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murderofravens · 13 days ago

Text

BABY, I'M RIGHT HERE

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader

warnings: large age gap (20 vs late 40s) angst. slow burn. slight infantilization. no use of y/n. codependency. obsession from both sides. unhealthy dynamics. plot with porn. fingering. oral fixation. brat tamer inho. sub!reader. reader is very touch starved. a little yandere vibes. emotional manipulation. i made him very fatherly but toxic oops.

summary: he promised that you will make it out alive. he will make sure of it, no matter what it takes.

word count: 8k more or less

SEQUEL TO: DUSK TILL DAWN

FINAL PART: FLY ME TO THE MOON

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

please ignore mistakes.

you can't remember half of it. everything happened so quickly— your little moment of bliss shattered by 388's quick warning. the lights went out. one moment you were in young-il's arms, the next he was dragging you down towards 456, who was hiding under another bed. he shifted to make room for you and you crawled to his side. young-il followed.

"stay quiet," 456 whispered, looking around. not much was visible in the dark, but soon enough, the loud noise of bottles shattering and people screaming began echoing through the hall.

"they're killing each other—" you whisper, eyes wide. you shift slightly, raising your head. you try to sit up. "they're killing our side of the people—"

young-il halted your movements with a hand on your arm, "don't move." he hissed. "we can't leave till the guards come in."

"what?" you snap, voice hushed, "if they kill all our people, what's gonna happen in the next vote? we'll lose!"

"there won't be a next vote," 456 added, flinching slightly at another sharp cry. he looked determined. "we're stopping this today."

you glanced at him, heartbroken. you looked out again, heartbeat picking up as you saw player 380 run away from nam-gyu. he was on her tail, visibly trying to kill her. a bottle lay there by the bed, and before young-il could stop you, you slid it out. nam-gyu tripped on it and fell on his face. luckily, it was too dark and he was too worked up to check who it was. you just hoped it gave player 380 enough time to hide.

young-il restrained you then, pushing you down slightly so you were fully sandwiched between him and 456, "don't compromise our position!"

"how much longer?" you whispered, ignoring him. you winced as more sounds of bones cracking and people choking on their own blood took over the entire room. neither of them answered, but even 456 jumped a little as the body of one of the girls on your side fell to the floor.

your eyes widened as the girl's eyes met yours, and then she sputtered out blood before laying there, lifeless.

"don't look." young-il voiced out, craning his neck down to meet your gaze. he clenched his jaw, settling you with a cold glare, "look at me."

"you should've told me this was the plan," you hissed through gritted teeth, squinting as the flashing of lights overwhelmed your senses, "would you be okay if that was m—mphh!"

he put a finger to your lips, shaking slightly as he gave you another warning glare. 456 watched with bated breath, as if counting all the people dying.

the lights go off again, and the room remains dark. only the noises of people fighting can be heard.

"time to move," 456 tells young-il, who nods and begins shifting out of the bed. you follow along, but he pushes you back in, "don't get out until i tell you."

"what?" you frown, confused. your words are quick, "you expect me to hide here while you go out there to do god knows what—

as you speak, young-il grits his teeth, frustrated. he's desperate as he grabs your shoulders. he glances back, makes sure no one sees before silencing you with a kiss. it leaves you breathless. he cups your face and looks into your eyes intensely, "don't get out until i tell you to." his voice is urgent, "close your eyes, put your hands to your ears. trust me, and listen to me for once."

you blink rapidly before nodding, still a little out of it. you don't think you'll ever get used to how good kissing him feels. you wish you could feel it again and again, under better circumstances.

456 hisses for young-il, and he pats your head before rushing away as soon as the doors open. the guards come in, rapidly firing their machine guns towards the ceiling, stopping the fight. you watch carefully, heart dropping to your stomach as young-il and 456 lay there, as if dead, along with 390 and 388. you almost rush out to check on them, but young-il's previous words hold you back. you watch as the guards start putting those devices to the dead bodies' ears, and when they reach your team members, 456 suddenly attacks. the rest of the team similarly manages to take their guns away, and kill the remaining guards. you almost jump out of your skin as a firing match starts— and young-il and player 120 skillfully kill most of them. you look on with bated breath, flinching as the guards fall to the floors. you begin to get out from under the bed, panting. one of the guards was still hiding, and he immediately aimed the gun at you. before you could move, young-il shoots him dead.

you look around the room, swallowing the lump in your throat at the sight of all the dead bodies. so many people with hopes and dreams. people with families, laying there, lifeless. cautiously, you looked around with purpose, before your eyes fell on player 380's body.

she couldn't hide.

you look away, sweat rolling down the side of your head. you clench your jaw and glare at the other team, eyes narrowing with resentment as you catch sight of nam-gyu. swallowing hard, you walk past the bodies, careful not to step on them. your eyes fell on your team members gathering the guards' weapons.

so this was the plan. you frown, rushing forward to help them. the guns are heavy, but you manage to place many of them along with some ammo on the bedsheet laying there.

456 announces the plan— something about capturing the ones who captured them all, and going to their headquarters to make them pay. you shift your gaze to young-il, who stares ahead blankly, as if thinking hard. you wonder if he's scared.

"anyone who knows how to use guns and wishes to join us—" 456 calls out, "please step forward!"

the players are silent, frozen. cowards, you think to yourself. you step forward immediately, and young-il's face hardens so dramatically, it almost makes you laugh. he takes a step towards you, "absolutely not!" he snaps, "stay right there."

"you need all the help you can get!" you argue back sharply. you point an accusatory finger at player 100 and his team. "don't you see? even these so called tough guys aren't willing to go with you! don't put your trust in these people, i can help more than they can! my aim's great!"

while you talk, young-il pinches the bridge of his nose, calls your name again gruffly. a warning.

