a complex skill, don't give up if it doesn't work right awa...you know what, actually no, you did everything right.”

Orion shrugged in frustration.

“Then why won't it move?”

Shockwave walked around the table and stopped right above the head of the figure lying on it

“ Golems exist to serve, my friend. It won't move unless you ask it to.”

Orion walked back over to the table with a quiet “oh” and nervously clutched his servos. The figure remained stone still. There was no ventilation noise, no engine sound, not even the barely audible spinning of a spark. It could just as easily have been a long-cooled dead body lying in front of him.

“Wake up.”

The emptiness that forever defined his nonexistent self stammered. He wasn't nothing. He had a purpose and that purpose shaped him, put strength into his numb limbs and molded his lack of thought into naked intent.

He wasn't nothing. He was a void, but suddenly that void had a direction, no matter how meaningless it sounded.

He stopped being just nothing. He became his purpose. And it felt so right that it was unclear how he could ever have been anything else before.

He opened his optics.

Orion, who apparently hadn't expected that the thing he'd made specifically for it to move would move, jerked back with a funny sound.

On the opposite side, Shockwave nodded proudly, returning to the spot on his armor that even in the bright lights of the workshop only he could see.

“I believed in you.”

_________

“Oh my god! How do you sneak up on me so quietly every time?”

He wasn't nothing anymore. He was a whole long list of instructions and rules. His creator sat him down at a table and meticulously listed everything he could and could not do. Handed him many books and ordered him to attend a huge number of lectures. He now knew who to bow to if he passed them in the hallway and who to avoid. He had learned hundreds of names and thousands of titles. Learned how to pretend to be a real Mech, even though he wasn't.

The world around him was complex and confusing, but he found that this complexity had its own patterns, linked together in a bizarre web of systems and sequences. It was worth pulling on the right end, and the meaningless facts organized themselves into something much more manageable.

Everything made sense. The planet revolved around a star. Mechs rejoiced when they got something that improved their quality of life. Energon burned, producing energy. Big things tended to be heavier than small things.

The world was divided into Mechs and monsters...and him.

He was inclined to be...quiet.

His creator - he'd asked to be called Orion - twitched when he found his creation standing right behind him.

He was very talented at finding Orion wherever he was. And very light compared to most things his size. Like everything else it made sense. He wasn't a Mech, he was just an empty shell. An armor summoned to life by magic. His footsteps were as quiet as a mini bot's. Whatever Orion called it, he wasn't 'sneaking' on purpose.

A few cycles later, Orion accidentally bent one of its finals when he turned around too quickly, startled by the quiet footsteps behind him.

He named him Prowl. It was...not exactly logical, but there was a certain sense to it. Prowl nodded and agreed. He always agreed with everything Orion said, even if it didn't make sense at all. Orion's opinion took a higher priority than anything else.

Until it didn't.

Until Orion gave him a focused look and told him that he should argue if he thought it was necessary.

Until Orion put the servo on his shoulder and said something along the lines of....

“You can disagree with me if you think my opinion is wrong. I'm not asking you to go against me. I'm not perfect and I can't be the one absolute point of reference for everything. You can and I'm sure will be smarter than me about many things. I want you to tell me if I'm wrong and what I should do about it.”

Like…well….like an absolute fool.

This concept was new. Prowl wasn't built to argue. He was made to obey orders and to serve a function.

Orion smiled slyly. At least it was probably a smile behind his mask that made the corners of his optics lift.

“It wouldn't be considered a disobedience of my order if I ordered you to disobey it. Don't you think?”

Prowl opened his mouth to agree out of habit, but then changed his mind mid-motion and closed it back. It...it didn't make sense. It made sense that was breaking under its own weight. It was mercilessly mixing up all of his pre-learned patterns for talking to Orion. If he agreed with that logic now, it would mean accepting its use. If he protested, it would also mean accepting it, but in a bit more embarrassing way. Just when he was thinking of simply retreating silently to the nearest shadow and banging his head against the wall, he heard a quiet chuckle and realized that Orion had been amusing himself for some time now, watching him struggle.

Prowl decided that verbal responses might be overrated and frowned his face in the most believable expression of displeasure he could portray.

Orion broke out into laughter.

________

“What exactly is my goal?”

Orion looks. Curious. He stops talking to Shockwave and leans back on the bench.

“Right now, to study these journals. I already told you.”

Prowl nods to indicate he heard him and continues

“Studying serves a future purpose. Studying for the sake of studying would be meaningless to me. What is my final goal?”

“To assist me” Orion says slightly confused. ”Within the best of your ability of course.“”

“Аh. Assist in the fulfillment of your goal.”

“Well. I'd say so, yes.”

Prowl nods

“And what is your goal?”

Shockwave, who has been sitting next to them the whole time looks like they're a couple of previously unknown to science species he's just personally discovered.

Prowl ignores him.

“I...you remember the separation between Mechs and monsters, right?” asks Orion cautiously.

“Yes.”

“Mechs...are unfair to monsters. Monsters are cruel to Mechs. It's a needlessly violent situation that I want to...try to. Fix.”

Prowl frowns to indicate that the information isn't completely clear.

“You're a member of the order of hunters. And...” he shakes his head toward the nearest window ”...you have a considerable number of hunters under your command. Your job involves destroying monsters.”

Shockwave makes some sort of quiet amused sound and props his chin up with his hand.

Prowl ignores him harder.

“My job is to bring peace.” says Orion “You don't have to kill monsters to do that. You can negotiate with them. Find a compromise. Coexist. I...I guess basically, I'm trying to make the world a little better?”

Prowl doesn't look impressed. He's actually making a special effort to not let Orion think in any way that he might be intrigued by the whole endeavor.

“You do realize that's a disproportionately large goal for just one Mech, right?”

Orion shrugs awkwardly

“That's why I made you.”

__________

Ratchet puts aside his tools and critically examines his work.

“Don't touch that and it will heal normally.”

Orion smiles gratefully

“Thank you.”

Ratchet is important to Orion. They are close and very valuable friends to each other. The two of them look peaceful now, despite the fact that Ratchet threatened Orion when he first showed up in Sick Bay, so Prowl decides it would be a socially acceptable moment to start talking

“Orion, you're wanted at the Council.”

The second half of his line is drowned helplessly in two startled exclamations at once. Orion, to his honor, calms down almost immediately, but Ratchet continues cursing for a while.

Prowl doesn't wait for him to finish. The Council meeting is earlier than usual today and Orion has already had a few occasions of misbehavior. It's in his best interest to at least show up on time this time.

“Shockwave asked me to tell you to hurry. I will add that showing up at the last minute will not be good for your reputation if you are still hoping to convince the council to let you take more units.”

Ratchet .....stares.

“Primus' rusty hinges, Orion, who's that? Did they assign a nanny to you?”

Orion twitches his finals playfully and immediately crinkles in pain, remembering that one of them should have been left to heal.

“Remember when I wanted to find an assistant? Well...”

Ratchet casts an increasingly more suspicious look at Prowl. Prowl decides that friendliness is overrated and limits his expression to a barely perceptible tilt of his head in response.

“...Shockwave recently helped me figure out how to create golems and I figured if I couldn't find anyone I could trust, I might as well...make one. So. Ratchet meet Prowl.” finishes Orion awkwardly.

Ratchet glares at Prowl for a while longer. Then he turns away and starts tidying up Sick Bay.

“I'm not buying it. I don't know where you found this guy, but you're not playing me. Nice poker face by the way.”

One of Prowl's wings twitches

“He wasn't lying.”

Ratchet snorts grumpily.

“Those...” he waves toward the next room ”...are golems.

There, behind the wall, several golems scurry around. They have medical staff symbols painted on their shoulders, and there is not a trace of thought in their eyes. Two are scrubbing the floors, another wiping the shelves and window sills clean of dust. They occasionally mumble softly under their noses or utter an inane “excuse me” every time they accidentally bump into each other. Prowl knows that if you ask any of them a question with more than one variable, they start babbling guiltily and shrugging their shoulders. They're stupid, but they themselves don't seem to care about that at all. They are their purpose. And their purpose is to keep things clean. They are pride because they are good at their job.

Prowl frowns. He's a headache. Because his "purpose" has been distracted by his conversation with Ratchet and will probably add another tardy to his list in the near future.

Orion begins (thank goodness) to move toward the door

“I've made improvements. There might have been...some not exactly allowed artifacts.”

Ratchet rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly. Prowl can see that his face is already starting to wrinkle in that spot. Patient antics probably age Ratchet far more effectively than the passage of time itself.

“I...you know what...go before the Council sends a search party to look for you.”

Orion sighs and without further distraction finally walks out the door.

Prowl decides that Ratchet might be a good ally when it comes to managing Orion.

He nods politely goodbye before leaving.

______________

“I am different from them. Why?”

Orion puts down the document he's been working on and looks first at Prowl and then, over his head, at the other golems scurrying down the hallway with brooms and rags. He doesn't need to interject exactly who he thinks Prowl is different from.

“Do you want a philosophical answer or a technical one?”

Prowl reaches out and pokes somewhere in Orion's document

“ You missed a comma. Both.”

Orion obediently puts the comma in and folds up the document. His finals are twitching faintly. It could be a sign of concentration as well as distraction. Prowl has already figured out that Orion's body language is a double-bottom trap. For a Mech with this level of expressiveness, Orion is surprisingly difficult to read.

“Sometime quite a while ago during one of my expeditions, I found a unique artifact. A fascinating item, granting wisdom to anyone brave enough to use it.”

“I have a feeling a ‘but’ is coming.”

“You're right. The artifact's unique gift was also its curse. It fed so much information through the Mech's heads that it literally caused the processors of its owners to melt.”

“Oh. Good thing I don't have a processor then.”

Orion laughs quietly

“Indeed. You won't have that problem. And about the other part....Think of all the Mechs you know who are savvy enough about politics and available to work together at the moment.”

Orion gives him a moment before continuing.

“ What is the likelihood that the most trustworthy of them would betray me, for their own gain or out of fear?”

“ Twenty-eight percent,” Prowl informs.

And then hesitates a moment.

Orion is obviously a smart Mech. Not smart enough to single-handedly dominate the political arena, definitely not with his ideals and ideas of what's right. But smart enough to realize it. He knows what he wants and he also knows he can't achieve it alone.

Prowl looks at Orion, who just stands there, eyeing him, without in any way trying to continue the conversation.

Orion is idealistic, and therefore often mistaken for stupid. He isn't. Orion doesn't just know that he can't succeed alone, he knows that everyone else knows it too. He thinks this knowledge will be used against him when the opportunity arises. He's right. By Prowl's count, at least three suspiciously clever Mechs were going to sweet-talk their way into becoming Orion's assistant one way or another before... he appeared.

One of the janitor golems runs past them down the corridor. He doesn't turn around, doesn't even slow down or cast a curious glance. His only goal, his only interest is cleaning. The rest of the world might as well not exist at all.

Prowl thinks he's not that different.

Orion apparently reads the understanding from his face, because he nods contentedly and starts walking further down the hall.

“You didn't take yourself into account when you made the statistics, did you?”

Prowl follows him silently on his heels. Not close enough to be familiar, but not so far away that the conversation stops being private.

“The sampling condition was all mechs. I am not one.”

“That's true” Orion shrugs “You have no loved ones that the Council could use to influence you. You have no desires to be bought by their fulfillment. And while I cannot say with absolute certainty that you will never be capable of going against me...” Prowl starts to open his mouth to object but Orion gestures him to stop, “...no no no no, let me finish. And while I can't be sure you'll never betray me, I at least know for sure that before you met me you had no reason to do so. Do you understand?”

Prowl understands. It makes sense. He still feels the need to argue back, because it is part of his function to do that.

“I would never betray you. I'm not capable of it.”

Orion twitches his finals. Without seeing his face Prowl assumes it is a sign of doubt.

“You are a creature of intellect, Prowl. I am a Mech of ideals. Those two things don't always combine well.”

______

“Foolish and presumptuous.”

Prowl ponders that his function could be much easier if he didn't have to constantly try to balance what is right and what is right in Orion's eyes.

“If you were spotted, the Council would have good reason to assume this isn't the first time you've done something like this.”

“No one noticed,” Orion tries, but Prowl doesn't let him finish that thought

“No one has seen you, because you're lucky. You can't count on it being a permanent occurrence! You undermine your own position by giving the Council grounds for suspicion, you...”

Prowl stops, still pointing his finger accusingly somewhere on Orion's chin. Shockwave, who has witnessed the scene, makes an impressed face and steps closer.

“I swear, you're probably the most capable golem maker I've ever had the pleasure of teaching, Orion. If I hadn't seen that guy on your assembly table, I would never know.”

Prowl takes the statement as a compliment, but doesn't feel the need to show it outwardly. Shockwave, as one of the few who knows about him not being a real Mech, doesn't take offense to it in any way.

“Did I interrupt something dramatic?”

Prowl snorts, because the gesture maintains just the right amount of judgment for his situation.

“Orion is once again harboring a monster instead of killing it or letting it escape.”

This news immediately enlivens Shockwave's posture. Prowl knows he's an even bigger fan of collecting suspicious side projects than Orion. Their friendship, frankly, will one day bury either one or both of them. Prowl just hopes his presence will be enough to sway the percentages when that happens.

Orion doesn't try to deny anything.

“One of my squads encountered a ghost near the northern border. I couldn't... listen Shockwave, he's a good guy. He just needs to be given a chance to show it.”

“Can he talk?” there's almost visible stars in Shockwave's eyes..

Prowl slumps his shoulders helplessly, already knowing what's coming next. These two have done this dance a hundred times before. One of Shockwave's favorite side projects was a school for, as they called them, magically gifted and extraordinary Mechs. In fact, it was the largest den of various monsters that Prowl had ever seen. Every time Orion's hunting squads found a monster that could even remotely resemble a normal Mech, Orion would rush with happy optics to hand it over to Shockwave for care. There, the monsters were taught everything they needed to fit into the society of normal Mechs, but more importantly, they were given documents. Precious pieces of paper that granted their holders rights, freedoms, and protections as Shockwave's apprentices.

Prowl could appreciate the noble endeavor. He could also see clearly that with each addition, this school would become more and more of an inconvenient thorn in the Council's side. Just like Orion, Shockwave was happy to paint a brighter and brighter target on his own back for many cycles.

Orion, insensitive to danger that is not immediate, cheerfully begins to recite

“Can read, write, speak, even makes music.”

Shockwave nods happily

“Introduce us?”

Prowl wonders how far Shockwave can stretch the definition of “magically gifted Mech”. One day Orion will pick up a Kraken on the street and then they'll both probably have to do a lot of mental gymnastics to make it's documents. Ugh.

When Orion had asked him to calculate the probability of betrayal, the most reliable mech he was evaluating at the time was Shockwave.

Twenty-eight percent...

Prowl wonders how many students must be on the opposite side of the scale from Orion for Shockwave to choose in their favor. Speculation is actually useless. If the Council decides to nail Shockwave, they will of course use his entire school at once.

In fact, they probably won't even have to force Shockwave to choose between the school and Orion, because Orion himself will choose a bunch of monsters over himself.

This ridiculously dangerous social construct they call friendship rests entirely on their reputation as honest and honorable mechs. Prowl stares at Shockwave's back and wonders how one mech could have so much charisma, that he gets away with keeping a huge number of Council enemies right under the noses of that same Council.

_________________

Orion gently lifts the now graying shell of what was once a monster from the ground

He doesn't even turn toward Prowl.

"Did you kill him?"

Killing...it's a stretch. Does the act of helping a murderer qualify as murder? Or the lack of action that could have saved the now murdered person? In most cultures and languages, “murder” refers to the act of ending someone else's life, but the context implies a physical act. Did you put a knife in his back? Did you push him off a cliff? Did you cut him with a sword?

By those criteria. Well. Prowl never killed anyone. Nor is he likely to, for he has neither the skill nor the strength to do so.

Did he cause death? Absolutely.

Orion's always had this heroic streak that wouldn't let him just pass by the distressed and disadvantaged. Orion has always had a great spark of kindness and principles as strong as titanium alloy as to what is right and what is wrong.

In Orion's world view, murder is wrong. And murder in conditions where it was possible to solve everything by peace is immoral and unacceptable.

Prowl's worldview tells him that Orion could do much better if he stopped wasting his potential on helping those who will only drag him down in the long run. Orion's life depends entirely on the Council's opinion of him. A Council that has been watching him closely lately. Even if Orion doesn't like it, it's Prowl's job to make sure they like what they see.

Orion turns to him, shaking him out of his thoughts.

"Prowl. That mech tried to escape. Past you. And now he's dead. Were you the one who killed him?"

"No," says Prowl, "he ran into one of the patrols."

That statement is missing a good half of the details. Like mentioning that the patrol wouldn't have been there in the first place if Prowl hadn't sent them an anonymous lead.

Orion doesn't need to know that. Orion lives under the idea that every life is precious and, even more inconveniently, equal.

Prowl sometimes feels like yelling at him for it. Because that shiny perfect picture is simply unsustainable outside of Orion's head. The monster, whose graying body now lies on the ground, would be of little use to society. Likely left free, he would have simply continued to attack and kill travelers.

Whereas Orion spends his life making the world a better place. This is an objective fact confirmed by numerous observations.

They are not equals. And they probably never will be. Orion's life is much. Much heavier on the imaginary scales of statistics.

Orion squints at him suspiciously. He's clearly hesitant.

"You could have just let him go instead of killing him."

The trap is honestly too obvious.

"I didn't kill him" Prowl repeats "he ran into a patrol. You can't blame the hunters for doing their job."

Orion places a hand on the dead creature's forehead in a respectful gesture of regret while simultaneously averting his gaze. It's a habit by now.

Look the other way, don't let the council know what you're doing. Sympathize but not in plain sight, help but in secret.

"They had no right to attack him.This is neutral territory. He has the right to run wherever he wants."

Prowl's mouth is twisting with the urge to argue. To say that according to existing information, this monster would have just continued the attacks if he'd stayed free.

He says nothing. Orion is clearly in no mood to argue right now, and he's already questioning Prowl's claim. It's not worth pushing any further.

Prowl only nods, showing that he's heard Orion's point of view.

__________________

He is surprisingly good at lying.

Of course the skill doesn't just come naturally, but he's been known for his straightforwardness. Mechs automatically expect him to either remain silent or tell the unpleasant truth.

All he has to do is give only certain bits and pieces instead of coherent information without changing his usual behavior in any way and the mechs won't be inclined to verify it, filling in the gaps themselves. As a golem, he can't lie, but he can get others to lie to themselves.

He exploits this a lot. Probably more often than Orion would approve, but Prowl doesn't ask him to confirm. Conversations with Orion tend to narrow down his list of options. Because Orion is a real living mech. With a spark. With feelings. And his complex moral code revolves entirely around what he feels to be right.

Prowl has no spark. Prowl has an empty armor that he considers his body and a wisdom artifact that he considers his worth. Both his and Orion's understandings of what is right...overlap...sometimes.

Not always.

______________

"I saw a demon in person for the first time today."

Prowl politely shifts his posture to show he's listening

"A …demon?"

"Demon" Orion repeats "When...when a mech commits especially terrible crimes against the will of Primus, the very magic of their spark rises up against them and turns them into a demon. And I just learned today what a...demon looks like."

Prowl remains silent, waiting for a continuation that never comes. Orion seems gone in his thoughts....

"And what does it look like?" prompts Prowl.

"Creepy. It looks creepy and unnatural and terrifying. Primus' wrath has a very ugly shape..."

"Ah...I see...what did that mech do to be met with such punishment?"

Orion frowns

"I'm not sure. But what we're doing can't go against Primus' will, right? I mean, all beings are his creations! He can't condemn us for trying to make peace between mechs and monsters..."

Prowl is familiar with the concept of punishment for wrongdoing. But something about the very idea...the idea that punishment will find you no matter how well you hide because you can’t run away from your own spark...he has to admit it's disturbing.

"I hope he doesn't."

——————————

Thoughts?👁

Ahsjfjfj

This is the first half of the fic btw because I don’t have enough time to translate the whole thing in one day. I’ll try to post the second half tomorrow🤞

[sylusismybby]

Sylus doesn't realize how big he is until the first time you two have sex. You hiss, your hand gripping onto his bicep tightly as he pushes his cock into you. "Everything alright, sweetie?" His voice held a certain amount of gentleness, he stops moving as he waits for you answer. "Yes...you're just...big..." Sylus lets a small smile come to his lips. "I'll just have to be careful then. Wouldn't want to overwhelm you thus early on, kitten." His hips move forward again, this time he takes his time, making sure you feel all of him. Your gasps and moans are like music to his ears, he can listen to them all day. "Tell me if it's too much and I'll stop." It was too much but you didn't want him to pull out, it felt painfully good.

Once he was fully inside of you, he let's you adjust to his size, moving only a little bit. Your pussy squeezed him a few times making him groan. "You feel amazing. Can I move now?" He leans down feeling the way your legs wrap around his body, he holds onto your thighs as he kisses up to your jaw. "Yes." It's a weak yes, you felt so full, he felt so good. Sylus nods and then starts moving his hips setting a slow pace at first. As soon as he sees that your experience grows to one of full pleasure, he speeds up, his hips moving quicker, harder. The moans that leave your mouth get louder, your hands move from his arms to his back, nails digging into his pale skin. He chuckles, he isnt fucking you fast, he is fucking you well. "There we go. Thats my good kitten." He kisses you on the lips, it's a kiss of raw passion, you feel him everywhere in your body. The room is filled with skin slapping noises as his cock moves in and out of your pussy.

Pulling away from the kiss, he grabs your hands pinning your wrists above your head. "Look at yourself. You're taking me so well." His red eyes are filled with adoration and lust, this is exactly how he wanted you. You look up at the mirror that was above the bed, it's an imagine that you wish you can take a picture of. Sylus is on top of you, his body moving against yours, his back painted by the scratches of your nails, your sweaty bodies illuminated by the dim lights. It didn't him long to realize where you were looking, he bites into your neck before speaking. "Enjoying the view are we? Atta girl." Then he starts to thrust into you faster, his cock pouding you deeper than before. A loud moan of his name echoes through the room, you grab onto the sheets, eyes rolling back. He was hitting all the right spots.

When your velvety walls start to clench around his length, he knows that you're close, so he slows down, wanting to savor every bit of you. Sylus takes one of your breats in his mouth, his tongue eagerly swirling against your nipple. The combined pleasure is making you lose your mind, your back arches. "Syl! Faster please!" You're begging him now, something you swore you'll never do. "Is that so? Well, what my kitten wants, she gets." He takes hold of your legs and puts them on his shoulder.kissing your ankle before his movements speed up. Sylus admires the way your breasts bounce at his every hard thrust, he admires how your body reacts so perfectly to his. "Syl! I'm close!" The desperation in your voice makes his cock twitch, you feel it too. His hand moves down your leg until it reaches your core, he gently rubs his thumb over your clit to get you to cum. It works, tou cum around his cock, your body twisting in pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. He follows, pulling out quickly and painting your stomach white, his eyes are closed for a moment before he looks at you again. Sylus gives you a few moments before he turns the position around si you were on top of him. "We aren't done yet. Afterall..." He looks up, looking at your reflections in the mirror. "...it's time for me to admire the view too, sweetie."

[traveler-at-heart]

Sister, wife?

Summary: The team mistakes you for Natasha's sister when you first meet.

Request by @lynattyx

Loki again.

Thor seemed more annoyed than anyone else, but that was only logical. He had spent centuries putting up with his brother.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Siblings can be a pain” Natasha tried to comfort him, while he looked ready to release a storm over Loki outsmarting him and escaping.

“Speaking from experience, Red?” Stark asked with a curious stare.

“Got a sister” Natasha shrugged her shoulders, looking out the window of the Quinjet as if she hadn’t said anything interesting.

“Really? What’s her name?” Steve said, intrigued.