"don't drag us into this!" player 100 interrupts angrily, his lip curling with disgust. "this is madness! you don't stand a chance against them!"

you quite literally snarl as you rush towards him, jabbing a finger to his chest. it makes him stumble backwards, "you had no issue with risking our lives and your own for money, but standing up to those who caught you is where you draw the line?" you glower at him, scoff at the rest of his team. to emphasize your point, you gather saliva in your mouth, spit it by his shoe. "fucking pussy !"

young-il quite literally snatches you away by the collar of your jacket before the other team can do anything. it's a little baffling how swiftly he moves, even while carrying such a big gun. he takes you to your side of the bunker, shoves you onto the bed, "don't make me tie you up." he grunts threateningly, "you are not going and that's final. you're built like a bird, you won't stand a chance against armed guards. i refuse to watch you get killed."

456 calls out for you, voice soft but urgent, "it's best if you stay here. we won't be able to focus if he's— if we're worried about you."

you grit your teeth as you scowl at young-il with glassy eyes. they're tears of anger. you want to scream at him. you want to pull him towards you and never let him go. you look at your team, watch with longing as player 120 guides them on how to use their guns. she's brave and badass, it makes you want to be like her.

"and you're okay with getting killed?" you drift your attention back to young-il, voice cracking. "what am i supposed to do if something happens to you?"

young-il sighs, gaze softening as he kneels before you . your lips wobble as you glare daggers at him, eyes narrowed. he shakes his head, "i'll come back to you alive."

you scoff bitterly. "how can you be so sure?"

"i just am."

"promise me." you hold your pinky up, clenching your jaw as you stare at him intensely, "promise me you won't die. promise me you'll come back for me."

he looks at your pinky, and then at you. you've always found him harder to read than other people. but you see reluctance in his eyes. he sighs, before raising his own pinky, joining it with yours. the contrast between your hands would've been comical if you were not in this shithole. he gives you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"i promise."

you can hear player 100 yelling at his team, clearly talking shit about you. you look over young-il's shoulder, and he glances at the old man too before turning to you knowingly.

"don't get in any trouble while i'm gone." he whispers softly. he reaches behind his back. "and just in case— i want you to have this."

it's a pistol. he probably took it from one of the dead guards. your eyes widen and you look at young-il. he teaches you how to unload it, and reload it, and how to work the safety, before placing it in your palm. your gaze never leaves his face. questioning.

"you've made enemies here," he explains, as if it's obvious, "if any of the men there try anything—"

"you want me to kill them?" you quirk an eyebrow.

his mouth curls into a smirk, "i want you to be safe."

he gets up, and as player 100 looks at you again, you jokingly aim the gun towards him. he jumps back in fear, stumbling into the younger men at his side. you chuckle, and young-il lowers your hand. "behave."

it makes your heart jump.

"why does that kid get a gun and we don't?!" one of the younger men yells. young-il ignores him.

you grin at him almost childishly. he shakes his head before addressing 149— the old lady who got here with her son.

"don't let her leave," he tells her, giving you a stern, sidelong glance. you roll your eyes.

before he can leave, you grab his hand and look at him intensely. you can only hope your eyes can convey what you can't verbally, not in front of people. for his sake.

"be careful." you decide to say, voice cracking. you memorize every feature of his face, with only one thought in your mind.

you're not allowed to leave me.

he nods, looking away before walking to his team. you yell at them too, telling them to be careful and watch as they carefully exit. you look on with longing as you watch them go, before glancing down at the gun in your hand, and then at the door again. soon enough, you can hear the faint sounds of guns firing. it makes you jump, but player 149 puts a hand on your shoulder, comfortingly guiding you to sit beside her.

you almost contemplate rushing out, what would these people even do? stop you? you have a gun in your hand, although you wouldn't want to pull it on 149. she's a good lady. people are already scared. you don't want to make it worse.

so you stay, and hope that young-il keeps his promise. pinky promises are sacred. you either keep them, or you die.

you decide that if he dies, you'll just bring him back to life somehow and kill him again.

you don't remember how long you wait. multiple times, you stand up and pace around the room. agitated, scared. every gunshot has you looking at the door again and again, hoping that somehow young-il will decide to burst through it. 149 tells you to be calm, tries to distract you with your life outside the games. it doesn't work.

thankfully, the pistol in your hand had scared the other team enough to not try anything with you. they talk within themselves, trying to busy themselves with conversations and anxiously bouncing their legs as they look at the ceiling. you wonder how they can be so calm after killing your team.

"you people are cowards." you say to no one in particular. the message hits the target though, because the ones who weren't willing to go and help shift uncomfortably.

"you'd rather die losing to a stupid game instead of a noble death trying to help people," you chide, chuckling bitterly. 149 tries to stop you from talking, but you shrug her words off with a shake of your head. you stand up and face the other team again. "it's shameful. you had no problem killing others who were in the same position as you, but your oppressors is where you decide to stop?" you gesture towards the dead bodies. the sight of blood doesn't make you squeamish anymore. it just makes you sad.

"these people died because you wanted to keep playing." you hiss, "you killed them."

the people on the other side don't respond, instead lowering their gaze to the floor. you look at nam-gyu sitting on the side, fiddling with something. you want to kill him. you want to kill everyone who stopped you from going home, who became the reason more innocent people died. your morals are a bit fucked, you think, but you're okay with it. people who do bad things deserve to die. you raise the gun, aim it at player 100. he flinches, and sits straight up, raising his hands. his team members shuffle away from him, and it makes you snicker. when he's on death's door, they abandon him. "have you gone crazy!?"

"game or no game, you were meant to die." you clench your jaw, your mouth twitching. "shall i kill you, old man?"

you don't get to pull the trigger. you're interrupted by player 388 rushing inside, panicked and covered in blood. your eyes widen, and you go straight to him, grabbing his shoulders. he looks shaken up, "what happened? where's 001? is he okay? did you find—"

"gather all the remaining ammo," he says shakily, fumbling over his words, "we ran out. i need to take some back."

you nod, and 149's son comes to help you check the dead guards' gear and gather the remaining ammunition. 388 wraps it up in a jacket, and rushes to the door, before suddenly stopping. you pause, looking at him, sweat breaking out across your skin. there's a bad feeling in your stomach. "what's wrong? aren't you going?"

he doesn't respond. you can't see his face because his back is turned to you. a moment passes and you step forward cautiously. he drops the walkie talkie, and your eyes fall to the floor where it lands— where you can hear the voice of player 120 asking where he is. they have no ammo.

"i can't do it." 388 whispers, shaking. he rushes back to his bed, drops the little makeshift bag full of ammo and cowers into himself. your eyes widen. you look at the walkie talkie, and back to him. if they don't get ammo soon, they're going to die. you rush to the bed, shoot 388 a frown— you consider comforting him, but you have another priority now. you grab the bundle and turn to leave.

149 runs after you along with a few others, pulling you by the sleeve of your jacket. she's trembling with worry. "your father told me not to let you leave—"

amidst the chaos, you let out a chuckle.

"he's not my father," you reply, yanking your jacket from her grip and composing yourself. the sentence would've had you cackling in a better situation. you can't wait to tell young-il about it. you can understand why she'd think so, even though you and young-il look literally nothing alike. the opposite, really. he's like a father in spirit.

your face hardens and you address the crowd. "they need help. is anyone gonna come with me?”

nobody moves. you scoff bitterly. predictable.

149 looks at you helplessly, pushes her son to grab you. when he advances towards you, you pull out the gun and hold it to his head, eyes crazed as you pull the safety. you warn him dangerously, "step back."

he raises his hands and steps back, lowering his gaze. holding the bundle to your chest, you walk backwards, aiming the gun to both sides of the room and ensuring no one grabs you. you look at 149, meet her crushed gaze and mouth an 'im sorry' to her before running out as fast as you can.

you're quite sure you got lost. you're running as fast as you can, trying to follow the sounds of the gunshots, and looking for any bullet holes or signs of struggle. you look up and see broken cameras, and recall 120 shooting them back in the hall. you follow them until one of the red guards encounters you, immediately raising his gun. he's slow, infuriatingly so— but it doesn't matter because in your panicked haze, you shoot him in the stomach, then rush forward and kick his gun away before running off.

you can see your team. you let out a breath of relief, and as soon as 120 meets your gaze, she gasps. you shake your head and quickly slide over to her, giving her the rest of the ammunition. she quickly reloads, and you toss the rest to the other players, before looking around frantically, flinching at the gunshots. "where's 001 and 456?" you ask her.

"control room!" she points towards the end of the hallway, and you nod before advancing. she tries to protest but you're quicker, and she's preoccupied with firing. luckily, the guards never seem to fire at you.

there are two sides. you hesitate, before finally taking the left one where you just heard two gunshots. you quickly rush forward, pistol held protectively. the whole area looks like some sort of purple maze, and you're wary as you walk, scared that a guard might jump out and shoot you.

finally, you see your young-il's back. he's crouching on the floor, looking at a dying player. the relief you feel is baffling. your eyes widen, and you call out his name. "young-il sir!"

he tenses, turning back so fast that you worry he'd get a whiplash. visibly stressed, he rushes towards you, shaking his head, "no— no, no, no, no, no, what are you doing here!”

you run towards him, almost tripping on the stairs. he grabs your shoulders, shakes you aggressively, "i told you not to fucking leave!"

you almost flinch at his tone. it's strange to see him swear. you answer him shakily, panting, "they— they ran out of ammo, i couldn't leave you!"

he looks upset and shaken up, clenching his jaw as he pinches the bridge of his nose, mumbling incoherently to himself. you turn towards the dying player, your expression pained. he tries to point at something, but you don't understand what. you kneel towards him, and his hand falls down. his croaking stops.

suddenly, you hear the footsteps of guards heading towards you. before you can move, you're surrounded. you hold onto your gun, shaking as you quickly stand up. you swallow hard, unblinking as they aim their guns at you.

that’s when you notice it.

they're aiming at only you, and not young-il. it makes you feel strange.

you look at him, and he's taking sharp breaths, as if trying to compose himself. or trying not to scream with rage. it's odd, how relaxed he looks. tense in the face, but relaxed in the way that he didn't take an offensive stance, or feel surprised at the sight of the guards. you frown in confusion, before he flicks his hand. the guards lower their guns.

you blink a few times, swallowing the lump in your throat, dread settling in your stomach. you look at the guards, then at young-il, who refuses to meet your gaze. you repeat the action.

guards. young-il. guards. young-il. then the players on the floor. then back at young-il's face. and it takes you a moment, but the realization sets in.

the guard letting you go to the restroom when young-il was by your side, him conveniently appearing to save you when you went exploring, him walking with that air of authority. how the guards never seemed to look at him too long. how easily he killed the man during mingle without a second thought. how one look from him had the guard lowering his gun during voting. how he was sure he wouldn't die. things that you never should've looked over.

you step back, your breathing getting ragged as you slowly raise your gun towards young-il. the guards point their guns at you again, ready to shoot. he stops them by raising his hand in warning. he clenches his jaw, his eyes unreadable and guarded.

"who are you." you demand tightly. your voice shakes pathetically, it makes you wince. you've never been this scared of anything in your life. not even the games.

"it doesn't have to be this way." he says quietly. his voice seems different, deeper. gravely. he holds his hand out to you in what he hopes is a comforting fashion. "put the gun down."

you step back, putting your finger on the trigger, just the way he taught you. ‘i want you to be safe,’ he'd said.