“I won’t tell you, because if I say it three times you’ll summon her. That’s a reference from…”

“Yeah, I got it” Steve nodded. “I didn’t really like that Beetlejuice”

“That’s because you hate fun” Tony said, stepping forward. “Alright, we have a signal. Anyone up for a cigar? Loki’s close to Cuba”

—

“Lay low. That’s pretty much all you can do now” Maria said with a somber tone over the comms.

Loki had gone a little too far this time, almost getting half of Havana blown up.

Needless to say, the US wasn’t happy with the diplomatic mess the Avengers had created. Maybe that was Loki’s plan all along; make it impossible for them to go after him with the American government on their backs.

Well, he got what he wished for.

“I don’t suppose we can go to the Compound, then” Tony mumbled. “Barton, Red? Any ideas?”

“Coordinates are set. We’ll be there in a few hours. Try to get some sleep. All of you”

No one was in the mood to ask questions. If Natasha said it was a safe place, then they’d take her word for it and be done with the matter.

“You sure about this?” Clint said, looking at her from the copilot seat.

“Yeah. She’ll just give me a hard time for not telling her in advance. You know how she likes to have everything extra clean when there are guests”

“How did you manage to score such a gal?” he joked and Natasha glared at him.

“Hey, I’m a catch. My mac and cheese is delicious”

“Whatever you say, Tasha”

—

The Quinjet landed, and the only way you could tell was by the tree branches moving with a sudden gust of wind.

“Hey” Natasha said with a coy smile, going up the steps as the rest of the team got off the jet, looking around curiously.

“Welcome home” you pulled her into a hug. “Should have told me they were coming, and I could have cleaned up a bit”

“I missed you too” she joked against your ear, and as she was about to lean and kiss you, Tony interrupted the moment.

“Hey, Romanoff and Romanoff”

“You must be Tony. I’ve heard a lot about you”

“Have you? Because Natasha here didn’t tell us much about you”

“She was probably worried about you running your mouth” you joked, making him smirk.

“You have heard about me”

As Steve walked in, Natasha waited for Clint to show him something she wanted to fix in the garage.

The house was big and in the middle of a little wooded area.

“You’re gonna have to share rooms. And someone will sleep on the couch” you warned them.

“Not it” Tony said, as you pulled out a pillow and a blanket from the closet.

“I’ll take the couch” Steve offered, which of course he did. “Thank you…”

“Y/N” you nodded, waiting for Tony to follow you.

“Barton? Thor?” he looked around.

“Oh, Clint’s probably scolding Natasha because she didn’t fix the ceiling like he told her to” you laughed. “Thor flew away like thirty seconds after landing. And burned part of my lawn in the process”

“So sorry about that. It’s quite the thing to hang out with these brutes. So, uh, what do you do?”

“I’m a Psychiatrist” you answered, opening the door to the guest room.

“Get to see Natasha a lot?”

“Not as much as I’d like”

“Come by the Compound anytime you like. I’ll send you a pass or shall I just say your name three times?”

“What?” you tilted your head in confusion.

“Nothing. Thanks for letting us crash” he rubbed his neck.

“Sure. Get some rest”

You ran into Clint as he went upstairs, knowing his way around the house.

“She’s outside”

“Is she… is she ok?” you said, sighing. It was one thing to see it in the news, and another one to know she was out there risking her life against literal Gods and aliens.

“Just tired” he assured you. “Seeing you will help. Have a good night”

“You too. Sorry to say you’re sharing a room with Tony”

“Ah, jeez” he groaned, making you laugh.

Steve was lying in the couch, restless. He waved at you shyly as you walked out, knowing Natasha was waiting in the porch.

Honestly? They were a nice bunch.

“Hey” you said, stepping out.

“Hi, detka”

“You ok?” you said, leaning your chin against her shoulder, with your arms around her waist.

“Just tired”

“Funny, that’s exactly what Clint said”

Natasha chuckled at that, squeezing your hands.

“He knows me”

“I know you better”

“Do you, now?” she turned around, quirking up an eyebrow and smiling at you. “So, what do you think I want right now?”

“Cuddles with your wife and then tomorrow morning I think you’ll be in the mood for blueberry pancakes and hot cocoa”

“Damn, you do know me well” she laughed, kissing your temple. “Come on, let’s go to bed”

—

You were up next morning, and unsurprisingly, Steve had already been out and running a good ten miles.

“The rest?” he said after greeting you.

“Clint got up early to fix what Natasha broke trying to fix the other thing that broke, God bless his soul. Tony’s asleep and so is Nat”

“Really? Even Romanoff? She’s up at break of dawn”

“Nah, not when she’s home. Now clean yourself up, breakfast is almost done”

“Yes, Ma’am”

Natasha was the first one down, as your room had a private bathroom. By the sounds from upstairs, you suspected the boys were arguing over who go to use the other restroom first.

“Hear that sound? Children. Ready for all that?” Natasha said.

“Yeah, but ours will be cute. And we’ll make Clint build another bathroom” you said, getting a pancake out of the pan.

“You’re so smart, that’s why I love you”

“Only that?” you said, laughing as you felt her hands go around your waist.

“Among other things”

You turned around to protest, but her lips stopped you from saying anything.

“I did miss this” she said, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. You moaned against her mouth, forgetting there were more people in the house until you heard Tony slam the door to the bathroom. Natasha went to get some coffee, and you wished she’d kept kissing you.

But the teasing would be endless if they caught you in the middle of it.

“Bathroom's all yours, Cap! Morning, Romanoffs”

“Morning, Tony” you said. “Help yourself to some pancakes and coffee”

“Delicious, thank you”

Steve came down a few minutes later, at the same time Clint walked in, announcing that he had fixed the thing.

“You’re a hero” you said, grateful. “Don’t worry, darling, you’ll get it right next time” you added as Natasha pouted.

“Mean”

“It comes with the territory, doesn’t it?” Tony said. “Including all the hair pulling and slapping and fighting for bras”

“Ah, what?” you said, confused.

“Hey, don’t speak to my wife that way, asshole” Natasha slapped the back of his head, making him choke on his coffee.

“Did you just say wife?” he turned to look between the two of you.

“Yes, Y/N is my wife. Who did you think she was?”

“The maid?” you joked.

“The sister!” Tony looked at Steve for backup.

“Well, to be fair… yeah”

“My sister’s name is Yelena” Natasha said, massaging her temples. “Y/N and I have been married for almost two years now. And I didn’t want you to know because you’ll be insufferable about it”

“Babe, they’ve been good so far” you chuckled, squeezing her hand.

“We can behave, honey boo” Tony said.

“Ok, yeah. I get it now” you rolled your eyes.

“Either way, you’re coming to our party” Tony said, poruing himself more coffee.

“When is it?”

“Whenever we get our hands on that Asgardian bastard”

“Language” you said at the same time as Steve.

“This is gonna be fun” Tony laughed, looking at you over his cup of coffee. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Romanoff”

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! I was in a car accident yesterday (car took most of the damage, I’m ok other than bruises and sore muscles) and the whole thing has been a whirlwind of insurance and hospital and half asleep crying. I was wondering if I could request James potter x reader for comfort in a situation like that? I’m going through it rn lol hope you’re having a good day :)

Oh I'm sorry lovely! I had a very similar thing happen a little over a year ago, it's sooooo exhausting even when luckily no one is seriously hurt. Thanks for requesting, hope you're having a good/better day too <33

cw: past car accident, no details but talk of general aftermath of police questioning, insurance, etc.

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 799 words

The way James half-jogs up to the automatic doors of the hospital, seeming caught between walking and running, feels like someone is pressing down on the bruise of your chest. You wish you’d called him sooner. 

“James,” you call as he comes in, hating how your voice cuts through the taut quiet of the waiting area. It’s worth it for how his whole self softens when his eyes find you. 

He slows to a fast walk the rest of the way to you, the urgency slowly leaving him—which is appropriate, there is no urgency, everything has happened already—like an engine running out of gas. You stand as he nears, and both of you reach for each other before James hesitates. His hands stop midair, his brow tightening for a moment, before they come tentatively to your elbows.

“Hi,” he says, squeezing. “How bad is it?” 

“For me or the car?” you joke. 

“You.” James is feeling too earnest for joking, it seems. “Well, both of you. But you first.” 

You really thought you’d cry when you saw him. Worried you’d make a whole scene, blubbering and inconsolable, but you don’t seem to have any tears left. It makes sense, you suppose; you’ve cried a lot in the past few hours. First the slow, shaky kind right after getting out of your car, and then a real cry when a police officer had pulled you aside to get your version of events. (It had been embarrassing. She’d been nice about it, though.) Now, you wait for the tears to come, but for all your relief at seeing your boyfriend you feel rather dried up. 

It makes you wish, once again, that you’d called James sooner. You’d wanted to, of course, but you’d been nearly certain you’d be even less capable of holding yourself together if he were there, and there wasn’t much reason for him to be anyways. He was at work and you weren’t terribly hurt, so there was really nothing he could have done while you were talking to the police and the tow company and the paramedics and attempting not to drown in an overwhelm of insurance information. The only thing you really wanted him for was to hold your hand.

“I’m okay,” you say, the necessary preface. “A bit bruised up. My chest got the worst of it.” 

Unconsciously, your hand comes to your sternum as if to demonstrate, gravitating towards the center of the ache. James’ hand follows, seemingly just as thoughtless as it covers your own. He can’t see the bruise, but he makes a low, sad sound anyway. 

His care softens your voice. “They said my neck will probably hurt tomorrow, but it doesn’t yet.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” James sounds really, truly heartbroken for you. “And the rest, it hurts a lot?” 

You shrug. What’s a lot? You know you could’ve had worse, much worse; still, you could do without that frightening soreness that comes with each breath. 

“It’s not too bad,” you say. “I could still hug.” 

It’s the question he’s been dying to ask, clearly. James’ arms are around you in a second, ardent but still gentle, palms pressing to the high and low points of your bag. It’s a good hug. You melt a little against him. 

James tucks his face into the side of your neck, like he’s trying to get as much contact with you as he can. “I wish you’d called me when it happened.” 

“You were at work.” 

“I’d have left work.” 

“There wasn’t anything you could do. I was fine, I just had to…” a little sigh escapes you, exhaustion creeping in now that he’s here “...talk to people. Insurance and all that.” 

James makes a soft, half-agreeing sound. His thumb strokes the base of your neck. “Still. I could have held your hand.” 

A new ache rises in the back of your throat, coming to join the rest. You wind your arms tighter around James. 

After a few, silent moments, he kisses your neck chastely and loosens his hold. “Ready to go home? Anything else you need?” 

You shake your head. “I’m signed out,” you say, so eager you feel like you could float out the doors. You hope you can entice James to lie in bed with you when you get home. You think you’ll sleep until tomorrow. “Let’s go, please.” 

“Alright, you don’t have to say please, sweetheart.” James curls an arm around your shoulders, pressing a smile into your cheek. “We can go. You need one of those wheelchairs for me to take you out to the car?” 

“Ha ha,” you say drily. “No.” 

“Just checking. Think maybe I ought to ask for one, just in case?”

“James. I will take your car home without you in it.” 

“Alright, lovie, I’m coming.”

[hrrtshape]

EMMA±??±?±?±?±??!?!?!?!OMGORMGOGMG????? STORYTIME HELLOW WHERE DID U EVEN SHIFT TO

i spent 15 days in the upper east side and now i have an existential crisis about my real life (but in a hawt way)

unlike my previous shifts, where i’d spend 10 minutes, maybe 20, dipping my toes into a life so much better than this one, i spent fifteen whole days in my better cr. fifteen days ago, i woke up in my king-sized bed with 1000-thread-count sheets and realised i had, in fact, won in life.

i had done it. no brief glimpse, no fleeting moment before snapping back to my real-world peasantry. fifteen days. enough time for a full socialite saga and to meet my beau!?!?!??! enough time to wake up in pyjamas which might as well been the most comfortable thing i've ever worn, hear the distant clatter of someone else in the other rooms, and stretch luxuriously as if i were in a renaissance painting. i could smell money in the air FOLKS!?!?!!!! not new money, but old money, the kind that sits heavy in the walls (!??!?!?), the kind that makes people say your last name like it means something. and this was my life. MY LIFE. at last. took it long enough.

the first morning, and you have to understand my main character syndrome for this, i stepped out onto the balcony, the manhattan skyline.....mhmhmhmhmhm....mhm. mhm. mhmm. stretching before me like a personal prophecy, and i felt it in my bones!!!!!!: this was home. MY HOME. okay. so. then i went around, you know, exploring my little room (not little...) and girl the moment i stepped in front of a mirror.......WHO'S THIS BABE???? yea. yea. i even had a cat !!!!

then i went to school. sorry, went, i mean DRIVE. now, here’s the dealio. i had scripted myself into this effortlessly put-together, socially untouchable, well-adjusted manhattan teen heiress life. but there were gaps in my logic. big ones. like, for example: i couldn't drive. i didn't know how to drive !!!

and yet, there i was in the morning in my super super super sSUPPPERRR cutesie school uniform, keys in hand, standing in front of a car (a Porsche, people, a porsche!!!) that looked like it cost more than my entire life back in my cr. so, i acted like i totally knew what i was doing. slid into the driver’s seat with the confidence of someone who had done this a thousand times before, adjusted the mirrors like i had a clue, and started the car.

and then? i picked up lily-rose depp.

(she's not an actress in this dr, by the way. just my best friend. which is infinitely cooler.)

she didn't even question everything. just said i looked really hawt today. i was blessed. seriously. like i'm typing this and also screaming i want to go back.

somehow. miraculously. i got us to school in one piece. st. lazarus international college. it looked like a cathedraland felt like a warzone. we pulled up alongside a line of obnoxiously expensive cars (not a single honda in sight!?!?!?!?), and i barely had time to breathe before stepping out onto the pavement, uniform pristine, COACH. MOTHAUFCKING COACH TOTE bag slung over my shoulder like i was about to solve world hunger instead of sit through calculus (that shi fucking sucked btw !!!! but my school's classrooms were drop dead gorgeous).

anyways. i now have to brush upon something that made me almost let out a humongous squeal when i saw him. CORIOLANUS. yes. yes. yes. yes. yes,ewfygweuvbuihweiusvbgiweu`rs. i saw him. yep. yep. i had to slap myself. metaphorically.

SO. i had scripted that on my first day, i would give coriolanus snow a nosebleed.

and !?!??!?!?!!?! IT SUCCEEDED. when i first saw him, he was leaning against a row of lockers like he owned the place and i swear to god i almost moaned. crisp white shirt, tie loose, cheekbones sharp enough to wound, eyes narrowed. pray.

HO. HE WINKED AT ME. and then i walked past him with my bfffffff lily-rose and. and. and. nosebleed. bro. bro. bro. BROSKI. the way he blinked..........the way his breath hitched just a little as the first drop of blood slid over his cupid’s bow. the WAY he tilted his head back, tongue darting out briefly over his lip. oh my god. i was actively fighting to not go and jump on him and like do vile disgusting things.

i had won the war, but at what cost?

because he was so hot.

SO FUCKING HAWT.

uh. so. yeah. that was just the first two hours of my better cr, and it was already putting my entire existence to shame. like, objectively, scientifically, undeniably better than anything i have ever done in my cr.

ssssoooooo. IF ANYONE WANTS TO HEAR MORE…do let me know. because, hands clasped, eyes glistening, heart on the verge of combustion, i am being so serious. this was the peak of my human experience. i have tasted divinity PEOPLE. i have lived too well. i fear i must go back, or else i will experience genuine withdrawals from the lack of my paramour’s face in my daily visuals.

so yeah. if you’re curious… hit me up. (evil, knowing laughter echoing into the abyss)

OH AND. whenever i'd go to sleep there i'd like cry out of fear that i'd wake up in my cr but whenever i'd wake up just...there...i'd literally pray to god. BECCAUSE EIJISEJFEWUSHFIHEJI. i'm there.

anyway, i am so not okay about this. i keep coming back to edit, rewrite, relive. but okay. listen. if you ever had even a sliver of doubt about shifting, i am kneeling right now, hands clasped, eyes wide with conviction, telling you!!!!!!!

SHIFTING IS SO FUCKING REAL.

it’s real in a way that defies logic, in a way that makes the air feel electric, in a way that rewires your entire understanding of existence. so real. so unimaginably real.

[accidentcache]

Building ikea furniture with touya??? Something I have gots to see. And maybe hawks in the background giving out “advice” and commenting a on the progress.

this could either be so silly or rage inducing

"touya," you palm is flat as you hand it out towards him, holding two pieces of the desk you were currently building together with the other hand, "give me that piece."

touya is currently trying to piece together micellaneous parts together, sitting just off to the side of you. almost like a child being given a toy to keep him occupied while you get the main meat of the work done yourself. after the shelf incident, you were releuctant to let him help you but he wanted to help so bad.

bonding time babe.

i need to work on the mobility in my hands, remember?

you can't keep doing everything for me, i've gotta learn to do some stuff on my own!

well, when you let him build the shelf by himself-- it fell apart the second you tried to put something on it. he kept telling you he really tried, but you weren't convinced.

so you had him hand you the pieces you needed while you put together the desk purchased for his 'office' at home. and quickly you realize that he and keigo had picked out the most difficult desk available at the ikea closest to where the three of you live. you've been cursing in your head for the past twenty minutes to never let those two go furniture shopping without you ever again.

you let go of the two pieces in your hand once you realize they aren't fitting where you think they're going to. they clatter to the floor and touya watches them, barely flinching before his eyes meet yours. "i don't think those go there," he offers, not helping in the slightest.

your eyes narrow. even though he looks cute right now-- his hair has gotten longer since leaving rehab so it hangs in his eyes and he finally let you tie it up in a little pony tail on the top of his head-- you continue to glare at him. "thank you," you say through gritted teeth.

touya smiles-- infuriatingly cute and smug at the same time-- and you turn your head away before he can win you over.

the door to the front of the house opens, keigo kicks the snow off his shoes at the mat by the door before he calls out. the door opening brings a small chill to the rest of the room for a brief moment before it dissipates-- an added warmth of a particular blonde spreading throughout the living room when he leans against the doorway.

a murmur of interest leaves keigo's lips at the sight of you two. touya sits cross legged, fiddling with small screws and nuts, swinging an allen wrench around his fingers with a small smirk spread onto his lips. you look frustrated.

a small grin spread onto his lips. "babe, those pieces don't go together."

your eyes roll back with an agitated growl. "i know!" you can't help but snap at him.

but keigo eggs you on further. he moves more into the room, kneeling to grab a slab of the wood, holding it to the barely put together mess of a desk that is just barely put together in front of you. "this goes here, dove," he teases. "and that piece," he drags a finger along the slab that you had just recently gotten attached, "is on wrong."

you scowl and toss the instructions at him. "you put it together then!"

keigo cackles and touya can't help but chuckle. both of them can't help the way their faces fall however when you stand from your spot however, huffing and muttering to yourself. suddenly they realize you're not going to help put the desk together anymore-- and that's when they both chase after you with apologies and pleas and sweet talk.

does it work? yes. it always does.

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

[themultifanshipper]

i am ovulating so bad but can I request a franco x reader x ollie smut where they were fighting over the reader like that one fight scene from bridget jones' diary, and the reader was like... why not both??

To say the start of the 2025 season had been eventful was an understatement. 

Or at least from Franco and Ollie’s points of view. 

Warnings: smut, threesome, blowjob (the return of Franco's dick sucking lips), mention of quickies, also a lot of alcohol, Yukierre being little shits, Ted kravitz once again making an appearance, very plot heavy ngl there's not much smut

At some point during the winter break, you had struck up a situationship with Franco. And you’d managed to keep it a secret for about a week. 

There was no such thing as privacy in Monaco, so of course it was inevitable that someone would eventually snap a pic of him leaving your house, and that was it. 

Ollie had been planning on asking you out at the start of the season, given that he now had a full-time seat and you'd be seeing a lot more of each other. 

And he didn’t really consider Franco much of a threat, so he decided to ask him during testing. 

The two of them were gazing at you from across the pitlane. 

“Are you and her like... an official thing?”  

Franco scoffed “What is that supposed to mean?”  

“You know... do you love her?” 

Franco frowned at him.  

“No, I don’t. But just because we aren’t in a relationship, do not think for a second that I will let you have her” 

Ollie raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say I wanted to. I’m just curious.” 

Franco didn’t believe him. And Ollie didn’t believe Franco.  

And they were both right. 

Because the truth was that Franco was in love with you, but he was too much of a pussy to do anything about it. So he was fine with just sex, until he could muster the courage to confess to you.  

And the truth was that Ollie was going to do everything he could to have you. He did have feelings for you, that had been brewing for a while, but the added element of competition made him hungry. 

Ollie was nothing if not proactive. He took every opportunity to talk to you, and flirt shamelessly with you. 

And at first, you were reticent. 

You’d been waiting for Franco to make a move. You liked him, a lot. And you knew he liked you. So any day now, right? 

Except weeks went by, and still no indication that Franco was going to make any kind of commitment to you. Not even a drunk phonecall, or a proper date... 

So eventually, Ollie's advances started getting to you. You were only human.  

You had no idea that the two drivers were in any kind of altercation in Melbourne. 

Someone had spotted them having a heated argument and a blurry video was circulating around the more remote spots of the internet, so you missed it completely. 

In China, you got your first indication that something was going on. 

Before FP3, Ollie had come to you saying he wanted to talk to you about something important. 

You told him to meet you in your drivers room after the session, and that you had something to talk to him about as well. 

His heart swelled with hope. Perhaps you also had feelings for him and he was finally going to beat Franco. 

But then, Franco was there, in your drivers room, waiting for you after the session.  

“I’m waiting for someone, you need to get out before someone sees-” 

“I don’t care about Ollie, I need you so bad right now” he groaned into your neck while his hands worked to get your suit off. 

He’d never done anything so bold before. And as soon as his hands and lips were on you, you caved. He had his way with you on the massage table, doing his best to get the sweetest, and loudest, noises out of you in an effort to ward any lurkers away. 

One of said lurkers, Ollie, froze when he heard the noises coming from your room.  

His heart sank, Franco had gotten to you first.  

This time. 

You and Ollie both did terribly on sunday. You weren’t expecting a podium, but some points would have been nice. And Ollie DNF’d thanks to one of the Alpines (in his mind he blamed Franco, even though the Argentine wasn’t even in a car) crashing into him in turn 2. 

So you and him did the only thing you knew would lift your spirits. You went out drinking. 

You ended up in some club, and you knew Yuki and Pierre were there as well. 

You drank, and danced with the three men. Forgetting your worries for a night. You hadn’t had that much fun in a while, Yuki and Pierre were absolutely unhinged when you got a bit of alcohol down them. 

Ollie stuck by your side the whole night, and eventually your mind went back to the FP3 session. 

You dragged him outside to talk (the club was stifling, and loud as fuck), and he wondered briefly if there was something wrong because of the haste with which you’d grabbed him. 

“Ollie, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about Friday. I got... distracted”  a blush crept over your cheeks. 

Ollie found it adorable. 

“That’s okay” he pulled you into a drunken hug “At least you were making so much noise there was no chance of me walking in on you” 

You giggled shyly, nuzzling into his chest.  

“Oh my god... that’s so embarrassing” 

“Well, I suppose that was Franco’s way of staking his claim” there was an undertone of something almost bitter in the way he said his name. 

That was a very odd thing to say. Why would Franco even need to stake a claim? Unless... 

“Let’s go inside, I’m cold” you muttered, and Ollie led you back to the booth where Pierre and Yuki were arguing over whether Mijiu or Baijiu tasted better. 

You had no idea what either of them were, so you ordered a round of both for everyone to do a taste test. 

They were both awful in your opinion, so you ordered a round of shots of tequila to wash them down. 

It didn't take long before all of you made your way to the dance floor, inhibitions completely obliterated. 