"i asked you a fucking question!" you yell, voice cracking. your gun feels slippery in your hands. it almost falls. you fumble trying to keep a tight grip on it. all this time, the prospect of death felt a little comforting with the idea that you'd have young-il by your side if it happened. but now, it just terrifies you. it looks bleak.

you sniffle, lips wobbling as fresh tears roll down your cheeks. you were always fucking unlucky. the first time you like a man this much, he turns out to be the bad guy. you feel utterly pathetic and terrified.

his eyes dart all over your panicked face before he gestures towards one of the guards, who raises his gun. there's a flash of guilt in his eyes that you can't miss. it makes your blood freeze. you refuse to die alone.

you straighten your aim towards young-il and pull the trigger. two gunshots ring out, and you don't get the time to react before something stings your chest, and you fall to the ground.

your vision goes black.

there are no dreams, no last memories. no flashes of your life. there's this heaviness in your chest, like someone is suffocating you.

you wake up with a startled gasp, sitting up immediately. your vision looks blurry, but with a few blinks you can make out a room. a lavish room with a closed window on the side. you frown in confusion, before putting your hand to your chest. there's no bleeding, no pain except the one in your muscles.

you swallow hard, your throat feeling dry. for a moment you wonder if it was all a dream, but when you try to move, you realize your right hand is chained to the side of the bed— with those strong black straps with locks that they used in the second game. you pull at it a few times, breathing getting heavy as you look down on yourself. your bloodied green jersey has been replaced by a comfortable pair of pink pyjamas that cover your arms and legs. you raise your hand to your head, and there's a small bandage on the right side of your face that you remember previously scratching in the bathroom.

you struggle a little, try to look for a way to unlock the straps, but it's like the room is purposely empty. absolutely no sharp or heavy objects to help you escape. like a prison cell.

you think of young-il. is he dead? you remember pulling the trigger. you knew the risk that came with aiming the gun at him when you were surrounded by guards— you just had this thought that if you were going to die, you would drag him with you. he won't get to live after what he'd done.

you don't get to brood about your thoughts for long, because the door opens and he steps inside— a man dressed in black, with a creepy mask. it makes you feel uneasy. you touch your chest again, look at him with a questioning gaze.

“it was just a tranquilizer.” he answers your silent question, voice distorted through the mask.

“is this really necessary?” you ask dryly, rattling the chain on your right hand.

“do you feel comfortable?” the man asks, gesturing towards your clothes.

you grit your teeth, “cut the bullshit. who are you?”

the man sighs, looking down, as if disappointed. he looks at you again before taking off the mask, and you feel like throwing up.

his hair looks different — slicked back with gel. his eyes look tired, even more so than back at the games. he looks more intimidating this way. you feel a strong urge to leap across the bed and ruffle his hair so he can look familiar again.

you have so much to say.

why did you do this? who the fuck are you? how are you still here, when i so clearly remember shooting you?

“you're alive,” you instead remark dryly. young-il gives you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

“your aim needs more practice,” he says quietly, patting his right shoulder. “barely grazed me.”

the idea of having hurt him almost makes your chest ache, but you remind yourself of who he is.

you sniffle, lips wobbling as you look at him. your dear young-il. who comforted you, protected you, held you and kissed you so dearly. he really made a fucking fool out of you.

“and what's all that for?” you tilt your head towards his hand. trying to put on a mask, just like him. a brave face.

he places the mask on the table, walks over to sit on the side of the bed. you flinch, moving away from him slightly.

he notices, and it hurts more than getting shot. he doesn't dare reveal that on his face.

“is your name even young-il?” you ask quietly, voice strained.

he shakes his head. you snort bitterly.

“i'm guessing you're the big boss then.” you remark flatly, looking around the room. forcing yourself to appear nonchalant. he wants to tell you to drop the act, because he can still hear your voice faltering.

he nods, “something like that. i design the games.”

you bite down on your lower lip to stop it from wobbling. nobody knows the strength it takes trying not to cry. you lower your gaze to your lap.

your next question is pathetic. you would expect yourself to scream and threaten him to let you go, but there's only one thing on your mind.

“was i a game to you too?” you ask quietly. you don't want to know the answer. perhaps you would've preferred it if he killed you.

he sighs, averting his gaze. he utters your name softly, and you feel like a weak woman because you still like the way he says it.

your voice almost waivers when you ask, “are you going to hurt me?”

he looks at you, blinks a few times before answering honestly. “don't make me.”

you hold back the urge to sob. your left hand comes up to clap over your mouth, and he looks away as you cower in on yourself. how can he say that, after covering your eyes and pulling you into him to ensure you didn't get scared by people getting killed? you wish there was atleast a lamp on the side table, maybe you could've cracked his skull to free yourself from this fear. and to take revenge for playing with your heart.

“you ruined everything.” he admits, voice growing tight. solemn. he clenches his jaw, mouth twitching with barely disguised anger. “i went into the games because of gi-hun, to make sure he doesn't stop the game. and then ended up paying more attention to you than him.”

you release a shaky breath, pulling your knees to your chest. your mouth twists with emotion. gi-hun. player 456. your eyes widen, heart leaping out of your throat.

“is he okay?” you ask, voice cracking with concern, “is he alive?”

his head snaps up— gaze hardening almost dramatically. his eye twitches, and he gives you a tight smile. it doesn't suit him because it's not the one you're familiar with. “are you worried about him?”

you glare at him, eyes narrowing.

“he’ll be fine.” he adds nonchalantly. his voice sounds different— cold in a way that makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “would you rather be with him than me?”

you snort bitterly, looking away with a roll of your eyes. he can't be fucking serious. he has the audacity to be jealous after what he's done to you. he is so unbelievably ridiculous.

“put me back in the game.” you hiss through gritted teeth.

“i can't do that.” he shakes his head, “you will die in there. you won't survive the next games. i made sure they get increasingly difficult—”

“i'll win!” you argue, “i’ll beat them all and win, stop treating me like a fucking child—”

“you are a fucking child compared to me!” he bellows, making you flinch. your gaze never falters as you grit your teeth, looking at him with all the rage you can muster. he grabs your jaw, squishing your cheeks so hard that your lips pucker. he would've kissed you if he wasn't so fucking angry. his voice is harsh as he continues, shaking your head. “you! are quite literally a baby compared to me and the others in there. they're ruthless animals who won't hesitate to rip you apart to win. you're going to die in there and i wouldn't be there to save you!”

his words have your stomach churning, because he's right. but that doesn't matter to you.

“since when do you care?!” you snap challengingly. your words come out muffled.

he glares back at you, his nostrils flaring with anger, “i wish i didn't care.” he hisses, voice low. hoarse. he leans towards you. “oh how desperately i wish i didn't care about you.”

your heart begins to race as you stare at him, dumbfounded, unable to speak. he looks into your eyes, then glances down at your lips, before making eye contact again. he lets go of your face and straightens up, composing himself.

“you almost ruined my entire plan.” his voice is collected, almost guarded. “you consume my every waking thought ever since i felt your head against my chest. do you know how many times i had to warn my guards not to shoot you? especially with how many times you kept crossing the line?”

your breath hitches, and you open your mouth to argue. he doesn't give you a moment to speak.

“i'm not sending you back in the games where you can die.” he continues darkly. he brings his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. the action is gentle— a stark contrast against what he previously did. the situation you're in, the kind of man he is. you blink at him, eyes teary. his gaze softens just slightly. “you made me promise not to abandon you. I don't plan to.”

“you're a sick man,” you whisper. you can't believe he's holding that against you— your promises from when he was deceiving you, “you designed those fucking games. you can stop them anytime you wanted. i got stuck here because of you, you killed all those innocent people. you're a sadistic, psychotic asshole—”

he shoots you a warning glare, pressing his hand against your mouth. “don’t test me, brat. ”

you sniffle, letting out a pained whimper. you push his hand off your mouth, “let me go.”

he looks unamused, “i can't do that.”

“were you not planning to leave me?” you try to reason with him, desperate. “when you left with the rest of the team? you wouldn't have come back after that—”

“i would've found a way to get you home.” he admits quietly. “i had a plan. but then you came running after me like the brat you are. you never listen.”

“then let me go now!” you protest heatedly. his words have your heart hurting. if that's true, then you're the one who sealed your fate. another impulsive decision ruined your life. “i told you about me. i told you about my mom! i miss her. she and my sister—" you almost choke on a sob as you croak the words out, the mere thought of them driving you to insanity, "they need me."

“i've settled your father's debt,” he mentions after a moment of silence, looking deeply into your eyes. he hopes it gives you some comfort, stops you from wanting to leave him. “you don't have to go back. they'll live a life of ease.”

your blood runs cold. that means he knows where they are.

“do you expect me to fucking thank you?” you can't hold back the tears rolling down your cheeks, shaking your head, “i wanna go home.” you sniffle, “you ruined our lives. you played with my feelings and my life. people are dead because of you. how can you say you'd have let me go home one moment, and then refuse it the next?”

"don't hurt them," you speak again, leaning forward almost pleadingly. perhaps you shouldn't piss him off. you're not the kind to beg for your life. but your family? now that's another thing. "please keep them out of this. dont hurt them, please."

"i won't," he says airily, his dark eyes deeply boring into yours, "not if you don't give me a reason to. just be good."

you sniffle, violently trembling. be good. you'll be good. for your family's sake.

his hands cup your face and you flinch. his thumbs brush the tears away. you avert your gaze. you can't meet his eyes— you resent him.

you resent yourself because his touch still makes you feel an odd sense of comfort.

"this is torture," you choke out, "why are you doing this to me?"

he says your name softly, guides your face up to look at him, “i’m selfish.” he admits. “the moments i spent with you.. was the happiest i've been in a… long, long time. i'm not ready to let go of that. ever. ”

he has lost everything. his wife, his baby. his brother. his humanity. only now he has control over his life, enough resources. he can change fate with a flick of his finger. he's not going to lose you, not after you've made him feel human again, for the first time in years. you've ripped open his ribcage and climbed inside, sealed it shut with your touch. he hasn't been needed by anyone like this— it gives him a sense of purpose. he doesn't trust himself to not lose his mind if you're ever out of his sight. he'll make sure you're by his side, where he can hold you and comfort you. whatever it takes.

you shake your head, lips wobbling. you try to pull away, your free hand coming up to hold onto his, to pry it off your face. he doesn't let up, instead climbing towards you and invading your personal space as he presses your foreheads together.

“i don't know about you kids, but in my time, pinky promises were a big deal,” he says lowly, the side of his mouth quirking up. he's trying to joke, he wants to see you smile again. the way you did when you looked at him— with stars in your eyes. like he's your hero. nothing else has ever made him feel more alive. “i’m afraid i can't let you go.”

you let out a shudder, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushes you till your back collides with the bed. you shake your head, voice tired. “just kill me.”

his face drops, and he looks at you coldly, “you think i'd have you here like this if i planned to kill you?”

you don't respond to that, your chest heaving. everything hurts. your head is pounding, and you feel faint.

his thumb brushes across your cheekbone. he looks at you tenderly, analyzing every feature of your face.

“you know, i really expected you to struggle harder against me.” he observes. the words make you feel embarrassed. your skin heats up with shame, and you clear your throat, looking anywhere but him.

he might be right, you think. you've struggled a little, yes, but he can tell you have the ability to be so much more insufferable. but you're not, not yet. it's fucked up. because even after everything, for some reason you can't seem to brush him off you. you can't seem to let go of the comfort and hope he provided you in one of the most terrifying moments of your life.

you convince yourself it's because your family's life is on the line. not because of your personal feelings.

you don't answer him. you don't have to either, because judging by the small smirk creeping on his face, he knows.