In the back of your mind, you had a plan. Granted you were on the edge of blackout drunk, but it still made sense to you. 

When the song changed to something a bit slower and more... sensual, you shuffled closer to Ollie.  

If Franco had been trying to stop Ollie from talking to you, there had to be a reason, right? 

So you moved to the beat, rolling your hips enticingly as you sang along to the words. 

Ollie lifted an eyebrow in question, his lips curving into a drunken smirk. 

You bit your lip and got closer, hooking your fingers into his belt loops to pull him in. 

He got into the rhythm very quickly, and slid a hand around your lower back to hold you close while you danced. 

The tension was palpable, but the chemistry was undeniable as you moved in sync, rolling your hips to the heavy bass pumping through the speakers. 

Your faces were inches apart, separated only by your mingling breaths, and the rapidly dwindling amount of restraint you two had. 

“Kiss mee” you slurred, smiling up at him. You needed to know whether he wanted you as much as you wanted him. As if the way you were grinding on each other wasn’t enough. 

“What?!” 

“Kiss me!” you said, louder. 

His mouth opened, hesitation written all over his face, but he glanced down at your lips. 

Between the alcohol and the noise of the club, it was impossible to hear anything, so you mistook his hesitation for misunderstanding. 

You decided to get your point across by curling a hand into his hair and pulling him down to crash your lips together. 

He quickly got over the shock of it and cupped your face with his hands to deepen the kiss. 

You didn’t know how long you stood there making out, but it was long enough for Yuki to come and tell you that he and Pierre were leaving and that you could all share an uber if you wanted. 

The miniscule part of your brain that was still rational decided that you and Ollie should go with them, so you did. 

You had what you wanted anyway. Confirmation that you had two boys that wanted you. 

Japan is where you realised just how badly. 

You didn’t know about their arguments over the weekend, you just knew that Franco was trying to have sex with you every minute of every day, and that Ollie had a smug smirk on his face constantly. 

It was unnerving, really. 

On sunday morning, your team made you aware that pictures were circulating, of two blurry figures kissing in a club in China, next to two people who looked suspiciously like Pierre and Yuki. 

It was impossible to confirm who the people kissing were so you had nothing to worry about, but your PR manager asked you to please, for the love of god, be more careful. 

The race came and went, and you and Ollie both finished in the points. 

Yuki was taking Pierre to a karaoke bar that night, and in true Yuki fashion, invited you, Ollie, and Franco. 

The little shit- stirrer. And of course you knew the idea was probably a Yuki-Pierre collaboration. 

It was a bit awkward at first, both Ollie and Franco were trying to get your attention under the table with wandering hands, but you quickly shut that down. 

You and Pierre were up. You were singing a duet version of ‘My Way’ but Pierre sang his parts in french. It was hilarious. 

Yuki jumped onto the table and joined in within seconds. 

You were so into it that you didn’t notice Ollie and Franco slip out.  

Until the song finished and you looked down to see that the leather seats were unoccupied.  

You decided to go and look for them, and it didn't take you long to find them. 

The shouting could be heard as soon as you shut the door to the private room. 

You followed the voices all the way to the men's toilets, in which the two were arguing. 

You pushed the door open and couldn't help but laugh at the sight in front of you. 

Ollie had Franco in what seemed to be an attempt at a headlock, but while one of his arms was around Franco's throat, the other was pinned under Franco's weight against the wall. 

“Oi!” you hollered at them and they immediately let each other go, attempting to straighten themselves out. 

Ollie had a swollen lip and Franco looked like he'd had an altercation with a plug socket. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” 

“Nothing” “He started it!” “He said-“ 

“I don't care!” you shouted “get your asses back in there and behave!” 

You pointed towards the room sternly, and they quickly shuffled down the corridor with their tails between their legs. 

You managed to finish the karaoke without another incident, but you could feel the tension between them. 

The walls were closing in. It was becoming all too real to you all of a sudden. They both wanted you, and you didn’t want to choose, but you couldn’t exactly let them keep tearing each other to shreds over you. 

Shit hit the fan in Bahrain. 

They were behaving like animals. 

You couldn't speak to either of them without the other one getting jealous and pissing you off. 

Ollie didn't do FP1 because Haas had gave his car to a rookie for the session, which meant that both he and Franco were in the paddock during the session. Unsupervised. 

It came as a shock to everyone but you when they started openly brawling. 

You'd just got out of the car, and were getting weighed when you heard the commotion. 

“DON'T YOU DARE!”  

Crash. 

“MOTHERF-“ 

“YOU TWO STOP I-  OW!” 

You ran towards the two dickheads. Who were fighting in your garage. 

These two could not fight to save their lives. It was the stupidest brawl you'd ever seen. 

Your mechanics sort were hesitant to intervene, sort of standing around ready to step in as soon as there was any risk of them doing actual damage to each other. 

You didn't know who threw the first punch. You didn't care. 

The adrenaline was coursing through you so you went straight in, pushing the two struggling men down to the ground to destabilize them, then grabbed the shirt of the first one you could get your hands on. 

Which happened to be Franco. 

Someone next to you shouted “Yeah! Get your boyfriend!” 

“He is not my boyfriend, fuck off!” you shouted back. 

Your words had different effects. Franco’s heart broke a little, despite it being true, and Ollie now knew he had an undeniable chance. 

And everyone around you went “ouch” 

You dragged Franco away and threw him to the side, allowing Ollie to get back up and lunge at him. 

You blocked him, and slapped him, hard. 

You turned around and slapped Franco even harder. 

“Out of my garage, now!” you spat at them. 

They looked like they wanted to argue but you didn't even give them the chance. 

“I said, OUT!” you bellowed, and they looked at the crowd sheepishly before making their way out, in opposite directions. 

You didn't even entertain the small mass of people that were staring at you. You strutted to the back of the garage and made your way through the corridors to find a quiet place to think. 

You thought things couldn't get any worse, but of course, you quickly found out that a camera had wormed its way into the crowd and had broadcasted live the moment where you intervened and shouted at the person (who turned out to be Ted Kravitz) to ‘fuck off’. 

You were in your hotel room, looking through tweets about the footage, when a message popped up on your screen. 

“I'm sorry about earlier, can we talk?” 

It was Franco. 

“No” 

You left every subsequent message on read. 

About 10 minutes later a knock at the door interrupted you once again. 

It was probably your PR manager, coming to give you the 7th speech of the day about how “for the record, this is not what I meant when I told you to be more careful!” 

You looked through the peep hole and cursed loudly. 

It was Oliver fucking Bearman. 

You wrenched the door open. 

“What the fuck are you doing here? If anyone on my team sees you here we are both dead!” 

You dragged him inside and slammed the door shut behind him. 

“I wanted to come and explain-“ 

“No!” you whisper-yelled “There is nothing to explain! You and Franco have humiliated me, and yourselves today!” 

“But-“  

“There is no ‘but'! This shit stops now, I can't have my name dragged through the mud because you two wankstains decided it was a good idea to start fighting in my garage! Do you realise how that looks?” 

He looked at you guiltily and hung his head in shame. He looked almost small while sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“This whole thing has been a mess from the beginning! Because the truth is I like you both and I don't want to-“ 

You were interrupted by another knock at the door. 

Oh hell no. 

You stormed over to the door and wrenched it open again, revealing Franco in gray sweats and a dark hoodie. 

His attire told you everything you needed to know about his intentions right now. 

“Go away!” you hissed. “I told you I didn't want to talk” 

Franco glanced at Ollie still sitting on the bed and frowned. 

“So I am not allowed to be here but you invited him? That is not fair” 

“Oh for god's sake!” 

You dragged him inside, like you did Ollie, and motioned for him to sit on the bed. 

“You two are idiots!” You hissed. “What was that, today?” 

“We both wanted to go to your driver’s room to talk to you” 

“Yeah? And then you started fucking fighting!” 

“Because we love you!” 

“I can fucking see that, dipshit” you flicked Ollie's forehead “And thanks to you every motherfucker who watches Formula One also saw it, because you fought on live fucking television!” 

Ollie scratched the back of his neck sheepishly and Franco stared at the floor. 

And as if the universe hadn't punished you enough. Another knock rattled against the door. 

You turned around and watched in horror as your PR manager let herself in, and upon seeing the two men on the bed, stared daggers at them. 

“You two just don't know when to quit do you?” 

“I'm sorry about this, I didn't know either of them were coming they just turned up” you muttered. 

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Well at least this all seems a bit more mature than whatever the fuck happened in the garage earlier” 

She turned to you. “I've smoothed it over for you, given that you'd just come out of the car, and according to the footage you actually stopped the fight, so you won't be getting any fines or penalties. Although I would refrain from telling any Skysports presenters to fuck off anytime soon. No matter how much they deserve it” 

She turned to the other two. “I however do not have the power to save either of you, so my guess is you will be informed by your teams of any fines you may be getting.” 

She eyed you all sadly. 

“Please sort your shit out. What you do, or do not do behind closed doors is none of my business, but please stop being idiots in public, it makes my job so much harder, and I am not paid extra.” 

The two drivers had the decency to look ashamed as they apologised to her. 

“On that note, I wish you all good night, and please don't break any furniture” 

And with that she smiled softly and left, leaving the three of you in silence. 

“You heard the woman” you sat on the chair next to the bed and crossed your arms defiantly “Let's sort it out.” 

They looked at each other helplessly and you rolled your eyes.  

“Come on, what do you want?” 

Franco piped up first. 

“I want you. All of you. I have been in love with you for months but I’ve been a coward…” 

You nodded, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at his confession. 

You looked at Ollie. 

“I was planning on asking you out. But I got jealous when I found out you were with Franco… and then I uhhh… kind of made it into a competition. Trying to get you to like me back before Franco had the guts to tell you.” 

You hummed, not quite knowing what to say. 

“What about you?” Franco asked. “What do you want?” 

“I uhh…” you were almost intimidated by the two men staring at you. “Well… I like you both, so… either you can learn to share, or neither of you can have me” 

They looked at each other, seemingly having a silent conversation as they glanced back and forth between you and each other. 

The fact that they seemed to be entertaining the idea of sharing you was doing funny things to your brain. 

You imagined having them both at your mercy. Then your mind wandered to all the possibilities. 

The image of them making out briefly flashed in your mind.  

The butterflies returned to your stomach and you let your mind wander even further, Franco on his knees for Ollie.  

A voice suddenly pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Are you okay?” Franco asked, and you stared at his lips. They would look so perfect wrapped around- 

“Yeah, you look a bit flustered” Ollie chuckled. “What are you thinking about?” 

You bit your lip. 

“The two of you. Together.” 

A small blush crept up their necks and they squirmed uncomfortably. 

“We can share” Franco muttered, eyes darkening slightly. 

“Good” you smiled, standing up and slowly making your way towards them. “I want you both naked in the next 15 seconds…” 

They glanced at each other with wide eyes before hurriedly taking their clothes off. 

Once they were fully bare, they looked up at you expectantly. 

You grinned and swiftly sat down in between them. 

You pulled Franco in for a kiss, hands inching their way up the two men's thighs. 

You could feel Ollie's gaze on you so you turned your head and smiled at him before leaning in to kiss him. 

One of your hands went to touch Ollie's cock, which was half hard, and your other was met with Franco's hand, that he had already wrapped around himself while watching you make out with Ollie. 

You swapped again, Ollie's cock hardening at your touch, and at the sight of Franco pushing his tongue into your mouth. 

Then Ollie's turn came again, and he was fully hard by now, so you swept your thumb over his tip to make his hips twitch. 

You then stopped touching them altogether and leaned back on your elbows on the bed. 

“Now you two” you smirked. 

They looked at each other breathlessly, blush high on their cheeks and eyes lidded. 

They were hesitant, Ollie's hand weaved its way into Franco's hair to pull him in.  

It started out chaste, but still, the sight of it was truly something. 

You wriggled out from in between them and they looked at you in question. 

“Gonna lock the door” you muttered, jogging over to it. 

You heard a muffled “good idea” and turned to see them back at it, and this time with gusto. 

Their eyes were closed, so you undressed silently and climbed back on the bed. 

Ollie gasped into the kiss when Franco's hand made its way around his cock, squeezing gently before setting a slow, almost teasing pace. 

Franco trailed kisses along his jaw, making his way down Ollie’s chest, and the latter looked at you. 

His eyebrows jumped when he saw your state of undress. And went even higher when he noticed you were touching yourself. 

But it was quickly wiped from his mind when Franco’s lips suddenly made contact with his tip. 

He gasped, head whipping down to look at where Franco was kissing up and down his length.  

One of his hands once again found itself weaved into Franco's dark locks when the absolute tease decided to lick his cock from base to tip, while staring straight up at him through his lashes. 

“Jesus” he muttered “You've done this before haven't you?” 

Franco just winked, and took his cock halfway down into his mouth and sucked. 

The two of them looked ethereal, Ollie gasping for air while Franco sucked him down as far as he could go. 

Apparently Franco was doing something with his tongue, because Ollie kept throwing his head back and hissing. 

“Fuck- I'm not going to last long if you keep doing that.” 

Franco pulled off with a pop and smirked at him, pulling him in for another sloppy makeout. 

You were sitting there, two fingers deep inside yourself, and they were completely ignoring you. 

The irony of the situation made you scoff. 

“Guys… is either of you going to fuck me or…?” 

Ollie laughed and Franco started crawling up the bed towards you. 

“It would be my pleasure” he smiled. 

Ollie stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Actually, I think you have fucked her enough, it's my turn now” 

He crawled up to you, and kissed you sweetly, pulling your hand away from your cunt and replacing it with his own. 

“God, watching us got you this excited?” 

You nodded shyly. “You two look really fucking hot together” 

He laughed, gummy smile making a brief appearance as he lined himself up, sliding his tip up and down your folds to tease you. 

“You ready?”  

“Of course” 

He slid home in one gentle thrust, and you moaned into his mouth when he leaned down to kiss you. 

Franco came to kneel next to your head and waited for you to take a breather before asking you to open your mouth for him. 

He slapped his cock against your tongue teasingly, and the wet noise caught Ollie's attention, who had been mouthing at your tits absentmindedly. 

Franco fucked you mouth in earnest, and when he noticed the pther man looking at him heatedly, leaned over to capture his lips in a bruising kiss... 

It was all over far too quickly, but the exciting novelty of the situation had gotten to them and they came together with a muffled whine. 

You then made them clean you up with their tongues, and the sight of both of their faces between your legs, taking turns lapping up your juices, just felt right. 

If they could share, and not be too obvious about it, then the rest of the season should be a breeze. 

You sent your PR manager a hefty check, with a note. 

“Thank you for putting up with our shit. It's been sorted <3” 

[heliosunny]

Yandere!Mydei x Knight!Reader

[part 1]

You were sent to assassinate Prince Mydei, the heir of a kingdom feared for its brutality. Slipping into the royal palace undetected, you finally make your move only for him to stop you effortlessly.

Rather than ordering your execution, Mydei claims you. As a cruel punishment, he forces you to disguise yourself as his personal knight, making you stand by his side at all times, protecting the very man you once tried to kill.

The golden candlelight flickers as you press a dagger to Prince Mydei’s throat, its cold steel biting against his skin. His golden eyes gleam, not with fear, but with something far more unsettling—amusement.

“You’re bold” he murmurs, lips curling into a smirk.

He should be calling for his guards. He should be fighting back. Instead, he leans into the knife.

For the first time in your career, hesitation seeps into your grip. He isn’t afraid. He isn’t struggling. He wanted this.

“Go on” he breathes, voice as soft as silk. “Kill me if you can.”

Your fingers tense— And then, everything shifts.

A blur of movement. A crushing grip. Pain flares as Mydei twists your wrist, the dagger clattering to the marble floor. Before you can react, he slams you against the wall, his fingers curling around your throat.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” Mydei chuckles, his golden eyes glowing like molten gold in the dim light. His grip tightens, just enough to remind you who is in control.

His gaze lingers, sweeping over you like a predator savoring its prey. There’s no anger, no fear—only fascination.

“How disappointing” he sighs, though his smirk never wavers. “But don’t worry. I won’t kill you. No… you interest me far too much for that.”

His lips brush against your ear as he delivers the words that seal your fate:

“You belong to me now.”

The royal armor feels heavy on your shoulders. The crest of Okhema's knight gleams proudly on your chestplate, a mockery of your enslavement.

Prince Mydei watches you from his throne, his golden eyes glowing with amusement.

“How does it feel?” he asks smoothly, resting his chin against his palm. “To wear the colors of the kingdom you sought to destroy?”

Your hands clench into fists, nails digging into your palms. You hate this. Hate him.

He knows. And he delights in it.

“Come now, little knight” Mydei hums, rising gracefully from his throne. He steps toward you, his presence suffocating. His gloved fingers ghost along the sword at your hip, the one he gave you. A cruel joke, as if you would ever use it to protect him.

“You will stand by my side” he murmurs, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “You will guard me, fight for me, kill for me. And should you ever think of betrayal again—” he tilts your chin up with two fingers, his touch light but unshakable, “I will remind you who owns you.”

Your blood runs cold. You were once a killer, a shadow in the night. Now, you are Mydei’s most treasured knight, his captive, his obsession. “I understand.”

And no matter how much you wish to drive a blade through his heart, you know one thing for certain:

Prince Mydei will never let you go.

The throne room is silent except for the rhythmic clink of your armor as you kneel before Prince Mydei, golden banners draped behind him. His piercing eyes rest on you, filled with quiet amusement.

“Rise, my knight.”

You grit your teeth but obey, standing before him in full royal armor. You feel suffocated, weighed down—not by the metal, but by the mockery of it all.

“You’ve done well adjusting” Mydei muses, resting his chin in his palm. “But I wonder… how far does that loyalty go?”

Your body tenses.

The heavy doors creak open. Two royal guards drag a bound figure into the chamber, their face bruised, their breath ragged. You recognize them instantly.

Your contact. The one who had arranged your failed assassination attempt on Mydei.

“You know them, don’t you?” Mydei asks, his tone light. He rises from his throne, stepping toward the bound figure, tilting their chin up with a gloved hand. “They’re the one who sent you to kill me. How interesting…”

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

“So, my loyal knight” Mydei purrs, turning to you, his golden eyes glowing with delight. “Shall I consider this unfinished business? Why don’t you finish what you started?”

A blade gleams in the dim candlelight. Mydei extends it to you—an executioner’s weapon, cold and polished.

“Kill them.”

Your fingers twitch. You’ve taken countless lives before, without hesitation, without guilt. But this… this is different.

Your contact meets your gaze, eyes pleading. If you refuse, Mydei will kill them himself. Or worse.

You hesitate.

“Ah…” Mydei hums, stepping closer, his breath ghosting near your ear. “You hesitate. How cruel.” His fingers graze your wrist, slow and deliberate. “Did you really think I wouldn’t test you?”

Your throat tightens.

“This is simple, Y/n” he whispers, his grip tightening slightly. “You belong to me now. Your blade belongs to me. Show me.”

Your grip tightens around the hilt.

Kill them—or betray him. Night falls over the royal palace, but your torment does not end.

The execution-your choice still lingers on your hands. The weight of it, heavier than any blade you’ve ever held.

In the grand chamber, Mydei watches you from his seat by the fire. He has been silent, waiting. Watching. Enjoying your torment.

“Are you sulking?” he finally speaks, voice teasing. “How ungrateful. I spared your life, gave you a purpose. And yet, you frown as if I took something from you.”

Your freedom. Your identity. Your will.

Your jaw clenches. “You-”

But he only smiles, seeing through you as he always does.

“You’re beginning to understand, aren’t you?” Mydei murmurs, rising from his chair. He walks toward you slowly, as if savoring the moment. “You can resist me, fight me, hate me… but in the end, you will always be mine.”

You take a step back. He follows.

Finally, the wall greets your back.

He forced you to look up to meet his glowing eyes.

“And the sooner you accept that, my dear knight…” his voice dips into something dangerously soft, intoxicating, “the sooner I will make this so much easier for you.”

His lips brush dangerously close to your ear.

“You will not escape me.”

You hate him.

You fear him.

And yet, as his warmth surrounds you, you know he’s right.

The grand ballroom of the palace is alive with music and laughter, golden chandeliers reflecting off polished marble floors. Nobles from across the empire gather, their silken robes shimmering under the light.

You stand at Mydei’s side, forced into the role of his personal knight, wearing the crest like a brand of ownership. You loathe every moment of it: the whispered glances, the knowing smiles, the way Mydei’s golden eyes flicker with amusement whenever he catches you tensing.

But the true danger of the night comes in the form of Lord Aldric, a noble from a neighboring kingdom.

“Your Majesty, you have quite the remarkable knight” Aldric muses, swirling his wine as he appraises you with interest.

“Efficient. Strong. And quite… stunning” he continues, his tone dipping into something suggestive. His blue eyes meet yours, and there is a challenge in them, one that makes your stomach twist. “It is rare to see such talent outside the royal guard. Tell me, dear knight, have you ever considered serving another lord?”

The air shifts.

Prince Mydei is still smiling, his golden eyes bright with amusement—but you know better. That is not a look of joy. That is a look of warning.

“My knight?” Mydei hums, tilting his head slightly as if contemplating something. His voice is still smooth, still elegant, but there is an edge beneath it, a sharpness like a blade hidden beneath silk. “How interesting that you would assume they have a choice.”

Lord Aldric chuckles, taking a step closer to you, seemingly unaware or perhaps unconcerned—by the storm brewing behind Mydei’s golden gaze.

“Surely, even knights deserve the freedom to choose whom they serve, Your Highness.” Aldric presses, his smirk deepening. “Or is this one particularly… special?”

For a moment, no one speaks.

“Kneel.”

Mydei’s voice cuts through the ballroom like a blade.

You freeze. The room stills. The musicians falter for a brief second before quickly recovering, but all eyes have turned to you now.

The weight of his command settles over you like chains.

This is not a request. This is a display.

Your jaw clenches, your hands curling into fists at your sides. Mydei is forcing you to submit in front of everyone, making it clear to Aldric and to the entire court—exactly who you belong to.

But defying him here, in front of so many witnesses… would be a mistake.

Slowly, with every ounce of hatred burning in your veins, you lower yourself onto one knee, bowing your head.

Satisfied, Mydei steps forward, tilting your chin up with his gloved fingers. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, his touch both cruel and intoxicating.

“You speak of freedom, Lord Aldric.” he muses, not even sparing the noble a glance. “But my knight already knows their place.” His fingers trace along your jaw- a mockery of affection, a silent reminder of his control.

“Don’t you, my dear?”

The room waits. Your heart pounds, but you know the answer he wants. The answer he expects.

“Yes… Your majesty” you grit out.

Mydei smiles.

“Good.” he murmurs, his touch lingering just long enough to make your skin crawl before he finally releases you.

You rise to your feet, your pride crushed beneath the weight of his amusement, the court’s whispers echoing around you like a thousand daggers.

But the night is not over.

Later that night, the golden glow of the ballroom is replaced by the cold darkness of Mydei’s private chambers. The door clicks shut behind you, and you realize you are alone with him.

“You were quiet tonight” Mydei muses, pacing toward you with slow, deliberate steps. “Did Lord Aldric’s words tempt you, my knight?” he asks, his voice soft, almost mocking. “Did you enjoy his attention?”

You glare at him, refusing to answer.

He laughs. Such dangerous sound—low, smooth, curling around you like silk tightening into a noose.

“You see, I was going to let it go...” he sighs, reaching for a wine glass, swirling its contents lazily. “But then, I noticed something.”

He takes a step closer.

You stand your ground.

“You didn’t pull away when he touched you.”

He noticed. Of course he did.

“Are you growing bold, my dear?” Mydei whispers, setting the glass aside as he reaches out, his gloved fingers grazing your wrist. “Do you think another could ever take you from me?”

“They cannot” he assures you, voice dipped in deadly certainty. His grip tightens enough to remind you that he could. “You are mine.”

He leans in, his breath warm against your skin.