“i'll take care of you,” his face softens. he's trying to convince you. there's a desperate edge to his voice. you look so utterly beautiful to him— your complexion glowing even more because of the pink pyjamas he got for you. in that moment he makes a mental note of what color clothes he'd shower you in the most. “those people down there that you're so desperate to save? they would've thrown you under the bus to win. they don't care about you. i'll make sure you're safe. the life you were living before was worthless. let me look after you.”

“i hate you,” you whisper, voice cracking. another tear rolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away. you don't mean it. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“i know.”

you don't get to speak again, because he tilts your head up and crashes his mouth onto yours in a bruising, punishing kiss. it makes you wince, and you choke on a soft sob. against your better judgement, you kiss him back.

the moment your mouth parts under his, he takes the chance to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding in. he moans into your mouth, holding your face as he climbs over you completely. you contemplate biting his tongue off, but you don't. as if reading your mind, his hand comes down to gently squeeze your throat— just enough to make you feel a little lightheaded. you gasp softly, eyes blinking dazedly at him. he pulls his mouth away, then places a soft peck upon your lips. then another. and another. you take greedy breaths as you squirm under him. his hand leaves your throat and slips under your top and you jolt at the feeling of his warm hands against your tummy. his mouth trails down, leaving soft kisses across the smooth skin of your neck.

“you’re sick.” you gasp shakily, throwing your head back, giving him more room to place his wet kisses upon you.

“you're the one letting a man like me touch you,” he whispers hoarsely against your neck, voice slightly teasing. “maybe you're just as sick as i am.”

his words make you shiver. you consider them, and you force yourself to think of all the people back there in the hall, ready to march to their deaths tomorrow. your eyes open and you snap out of your trance.

you use your free hand to push slightly at his chest, gaze pleading, “don't kill them,” you whisper. “let them go. atleast our team. they're good people—”

“are you really doing this?” the switch in his voice has you quivering slightly. his hand comes up, grabs your hair. it stings just slightly. a warning. "do you think they would've been this desperate to save you?"

you let out a noise of protest, looking at him helplessly. trying to touch a string of empathy within him. he has none, not anymore.

“they knew what they were getting themselves into. there's no favoritism. you either win, or die.”

your ears ring, heart pounding against your chest. “then what am i?”

he smirks, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

“you're my little girl.” he noses the side of your neck. goosebumps rise on your skin, “don't bring that up again.”

you grit your teeth, feeling even more remorseful. is there no way to change his mind? even being responsive to his affection doesn't help.

but you're not being docile to change his mind.

you realize you're pliant because you like being under him.

your logical side forces you to speak. your guilty conscience doesn't allow you to get too comfortable under a killer. "this feels wrong."

he stops, clenches his jaw with restrained anger. he squeezes his eyes shut, mentally counts from 1-10 to avoid doing anything he might regret later.

"let me make you an offer," he pulls back, cocking his head to the side. his eyes are unreadable, voice flat, "i'll let them go on one condition."

your eyes widen with hope, and you nod enthusiastically, eager for him to speak.

"with every player i leave alive—" a small smirk appears on his face, despite his best efforts to hide it. "i'll kill someone you love."

the way terror seized you was suffocating. your throat immediately felt dry, eyes widening with shock. you stared at him, motionless, images of your family, your friends, flashing through your head. his hand gently splayed across your stomach, pressing down a little.

"a life for a life." he announced again, giving you a tight lipped smile, "how does that sound?"

"no." you warned, clasping his wrist desperately with your free hand, breathing rapidly. "no— no. please don't. i'll— i'll stay with you. i'll do anything you say, just—" you held back a sob, "please don't hurt them."

in life threatening situations— people only look out for two types of people. themselves, and the ones dearest to them.

he smiled fully then, amused. predictable, he thinks, before leaning back down, "then conversation's over."

"you made the right choice," he whispered. you didn't bother struggling, squeezing your eyes shut. his hand pulls down your top just enough. his mouth quite literally waters as he bites down on your exposed skin, leaving cherry red bruises across your collarbones.

you have no choice, you tell yourself. it's okay to get comfortable now. you couldn't have done anything.

you mewl, and he slips two of his fingers in your mouth, watching intently with a hungry gaze as you suck on them enthusiastically— just like back in the hall. your eyes flutter, and you mumble incoherently as his fingers gently thrust in and out of your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. it’s messy and sloppy, and the sight of your saliva slipping down your chin makes him moan softly, “my pretty baby.”

you whimper as his hand slides down to your bottoms. you wait with bated breath as you look at him with hazy eyes. his hand slips down into your panties, and a desperate moan escapes your bruised lips.

“i just want to ruin you,” he chuckles breathlessly, teasing your entrance. he hovers over you, looks at you like a starving man as he pinches your clit. you yelp slightly. he taunts you, gaze full of faux innocence as he raises his eyebrows. “does it hurt, huh, sweetheart? do you want daddy to make you feel good?”

“oh fuck—” the moment that word comes out of his mouth, in his soft, breathy voice— you moan. you're pathetic. it's whiney and high pitched and so utterly desperate, it makes him proud to get a reaction like that out of you. and suddenly he understands a little more why you got so attached to him. he pecks your lips again, and smirks against your mouth. he teases your entrance with a single finger.

you whine, “please.”

“what did you say, hm?” he pretends not to hear you, pushing two fingers in. you've never been brave enough to use two even while masturbating— and his are long and thick. the stretch makes you wince. “come on, baby, tell your old man what you said.”

you try to capture his lips with yours again in hopes that he would stop teasing you. he chuckles breathlessly, then lets out a soft moan at the way your walls clench around him.