“And I do not share.”

Despite the shiver runs down your spine, you refuse to move, refuse to let him see any weakness. Mydei chuckles softly, sensing your defiance.

“That’s alright” he murmurs, his fingers trailing along your jaw, tilting your chin up, “I enjoy reminding you.”

Mydei may have spared Aldric tonight, but the next time someone looks at you like that…

They won’t live to see the sunrise.

[suzukiblu]

okay I SLIGHTLY dragged my ass writing/getting this up, it's been kind of A Day(tm), BUT: first day of the first February weekly WIP behind the cut; "the puzzle trap sex-room". content warnings: past grooming, past sexual abuse, past statutory rape, past dubious consent, CURRENT unhealthy coping mechanisms, immediate fallout of sex pollen/death trap-induced sexual coercion, and a POV character who does not understand what the problem with any of that is, he's FINE, Jesus, lay off already and let him live his life. So uh, you know, just Kon's . . . entire pre-YJ dating history, pretty much? Pretty much that, yeah. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Is the possibility of having given Robin an STI the only reason you can think of to be concerned about the events of the night?” Batman asks, perfectly neutral like another fucking trap–like he thinks Superboy’s the stupidest thing alive and gonna fucking fall for that again–and Superboy actually almost does disassemble this whole stupid cave. Or at least that huge-ass computer Batman’s got taking up half a wall over there or maybe some of those fancy Batsuits and all their utility belts full of souped-up gear, anyway. 

He’s real fuckin’ tempted to disassemble the Batmobile. 

Besides, if anyone gave–gave anyone a fucking STI, it was obviously the fucking prick who lied about not having fucking condoms on him. 

“I saved your fucking sidekick’s fucking life, asshole,” Superboy bites off roughly, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. The muscles that try to tense under Superman’s grip can’t–not as much as normal, anyway. Superman’s grip is just–it’s not something Superboy can do anything about, and that is pissing him the fuck off right now. “You could at least pretend to be, I dunno, fuckin’ grateful instead of just being a dick about my goddamn personal life.” 

“You haven’t described your personal life,” Batman says in that same bullshit neutral tone. “Or your dating history, or anything similar. You’ve described predatory adult women taking advantage of their age and experience to manipulate and take advantage of you.” 

“Let the fuck go of me or I’m gonna fucking make somebody sorry about it,” Superboy says to Superman, his voice flatter than the goddamn floor. Like–very literally flatter, since some of the floor’s clearly kinda just hacked out of the rock. 

He is actually about to go fucking nuclear on this bullshit non-conversation where no one’s fucking listening to him. 

Getting fucking lectured is not, in fact, any kind of a conversation. 

And he’s not–like, what the fuck is this bullshit, where they’re pretending like they’re asking him things and all they’re actually doing is making fucking assumptions and twisting everything he does say and not even fucking listening to him! 

“Kid, we just–” Superman starts in that bullshit voice like he’s trying to sound concerned instead of ever fucking listening to him or, you know, letting him the fuck go, and well–Superboy fucking warned him, didn’t he. 

So he grabs every single piece of the Batmobile down to the absolute last, and then he rips it all apart all at once and drops it. 

Though once he’s done that, he just to rip apart a whole lot more. 

The Batmobile collapses every which way and all its parts and pieces hit the floor in a massive cacophony of clattering and crashing and Robin jerks in alarm, whipping his head towards the pieces of it as they scatter across the floor. Superman startles a little too, and Superboy’s still not done being fucking pissed, actually, so he just–he still wants to rip apart this whole fucking cave and everything in it and just–just rip it apart, just–just–

“Let me go, you fucking prick,” he hisses up at Superman. “You have literally never cared before and I don’t give a fuck about your opinion about who I’m fucking anyway!” 

“Superboy,” Robin interjects carefully as he glances back towards them–fucking carefully, like he thinks Superboy’s somebody who needs handled carefully, who can’t handle his own shit, the patronizing piece of–“You did describe crimes. Legally, like . . . at least a couple of those situations are crimes.” 

Of course that’s what the asshole decides to fucking speak up about, Superboy thinks as a spike of fury stabs into his gut. 

[ematini]

So I was thinking about the whole music videos situation in Arcane and guess what, I once again have something to say. No surprises there.

Arcane soundtrack is absolutely amazing, that's true for both seasons, but compared to season 2, season 1 contains significantly fewer montages. In season 2, music isn't just a background for current events. Instead, we get montages, which are basically used as a skip forward button for the show's time skips of unspecified length. A mandatory "Hey, that's what's going on in the world, but we don't have time for that. Now, back to our favorite character!"

Visually, they're gorgeous, but that's not what Arcane was originally praised for. They're more eye-catching music videos than actual storytelling. Good for Riot's promotional material, but when you put them in the middle of an episode? It makes the originally full world of arcane feel like an empty board on which characters play without any real impact on the world around them. Sure, it can be done well, like they did with Firelight's introduction in season 1, but not when it's used to tell very important parts of the story that SHOULD have an impact.

It's abundantly clear in episode 3.

Yep, that infamous part. We montage through Caitlyn using the Grey in Zaun and move past it. That's it. No real influence on the story, characters, or the world.

Imagine if they used the same approach on Jayce and Vi storming the Shimmer factory. If, instead of a mission going wrong, they showed us a montage of them taking over one factory after the other.

I know someone will come screaming "Oh, but they Grey wasn't used on civilians!" Well guess what, Jayce and Vi didn't want to hurt civilians either, that wasn't their intention, just an accident. Are you telling me that during Caitlyn's Strike Team Adventures™, no kid suddenly got in the way? No one was running away in panic and got punched in the face? They were dismantling Shimmer factories too. What happened to all the kids there? None of them panicked at the sight of five fully armed Enforcers?

That is exactly the issue with how they handled that topic and why people are so quick to defend this and Caitlyn's actions and honestly, i get the thought process. It's the writing's fault. Everyone is always screaming about media literacy, show don't tell, you don't have to be shown every single detail, the show shouldn't dwell on it, etc. But the moment they don't literally show us this on screen, people forget about the consequences of the last failed strike attempt at Zaun's criminal underground. They're are quick to say that everything worked out fine, no need to nitpick. But is it nitpicking, if the show made that clear before?

You can't just storm in and take over. Innocent people will get hurt. That's the conclusion Jayce walks away from this. That's the reality of the situation. But it's conveniently forgotten about when the writers don't want to deal with said consequences.

[kwanisms]

Homecoming — k.hongjoong

After being banished to hell, Hongjoong manages to find a weak point and escapes back to the mortal realm. He only has a short time before the hounds of Hell are sent after him to bring him back and he makes the most of his time by tracking down his former servant only to find Seonghwa’s vampire curse has been broken and that he’s now happily married to the woman who destroyed everything Hongjoong built up. incubus!Hongjoong × fem!Reader

» back || m.list || taglist « ❑ WORDCOUNT — 14.2k ❑ WARNINGS — adult language, female reader, reincarnated reader, mentions of: marriage, food & alcohol consumption, death, pregnancy, wanting to start a family, infidelity (its complicated, mc thinks she's dreaming); sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! ❑ CONTENT — angst, smut; supernatural, fantasy, demons & angels, biblical, established relationship (Seonghwa & MC), married life; non idol au, demon au ❑ NOTES — THIS FIC CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE LIBRARY OF ILLUSIONS SEQUEL. IF YOU PLAN ON READING THAT SERIES AND DON’T WANT TO BE SPOILED, SAVE THIS FIC FOR LAST. DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS!!! THIS IS THE ONLY WARNING I WILL GIVE. This takes place after the sequel to the Library of Illusion and as such, you can’t read directly what happens before this as it’s not written yet. If you’d like to read those, you can find the masterlist for the Library of Illusion here. There’s some heavy stuff in this so read with caution. Thank you for anyone reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

❑ SMUT WARNINGS: there’s a lot of dirty talk without smut so watch out for that, implied oral (f receiving), implied unprotected sex (don’t), voyeurism (Hongjoong), hot tub makeout, implied hot tub sex, vaginal penetration, nipple play (f receiving), oral (f receiving, m receiving), facefucking, deepthroating, piv sex, praise, dirty talk, degrading names (f receiving: slut, whore), mild impact play (spanking), forced cuckold (Seonghwa), somnophilia, slight dacryphilia (Joong likes it when Hwa cries), a lot of dirty talk on Joong’s part, breeding kink, cum inside, forced oral (MC is in a trance and Hongjoong forces her to give Hwa oral while he’s tied up), bondage/rope play (Seonghwa is basically bound and gagged through the whole thing up until the end), mild m × m (Hongjoong touches Seonghwa a couple times). If you don’t like this, don’t read. It’s fantasy and supposed to be a  kind of gray area. Sorry, not sorry. I think I got all the warnings but if I missed any, please let me know!

One thing Hongjoong had never been prepared for was being turned into a demon. It hadn’t been his choice, he’d been betrayed by his neighbors. His only consolation were the centuries he spent luring people to his prison, deep in the forests of the Carpathian Mountains, and collecting their souls. It had all been going well.

Until you came along.

Upon seeing you for the first time, Hongjoong didn’t know you were the reincarnation of his servant’s dead fiancée. He didn’t really care. At least, that was until you started to cause problems. He watched as you slowly uncovered the truth, learning about your past life and about the Library of Illusion, the place Hongjoong called home.

The vampire opened your eyes and when you had regained your memories from your previous life, Hongjoong watched your reunion with a mixture of fascination and irritation. It didn’t matter really, not when you were going to venture further and then he would collect your soul, just as he had done for hundreds of years already.

Only, his sight was obscured soon after you returned to Seonghwa. It was only moments later when he realized you had entered the Restricted Section, so he pushed the occurrence to the back of his mind. In the end, it wasn’t going to matter.

Oh how foolish he had been.

He gave you the same head start he’d given the others. Chased you through the maze and you managed to escape into the halls. He would give you your time, allow you to explore before he would finally descend. He managed to find and intercept you in the hallway, cut off your exit route and was surprised when you gave in so easily.

He didn’t realize you had a plan.

He still remembered the sharp sting of pain from the dagger as it pierced his chest. He remembered the incantation you hissed as you twisted the knife, white hot pain searing throughout his body, the heat spreading from the wound almost as if he’d been poisoned.

And he had. You’d coated the knife in something before driving it into him. You were quick after that, taking off further into the halls. Hongjoong dragged himself up, ignoring the pain and blood that poured out of him as he followed you, stumbling into the walls as he tried to keep up.

The poison you’d infected him with caused him to transform, the visage of his human form melting away to reveal the demon he’d become until almost none of his humanity remained and instead a lumbering, grotesque monster stood in his place.

He finally tracked you down, rounding the corner to find you weren’t alone. The vampire was with you. He had turned on him. He, the vampire, had turned on him, Hongjoong, all because of a woman. Hongjoong underestimated the strength of the love between the two which allowed the vampire to free himself from Hongjoong’s control.

Hongjoong could never have expected that the vampire would go snooping while his attention was occupied with chasing you. The vampire surprised him by reciting the same banishing incantation the priest had used on him all those years ago, pinning Hongjoong in place. Hongjoong never expected the vampire to pull the knife out and shove it back in deeper as he called Hongjoong by his demon name.

The vampire used the combination of the poison, the wound, the incantation, and the name to finish what the priests could not and banished Hongjoong back to hell, something the demon never saw coming. His fall back into hell was much like the first; blackness, fire and brimstone, and burning, but instead of the white light saving him, he broke through rock and fell into the depths of Hell.

He passed through one of the rings, landing hard onto the smooth stone floor of the second. Pain spread throughout his body, the air leaving his lungs and leaving him winded.

He opened his eyes and found himself in the middle of the Panopticon of the Second Ring of Hell. A light blinded him as two figures approached. Hongjoong got to his feet, shielding his eyes from the bright light glaring down on him.

He squinted, looking at the two figures as they stopped at the edge of the light. “Who is that?” he called, his voice echoing around the room. He waited for them to answer, to move, but the figures did neither. Instead they stood at the edge of the light, hidden in the darkness, watching him. He could feel their eyes upon him. It made him extremely uncomfortable.

After a few more minutes of silence, The light finally lessened, instead of a bright intense light, it was a much dimmer golden glow. Hongjoong blinked, his eyes adjusting as he lowered his hand. The figures had multiplied, now standing in a circle around him still in the shadow. The same two figures from the beginning started to advance, stepping into the golden glow and Hongjoong’s eyes widened.

The figures, a man and a woman, walked forward. Dressed in black hooded cloaks, they continued forward, walking the long distance towards him. Hongjoong stood still, watching them as they advanced and took this opportunity to give them both a good once over.

The man was tall with black hair and cat-like, piercing eyes. The woman was shorter than her companion. She had doe-like eyes, silvery blonde hair, and a very youthful look. The pair stopped just before him and in unison, removed their hoods.

Hongjoong stared back and forth between the two as silence fell over the trio.

Finally, it was the woman who spoke first in a soft voice. “Welcome back, Dannarok,” she said with a warm smile. Upon hearing the name, Hongjoong recoiled slightly. The smile on the woman’s face never faltered. The man raised a brow. “Does the sound of your own name repulse you?” he asked, his voice a deeper pitch than Hongjoong’s but not so deep.

Hongjoong opened his mouth to respond but was cut off.

“It has been such a long time since he has heard,” the woman answered for him. Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed. She was reading his mind. “Such a shame,” the man said, turning his attention back to Hongjoong. “And we gave you that name, too.”

“Why am I here?” Hongjoong asked suddenly, cutting the man off. “You’ve been banished back here,” the woman answered, her golden eyes studying him closely. “You can’t just send me back?” Hongjoong asked. “Back?” the man repeated in a questioning tone. “Back where?”

Hongjoong gestured up. “Top side,” he answered. The man and woman exchanged looks before bursting into laughter. “Send you back topside? To do what, exactly?” the man asked as he looked back at Hongjoong who stared between the man and woman, anger bubbling under his skin. Why the hell were they laughing at him? It was a reasonable request, wasn’t it?

“You had your chance up there,” the man finally said. “You were up there for hundreds of years,” the woman interjected. “Spent hundreds of years doing nothing, I might add,” the man continued. “No souls collected, no women impregnated, no murder, no maiming,” he continued. “Well,” the woman said quickly. “There were those priests,” she reminded him.

“Right, and that expedition party,” he nodded before looking back at Hongjoong. “Not nearly enough death for hundreds of years spent up there.” Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “I killed far more than that. I had thousands upon thousands of victims,” he said incredulously. “Right,” the man said, nodding. “The thousands upon thousands of souls that escaped when you were banished by a vampire and his reincarnated fiancée?”

Hongjoong’s blood began to boil. How dare they speak to him with such contempt. Such… disregard.

“The sheer volume of souls you collected was admirable,” the woman began but the man interrupted her yet again and for a split second, Hongjoong could see the annoyance on her face. “But your failure to bring them here,” the man said, his voice full of derision. “Did you forget the part where I was confined to that shell of a building in the forest in the middle of the fucking mountains?” Hongjoong snapped.

As quickly as the words left his mouth, the man moved, wrapping his fingers around Hongjoong’s throat and lifting him off the ground with ease. Hongjoong struggled against the man’s grip, clawing at his hand, the toes of his shoes scraping against the concrete floor.

“Watch your tone,” the man snarled, the voice of a thousand souls emanating from him as his red irises glowed. The woman stepped forward, placing her hand on his arm gently. “Sam,” she whispered, looking up at him with her golden, doe-like eyes. The man quickly dropped Hongjoong and stepped back, taking a deep breath and grounding himself.

“My apology, Lils,” he said softly, clearing his throat. “Won’t happen again.” The woman smiled at him, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before turning to Hongjoong who was massaging his neck, glaring at the man, Sam. “My apologies, Dannarok,” the woman, Lils, said. She offered a kind hand to help him, which Hongjoong took, allowing her to pull him to his feet with surprising strength. 

“The point we are trying to make is that you spent a long time topside,” Lils said softly, keeping a hold of Hongjoong’s hand, holding it up and placing her other hand over the back of his hand. “But there isn’t much to show for it. You’re here but there’s nothing else. All those souls have been released and sent to the afterlife. Some have ended up in the different levels but many of them went… up,” she said, trailing off slightly before raising her gaze towards the ceiling.

“What if I went back and collected more souls?” Hongjoong asked softly. Lils’ eyes met his again and she smiled kindly. “Unfortunately, without anything to show for your first time up there, and with nothing binding you to the Earth, you cannot return. You would have to collect the souls again. The amount you had before but that would require hundreds of years and you don’t have that kind of trust from us.”

Hongjoong felt his stomach slowly start to churn. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m afraid you will have to stay here.” Hongjoong’s stomach sank. “Stay here?” Lils nodded. “But you get a choice,” she explained. “You can either spend eternity in here,” she said, gesturing to the round room.

Hongjoong looked up as more light filled the room, illuminating the various cells set into the stone walls. Cells upon cells lined the walls, extending up and up, thin walkways with iron railings providing access to the upper cells. Each cell had iron bars and all of the cells on the ground level were occupied. Darkness lay within the cells so Hongjoong could not see the contents.

He turned his eyes back to Lils. “Or you can spend eternity outside the Panopticon where the high speed winds will whip you around, stinging your face, and chilling you to the bone. Out there, you will spend eternity in discomfort,” she continued. “In here, you will be comfortable for a time but then you will slowly go mad. It’s your choice.”

Hongjoong stared back at her as she waited for him to choose as if it were the easiest thing in the world. He glanced around at the cells once more before imagining what it was like outside the Panopticon. The winds sounded almost worse but the thought of slowly losing his mind kept him from picking the former. He was stuck at a crossroads.

He glanced around once more, hoping to find a way out, though he couldn’t see one. 

Hongjoong resigned himself to his fate. “Put me in a cell,” he said. Lils gave him an apologetic smile and nodded to a figure Hongjoong hadn’t noticed joined them. He was then led to a set of concrete stairs that looked altogether unstable and ready to collapse at any moment. After climbing up several staircases he was led to a cell, the door opened as they approached, and he reluctantly stepped inside, promising himself he would one day get out.

The first day went by with no indication that a new day had started. Hongjoong lay on the small rickety cot against the wall, staring at the ceiling of his cell as those around him screamed, pounded on the walls, and rattled the bars of their doors. He shut his eyes, trying to drown out the sounds. He imagined he was anywhere else. A vision came to his mind.

Opening his eyes, he found himself in a forest. His forest. He looked around at the trees, sunlight filtering through the leaves of the canopy and dancing on the ground as birds and other cheerful forest sounds surrounded him. He turned his head, his gaze finding a sight he hadn’t seen in hundreds of years.

His cabin. It was just as he remembered leaving it all those centuries ago when Yeosang came to get him with a mob of villagers. The night he’d told you to take his box and hide it. The last night he’d been freed before his death. He walked towards the cabin, finding it void of life.

The front door stood ajar. He approached it slowly, reaching out to push the wooden door open. The inside of the cabin was different than he remembered. It was all stone instead of wood. He looked around at the dark stone walls and floor, his eyes picking up a trail of blood. He stopped, following the trail with his eyes until he reached the source.

His stomach churned, eyes widening in horror as he took in the sight of two bodies lying in a pool of blood in the middle of the round room. Lifeless eyes stared back at him from vacant expressions of both Stella and Yeosang and he let out a scream.

Back in the cell, Hongjoong’s eyes snapped open and he was met with the rough stone ceiling of his cell. ‘You’re still there,’ he thought to himself. Over the centuries, Hongjoong hadn’t been able to rid himself of his host’s thoughts. The body he inhabited, the name he went by, the identity he’d stolen. He was not actually Hongjoong. He was Dannarok. Hongjoong was the name of the body he inhabited. The witch who had been sacrificed as a body for him to inhabit.

Hongjoong sat up quickly. He hadn’t come back empty handed after all. He’d brought back a soul. Hongjoong’s soul. He glanced towards the door and contemplated his options. One soul wasn’t enough to free him but surely, it was enough to give him at least a day out? It was worth the risk.

Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he got up and walked over to the door, peering out into the Panopticon. He looked around, seeing no one. He cleared his throat and called out. “Anyone there?” he asked. There was no response. He tried again, deciding to call out to the woman. She seemed much more open to negotiations than the man.

“Lils?” Hongjoong tried again, a little louder. The manic chanting and screams from the other cells didn’t do much to cover his voice and yet, there was still no response. “Lils!” he tried again, a little louder. “I have a proposition for you!” That seemed to do the trick. A pair of tall, cloaked guards appeared, face obscured by black cloth as they flanked the much smaller Lils who had removed her cloak and underneath wore a simple pastel purple dress.

“A proposition?” she inquired, tilting her head. Her hair fell in loose curls down past her shoulders, two small black bows clipped into her hair. “What sort of proposition?” Hongjoong leaned against the bars, his hands curling around the cool iron. “I didn’t come back empty-handed,” Hongjoong started. “I brought a soul with me.” Lils stared at him before smiling.

“I figured you would like to keep that one,” she explained. “Someone to keep you company.” Hongjoong shook his head. “To be honest, I’d like to be rid of him. He would drive me insane faster than being locked in here.” Lils’ smile fell slightly. “Is that so?” she asked. Hongjoong wasn’t sure what she meant but he nodded. “So how about I hand him over and you give me a day topside? One day. 24 hours.”

Lils looked at him, studying him carefully. “Twenty four hours? You think you deserve such a long time topside for one human soul?” Lils asked, tilting her head. Hongjoong felt his stomach sink. “Is that not how it works?” he asked. Lils sighed. “You have to see this from my perspective,” she said softly. “You’re considered a flight risk. I could give you twenty four hours and you could disappear for years. I can’t risk that. But if you really want to get rid of the soul, I can take it from you.”

Hongjoong took a step back. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not unless I get something in return. Until you can offer me what I want, I’ll keep the soul.” Lils kept her eyes on him as he sank back into the cell and sat back down on the bed. She turned away, the cloaked figures flanking her as she walked away, leaving Hongjoong with a few parting words.

“Call me if you change your mind.”

Hongjoong’s days were filled with the same routine. Sleep, wake up, stare at the ceiling while the winds outside the panopticon raged on, shaking the building fiercely, despite its strong construction. It made him infinitely grateful he chose to spend eternity inside rather than outside. The days blurred together as there was no rise or fall of a sun or moon. No clocks, no calendars, nothing to help show the passage of time. It soon became irrelevant. Three days, three weeks, three years? None of it mattered.

Soon, Hongjoong couldn’t sleep as his dreams were being commandeered by the faint soul inside that tried desperately to regain control. He hadn’t been this weak since he first took over the body of the witch. He was growing weaker and weaker and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep control. As he lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he heard a voice, whispering into his ear.

‘Get up.’

Hongjoong sat up quickly, looking around. He saw nothing as he surveyed his surroundings. The cell was empty, save for him. The chamberpot and sink sat undisturbed, there was no window and the only light came through the bars of his door from the dim glow outside. When he was certain he was alone, he started to lay back down but was greeted with the same whisper.

‘I said get up!’

Hongjoong got up, getting off the bed and backed against the wall opposite it, staring at his bed. Was this it? Was he finally starting to lose it? Would he soon be joining his neighbors and fellow inmates in their manic screams and pounding on the walls of his cell, smearing his shit on the walls and shaking the bars of his door?

‘You’re not going crazy,’ the voice said. ‘It’s me. It’s Hongjoong.’

Hongjoong relaxed as the voice spoke to him. He realized it wasn’t a whisper, at least not from an external force. It was coming from inside his mind. “Wh-what do you want?” he asked the witch. ‘I want out of here. I didn’t ask for any of this,’ the voice in his mind said. ‘I’ve sat by and watched you ruin my life, use my body for heinous acts and couldn’t do anything. For hundreds of years, I’ve been a prisoner in my own body but not anymore.’

Hongjoong stood still as he listened. “What do you want me to do?” he asked. “It’s not like I can really go anywhere. We’re stuck here.” He glanced around the room. There was truly no way out that he could see. ‘You’re thinking too physically,’ the voice in his mind said, a hint of amusement. ‘There’s no physical exit, that’s true. But has there ever been a physical entrance and exit to Hell?’

Hongjoong was starting to catch on, a smile spreading across his face. “So,” he started, walking back over to the bed and sitting down on the edge.

“What do you need me to do?”

Rain fell, thundering rumbling as you glanced out the rain streaked windows. “I didn’t know it was supposed to storm,” you said softly as Seonghwa came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your shoulder. “Perhaps we should have stayed in bed,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “We can’t sleep in bed all day,” you countered as you watched the rain fall, hitting the standing water on the empty circle drive.

“Who said anything about sleeping?” Seonghwa mumbled into your ear, his breath tickling you as his hands moved down to your hips. “I wasn’t talking about sleeping.” You turned in his hold, your hands smoothing up his chest over the soft linen shirt he wore. “You never want to sleep,” you reminded him. “I’m starting to get sore.”

Seonghwa let out a chuckle as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Can you blame me?” he asked against your lips. “I spent hundreds of years trapped in that forest. Hundreds of years alone,” he continued, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips in between words. “Centuries without you,” he added. He pulled back to look at you, reaching up to cup your cheek, thumb grazing the apple of your cheek.

“And the universe deemed me worthy of a second chance with the only person I have ever loved?” he asked, eyes scanning your face as he took in every detail. “I’m going to take advantage of that every minute I can.” You leaned into his touch, sighing contentedly as your eyes fluttered shut. “If I could spend the rest of eternity making love to you, I would,” he added softly, making your cheeks flush.

“Kissing and tasting every inch of your body,” he continued, lips ghosting over yours as he leaned in close. “Taking my time, making you feel every inch of me as I drag you deeper into the throes of passion,” he continued, nose gently bumping against yours. “Whispering words of praise and affirmations of my love and devotion to you,” he added. “I’ll settle for spending every day of the rest of our lives doing just that.”

You giggled as he pulled you into another kiss, the sound muffled by his mouth. Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth, meeting yours in a slow, languide dance. Seonghwa pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you so much, blossom,” he whispered. “Now and forever.”

You were about to respond when a loud beeping sounded, ringing out from the kitchen. You pulled back to look at him. “That’s lunch,” you said smiling up at him, reluctantly pulling from his grasp but not before stealing another kiss.

Seonghwa followed you to the kitchen as you grabbed an oven mitt and opened the oven, grabbing the dish inside and pulling it out and setting it on top of the range, closing the oven door and turning it off. Seonghwa leaned against the kitchen island, watching you work. “You know,” he started.

“We could have had the staff do this,” he reminded you as you started to cut up the contents of the baking dish, a lasagna. You turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. “Do you not trust my cooking?” you asked, the tone of your voice playful. Seonghwa let out a laugh and stood up straight, crossing the small space between you as he wrapped his arms around you again.

“It’s not that, my love,” he said as he hugged you tightly. “I just would have rather let the staff do this and I could have gotten more time in bed with you.” Shaking your head, you laughed as you finished dividing the lasagna up. “Is the table set?” you asked, turning your head to look at him. “Yes, dear,” he said, stealing a kiss. “Go sit down,” you instructed.

“You’re not serving me,” he protested but you pouted at him. “Please let me play your dutiful and doting wife for one day,” you pleaded, making him laugh as he finally let go of you. “Fine,” he said as he started towards the archway that led into the dining room. “But only because you asked me oh so nicely,” he added, pointing at you before disappearing. You grabbed the dish with the pot holders and carried it from the kitchen into the dining room.

When you moved into Seonghwa’s ancestral mansion, you’d never been accustomed to such luxury. His family owned a gorgeous mansion deep in the mountainous countryside of Korea. It was a grand home with 3 floors and a sprawling basement. It boasted a total of eleven bedrooms, fifteen bathrooms, a movie theater, six car garage, an extensive private library, multiple parlors, drawing rooms, and even a ballroom. 

The grounds were extensive, with multiple private gardens, a lake that was kept well stocked, forests for hunting, a guest house with five bedrooms, horse stables, outdoor tennis court and basketball court. You weren’t ashamed to admit you’d gotten lost on a number of occasions. When you moved in, Seonghwa had offered for you to have your own room separate from his and while you did in the beginning, it was lonely sleeping in such a large bed all by yourself and you gravitated to his suite which you eventually moved into.

It wasn’t long afterwards that you got married. Seonghwa had proposed almost the moment you stepped foot into the house when he sent for you a few years ago while you were visiting the country. You accepted of course, not wanting to be parted from him for another second. After a year-long engagement, your wedding was held at the house, Seonghwa invited his surviving family. It was a small, intimate affair and afterwards, you went on a month-long honeymoon, traveling and visiting various places. 

Seonghwa wasted no time in taking you to bed after you were married. He had a voracious sexual appetite and proved to be a very skilled and adept lover. Your bedroom activities had yet to bear any fruit but you both weren’t in any rush to have children. You wanted it to happen naturally, if it happened at all. 

You set the lasagna down on the table as Seonghwa watched you from his seat. “Salad?” you asked, picking up the bowl. He said nothing, merely nodding as he watched you with a smile. You filled his plate with salad before serving yourself. You then set the bowl down and grabbed his plate to place a slice of lasagna on it and set it back down to serve your own food.

“Alright,” Seonghwa said as you set the serving spoon down. “Food’s been served, now sit down please.” You rolled your eyes but obliged, sitting in the chair adjacent to his at the head of the table. “At least I’m sitting here,” you said as you picked up your fork. “And not down there.” Seonghwa followed your gaze to the opposite end of the table and immediately took your free hand. “I would absolutely despise it if you sat that far away from me,” he said softly, gently massaging your hand.

You nodded towards his plate. “Eat,” you urged. “Before it gets cold.” Seonghwa’s eyes never left your face. “And what if I want to eat something else?” You looked up to meet his dark gaze. “Eat your lunch and you can have your dessert early,” you offered. He perked up. “My dessert?” he inquired. “What’s for dessert?” You met his gaze, fighting the urge to smile. “Me.”

Seonghwa didn’t complain or speak again until his plate was clear. You’d never seen some wolf down their food so fast. Once lunch had been eaten and the leftovers put away, you started to clean up, much to Seonghwa’s annoyance. Still, as a dutiful husband, he helped you wash the dishes, wiping and putting them away as you handed them to him.

Once you were done, and the sink was rinsed down, Seonghwa pounced, hands guiding you until your back met the cool marble of the counters. He lifted you onto the edge, lips kissing down the side of your neck as he laid you back. His lips continued down, kissing over the material of your sundress until he lifted the skirt and pulled your panties from you.

“Hwa,” you whined as he kissed down the inside of your thigh closer and closer to your aching heat. “You couldn’t have waited until we got back to the bedroom?” you asked, back arching as his breath fanned over your sex. “You said I could have my dessert if I finished my lunch,” he whispered, licking his lips as he drew level with your core.

“And I never eat in bed.”

Hongjoong wasn’t sure how he got out of his cell but the feeling of the cold rain hitting his skin was a shock, his eyes snapping open to find himself staring up at the gray skies. He sat up, looking around. He was lying in the middle of a paved road, pine forests surrounding him. He got to his feet, scrambling up as he looked around and ran to the side of the road and stumbling into the trees to regain his composure and get a sense of his surroundings.

He leaned against a tree, his wet hair sticking to his forehead. He reached up, running his fingers through the soaked strands and pushing them back from his face. He was in the mortal world once more. He’d managed to find a weak point and was now topside. It was only a matter of time before the powers that be discovered his escape and would come for him.

‘You tricked me,’ a voice hissed. Hongjoong looked down at his hands and smiled to himself. He was back in control of the witch’s body. ‘You said you’d free me!’ Hongjoong sighed, shaking his head. “And I will,” he responded. “This body is mine,” he said. “Once I’ve had my revenge, I’ll let you go.”

‘Revenge? What revenge?’

Hongjoong stood up and stepped back onto the road, looking to his left and then his right. Both directions, the road stretched and curved out of sight. He turned back to the left and started walking, a destination in his mind. He’d picked this place because he knew what he’d find close by.

He continued to walk, enjoying the feeling of the rain on his skin, the clothes he wore now soaked and clinging to his skin. He hadn’t seen a single soul, not a car or any other sign of life. He followed the winding road until he reached a large iron gate. A ten foot tall stone wall separated him from his destination but that wouldn’t deter him.

There was a placard in the iron bars of the gate, an emblem of sorts. The letters P and E engraved into the iron. Hongjoong walked up to the gate and grabbed the bars. He tried to push and pull but the gate didn’t budge. Sighing, he glanced up at the top of the stone wall. He’d have to find some other way in.

Stepping off the road, he followed the stone wall through the woods, sliding down a hill from the road and continued to walk, hoping to find either a break in the wall or a shorter section. As he walked, leaves and twigs snapping and crunching underfoot, he contemplated what he was about to do. He was full of rage and contempt for the inhabitants of this estate. Why should they get their happy ending while he was doomed to spend eternity in a cell?

Luck was on his side when he found a section of the wall where the stone bulged out a little more creating small places where he could grab and climb. Hongjoong easily scaled the wall, climbing over the top and dropping back down on the other side. He walked forward, following a pull he couldn’t explain. His walk didn’t take long as a large sprawling mansion appeared through the trees.

He stopped at the edge of the forest, looking up at the imposing manor and scoffed. “Of course he comes from money,” he murmured to himself. Keeping to the shadow of the forest, Hongjoong made his way to the house, keeping his eyes and ears open. He reached the side of the house and carefully walked around towards the back, glancing up to find a balcony. “Bingo.”

He carefully started to climb a tree next to the house, peering through the windows into empty rooms until he reached the top floor and peered into the room. It was a massive bedroom. A large four poster bed stood against the wall opposite the window, burgundy bed linens decorate the bed along with the curtains for the four posters. Hongjoong leaned in closer, squinting as he tried to see past the rain streaked glass panes.

There was movement in the bed, the sheets moving. He glanced over to the balcony and made a decision. He carefully stood up on the branch and stepped lightly until he was close enough to jump to the balcony, landing on the stone railing. He quietly jumped down and crouched, making his way over to the french doors. He ducked under a window beside the doors and carefully peered over the window sill. 

From this position, he could see a little better. He felt heat rise in him as he recognized the vampire. The one he’d made his servant for centuries. ‘Seonghwa,’ the witch’s voice said. ‘His name is Seonghwa and you ruined his life.’ Hongjoong ignored the voice as he watched the scene inside the room. It was very clear what he was seeing. The vampire, Seonghwa, in the midst of intimacy with…

Hongjoong’s blood boiled as he recognized your face. The woman who had destroyed everything he built. The reason he was banished to begin with, all his hard work decimated. Hongjoong watched as you sat up, taking control and pushing Seonghwa onto his back. He watched the way your hips moved and he could vaguely remember how it felt when you were on top of him, hand on his neck as you rode him before you stabbed him.

Hongjoong watched as your movements sped up, hips moving faster, Seonghwa’s hands moving to your hips as he moved with you. Hongjoong’s rage only grew as pleasure overtook the both of you and you no doubt came together. He watched as you leaned down, kissing your lover before he finally tore his gaze away from the scene.

His luck couldn’t have gotten better. Here you both were. He could enact his revenge all at once.

He peered into the room once more, finding you both had started to move. He would have to hide until night before he could put his plan into motion. He stayed crouched as he moved towards the edge of the balcony and climbed over, dropping to the ground and making his way into the forest to lie in wait.

You watched as Seonghwa dressed in silence from the safety of the bathtub. He turned to find you watching him. “What?” he asked softly. You shook your head, instead letting your eyes rake over his form. “I was hoping you’d join me,” you said as you sank further into the bubbles. Seonghwa smiled as he adjusted his collar and walked over, taking a seat on the step of the tub.

“As much as I’d love that,” he murmured. “I do need to attend to some business.” He leaned over to meet you in a kiss. “Just a couple online meetings,” he said reassuringly. “And then I am yours for the rest of the day and night. Maybe we’ll take a dip in the hot tub,” he suggested, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Or just come back to the room and I’ll focus on putting a baby inside you.”

You felt your stomach flutter at his words. You’d been married for two years now and you had both talked extensively about wanting to start a family. You’d both just been enjoying married life and waiting for nature to take its course but apparently Seonghwa was growing impatient. “Put a baby in me?” you asked softly, leaning back against the backrest. Seonghwa nodded, eyes following you.

“I won’t stop until I know you’re carrying my baby,” he answered. “If I have to fuck you for a week straight, I will,” he added. You were about to respond when he reached down, grabbing you gently by the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. “Hold that thought,” he whispered against your lips. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.” He pressed another soft kiss to your lips. “I love you, my petal.”

“Love you,” you responded as he got up and backed away from the tub through the double doors into the bedroom and slowly shut the doors until you were left alone in the room.

You let out a sigh and rested against the plush backrest, soaking in the warmth of the soapy water. Your eyes slid shut as you basked, enjoying the quiet while you were able to. You weren’t sure when you fell asleep but you sat up quickly, water splashing softly as you did. You glanced around the room, taking in the soft tones of the walls and cabinets.

You groaned as you pulled yourself up into a sitting position. The water was lukewarm and most of the bubbles had disappeared and the water was instead a murky white from the combination of soaps and bath salts you added. Pulling the plug, you got out of the bath, letting the water drain as you turned on the shower and stepped in to rinse off quickly before heading to the closet and picking out something to wear.

You opted for a fitted dress with a pastel marbled look. It had ruching and off the shoulder sleeves. The hem fell to the middle of your shin and hugged your body. You chose not to wear underwear under it in case your husband got any ideas and that was one less barrier between you.

You slipped on a pair of simple white flats and walked out of the closet, heading out of the master suite and started to wander the halls. You weren’t sure how much time had passed since Seonghwa left you in the tub but you would wait for him to find you when his meetings were done.

You made your way through the house, the thunder still rumbling in the distance as the rain continued to come down. It was a dreary day so you would definitely not be venturing outside today. You crossed the large entrance hall, your footsteps echoing off the stone floor.

Picking a random hall, you followed it until you picked one of the various doors and turned the knob, pushing it open and peering inside. Even after three years in this house, you hadn’t seen everything it had to offer.

The room you picked seemed to be a parlor of sorts. There was a gorgeous dark blue furniture set decorated the room. A loveseat and two arm chairs. The dark blue cushions were contrasted by the white oak wood and gold accents stood in the middle of the room. Under the window was a small cabinet made from the same white oak with glass doors revealing the contents inside. 

Various knickknacks sat on the shelves, hiding behind the glass and staying pristine. Two end tables that matched stood on either side of the loveseat with ornate lamps sitting on them. Behind the couch was a larger cabinet, various glasses sat on a tray upside down to prevent dust from settling inside. The doors of the cabinet were solid white oak with gold hardware and as you approached, you opened one of the doors to find various bottles of alcohol inside ranging from brandy and cognac to vodka and soju.

Shutting the door, you turned to face the wall behind you where another cabinet stood, glass doors revealing more knickknacks and books. On top of the cabinet was a collection of frames with various portraits. You walked closer, inspecting them one by one until you found one that caught your eye. It was a double frame connected by a hinge with two photos sitting behind the frames.

Picking it up, you stared in awe at the sight of a picture of Seonghwa, much like the one you’d found in the forest all those years ago when you visited the Library and escaped. You still had that photo, tucked away for safekeeping but here it was, a larger version of it. In the other frame was a picture of a woman who looked remarkably like you. “Blossom,” you whispered as you stared at the photo.

It was uncanny how much you looked alike and yet there were subtle differences in the hair, the eyes, the lips, and a few other places. You were so preoccupied by inspecting the photos that you didn’t hear the door open. “There you are,” a voice said, drawing you back to reality and you jumped, nearly dropping the photo frame. Seonghwa stood in the doorway, hand on the knob as he looked at you.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked softly, pushing the door open and joining you. Nodding, you glanced down at the frame in your hands. Seonghwa gently took the frame from you and placed it back on the cabinet before taking your hand. “Come,” he urged gently. “I have something to show you.”

You weren’t sure how long you had been in that room, staring at the photo as your thoughts consumed you but the sky had started to darken as the sun set and night settled in. Seonghwa led you through the house, past the kitchen and dining room and into the pool room. It was a sort of four seasons room but it had the pool and hot tub built in. During the warmer months, the large windows opened up but in the winter, they closed, allowing you to enjoy the pool and hot tub year round.

Seonghwa stopped once he pulled you into the room. He’d set various candles around the room, ranging from small tea lights to large candles. All of them were lit and there was a small path of rose petals leading towards the hot tub. “I figure we could order in,” he suggested. “You cooked lunch, which was lovely, but the whole point of this day is for me to pamper you.” 

A laugh escaped your lips. “That’s not the point of the day,” you reminded him. “It’s a celebration of our love.” Seonghwa nodded. “And the way I show you how I love you is by not letting you do anything while I have everything done for us,” he explained. You laughed again as you allowed him to pull you closer.

“And I show my love by making you food and being your loving wife,” you countered. “Besides, the steaks have been marinating all day.” Seonghwa sighed in defeat. “Fine,” he conceded. “But after dinner, we can take a dip?” he asked, his voice full of hope. You nodded as you kissed his cheek. “But put the candles out for now. Don’t want anything to catch fire while I cook and we eat.”

You turned and left while he did that and you got started on dinner.

Since it was still raining and you really didn’t want to go outside, even if it grill was covered, you made dinner inside. Seonghwa stood on standby to help where needed and to give you encouraging kisses until you finally kicked him out, telling him to go relax. He instead sat at the island and observed you, his eyes following your every move.

He kept you company while you sliced potatoes for the au gratin potatoes, watching you carefully. You managed to finish without incident and place the dish in the oven while you got started on making a dessert. Seonghwa watched you through it all, fascinated by the way you worked so diligently. “I really am the luckiest man in the world,” he said, chin resting in his hands as you finished the no bake cheesecake and placed it in the fridge to set.

“I’m the lucky one,” you retorted as you turned on the range, ready to start cooking the steaks. Seonghwa watched from his perch as you seared the steaks, cooking them to the level of doneness that you knew he liked. “Smells good,” he commented as you took a break from the steaks to get the potatoes from the oven, setting them on the island to cool for a bit.

Seonghwa got up, walking around to look at them more closely before walking over to kiss your cheek. He disappeared as you returned your focus to the steaks. Once you were sure they were done, you pulled them from the skillet and set them on a cutting board to rest while you made a sauce.

Seonghwa returned a little while later carrying the plates you’d set out for the two of you. “What are you doing?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder as he set the plates and placemats down at the kitchen island. “There’s no reason for us to sit at that massive dining table,” he explained. “We’ll just eat in here.”

You shook your head as you turned off the range. Seonghwa joined you as you plated his steak, drizzling the sauce over it and served a scoop of the potatoes while he plated some of the salad you had prepared earlier. You finished your plate and joined him at the kitchen island while he poured two glasses of wine.

The food was some of the best you’d cooked and Seonghwa couldn’t stop expressing his compliments. When you finished, he helped you clean up once more and while you were checking the dessert, Seonghwa came up behind you. “I like this dress,” he murmured, his hands moving to your hips, smoothing over the fabric.

“When did you get it?” he asked as you stood up and shut the fridge door to face him. “A few weeks ago,” you answered. “I was supposed to wear it to that charity event but I got sick.” Seonghwa nodded. “I remember that,” he said as he pulled you against him. “You insisted I go to the event without you,” he said, cupping your cheek. “And you should have,” you reminded him.

“How could I go and leave my beautiful, ailing wife alone at home?” he asked, swaying softly. “I couldn’t do that to you,” he added. “I would have spent the whole night worrying about you. I would much rather be by your side.” You leaned in, pressing your lips against his. “Which I appreciate but it’s not like I was dying. I had the stomach flu,” you reminded him.

Seonghwa chuckled against your lips as you kissed him again. “So,” he said, changing the trajectory of the conversation. “What are you wearing under this,” he asked, running his hands up your sides and towards your back to pull you taut against him. “Under this?” you asked, gesturing at your dress. He nodded as you leaned in, lips close to his ear. “Absolutely nothing.”

The speed at which he dragged you from the kitchen to the pool room was astonishing, quickly stripping you of your dress and guiding you into the hot tub. The rose petals that had been floating on the surface of the water were now being swirled around by the bubbles as the jets turned on.

“You really didn’t need to do all this,” you said as Seonghwa walked around, lighting the candles once more before starting to strip himself and join you in the tub, grabbing your hand under the water and pulling you closer. “I know,” he murmured as he sat on one of the seats, pulling you onto his lap.

“I wanted to.” His lips enveloped yours as his arms wrapped around you. You rested your forearms on his shoulders, fingers combing through his hair as you both got caught up in a steamy exchange of tongues and breathy moans. “I said I wasn’t going to stop until you’re pregnant,” he reminded you, lips ghosting over your skin as he guided you over his lap, aligning the tip of his cock with your slit and slowly pushing you down onto him.

You let out a gasp as your walls sucked him in, ignoring the dull ache as his cock filled you. “F-fuck, baby,” you groaned as he bottomed out with a shaky breath. “Happy anniversary, blossom,” he whispered in your ear.

Night had fallen by the time Hongjoong returned to the mansion, exiting the forest under the cover of darkness. He’d watched from the trees as you and Seonghwa enjoyed a moment of intimacy in what you presumed was the privacy of your pool room and yet he was there in the trees watching, taking notes, and waiting.

He climbed the tree from before, making his way onto the balcony and crept over to the window to peer in. It was dark in the room and he could just barely make out yours and Seonghwa’s sleeping forms, tangled in the sheets. He crept over to the door and grabbed the knob, turning it slowly until it clicked softly and he was able to open the door and sneak inside and out of the rain.

With the door shut behind him, he stayed low, crossing the room to the bathroom and quietly shut the door. Once inside, he felt he could stand and so he did, removing his shoes and socks and slowly stripping himself of his wet clothes and walked into the closet which the automatic light turned on. He browsed through Seonghwa’s clothes, picking out a few items and dressing in silence. 

He made his way back out, the light shutting off behind him. He quietly opened the door, peering out into the room where you were sleeping, the sheets pulled up to your waist. You slept peacefully as he approached, chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

Hongjoong slowly lowered himself to his knees beside you and reached out, gently caressing your cheek. He leaned in, close to your ear. “Follow the sound of my voice,” he whispered. “Find me.”

He carefully got up, walking around the bed, keeping his eyes on your form, only glancing at Seonghwa as he neared the door. He carefully opened it, stepping out into the hall and shutting the door until it was open only a sliver. He walked down the hall, the steps of his bare feet muffled against the wooden floor. He opened doors as he walked past, peering inside to find unused bedrooms.

He kept going until he found a set of stairs and descended them, finding more rooms to inspect. He found one to his liking and entered it, exploring as he waited for you to awaken from your slumber and find him. He left the room and made his way downstairs, entering a parlor of sorts. He examined the room as he made his way to the fireplace and with a click of his fingers, a fire started. He rounded the couch, opening a cabinet and grabbing a glass bottle to pour himself a glass of amber liquid.

He placed the stopper back on the decanter and grabbed the glass, taking a sip before he walked back around and sat down on the couch to wait for you to join him.

You were pulled from your slumber by a gentle caressing against your cheek. Though you were awake, you couldn’t open your eyes. A soft voice spoke to you, piercing the silence. “Follow the sound of my voice,” it whispered. “Find me.”

You awoke with a start as thunder crashed overhead, shaking the house. You glanced next to you, finding your husband fast asleep next to you. As you were about to sink back down into the bed, your eyes caught sight of a trail of wet footprints on the floor leading from the doors to the balcony to the bathroom. You pulled the sheets back, careful not to wake your husband until you were absolutely certain it was necessary. You slipped on your slippers, grabbing your robe from the foot of the bed and pulled it on over your naked form.