“i’m a sadistic, psychotic asshole, right?” he throws your words back at you, and you wince. you squeeze your eyes shut, bite down on your lips to hold back a needy whine. his fingers pull back and then thrust again, curling slightly. his thumb goes to your clit, rubbing it. you take a sharp breath, squirming on the bed as you moan again. he doesn't let up, “is that not what you called me? and now you want me to make you feel good?”

his voice grows serious again, face hardening. his motions stop. “apologize.”

your eyes snap open, and you look at him, surprised. “huh?”

“apologize,” he repeats, “for everything you said earlier. and i'll consider making you cum.”

that gets you to clench your jaw. you glare at him with narrowed eyes, chest heaving with frustration. but you won't do it. if anyone should be apologizing— it's him. he was the one who deceived you and ruined your life. and he hasn't apologized even once. he must think you're stupid. hell would freeze over before you apologize.

you almost reconsider your decision— but then again, his threat only stands if he leaves the players alive. he didn't say anything about language. you shake your head, your previous stubbornness taking over. “not a chance in hell.”

he snorts, looking at you, unamused. his facial expressions don't change, but you can see it in his eyes. little things like a twitch give him away. your heart drops as he pulls his hand out completely, his fingers glistening and wet. he brings them to his mouth, sucks the juices off so casually that it leaves you dumbfounded and flustered.

“i have no patience for brats.” he nods, standing up. you stutter over your words, mouth opening and closing like a fish. much like it did when you first met.

“b-but—”

“i have some work to do.” he announces coldly. you wonder if he's going to do something bad. he's having the time of his life, sexually and emotionally tormenting you. “i'll be back in a bit. i asked the guards to bring you some chocolate milk. feel free to tell them your favourite food for dinner.”

the sudden change in events has you so unbelievably baffled that you can't say a thing as he begins to leave. it's brutal, and it almost makes you want to cry.

“sir?” you call out softly, almost timidly. unsure of how to address him. you're not going to take a risk.

he stops midway, before sighing to himself. he turns to you, looks at the desperation in your eyes.

“inho is fine.” he remarks flatly, swallowing hard. he doesn't know why he decided to reveal his name to you.

perhaps because it would give him another excuse to not let go of you.

you keep looking at him, a devastated expression on your face. like you're dying inside. and maybe you are.

your only source of comfort is gone. you'd gotten too used to it in the past few days. now you wish you'd never met him.

the emotion on his face is unreadable as he walks back to you. he places a soft kiss to your forehead and turns to leave. you grab his hand. the prospect of being alone leaves you terrified. maybe if you can convince him to stay, be good for him, he wouldn't hurt your loved ones. you'll behave.

you start to miss how things used to be.

if things were different, he would have come back to you. he would smile as he walked through the door, and you would finally feel your heart pumping blood as you run to him. he'd drop his gun and hold you, and you'd cry into his chest. he'd ask you if you caused any trouble, and you would take him to your bed and tell him everything. you would tell him that 149 called him your father, and he would laugh— his old man laugh which sounds so sweet and makes his eyes crinkle. he would ruffle your hair and say something along the lines of, ‘with how many times i've saved your ass, i might as well be.’

from a younger age, all you've ever desired is comfort, something you never received. someone to hold you when you cry, to take care of you. protect you. you're sick of being the tough one. the mere idea of it was so far away for you, that the first show of affection and reassurance had you getting this terribly attached. perhaps, inho's biggest crime was taking that away from you.

“inho.” you whisper, visibly crushed. you don't even feel horny anymore. you just miss his comfort, his soft words of reassurance. his laugh. your eyes grow teary. “please don't leave me.”

he looks at you, contemplating. he sighs defeatedly, before grasping your hand properly. it's so warm, and you choke on a soft sob as the reality of your situation sinks in again. you're done for. there's no escape. you're alone, and there's no one to save you. your young-il will not come swooping in to protect you, because he was never there in the first place. you don't even realize when you break down into heartbreaking sobs, breathing ragged.

he isn't used to showing much physical affection. not after what he went through, not until you. and now with you like this, something softens within him. he sits back down on the bed, wordlessly leaning into you, his arms open. you feel utterly pathetic at how quickly you crawl into his lap, burying your face in his chest. you feel like you're betraying your team, but do you have a choice? perhaps you did. you could've chosen to be tough and refuse his affection. but the stakes are different now. your family's life is on the line.

you never stood a chance, not after you met him.

and you don't want to think of a single instance where you don't get to experience being held by him.

your morals are more fucked than you thought. even after all the threats, after him practically forcing you to stay, you can't help but desire his affection. you'll be selfish for once. what could you have done anyway? you would've died in there, and your family would be alone. if what he said is true, atleast now they can live a life of ease without any debts.

as for your team, 456 will look out for them. he's alive, afterall.

you force your mind to be silent.

“i miss you,” you wail painfully, your free hand clutching the fabric of his shirt.

he holds you like a child, a hand pressing your head close, the other wrapping around your waist. he shushes you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. he doesn't regret anything he did. you'd made him promise to come back for you, afterall. he always keeps his word. “i'm right here.”

you lean into his neck, and breathe in the smell of him. you squeeze your eyes shut till your sobs die down into the occasional hiccup. the stretch of your right hand and the rattling of the chains is another reminder of where you are.

perhaps if you stay hidden against his chest, you can try to convince yourself it's still your young-il holding you like this.