Once at the bathroom door, you peered into the dark room, finding a dark blob on the tile floor. Approaching it cautiously, you knelt down and touched it. It was wet. You grabbed it and discovered it was a wet jacket. You found more wet clothes lying on the floor leading to the closet.

Standing up, you walked over, stepping into the closet where the light turned on. Save for the clothes, your closet was empty. You exited the room, the light shutting off as you headed back into the bedroom. You walked over to the double doors and checked the knob. It was locked. ‘How the hell did someone get in?’ you wondered as you turned and your eyes darted towards the bedroom door which was open a crack. You were certain Seonghwa had closed that before you went to bed.

You approached it cautiously, glancing at your sleeping husband. You contemplated waking him but you were a strong woman and capable of holding her own. You opened the door and stepped out into the hall, pulling the door behind you.

Your feet carried you down the hall, steps soft as you passed open doors and peered into the rooms beyond, finding them all empty. You went down the stairs to the next floor and followed the path of open doors until you reached the main floor. 

As you reached the bottom landing, you heard soft music drifting through the house. You walked through the foyer, jumping slightly when lightning flashed through the windows and thunder rumbled the house. The rain had picked up and was now pouring. Your feet carried you closer and closer to the source of the music, following the same path you had earlier after your bath.

The door to the parlor was left ajar and you pushed it open further, peering into the room. Your eyes landed on a figure standing by the fireplace. He wore Seonghwa’s clothes but it was not your husband. He had caramel colored hair that was longer in the back, metal rings and studs decorated his ear, reflecting the dancing light of a fire that crackled in the fireplace. His face was obscured to you, turned towards the fire, one of the crystal glasses from the liquor cabinet in his hand, its contents an amber liquid that glowed in the firelight.

You entered the room slowly, keeping your eyes on the figure. Once you were inside, the figure’s head turned and your eyes widened, a soft gasp escaping you. The hair was different but here was no mistaking that face. Those piercing eyes. The door behind you shut on its own and you backed against it in fear, staring as the figure stalked around the couch slowly, making their way towards you.

“It can’t be,” you whispered. “You can’t be here.”

The figure approached, downing the rest of the liquid in the glass, setting it on a table before he approached you. “Yet, here I am, darling,” he answered, his voice just the same as you remembered.

It had been nearly four years since you’d seen him last but there was no mistaking it.

Hongjoong had returned.

“We b-banished you,” you protested weakly as he neared you, placing his hands on either side of your head against the door, caging you in. “You’re supposed to be in hell,” you added as he stared down at you. “Am I?” he asked softly. “And what if this is a dream?” he asked softly. 

One of his hands moved, taking note of the way you flinched. When he touched you, it was soft and gentle. He brushed his thumb over your exposed collar, swiping upwards and catching the collar of your robe, pulling it down past your shoulder. His eyes fell on the bite mark in your skin, a scar from Seonghwa when he was still a vampire.

“Is it a dream?” you asked softly. Hongjoong raised his eyes to meet your gaze. “Do you want it to be?” he asked, tilting his head as his hand moved, fingers skimming over the mark to your neck. You felt his fingertips curl around the back of your neck. “Do you want to dream about me?” he whispered, leaning in closer as he pressed himself against you, pressing you against the wooden door.

You turned your head away as he leaned in closer. His lips ghosted over your cheek. “If I’m supposed to be in hell, then there’s no way I can be here, right?” he asked into your ear, hand smoothing down your neck, over the silk of your robe.

“So it has to be a dream, right?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand slid down over your chest, cupping your breast through the silk, feeling your naked body underneath. Your body reacted to his touch more than it should have, further confirming this was indeed a dream but if that was the case, why were you dreaming about Hongjoong of all people? Especially after four years.

“Do you want to wake up?” he asked in your ear as he parted your legs with his knee, pressing his thigh between yours. You could feel yourself growing wetting and wetter as he massaged your breast, lips skimming over your skin. “You could wake up, forget this ever happened and go back to sleep and the dream would be over,” he said softly, tongue slipping out.

You let out a soft groan as he licked up the side of your neck. “Or you can just enjoy the moment and give yourself to me. It’s only a dream,” he said with a hint of amusement. “What’s the worst that could happen?” You melted under his touch as his hand moved to your neck. “So what will it be?” he asked, lips ghosting over yours. “Wake up or enjoy it?”

“P-please,” you whimpered. “Do you want to wake up?” Hongjoong asked, fingers squeezing your throat gently. You shook your head, letting out a whimper as his eyes darkened. “Say it,” he urged. “Out loud.” You licked your lips, clearing your throat before speaking. “I-I don’t want to wake up yet.”

Hongjoong let out a sigh before taking your lips in a searing kiss, tongue immediately forcing inside your mouth. You gasped against his lips as his hands moved down to your thighs. He pulled back only slightly and quickly picked you up, pressing your back against the door as he kissed down your neck.

Without a word, he carried you over to the couch and sat down, setting you on his lap. He immediately pulled you back into a kiss one hand around your throat as the other worked to undo the knot of your robe. Once undone, Hongjoong pushed the material aside, exposing your skin to him.

He left a trail of wet kisses down your neck and collar, leaning you back as his lips traveled down between the valley of your breasts. He took one of your pert nipples in his mouth, tongue swirling around it as he teased with light flicks and soft suckles.

Your head fell back, a moan leaving your lips as his hand moved to cup your other breast, gently massaging and kneading the soft flesh. He held you in place with one hand on your back. He let your nipple fall from his mouth, kissing back up to the junction of your neck and shoulder, nipping at the skin.

He carefully laid you down on the couch, ripping the robe from your body and tossing it aside as he hovered over you. Your thighs parted, allowing him to settle between them, putting his weight on you. “This feels so wrong,” you murmured as he kissed your skin, moving down your chest and stomach, leaving wet kisses in his wake.

“It’s just a dream,” he reminded you. “You can’t control what you dream about.”

Your legs spread as he drew level with your cunt, turning his head to sink his teeth into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You moaned out, hands moving to his hair as his tongue made contact with your throbbing clit, lewd wet sounds coming from him as he licked and sucked, the cool steel ball of his piercing making your toes curl.

You writhed under him as he flicked his tongue against your clit, drawing you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your arousal coated his lips as he ate you out like a man dying of starvation. Your thighs tried to close around his head but he refused, holding them open as he flattened his tongue against you. A cry escaped your lips as you came on his tongue.

Hongjoong pulled back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as he kissed back up your body, meeting your lips in a messy, rushed kiss. “On your knees, kitten,” he breathed out as he sat down on the couch, taking your hand and pulling you up into a sitting position. He undid his pants, pushing them down his hips and thighs and freeing his cock. You knelt beside him on the couch, waiting for his permission to touch him.

He pulled the shirt up and gestured for you to get started. You immediately took his cock in your hands, making him hiss. Leaning over, you let a drop of spit fall from your mouth, spreading it with your hand as you worked it up and down his shaft. Hongjoong reached up, grabbing the back of your neck. You looked up, meeting his gaze.

Without being prompted, you leaned over, taking the head of his cock in your mouth. Hongjoong’s head fell back against the couch, a groan leaving his lips as your head sank down on him. He kept his hand on the back of your neck, caressing gently as you took him deeper and deeper into your mouth.

“Fuck that’s it,” he groaned. “Just like that, kitten.” You pulled back, sucking as you did before relaxing your jaw and starting to bob your head, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat each time, making a lewd wet gagging sound. Hongjoong’s hand moved up to the back of your head and pushed your head down gently, making you take more and more of him. 

“Relax,” he whispered when his cock hit the back of your throat. “Just relax and let me in.”

You did as he asked, relaxing your throat and choking when you felt his cock slip into your throat. He allowed you to pull back but then pushed you back down. He guided your head, his hips starting to chase the feeling, thrusting into your mouth. “That’s it,” he growled. “Relax that jaw and let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

Wet gags bounced off the walls as he thrust up into your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. Drool spilled from your lips and down his shaft but he didn’t care as he continued to thrust into your mouth harder and harder, forcing his cock into the back of your throat, making you gag and choke.

He forced your head down, holding it there as he tried to hold back his orgasm. After a few moments of you gagging against him, he finally released you, letting you sit up, gasping for air as he removed the rest of his clothes. “Come here,” he said softly, taking your hand and guiding you to sit over him. He pushed your hips down, reaching between your bodies to guide the tip of his cock towards your entrance.

You sat down, sinking on his cock with a moan as he stretched your walls. Each inch felt like it took forever and when he was finally full inside you, your body was shaking. “Good girl,” Hongjoong murmured as he grabbed your hips, guiding your movements. You let out another moan as you lifted, his cock sliding out of you before sinking back down, setting a steady pace, bouncing on him at your own speed.

Hongjoong’s hands were everywhere, your hips, your chest, your ass, your neck. He couldn’t stop touching you. “Come on,” he urged, grabbing your ass. “I know you can go faster than that.” You moved faster, bouncing harder on his cock, your fingers digging into the couch cushion behind him. “That’s it,” Hongjoong groaned, his cock throbbing inside you. 

“M’close,” you gasped over the sound of skin against skin filling the room. “Good,” Hongjoong growled, giving your ass a sharp smack. “Keep going until you’ve cum all over this cock like the filthy fucking slut I know you are,” he growled, thrusting up to meet your movements, making you cry out. “Come on, you dirty fucking whore. Cum for me. Cum on my cock while your husband sleeps upstairs.”

Seonghwa woke with a start, rain pounding against the roof and windows. ‘Just the storm,’ he told himself as he settled back against the bed. Instinctively, he reached for you but found your side of the bed empty. He raised his head and looked around. He expected to see light seeping from under the bathroom door but the door was open and it was dark.

He turned to look at the clock on his bedside table where the red digital numbers informed him it was well past three in the morning. Seonghwa sat up and pulled back the covers, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. Now that he was up, he could see wet footprints on the wooden floor. He followed them back to the source and got up to inspect.

The bathroom was empty save for some wet clothes that he knew didn’t belong to him or you. There was an intruder in the house. He walked back to the door as lightning flashed, throwing the room into brightness before shadow overtook it again. Opening the cracked door, he peered out into the hallway. He walked down the corridor, inspecting the doors that had been left open but found no trace of you or an intruder in each one, shutting them as he went.

On the second floor, he found the same thing, more open doors yet still no trace of you or the intruder.

On the main floor, he inspected the kitchen and dining room but nothing seemed out of place. As he passed through the kitchen, he stopped at the counter, grabbing a knife from the knife block and continued on. As he entered one of the front halls, light spilled out of a room onto the floor. 

He approached slowly, his grip on the knife tightening. He pushed the door open and found the room empty. There was a used crystal glass and a fire dancing in the fireplace. He looked around and found no one but as he rounded the couch, he found your silk robe lying on the floor. He picked it up and looked around once more.

There was a giggle behind him and the parlor door slammed shut. He set your robe down on the back of the couch and walked to the door, grabbing the knob and twisting it but the door didn’t budge. He tried again, tugging at the knob roughly but it still didn’t give. He hit the butt of the knife against the wood. “Open the door!” he yelled. “Let me out!”

He tried several more times to wrench the door open to no avail before he let go and stepped back, looking around the room. He headed over to the window and peered out into the rain where he saw a dark figure standing in front of the  house in the middle of the circle drive. He squinted, trying to make out if it was you or not. Lightning flashed and lit up the area momentarily.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened as the figure he saw shifted for a split second from a human into a hulking monstrous half man, half goat-like form. He nearly fell back but as soon as it happened, the figure was gone. He glanced around the yard but saw nothing else. He heard the door click and spun around to find the door cracked open.

He rushed over and yanked the door open, looking into the hall before he exited the room, following the hallway back to the entrance hall. He heard footsteps running on the balcony above and he darted for the stairs, running up. As he reached the second floor landing, he heard footsteps racing up the steps to the third floor. 

He followed them, reaching the landing at the end of the hall opposite his and your shared bedroom. The door which he had left open was now shut. He approached slowly, keeping an eye out for any movement. As he reached the door, he took a deep breath and grabbed the knob, his grip on the knife handle in his hand tightening as he turned the knob.

The latch clicked and he carefully pushed the door open, the soft squeak breaking the silence. Seonghwa peered into the room, finding it empty, save for your figure on the bed. Seonghwa entered the room and shut the door quickly, locking it. He swept the whole room, from top to bottom, even checking the bathroom and closet but found no sign of an intruder.

As he exited the bathroom and moved around to his side of the bed, he sat down, setting the knife on his bedside table. He would remind himself to return it to the kitchen in the morning before you woke. He turned to look at you, peacefully asleep. As he was about to pull his feet up into the bed, there was a creak in the floor. Seonghwa felt his heart skip a beat. It came from directly under the bed.

Frozen in terror, Seonghwa was unable to move. He glanced at you, contemplating waking you up. As he moved his hand over the sheets to try and gently rouse you, he felt a strong pair of hands close around his ankles and tug, knocking him from the bed.

He let out a scream as he tried to free himself, kicking and trying to grab anything as whatever it was under the bed tried to drag him under. Seonghwa kicked himself free and scrambled away from the bed, crawling to the wall and sat gasping with his back against the wall. He could now see under the bed but there was nothing there. Lightning flashed again, the light gleaming off the blade of the kitchen knife.

Seonghwa glanced around before deciding to go for it. As he tried to get up, a figure appeared, rushing him and slamming him against the wall, a hand closing around his throat. Seonghwa cried out in pain and looked down at the figure, a wave of fear passing over him as he looked into the familiar face of the demon who had made his life a living hell centuries ago.

“It’s not possible!” Seonghwa choked out, struggling to free himself. “You’re supposed to be in hell!” Hongjoong smirked up at him, fingers tightening around Seonghwa’s throat. “Surprise,” he said in a dangerously low voice. “I’m back!”

Seonghwa kicked out, trying to free himself. Hongjoong tossed him aside easily and Seonghwa slid across the floor, his back hitting the foot of the bed. Hongjoong calmly followed as Seonghwa tried to crawl away but the demon was quicker, stepping over him and kneeling down, grabbing Seonghwa by the hair. Seonghwa let out a strangled cry as Hongjoong held the knife to his throat. 

“I could kill you right here,” Hongjoong threatened. “It would be so easy. Kill you, steal your wife, turn her into my breeding bitch, and then eventually kill her,” he continued. “But I’m not going to do that.” Hongjoong threw the knife, the blade embedding into the wall by the door. He stood up, keeping a firm grip on Seonghwa’s hair and dragged him across the floor to a chair in the corner near the balcony doors. Hongjoong pulled him up, forcing him into the chair.

Seonghwa tried to get up but Hongjoong pushed him back down, grabbing one of the nearby curtains and ripped it down from the rod. He placed a foot on Seonghwa’s chest and kept him seated while he ripped the curtain into long pieces. One by one, he tied Seonghwa’s wrists and ankles to the chair. He ripped another piece from the curtain, tearing that in half. Part of it he wadded up and shoved into Seonghwa’s mouth before wrapping the other piece around his head, covering his mouth and tying it.

“There,” Hongjoong said as he stood back and admired his handiwork. “Now you’ll sit there and shut up.” Seonghwa tried to break free of his bonds but was unable to do so. Hongjoong turned, running his fingers through his hair. He approached the bed where you lay sleeping. Seonghwa screamed against his gag, thrashing violently. Hongjoong looked at him from beside you.

“Calm down or I’ll slit her throat right now,” Hongjoong ordered. Seonghwa stopped, falling silent. He watched as Hongjoong pulled back the sheets covering you, exposing your naked body. Seonghwa blinked away the tears that formed in his eyes. “Such a lucky man,” Hongjoong said, mocking Seonghwa’s earlier sentiments.

Seonghwa turned his head as Hongjoong stripped himself and climbed onto the bed. He wanted to scream, yell, fight, do something but he knew if he did, Hongjoong wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. He watched in horror as the demon repositioned your body. “You deserve a better view,” Hongjoong said, a smirk forming on his face. He hovered over you and Seonghwa pulled at his binds as Hongjoong’s hands ran over your body, skimming over your chest and up to your neck.

How desperately Seonghwa wanted to scream, threaten Hongjoong to not touch you. To get away from you. He was rendered helpless. Speechless. Useless. He watched as your body reacted but you stayed asleep. “Don’t worry about consent,” Hongjoong said, glancing over at Seonghwa. “She gave it to me earlier in the parlor.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened as he realized that he hadn’t been seeing things. You had been in the parlor. That’s why your robe was down there. “Just enjoy the show,” Hongjoong said before tearing his gaze away and Seonghwa could only watch helplessly as the demon kissed down your body, spreading your legs. “She’s already so wet,” Hongjoong groaned. He sat up, grabbing you by the back of your thighs and dragging your sleeping body down the bed towards him.

Seonghwa twisted against his bonds as Hongjoong took his cock in his hand, giving himself a few strokes before lining up with your entrance and pushing into you. The gasp and moan you let out made Seonghwa’s stomach churn and sink. It was the same sound you made when he sank into you for the first time.

Hongjoong let out a groan as he bottomed out. “Fuck,” he rasped. “This is what you get every night?” he asked, looking over to where Seonghwa sat, bound and gagged. “Lucky man, indeed.”

Seonghwa watched as Hongjoong’s hand gripped your hips, raising them up to rest your ass against his thighs as he thrust shallowly into you. Seonghwa blinked away the tears, turning to look away from the scene unfolding on his own bed in his own home. “If you don’t watch, I will force you and you really don’t want that,” Hongjoong growled.

Seonghwa took several deep breaths before forcing himself to look. “I should have done this before,” Hongjoong said as he kept the same steady pace, thrusting into you, small whimpers and moans leaving your lips. “Should have fucked your precious Blossom on that altar right in front of you. Impregnated her and sent her on her way. Let her raise my child alone.”

Seonghwa felt his blood boil as Hongjoong spoke. “Maybe I’ll do that now. Impregnate your wife and make you raise my child. Would you like that? You want a family so bad, right?” Hongjoong asked with a laugh. You let out a louder moan. Hongjoong pulled out of you, gently rolling you onto your stomach. He grabbed your hips, tucking a pillow under it before sinking back into you.

“Is this how you fuck her?” he asked Seonghwa who could no longer hold back the tears. “You bend her over like this and fuck her until you fill her up? She likes it rough, doesn’t she?” he asked. Seonghwa glared at Hongjoong and if looks could kill, Hongjoong would probably be dead.

He let out another laugh, picking up the pace as he pounded into you. Wanton moans left your lips as his cock pistoned in and out of your abused hole. “Bet she likes it when you stuff her full of cum,” Hongjoong grunted as he placed a hand on the back of your head, pushing your head down into the linens. “Likes it when you empty your balls into her. Do you talk to her while you do it? Tell her how you’re gonna fill her up and put a baby in her?” Hongjoong asked, his hips slamming into you now.

“Do you cum multiple times? Fill her up as much as possible? Until it leaks out of her and spills down the inside of her thighs? Do you hold her down and tell her to take all of it?” Seonghwa blinked, tears streaming down his cheeks and staining the torn curtain that was his makeshift gag.

“I wonder why she isn’t pregnant yet,” Hongjoong mused as he continued to thrust into you, holding you down as his hips bruised your ass with each forceful thrust. “Maybe you’re not as fertile as you once were,” he continued. “Maybe you need my sperm to start a family.”

Seonghwa twisted in the chair as Hongjoong continued. Your moans grew in pitch as Hongjoong pounded into you. His hand disappeared under your head and pulled you up out of the sheets. “Let him hear you, blossom,” Hongjoong said breathlessly in your ear. Seonghwa struggled against the bonds. “Let him hear how good I’m making you feel.”

Without the sheets to muffle you, moans and screams of pleasure left your lips. “That’s right,” Hongjoong growled as he slammed into you. “I’m making you feel this good. Not him. Has he ever made it feel this good?” Seonghwa thrashed against his bonds. “Oh, I think I’m gonna cum,” Hongjoong groaned into your ear. “You want it inside you, kitten? Want me to fill you up just like he does?”

You moaned loudly as Hongjoong’s hips never faltered. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear. “Cum for me. Show him what you look like when you cum on another man’s cock.”

Seonghwa watched through tears as your body shook, your orgasm washing over you, a cry of pleasure leaving your lips before your body went limp. Hongjoong kept a tight hold on you, his hips now chasing his own high. Seonghwa watched defeatedly as Hongjoong thrust into you a few more times before letting out a low moan, hips stilling as he came, filling you and painting your walls in his release.

His tears hadn’t stopped as Hongjoong gave you a few more thrusts, pushing his cum deeper inside you before he pulled out, letting your limp body fall onto the bed, your slumber never once breaking. Hongjoong stumbled off the bed, making his way over to where Seonghwa sat. He crouched down, looking up at Seonghwa as his head hung in defeat, tears still spilling from him.

Hongjoong stood up and grabbed Seonghwa by the hair, pulling his head back to look up at him. “It’s not that bad,” Hongjoong said as he untied the gag and pulled the wet strip of curtain from his face. Seonghwa spat out the wadded up piece of cloth and glared up at the demon. “You’re fucking despicable,” he snapped. “Truly and utterly disgusting.”

Hongjoong smirked as he leaned down, bringing his face level with Seonghwa’s. “Am I?” he asked. He glanced down. “If I’m disgusting, what does that make you?” he asked, his hand moving over the erection in Seonghwa’s pants. Seonghwa tried to squirm away from the demon. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he spat. Hongjoong’s grip on his hair tightened. “Behave,” the demon hissed.

Seonghwa stopped fighting and went rigid as Hongjoong’s hand ghosted over his hard cock. “You liked it, didn’t you?” Hongjoong asked, looking into Seonghwa’s eyes. “Watching me fuck your wife. You really liked it,” he said, his hand slipping into Seonghwa’s pants. Seonghwa squirmed under him as Hongjoong’s hand gripped him over his underwear.

“Do you want me to relieve you or do you want her to do it?” Hongjoong asked. “Actually,” the demon said. He let go of Seonghwa and moved to the bed, leaning over to whisper something in your ear. Seonghwa watched as you started to stir, rolling onto your side and crawling to the edge of the bed. Hongjoong helped you off the bed and guided you over to where Seonghwa sat.

“On your knees, kitten,” Hongjoong instructed. You did as he said almost as if you were in a trance. “Here, let’s get this out of the way,” Hongjoong said, grabbing the waistband of Seonghwa’s pants and pulling them down along with his underwear, watching as Seonghwa’s erection sprang free.

“Oh, there’s more to you than meets the eye,” Hongjoong said with a chuckle as he eyed Seonghwa. Tearing his gaze away and knelt behind you, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “That looks uncomfortable,” he said, gently caressing your cheek. “We should relieve him. Open your mouth, kitten.” Seonghwa looked away as you did so. Hongjoong’s fingers tangled in your hair as he guided your head towards Seonghwa’s cock.

Seonghwa let out a strangled moan as he felt your mouth envelope his cock. Hongjoong kept a firm hold on your head, pushing you down on Seonghwa’s cock. “Open your throat,” Hongjoong instructed. “Just like you did for me. Let him in, baby.” Seonghwa glared at the demon. “Don’t you fucking call her that,” he growled, an involuntary moan leaving his lips as his cock slid into your throat.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Hongjoong asked. He guided your head, fucking Seonghwa’s cock with your mouth. “Keep going, sweetheart. He likes it. He really likes it,” he continued, smirking at Seonghwa’s reaction. “F-fuck,” Seonghwa cursed, head falling back against the chair.

“More?” Hongjoong asked. Without waiting for his answer, Hongjoong forced your head to move faster. Seonghwa groaned, hips bucking up into your face. Hongjoong held your head still. “Go ahead,” Hongjoong said. “Fuck her face. She loved it when I did that.” Seonghwa shook his head. “No,” he said breathlessly. “Do it,” Hongjoong urged. Seonghwa refused again, shaking his head. “No. I won’t.”

The demon’s brow furrowed as he pushed your head down, forcing Seonghwa’s cock into your throat. “Either you fuck her mouth or I’ll take over and make you cum myself.” Seonghwa groaned and reluctantly did as he said, hips bucking up into your face, his cock hitting the back of your throat. Hongjoong held your head in place as Seonghwa chased his own high, letting out strained moans and whimpers until he let out a strangled groan. Hongjoong pushed your head down, Seonghwa cock sliding into your throat as he came, his cock twitching, his release spilling down your throat.

Hongjoong held you still as Seonghwa’s hips bucked weakly until he fell limp. Only then did Hongjoong pull you back, muttering praise in your ear as you coughed and gasped. He guided you back to the bed before moving to pick up the clothes he’d taken from the closet. Once he was dressed he walked over to where Seonghwa sat and slowly undid his bonds.

“Consider us even,” Hongjoong said as he dropped the torn bits of curtain to the floor. He walked over to the balcony door, glancing out into the rain. He could see glowing red eyes out in the trees and knew the hounds had found him. “One last thing,” he said over his shoulder as he undid the latch on the doors and turned the knob, opening one, the sound of rain becoming louder.

“Take care of your family.”

©️ kwanisms 2018 - 2025 | all written and artistic works on this blog are protected under copyright. reposts, continuations, and translations of my works are not permitted. All graphics made by me.

[kaiyunsim]

best lover —

pairing : bf!taesan x gn!reader

summary : after taesan works hard for the newest comeback you wanted to get him a gift... something perfect. but you don't know what exactly to get him so you get help from his roommate.

warnings : fluff, angst (just a little bit), tense confrontation, some music references, taesan gets kinda jealous, kind of a continuation of this fic

a/n : this lowkey made me relapse into the emo/punk genre and now i'm actively listening to them again ! taesan so silly here.

queueing : best lover - bibi, and july - heize + dean

[requested]

— wc : 4.8k — not proof read —

you’ve always known taesan was cool.

not in the tryhard way, not in the way people force an image to seem untouchable. no, he’s effortlessly cool. the kind of cool that comes from simply existing, from being so unapologetically himself that it draws people in.

his aesthetic is proof of that—dark clothes, silver rings, an ever-growing collection of band tees that he claims aren’t a collection but still seem to multiply every time you see him. his playlists are filled with gritty guitar riffs and melancholic lyrics, songs that feel like they belong in a coming-of-age film.

you love it. you love the way he leans against walls like a movie character, the way his fingers tap out drum beats on tables when he’s lost in thought. the way his voice gets softer when he talks about music, when he lets his guard down just enough for you to see the warmth underneath.

so, when their comeback is finally announced, when you see the hours of training, late-night rehearsals, and exhaustion culminate into something incredible, you know you need to do something. something that says, i see you. i see how hard you’ve worked, and i’m proud of you.

but what do you get someone like taesan?

he’s never been the type to want extravagant gifts. he shrugs off praise, mumbles “it’s nothing” when people tell him he’s done well. but you know he keeps every little note fans give him, that he still has the random trinkets the members bought him over the years.

so it has to be something personal. something that actually means something.

you think about it for days, running through ideas in your head. clothes? no, too easy. he already has everything he likes. accessories? maybe, but he’s picky, and you don’t trust yourself to pick out something he’d actually wear.

and then it hits you.

vinyls.

taesan loves music in a way that’s deeper than just listening. he collects records, always talking about how certain albums sound different on vinyl, how the warmth and crackle make it feel more alive. you’ve seen the way he runs his fingers over the covers, the way he carefully places them on his turntable like he’s handling something sacred.

but you don’t know enough about it.

you know the bands he listens to, sure, but not the specific pressings, not which editions are worth having, not which ones he’s been searching for. you need help.

so, you text the only person who would know and would be the most help.

sungho.

—

you: hey, random question, but do you think you could help me with something?

he replies almost immediately.

sungho: depends. am i gonna regret saying yes?

you snort. typical.

you: no, it’s for taesan. i wanna get him some vinyls, but i don’t know which ones he’d actually want.

a pause. then—

sungho: oh. you’re going ot make him a happy boyfriend for sure. sungho: yeah, i can help. you free tomorrow?

relief washes over you.

you: yeah. thanks, sungho. seriously.

sungho: don’t thank me yet. wait till we actually find something good.

you smile, pocketing your phone.

this is a good plan. a perfect plan.

now, you just have to keep it a secret.

the next morning, you wake up with a nervous excitement buzzing under your skin.

taesan is still half-asleep when you see him, his hair messy from sleep, the collar of his oversized shirt slipping down one shoulder. he looks soft like this, different from his usual sharp edges and guarded expressions.

“morning,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before he can grumble in protest.

he mumbles something incoherent, eyes still closed, before reaching out and lazily wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

you laugh, poking his side. “i have to go out for a bit.”

that wakes him up a little. his eyes blink open, groggy but alert. “where?”

you freeze for half a second before forcing yourself to play it cool. “just running errands.”

his brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t question it. instead, he just tightens his grip around you for a moment before letting go.

“be safe,” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

your heart squeezes at that.

you brush his hair out of his face, letting your fingers linger for a second longer than necessary. “always.”

—

meeting up with sungho feels like a mission.

he’s already waiting outside the taesan's dorm room, dressed casually but still effortlessly put together, a stark contrast to the slightly chaotic energy you’re bringing with you.

“you look nervous,” he says, amused.

“because i am.”

he raises an eyebrow. “it’s just vinyl shopping.”

“yeah, but it’s for taesan,” you stress. “i can’t mess this up. i need to find something perfect.”

sungho rolls his eyes but leads the way inside the vinyl store, hidden in the corners of the busy streets.

the moment you step in, you’re overwhelmed.

rows and rows of records stretch out in front of you, organized into sections you barely understand. the store smells like old paper and something nostalgic, a quiet hum of music playing from the speakers.

sungho glances at you. “you know what bands he likes, right?”

you nod. “yeah, but i don’t know what he already has.”

“then we start with the basics.”

he guides you through the aisles, pointing out albums that fit taesan’s taste. some are obvious bands you’ve seen on his playlists, artists you recognize from the posters in his room. others, not so much.

“this one’s a classic,” sungho says, pulling out a worn-looking album. “he’s mentioned it before, i think he even has a t-shirt of them.”

it was the black parade by my chemical romance

you take it from him, running your fingers over the cover. “do you think he already has the vinyl?”

sungho shakes his head. “nah, he would’ve bragged about it if he did.”

you smile at that. taesan isn’t the bragging type, not really, but when it comes to things he loves, he can’t help but share them with you. you can already picture the way his eyes will light up when he sees the gift, the way he’ll trace the album cover with careful fingers before hugging you in that quiet, deliberate way of his.

this is good. this is exactly what you wanted.

you glance at sungho. “i think we’re on the right track.”

he smirks. “told you.”

you roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin.

this is going to be perfect.

if you can keep it a secret long enough.

you flip through the stacks carefully, the plastic sleeves crinkling under your fingertips as you skim the selection. rows of album covers stare back at you, some bold and vibrant, others muted and mysterious, each one a different piece of someone’s story.

sungho stands beside you, already pulling out records with ease, flipping them over to check editions and pressings like it’s second nature.

“how do you even know all this?” you ask, watching as he inspects a black-and-white cover, his eyes narrowing slightly before he shakes his head and puts it back.

he smirks. “taesan’s not the only one with taste, you know.”

you roll your eyes. “yeah, but you act like this is your second home.”

he hums, running his fingers along the edge of a shelf. “it kinda is. when i first moved into the dorms, i’d come to places like this just to kill time. got to know a lot about music that way.”

that makes sense. sungho has that effortless, older-brother energy, the kind that makes you feel like he’s always been one step ahead of everyone else. but even so, you know there’s more to it. something about the way he says it, like music was a comfort rather than just a hobby.

you glance down at the album in your hands. the artwork is dramatic, painted in deep reds and blacks, the kind of thing you could easily imagine taesan leaving out on his desk just because it looks cool. it was titled a fever you can’t sweat out this time, by panic at the disco

you hesitate. “what about this one?”

sungho looks over, and to your relief, he nods in approval. “solid pick. taesan likes them. they have that whole raw, gritty sound he’s into.”

you exhale, setting it aside in the growing pile of vinyls you’ve picked out. “good. i was kinda guessing.”

sungho snickers. “if you were completely guessing, you would’ve picked something embarrassing.”

you give him a flat look. “i wouldn’t do that.”

“you sure? no boyband vinyls hidden in that stack?”

“why are you acting like that would be a crime?”

he laughs, shaking his head. “nah, but taesan would probably combust.”

you grin at the thought. he probably would. his whole tough, brooding image crumbling the second someone dared to associate him with anything remotely bright and upbeat. you’ve teased him about it before, played pop songs in his presence just to watch him pretend he wasn’t listening.

but this isn’t about teasing him. this is about him.

you glance around the store, taking in the dim lighting, the faint sound of a record spinning in the background. a few other customers linger nearby, flipping through vinyls with the same careful reverence, but none of them seem rushed. it’s the kind of place taesan would get lost in, taking his time with every shelf, soaking in the atmosphere.

you wish he was here.

you shake the thought away before it can settle too deep.

“okay,” you say, straightening up. “i think i need at least one more.”

sungho scans the shelves before reaching over and pulling out a record without hesitation.

“this.”

you take it from him, studying the cover. it’s striking… american idiot by greenday.

“he’s been looking for this one,” sungho explains. “i remember him complaining about how it’s always out of stock.”

your chest warms. “then that’s perfect.”

sungho grins. “congrats, you officially have a good gift… or multiple”

you roll your eyes but can’t help but smile. “thanks for the approval.”

“anytime.”

you head to the counter, placing the records down carefully as the cashier rings them up. the prices make you wince a little. vinyl collecting is not cheap. but you don’t hesitate. taesan is worth it.

when you step back outside, the air feels cooler, a slight breeze brushing against your skin. sungho stretches beside you, squinting up at the sky.

“so,” he says. “how are you planning to give it to him?”

you blink. “uh. just... give it to him?”

he gives you a flat look. “you’re really bad at this.”

“excuse me?”

“c’mon,” he says. “you go through all this trouble, sneak around just to surprise him, and you’re just gonna hand it to him like it’s a bag of chips?”

you frown. “what am i supposed to do? make a scavenger hunt?”

“i mean, that would be funny.”

“sungho.”

he chuckles. “fine, fine. but at least make it a moment, you know? like, put them in a nice box or something. set the mood a little.”

you consider that. he’s right. you don’t just want this to be a casual exchange. you want taesan to feel how much this means.

“okay,” you say slowly. “i’ll think of something.”

sungho pats your shoulder. “good. because if you don’t, i’m telling him i helped.”

you gasp. “you wouldn’t.”

his grin is downright evil. “try me.”

you groan, shoving him lightly as he laughs.

but despite the teasing, there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. because for all the effort, all the second-guessing, all the overthinking. you know this is the right thing to do.

you just hope taesan sees it that way, too.

you and sungho are now wandering the streets, bags in hand, the weight of them a constant reminder of what you're keeping from taesan. there's a knot in your stomach, anxiety creeping in at the thought of what will happen once you return to the dorm.

sungho notices you fidgeting with your phone, eyes flicking between your screen and the road ahead. "you've been checking your messages like every two seconds," he says with a knowing smile. "taesan giving you trouble?"

"i... i don’t know," you mutter, glancing at your phone again. "he hasn’t texted yet. i think he’s mad."

sungho snorts. "he’s always mad."

you roll your eyes but can't help the tension building inside you. it's not like taesan to be suspicious like this. sure, he's possessive at times, but you’ve always been upfront with him. today, though, everything feels off. you know he’s probably wondering where you are, especially after leaving so abruptly.

after a few more moments of walking, your phone buzzes in your hand. it’s a message from taesan.

you open it quickly, your heart dropping when you read the text.

taesan: where are you?

you can almost hear the frustration in his words, even though they’re so short. you hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. the last thing you want is to reveal anything.

“everything okay?” sungho asks, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.

“yeah,” you say quickly, typing back a response. "just... running… errands…"

you: just out. why?

you hit send and try to push the worry away. but it doesn’t help when your phone buzzes again, another message from taesan.

taesan: are you by yourself?

your stomach tightens. it feels like he’s fishing for something, trying to confirm his suspicions. you swallow hard. taesan doesn’t know you’re out with sungho. he probably thinks you’re just alone, maybe out with someone else. the thought of him jumping to conclusions makes you tense up.

“you need to tell him the truth, man,” sungho says, half-joking but still serious. “it’s gonna be hard to keep it up much longer.”

you bite your lip, looking at the text again. taesan doesn’t like being kept in the dark. but if you tell him you're out with sungho, there's no way you can keep the surprise a secret.

you: yeah, just me. out by myself.

you send the message quickly, almost immediately regretting it. the lie feels wrong in your gut, but you can’t risk ruining the surprise.

as soon as you hit send, another text from taesan comes through.

taesan: you didn’t tell me where you went. it’s weird, you know. don’t lie to me.

your heart sinks. this is exactly what you were afraid of. you can feel his frustration radiating through the words, even though they’re brief. taesan might not say it outright, but you know he’s pissed.

“is he mad?” sungho asks, eyes narrowing as he watches you.

“yeah,” you say quietly, looking at the screen again. “he thinks i’m lying.”

sungho tilts his head, his expression softening. “well, you kind of are...”

you groan, feeling guilty. “yeah, but if i tell him the truth, he’ll know what we’re really doing.”

sungho sighs but doesn’t press. “you’ve got to be careful, though. taesan can’t stand being lied to. he might feel like you’re hiding something else.”

you take a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety aside. “he���s just overthinking it. i’ll deal with it when we get back.”

you walk in silence for a bit longer, and the weight of the lie is starting to feel unbearable. but then your phone buzzes again. it’s from taesan.

taesan: riwoo just told me you’re out with sungho. why didn’t you say that?

your heart stops. it feels like everything is crashing down around you. of course, taesan would hear from riwoo. he always does. but you didn’t think it would happen so soon.

sungho laughs lightly, though it’s more nervous than anything else. “i mean, it’s not like you didn’t want him to find out.”

you stare at the message, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. “he’s so mad now...”

“you better fix it,” sungho says with a small chuckle. “he’s gonna blow up on you if you keep avoiding the truth.”

you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “i don’t know how to fix it. i’ve already lied twice.”

“well,” sungho says, “maybe you just gotta... tell him the truth at this point. no more hiding.”

but you’re not ready to do that. not yet. the surprise is too important to mess up now.

you type out a message, your hands shaking a little as you try to keep it steady.

you: i’m sorry. we just bumped into eachothee

you press send, waiting for taesan’s response with bated breath.

it takes a while, but finally, your phone buzzes.

taesan: it was a coincidence?

you let out a sigh of relief. it's not as bad as it could have been, but you still feel like you’ve messed up.

you: yeah, i went out to grab some stuff, and boom, sungho was there getting some stuff for the dorm too

you wait for a reply, and when it comes, it’s still not as angry as you expected, but you can hear the frustration in taesan’s words.

taesan: you know, you could’ve just told me. i don’t like when you hide stuff from me.

your heart drops, and you feel guilty again. you want to explain yourself, but you’re afraid it’ll make everything worse.

“he’s really pissed now,” you say quietly to sungho, who nods sympathetically.

“you should’ve just told him earlier,” he says, though his tone is more playful than critical. “now you gotta go back and fix it.”

you take a deep breath, realizing sungho’s right. you’re going to have to deal with the fallout when you get back to the dorm.

you decide on sungho’s dorm since taesan is rooming with woonhak and jaehyun so it would be perfect to wrap his gift all together and put final touched on it.

but once you open the door, you stand frozen at the door of sungho’s dorm, heart hammering in your chest. the moment taesan walks in, everything about the room shifts. his presence fills the space, and even though he’s not saying anything yet, you feel the weight of his gaze.

“so, this is where you’ve been?” taesan’s voice cuts through the silence. it’s sharper than usual, colder too. he looks at you, then at sungho, his eyes narrowing. “i thought you said you were by yourself.”

you feel your breath catch in your throat. his words hit harder than expected, but you force a smile, trying to keep your cool. “i was… i mean, i am.”

taesan tilts his head, his eyes scanning you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “i just bumped into sungho, we were talking, and i guess riwoo saw us leave together.” you’re already regretting how this sounds, but you can’t back down now. you have to keep the lie intact.

“bumped into sungho?” taesan’s voice drips with suspicion. “so it’s just a coincidence you were both out together?”

you nod quickly, hoping he buys it. “yeah, we were just… talking, you know? nothing serious. i just didn’t want to bother you while you were busy.”

taesan crosses his arms, studying you with a sharp gaze. “that doesn’t sound right.”

the air between you two feels like it’s crackling with tension. you swallow hard, knowing you can’t let him get too suspicious. “it’s really nothing, taesan. you know i wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

“you wouldn’t, huh?” taesan says slowly, his tone soft but with a dangerous edge. “then why didn’t you just tell me? why go through all this just to cover up some… coincidence?”

you flinch slightly at his words, the guilt gnawing at you. but you won’t break. you can’t spoil the surprise now. not when everything is so close to being perfect.

“i didn’t want to bother you with the details,” you say, hoping he buys it. “i just figured i’d spend some time with sungho, that’s all.” you glance at sungho for a moment, but he’s standing still, like he’s unsure whether to step in.

taesan watches you for a long beat, and you can see the wheels turning in his mind. his expression hardens. “so you thought it’d be better to lie to me, to sneak around?”

your chest tightens, the weight of his words sinking in deeper than you expected. “taesan, it’s not like that.”

“really?” taesan’s voice rises, a hint of frustration creeping in. “because that’s exactly what it sounds like. i don’t know, it’s just hard to believe that you’re not hiding something. are you trying to cover something up?”

you feel your heart race. this is spiraling out of control, and you don’t know how to stop it. the last thing you want is for him to think you’re doing something behind his back.

“taesan, please,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “you’re overthinking this. i didn’t want to tell you because i didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” you force yourself to look him in the eye, trying to convey sincerity. “it’s nothing, really.”

taesan doesn’t respond right away. he’s still standing there, arms crossed, eyes cold as he studies you. you feel like he’s dissecting every word you’ve said, trying to figure out if you’re being honest or not.

“so what, this is all just some coincidence?” taesan asks again, voice dripping with doubt. “you just happened to be with sungho, and riwoo just happened to see you leaving together?”

you nod quickly, trying to sound convincing. “yeah, that’s it. it’s just a coincidence, taesan.”

taesan lets out a long breath, his frustration simmering just under the surface. he doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push further. yet.

“you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” you say, trying to change the subject. “it’s nothing. seriously.”

taesan stays quiet, his eyes narrowing, still unconvinced. “i don’t know if i believe you, but fine. if you say so.”

there’s a moment of silence between you two, and you can almost feel the distance growing between you. you want to tell him the truth, but you can’t risk it. not yet.

“you didn’t need to lie to me, you know,” taesan says softly, his gaze softer but still guarded. “you could’ve just told me where you were. there wouldn’t have been any problem.”

“i know,” you say, your heart sinking. “but i didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

the moment you say it, you regret it. taesan’s eyes flash with confusion, but he doesn’t say anything. he just watches you, waiting.

“what surprise?” taesan asks, the suspicion back in his voice.

you hesitate, panic rising. you can’t tell him, not yet. not when you’re this close.

“it’s nothing,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “i just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

taesan’s gaze sharpens again. “you’re lying. i can tell.”

you want to scream, to tell him the truth, but you stay silent, your heart heavy with the pressure of it all.

“you’ve been hiding something from me, haven’t you?” taesan asks, his voice quiet now, as if he’s piecing everything together.

you look away, unable to meet his eyes. you can’t keep lying, but you can’t give in either. not yet.

“taesan, please,” you whisper. “just trust me. i don’t want to hurt you.”

he sighs, his expression softening just a little. “i trust you, but it’s hard when you keep lying to me. i just don’t get why you couldn’t tell me what was going on.”

you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. your throat feels tight, and your mind is racing, trying to figure out how to get yourself out of this mess.

“i’m sorry,” you finally say, your voice barely audible. “i didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

taesan looks at you for a long moment, his face softening a bit. “it’s fine,” he says quietly. “but next time, just tell me. no more lies.”

you nod, relieved but still filled with guilt.

there’s a long silence, and then you finally reach into your bag and pull out the vinyl and the trinkets you picked out for him. you hold them out to him, your hands shaking.

“here,” you say softly, voice full of apology. “i got these for you. i… i thought you’d like them.”

taesan takes the items slowly, his expression unreadable. after a few moments, he looks up at you. “you didn’t have to do this,” he says, his voice softening. “but… thanks.”

you smile weakly, still feeling the weight of everything. “i’m sorry for making you mad.”

taesan sighs, stepping closer to you. “it’s okay. just promise me no more lies, alright?”

“promise,” you say quietly.

and for the first time in what feels like forever, the tension begins to melt away. taesan pulls you into a hug, and you let yourself relax, knowing that you’ll have to make things right.

but for now, you’re just grateful that he’s still here.

taesan is silent for a long time, just staring at the vinyls in his hands. his fingers trace over the covers, his expression unreadable.

you shift nervously, waiting for some kind of reaction. was this too much? was this not what he would’ve liked? sungho had assured you it was a good choice, but now, standing here with taesan’s gaze locked onto the gift, doubt creeps in.

“you really did all this for me?” taesan finally asks, voice quieter now.

you nod quickly. “of course i did. you just had a comeback, and i wanted to get you something that actually fit your taste. something you’d really like.”

he exhales slowly, his grip tightening around the vinyls for a second before he looks up at you. his expression has softened completely, the cold edge gone. instead, there’s something else… something warmer.

“you’re an idiot,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. in fact, his lips twitch slightly, like he’s trying not to smile. “you could’ve just told me.”

“and ruin the surprise?” you huff, crossing your arms. “not a chance.”

taesan sighs, shaking his head. “you made me worry for nothing.”

“i didn’t mean to,” you mumble, guilt creeping back in.

he looks at you for another long second before stepping forward, wrapping his arms around you. his hold is firm, secure, like he’s grounding himself in your presence.

you blink, surprised at the sudden affection, but quickly melt into the embrace. his scent is familiar, and the warmth of his body makes all the stress from earlier fade.

“don’t do that again,” he mutters into your hair. “just tell me next time.”

you nod against his chest. “okay. i promise.”

he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his dark eyes still holding a bit of lingering frustration. but it’s different now. less about suspicion, more about the fact that you worried him.

his eyes flicker to sungho, and his warmth disappears just slightly as he levels a glare at him. “and you,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

sungho raises his hands defensively. “hey, don’t look at me like that. i was just helping.”

“helping,” taesan repeats, clearly not convinced. “spending hours alone with y/n, keeping secrets, sneaking around.”

sungho rolls his eyes. “yeah, yeah, i get it. i’d be mad too. but it’s not like that.”

“doesn’t matter,” taesan grumbles, still glaring. “you still got too comfortable.”

you groan, tugging at his sleeve. “taesan, please. it’s not like we were on a date or something.”

taesan clicks his tongue but lets it go, instead looking back at the items in his hands. now that he’s actually processing it, his expression shifts, like he’s finally realizing what you got him, without the worry of why you were lying.

“wait,” he mutters, flipping it over. “this album… where did you find this?”

you grin. “special store sungho knew about. he helped me find the best ones.”

taesan pauses for a moment, then looks at you again, softer this time. “you really went through all this trouble just to get me something i’d like?”

you scoff. “of course i did. i love you, you idiot.”

his ears turn red. it’s subtle, but you notice it. he looks away, clearing his throat. “you’re the idiot,” he mumbles, gripping the vinyls like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “but… thanks.”

he pulls you into another hug, holding you tight, like he doesn’t want to let go.

and just like that, everything feels right again.

[stuffeddrawer]

cw: sex pollen, insanity?, lots of swearing if you're not into that. omegaverse reader is a sub alpha, tf141 are dom omegas bc i say so word count: 1497

(divider by @cafekitsune)

You fucked up.

It’s not even a big screw up, not yet. It’s not even world ending, but the tiniest inconveniences drove you up the damn wall and your mind was already distracted with a thousand other things. You find it hard to believe that people’s minds are usually quiet, are supposed to be quiet – yours has always been loud.

This isn’t what’s fucked up.

You’re in the middle of a deployment, started feeling off a few days ago but you brushed it off. Fool. Your brain chastises you. Should listen to your gut more often. Now look at you. Huffing and puffing and—

You noticed this off feeling a day before you went off on your mission – even that was supposed to be simple. Truly – get in, get out. Done. Supposedly.

But even that was still messed up.

You thought you tracked your cycle correctly, thought you had everything prepared, thought this mission wouldn’t overlap with your cycle, thought thought thought—

You picked at your gear, growing increasingly frustrated with every buckle, every strap. Every single piece of gear on your person, right down to your extra pair of gloves, was beginning to irritate you. You fucked up.

Your groan was loud enough to be heard when you couldn’t put your silencer on fast enough. You were already frustrated with your upcoming rut, skin flushed and warm, vision already tunnelled and now the sudden influx of hostiles did nothing to soothe that roar in your chest, the ringing in your ears. It did nothing to calm that angry alpha in your brain.

You were so frustrated with everything and everyone that you didn’t immediately smell something sweet in the air, something sweet enough to make you dizzy, discombobulated, your mind honing in on one thing and one thing only. That sweet, sweet omega smell. It took a moment, but your mind swam, vision blurred, growls and huffs leaving your mouth, desperate for someone to sink your teeth into, for someone to use you, for you to use someone. You didn’t care.

You fucked up.

You shouldn’t have gone on this mission, not when you knew you could go into a rut at any given time. You knew, you knew, and you still went. You knew this wasn’t going to end well, knew that something was going to happen. Fool. Knotted with anxiety and stress and you still should have trusted your gut. You wanted to wonder what the hell was wrong with you, that you could have sworn you had an extra day or two to really make sure you had everything you needed, but with that roar in your ears, the desperation seeping into your bones, you just don’t fucking care.

You pad over to where you thought the door was, rolling your eyes when you find it’s been locked. Shit. Your stomach growls, you think you growl, your blood rushing in your ears too loudly for you to understand just what the hell is happening. That smell is so sweet, like some pretty omega you just want to sink-

You huff, trying to take deep breaths once you realise what happened, just what exactly they’ve gassed you with, the room they’ve locked you in. Your cycle was forced to start, your gut was telling you this was going to happen. Your mind is racing and you just can’t keep up. You growl, yell, scream, throw yourself against the door, desperate to get it open, but it won’t budge. Like your stubbornness and inability to listen to what your body’s telling you, the door doesn’t open, doesn’t so much as whine when you press your weight against it.

You think you cry out when you move, the ache in your bones growing, the heat pooling between your legs almost burning now as your knees crash against the concrete beneath you. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Or does it feel so fucking good when you start to palm yourself? You don’t know. Your mind is so twisted and hazy, solely focused on one thing, and to have that thing denied to you? You think you’re going insane. Your grip on reality feels like it’s starting to slip.

You can’t even hear your radio sparking to life, can’t hear Price demanding a check in, can’t hear him repeating what he said, this time more urgently, a hint of fear perhaps? You really can’t tell if it’s just the blood in your ears rushing south, your entire body aching and on fire, or if he’s actually talking. You feel like you’re going insane. Going feral.

Your body writhes on the floor, equal parts bliss and agony, stars bursting in your eyes but you can’t tell if it’s from the pain or the pleasure. Or both. Sometimes it’s both. This time it just fucking hurts. Or does it? You don’t know. You don’t care. You fucked up.

You didn’t want to fuck the seam in your pants or your hand, you just wanted to get this mission done and spend your cycle surrounded by your packmates, surrounded by the people you trusted the most, people you knew would take care of you. God, it fucking hurts.

You want Kyle against your back, holding your arms behind you, whispering sweet nothings and cooing into your ear. Johnny to tease your nipples, bite and mark up your throat. You want John and Simon to make your legs shake, want them to use you as their own toy, want to be left mindless and fucked stupid, satisfied with your pretty omegas at your side, purring and content. You want Johnny and Kyle to clean you up, lick you clean, you want all these things, but you’re left on the floor in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere, desperate and borderline feral.

You shift your hips back and forth as you practically grind on your hand, on your knees now, groaning into your arm with your eyes screwed tight. You wanted someone to take you for all you had, make your legs shake and throat raw from how you practically cry out their name, treat you right like they’ve always treated you, how you’ve always treated them.

You fucked up and were now writhing on the floor, entire body shaking from the pain in your system, a small puddle of drool forming on the floor from how you’re sat – knelt? Bowed? You peek your eyes open, try to take a look around the room, try to find another way to escape, to free yourself, to eat and be eaten. Your vision is too hazy, too fuzzy for you to make anything out. You can’t focus on anything other than the ache between your legs.

The whine that fills the room – you think fills the room – is nothing short of desperate, angry and loud. Your chest hurts from how heavy you’re breathing, you can’t think past the ache in your bones, you think you cry out again, your finger pressing a button – buttons? You don’t know – your mind’s slipping away from you faster than you can catch it, like trying to hold fog. You don’t even feel scared anymore, just so fucking horny, desperate, pleading for someone to use you and for you to take your time with them, please, please, please.

God, you’re so hungry, your entire body shaking, growls and huffs leaving your lips as it feels like the walls are closing in – it hurts, it hurts so fucking good. You hump your hand faster, angry, but it’s still not enough. You want to feel your packmates’ hands on you, want to feel every inch of them, want them on you, in you, you don’t care – you want them in the worst way, but you fucked up and you’re stuck here, growling at nothing. You draw your hand back, hand slick with your arousal, room heavy with the scent of an alpha starting their cycle, forced to start it. You try to move, throw yourself against the wall to break yourself out of this trance, out of your own mind, but it only makes your brain break faster, sanity slipping like sand through dry fingers.

That stupid omega sweet scent drove you insane, you want more, crave more, are aching for more. Your mind felt like goo, like every sense of You was long gone. You think you hear the door open. Too late.

You’re too fucked up to recognise him, too feral to notice the boonie hat, the three other men standing behind him – you snarl at whoever walked in. Your body’s tense, more tightly wound than anyone’s ever seen. Your gaze is hungry and angry, and fucking famished. You’re starving, you’re angry, you’re so desperate for an omega to fuck, you’re—

You leap, your teeth barred and mind blank, snapped like a dry twig in the middle of a sweltering summer.

The task force’s now-feral alpha is knocked out before their teeth can do any lasting damage to their captain.

[svt-rosalie]

ohh i loved your rosie sick fic....it was cutee. prettyyyy plsssss i want to see jihoon getting mad and being protective over our rosie when she gets mobbed/ stalked / when do over works herself.

. . . ♡ ROSIE ! ? 💻 DRABBLE ★ ﾟ๑

ׁ ׅ ୨ ❪ requested, angst! ❫ ୧ ⊹ ࣪

© 2024 , svt-rosalie rosalie masterlist!

content warning / anxiety attacks, woozi & seungcheol get angry, mentions of bodily harm, angst, no comfort tbh??

idol doesn't mean your

doll to fuck with.

i-doll, yunjin

It was already a horrible morning for the youngest female member of Seventeen.

Nothing was going well for Rosalie; she thought she lost her passport before boarding her flight to go back to South Korea from California, she dropped her food that she received from the flight attendant for lunch and there were unfortunately no extras for her to eat - so the poor girl was genuinely famished, and to top it all she was only able to get maybe two decent hours of sleep the night before the flight.

So, to say Rosie is having a bad day would be an understatement. At this point nothing could be done to turn her already horrible morning into something better.

But something can definitely happen to make it worse. . . which would be a crowd swarming the exit that Rosalie and her members need to get through to get into their cars. All Rosie yearned at this point was her bed and all these people were making it insanely difficult for her. She was happy to have a mask to cover her irritated expression.

The crowd was overbearingly claustrophobic to look at. Seeing people pushing at one another to get the "best" photo and video of them, trying to hand gifts to the idols --which was pointless sometimes seeing as how the managers and bodyguards always got to it first and shoved the reaching hands down and away-- it made her heart race.

Rosie wasn't necessarily in the back of the group; she was more off to the side. Her mind was so oblivious to everything around her (so it seems her security was too— only focused on the front of the group) including the amount of people stampeding her way from behind.

Rosie yelped as she felt people begin to step on the back of her shoes and shove their phones into her face screaming words of love, in their terms.

More hands were reaching around her with posters, presents and letters for the girl to take or sign. Unfortunately at this point Rosie was circled by way too many people, it was dangerous — the body guards nor her members could see her anymore.

Rosie was scared. “Please back away, please move, please.” She pleaded. It fell on deaf ears. The crowd surrounding her just continued to push and shove trying to gain her attention.

Jihoon was about 20 feet ahead almost to the car when he looked back and noticed the girl was not with any other member or in the car already. Dread filled his stomach, despite what the crew and managers were telling him to just get in the car whilst we go get her. He turned around and basically ran into the crowd surrounding Rosalie pushing people out of the way, not caring if he had to deal with he repercussions the company would set in place.

“Move!” Woozi shouted out loud as he finally got into the center and found Rosalie crouched, covering her ears to block out the shouts.

His hands gently but firmly grabbed the girl to lift her up, pulling on one of her hands to reassure her that it was just him, her partner.

Jihoon held her to her to his side, and rushed the two (security beside them now blocking all paths to get to them) to the doors and inside their company cars.

Once the doors shut and no one could see inside them anymore, the dam broke and flooded.

Rosie was sobbing, her hands too shaky to wipe the tears away.

“Why was there no security behind us? Why was nobody with her?!” Seungcheol shouted, there was no answer. The staff in the front seats were silent as was the other members Woozi, Jeonghan, and Dino.

Rosalie’s sobs were muffled as she was held into her husband’s chest. A place of comfort that she so desperately needed in this moment.

“Can we please go home?” the female maknae asked, her voice cracking. Nobody said a word the whole car ride to their separate homes.

God only knows the rage and heartbreak the members were feeling for their beloved female maknae.

They knew if something like this happened again, words would be said — their idol image be damned.

Woozi’s statement he posted on Weverse that night:

“Today’s actions showed at the airport for SEVENTEENs return home was inforgivable.

Our fellow member and my partner Rosalie was pushed, shoved, shouted at, scratched and knocked over. Not to the lack of security but for lack of respect towards celebrity/idol figures as human beings. I have seen nobody apologize for this happening to her, instead people are stating that this is what she signed up for.

Due to our profession, our private lives have been very public since we were young and yes we chose this lifestyle and we enjoy doing what we love. Our job becomes extremely difficult when we are looked at as circus clowns, payed to do everyone’s bidding. We are human beings, with feelings and emotions despite what most may think.

If something like this is to ever happen again to myself, Rosalie, or any of my fellow members. I will personally take legal action against those who cause or physical, mental, and emotional harm, whether you are fans of us or not.

Stop thinking we are dolls that you can parade around and make do what you want at your will.

Have a good night.”

click here to join rosie’s taglist!

taglist — @angie-x3 @alixnsuperstxr @allthings-fandoms @peachyaeger @sakufilms @aysxldea @swagcandyfun @wonwooz1 @s4nsmoon @seolarzone @miyx-amour @novwonia @marissa-11 @magicsoyeon @skzfairies @btskzfav @vhsdolly @iamawkwardandshy @yaebbinnie @conniesbbymama @jihoonsbbygirl @kaitieskidmore97 @cheolsboo @mars11rules67 @svt-manon @g4ns3y

[pedriache]

Hello! Could i request a story about Pedri dating a tennis player, someone like Emma răducanu? If you do not like tennis, it's no problem if you don't want to write it. I like all your other Pedri stories 🤗

Breakfast of champions 𖦹 Pedri González !

summary. after you won a match and pedri had won a game on the same day, you both decided the next day you’d celebrate with the most elaborate of breakfasts. the only problem was—pedri was terrible at making waffles.

wc. 685+

disclaimers. fluff, established relationship, reader is a tennis player, ect !

notes. i know literally nothing abt tennis so i hope i did this justice.. its so barely there but i gen had no ideas what to write

The kitchen was filthy with flour and the sweet smell of Belgian waffles. Pedri was currently staring at the burnt—once fluffy and delicious, looking waffle. A line formed between his brows as he tried to figure out exactly where he went wrong.

You, standing a few feet away with a flour-splotched apron, stifled a laugh. “Baby.. How..” You start, but clamp your mouth shut when Pedri’s eyes snap to you with a warning look.

“Right. Okay, well, just.. put it in the trash. You can just start over. No big deal.” You smile lightly, striding over to his side and standing up on your tip toes, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Pedri sighed at the light touch before gripping the plate and moving toward the trash can.

Yesterday had been a whirlwind. You’d won your match at Wimbledon, which was a major accomplishment for you and many other tennis players alike. Pedri and his team had won the El Clásico.

So, today, you were celebrating with a breakfast fit for royalty—or they were supposed to at least. You forget that Pedri's kitchen skills were subpar at best.

You’d been put on bacon duty, which you gladly accepted. Easy to do, and made sure that you could keep your eye on the waffle maker since your boyfriend’s attention couldn’t seem to stay on it.

Instead, he’d attempt to drift toward you, hands sliding around your waist for about five seconds before you swatted at them and scolded him—

“Pedro. Get your ass back to the waffles.”

And now, he was facing the consequences of his actions.

Both of the waffles in it had burnt.

“I swear, I was watching this time!” Pedri groaned, running a hand through his dark hair. “Cariño..” He whines, setting the now-empty plate on the table. “Can you just.—“

Rubbing your temples, you rolled out your sore wrist. Your opponent had most definitely given you a run for your money yesterday. “Just go set the table.”

Pedri’s lips pulled into a small grin. “‘M sorry.” He mumbled against your hair, placing a quick kiss to the too of your head.

Tilting your head up, you rolled your eyes. A hint of amusement passes across your face as he tips his head, capturing your lips in a slow, warm kiss.

“It’s okayyy.” You murmur against his mouth, “just go set the table and start cleaning the dishes.” Nodding, he let go of you and walked to the cupboard.

While Pedri did the dishes and you made the waffles, conversation flowed between you, and by conversation.. well, it was mostly you complaining.

“In the beginning, I thought I was going to twist my ankle I was running back and forth so much. She had a strong ass wrist, babe. I literally have never had to put in so much effort.” You dramatized your words, which had your boyfriend chuckling.

“You ran track in high school, I’m sure you were fine.” He shakes his head in short laughter, setting a spatula into the dish washer.

Your head turns to face him, eyes narrowing. “Alright, that was like—nearly four years ago.”

“Well, couldn’t be me.” Pedri shrugs.

Okay, ego.

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.”

“When our bodies aren’t dying, we’re so racing.”

Ping!

Waffles were done, everything set out… you and Pedri feasted.

When you both finished and exhaled long, dragged out breaths, leaning back into your seats, you met each other’s eyes. “Holy shit, I don’t think I can eat ever again.” Pedri grumbles, head tipping back as his hand rubbed his stomach as if to soothe the ache.

“Me neither.” You almost laugh, but couldn’t bring yourself to make the sound in fear of upsetting your stomach.“Let’s go back to bed and never leave.”

And with that, Pedri walked around the table, reaching out his hands for you to take before pulling you to your feet. Both of you glanced at your dirty plates and cups then to each other.

“We can put them away later.”

You nod and let him drag you to the bedroom.

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @joaoflms @sakashq @spidybaby @be11ingham @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @cececarmona17 @piastri-fvx @st4rgirl-ellie

[thatgirlthatwritessmut]

weird rq but likeeee? oh well here we go ! so basically rafe and yn are dating but then she finds out about the sheriff peterkin thing from ju and when rafe comes home she is PACING. she and rafe have a conversation and she goes to call the police but then rafe doesn't want to go to jail and tries to say it's because JJ doesn't like him and she obviously doesn't believe it so he like thinks about killing her but then ends up locking her in the thingy majigy I forgot what it's called til she changes her mind

idea honestly came from this song so !

calm down.

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rafe cameron x female reader

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ~ your boyfriend rafe locks you in a room until you calm down after finding out about him killing sheriff peterkin.

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ~ dark!rafe, violence, toxic behaviors, unhealthy relationship, emotional outbursts, kisses, crying.

—————

your friends and lover never got along. there was always something coming up. your pogue friends would always tell you that you should break up with rafe but you simply wouldn’t. even though you were pretty sure he was a psychopath you couldn’t stop yourself from loving him.

rafe didn't make it easy though. he was short tempered and ill mannered. sometimes you wanted to smack him across the face for the words that spilled from it. at times you did let your feelings get the best of you and the shape of your handprint would take over the pale flesh of his cheek. he would soon grab a hold of you and the two of you would tussle around but it wouldn't be long till your lips crashed on his inhaling his toxicity.

you knew this relationship was bad for you but you were blinded by love and desire which made the recent information that you were given hard to swallow.

you're taking your family boat out enjoying the air from the sea before you get a text from your friend jj.

jj: y/n I need you to meet me at my place. we need to talk. now.

confusion corses through your body as you quickly reply back.

y/n: jj what's going on?

jj: just hurry and get here fast.

you immediately put your phone aside as you grab a hold of the steering wheel on the boat and head for the dock. once you arrive you tie it up. as you finish you dash towards your car, hitting the gas. its not long till you're on jj front porch knocking on the door filled with worry. jj quickly opens the door and pulls you in without a word. "jj...whats going on?!" you say breaking the silence. he stares at you calculating his words. "you won't believe me.". "how could you know that?" you say slightly annoyed. "because its involving your boy toy...". your body freezes suddenly becoming breathless. "r-....rafe?- what the fuck did he do now?". "something bad. something he's not going to come back from...well he might because he's blaming everything he did on john b.". "what?!...why the hell is he doing that?". jj goes silent again. 'WHAT THE FUCK DID HE DO JJ?!" you finally shout.

“HE SHOT SHERIFF PETERKIN!”

as you hear those words you step back not believing what's been said. "no....NO! that can't be true. he's done his fair share of fucked up things but he would never go as far as....as far as...murder.". 'oh yeah? that's funny because I saw him with my own eyes. me, kie, pope, john b, and even sarah. she'll tell you what he did and that's her own blood!".

you shake your head, tears beginning to blur your vision. you try to speak through your tightened throat. "whe-...when did this happen?". "recently....I wanted to let you know sooner but a LOT as been going on. I wasn't sure if you were at his place or not so i texted you as soon as i could. you're not safe around him y/n!". you stare at the wall choked up before making your way to the door.

"hey! where are you going?". jj quickly foots behind you not letting you out of his sight. as you walk outside you run to your car not looking back. "y/n don't do this! you hear me? don't!". you ignore jj's commands entering your car and slamming the door behind you. "I'm getting to the bottom of this! don't follow me!". with that said you put your car in reverse and make your way to the cameron house.

~~~~

you’re pacing at the front door as rafe arrives home. he glances at you surprised by your presence. as he locks the door he greets you. “hey baby. you didn’t tell me you were stopping by-”. “did you kill sheriff peterkin?”. he face stiffens as he looks up from the lock and stares at the door back facing you. silence takes over the house as your movements stop as well, eyes burning a hole into his neck. you repeat your question. “DID YOU KILL-”. “who told you that?” he snaps, turning around now stepping towards you with speed. “don’t worry about who. answer my damn question rafe!”. his jaw clenches as he stares at you then looks away trying to come up with a lie. “no. john b did.”. you immediately strike back. “liar….i know you’re not telling the truth i can see it in your face!”. you point your finger at him disgusted that he has put you in this position.

rafe begins to shake his head. “not here. not while wheezy and rose is at home okay? lets-”. “NO! no! you will not push me away rafe! why not tell the truth why not tell them that you KILLED SHERIFF PETE-”. rafe grabs you and takes his hand to your mouth silencing your words. “i really wish you wouldn’t do that.” he says, his strength besting you. “get off of me!” you say muffled as you push him away only being able to break free because he allowed you. the two of you stare at each other silently before you speak once again. “rafe…i’m going to ask you one last time. did. you. kill. sheriff. peterkin?”.

he narrows his eyes at you before shaking his head once again. you force a smile as you nod. “…okay…well i guess i’ll find out once the police hears about this won’t i?”. you make your way to the door and he blocks your path. “what does that mean?”. “oh you know what it means.”. his icey glare slightly scares you but you don’t let it show. you inch closer to him. “what now rafe?…are you going to shoot me too?”. you see the gears start to turn in his head, like he was actually considering the idea.

you try to push past him again but now you’re met with his hand to your neck. “r- rafe?” you stutter gripping his wrist. he starts backing you to a door glaring at you with every step. when your back hits the door you yell. “let me go!”. he doesn’t listen pulling you to the side by your neck as he opens the room and throws you inside of it. you fall to the ground wincing in pain. as you look back you watch him swiftly close the door. as you lay on the ground you start to hear a locking sound. you eyes widen and you panick. “no..NO! RAFE!”. you get up from the floor, pacing to the door and begin pounding it. “LET ME OUT!” you scream, beginning to kick. “i’m not letting you out, y/n. not until you calm down, okay?”. “screw you!” you shout through the door. “i’m trying to be civil here, and you’re freaking out right now.”. as your face turns with anger you suddenly hear a familiar voice coming down the stairs.

“rafe what the hell is going on? who is that?”. “r- rose?” you say thankful that she was here. “is- is that y/n?” rose says confused. “yeah.” rafe admits. “why is she locked in there?”. you immediately answer. “rafe locked me in!”. “she’s locked in there because sometimes you have to make the hard choice, right? she just didn’t get that.”. he then turns to the door so he can make sure you hear him. “you fail to understand that constantly, don’t you? huh? DONT YOU?”. he brings his fist up to punch the door. “shut the hell up!” you scream as you push your shoulder into the wood standing between you two hoping to break the lock. “you need to CALM DOWN!” he yells back at you. “what do you mean calm down?!” you reply. but then the other side of the door goes quiet. as a little time goes by you hear something again.

“y/n…what is it going to be?”. your pounding stops as you hear rafe’s voice again. “where is rose?”. “she went upstairs okay? i told her you’re fine which you are.”. “RAFE! stop it now! let me out!”. “i’ll only let you out once you promise me that you won’t go to the cops. so i’ll say it again...what is it going to be?”. you stop responding. soon rafe presses his ear to the door confused but quickly hears a glass shattering against the door. “LET ME OUT ASSHOLE!”. “okay. I’ll give you some time to come to your senses.”. as you hear his steps grow distant you punch harder. “let me out!” you insist. “i really wanna help you, but i need you to help me too okay?” rafe says as he walks up the stairs. you begin to repeat the word “no” over and over again not wanting to stay in the room another minute. “rafe? rafe?…please don’t leave!” you say softly as you give up on breaking the door. you slowly fall to the floor backing up into a corner bringing your knees to your chest. you cover your face as tears fill your eyes. you couldn’t believe what was happening.

after a while you hear the lock turning. you lift yourself from the floor watching as rafe opens the door. “y/n? have you calmed down?”. you nod your head repeatedly slowly walking towards him. as you walk out the door he grabs a hold of your waist. “i hope you can forgive me. i never want you to have to see me like that but you gave me no choice.” he says wiping your tears away with his thumb. your head nods as you sniffle. he then plants a kiss on your cheek then temple as he pull you into a hug. as he locks you into his warm embrace your mind fills with one thought.

should you protect your friends or your lover?

writers note ~ sorry if this feels rushed. lots have been going on in my life. i hope you still enjoyed !! :)