A/N: so! that's the end of dusk till dawn. this story truly was my joker. i tend to add a lot of psychological elements and character interactions so the fic feels more immersive and realistic, like you're really part of the game. i hope you liked it. can y'all tell who my favourite characters are? lol. also, i'm very horrible with smut so i really tried but i just can't write too much 💔 I'm mostly an angst girl as you can tell. anyways, this was a little self indulgent. thank you so much for the support you guys showed me, it truly means everything! i might write blurbs related to this specific couple from time to time, but no promises! maybe if i get good ideas or requests. anyways i rambled a lot. thank you for reading. feedback is always motivating.

tags: @bonelessghoul @cowuies @auspicious-lilana @politicstanner @verouys @gloriousjellyfisharcade @carolinevoight @shadowmoonlight0604 @ancrygurl @sunoon @jessgentleman @colorwastaken @loversroq @clown-around-and-find-out @popcorm @xcinnamonmalfoyx @robertthehoover @iloveoldermen0204 @kpopsmutty69 @iamkali

#raven writes #frontman x reader #the frontman x reader smut #hwang inho x reader #hwang inho x you #squid game x reader #squid game x reader smut #squid game fanfic #salesman x reader #player 001 x reader #player 456 #young-il x reader #lee byung hun x reader

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andypantsx3 · 9 months ago

Text

contents: general bakugou x princess reader; fem + afab virgin reader. nsft; oral (f receiving) & missionary. semi-sequel to this drabble. 3.2k.

Your wedding day arrives far earlier than you are prepared for.

It’s a tense affair, for you at least. The country depends on it, and you feel the scheming eyes of the nobility hot on your skin as you pronounce your vows to Bakugou. They will not take kindly to your having chosen him over their sons and brothers, over their own desire to rise to power. There will be a price they will want you to pay, soon enough.

The chapel is resplendent with sumptuous decor, the court in their finest. But the room is fringed with Bakugou’s men in their military leathers, a reminder that this is not a happy day, but rather a dangerous political stunt. It keeps the noble houses docile while they are in the room with you, but you know they will return to their estates and their plans.

Your fate is in Bakugou’s hands, now, in more ways than one.

The ceremony is dizzying, and impossible to wrap your head around. The preceptor pronounces Bakugou your prince-consort, ostensibly to remain so while you assume the throne after your father’s passing. You will continue to rule him as his sovereign. But your vows to Bakugou also promise him your obedience as his wife.

It is a contradiction, an impossible trap, the very reason why the general is the only man you could stomach the thought of marrying. If a husband is to rule you after all, Bakugou will do so justly.

The thought does not stifle your nerves, however, as you make your way back down the aisle, sit down to the reception, and take your meal. A disquieting, anticipatory feeling settles over you, fizzing under your skin. You barely pick at your dinner, and drink too much of the wine.

You can tell Bakugou notices, scarlet gaze ever-perceptive, though he does not say anything until you are shepherded to the bridal suite to consummate.

Various aides try to follow you in to prepare you, but Bakugou slams the door closed on them, propping it shut with one broad shoulder. He barks at them to scram.

“Lord General—that is, Your Highness,” one of them stutters through the door. “We are required to witness the consummation—to verify that it is complete.”

A bolt of shame goes through you at this, and you catch hold of one of the intricately-carved wooden bed pillars. Bakugou grunts, holding the door closed with one palm while spinning to the nearby dressing table and chair. He grabs the chair, wedging it forcefully up under the door handle.

“You’ll be sure of consummation when I’m done here,” he growls through the door. “Don’t need you little fucking perverts making eyes the whole damn time. Now beat it.”

A weird sound escapes you, something between a gasp and a laugh—at his promise, at his gruffness.

“Your Highness,” comes a plaintive entreaty through the door. Bakugou slams a fist against it, and you hear a squeal and a sound like someone’s fallen over their feet.

An absurd laugh seizes you, and Bakugou eyes you pettishly.

“The fuck’re you laughing about,” he says, but there’s no heat in it.

Your fingers twist on the bedpost, nervously tracing the lines. “You’re taking to your new post well.”

Bakugou’s features twist into something dangerously satisfied, a smirk painting his mouth. Your breath comes short.

“My post,” he echoes, raising an eyebrow. “As your husband.”

Your stomach swoops. The disquiet flames back to life under your skin, settling heavy in your gut like a stone.

“I supposed it is a post like any other,” you say, fixing your gaze on the ground. “There are responsibilities and… marital duties.”

You hear the soft tread of Bakugou’s boot as he steps away from the door, the rustle of his doublet as he draws closer. His many medals and ceremonial sword belt clink softly. It is a fashion you know he does not prefer, always living in his shirtsleeves—the better to fight in, to train in.

A calloused hand takes your chin, tipping your face up to his.

“You nervous, Princess?” he asks. His tone is obnoxious, as usual, but his crimson gaze traces your face.

You barely suppress a shiver under his touch. Your stomach churns with a thousand emotions and you find you don’t know how to feel. Relieved that you’ve made it this far. Annoyed with Bakugou’s composure and general manner. Apprehensive about what is to come. And warm, suddenly, all over. You do not want to examine why.

“Nonsense,” you sniff.

A feral smile curls the corner of Bakugou’s mouth like he sees right through you. “You’ve never been with a man.”

Your face burns but you force yourself to return Bakugou’s assessing stare. “I’ve never been to Musutafu, either, but I know it well enough. I should think I am… prepared.”

Something hot alights in Bakugou’s gaze, burning like a coal. It’s not unlike how he looked at you that night in the dark outside his chambers, when you’d first come to him with this wild proposal.

“And what do you think you know,” he says, flatter than a question.

Your nose grows hot. “Enough.”

A thumb slides along your jaw, settling against the pulse in your neck. “Answer the question, angel.”

Your face just might be on fire. You steel yourself, reciting dispassionately. “You will undress me and then… enter me. I shall lie still—they say you can breathe through the pain and it will go away after some time. You will… work yourself to completion. And then we shall be done.”

A snort comes from Bakugou. “Is that how you royal tightasses do it?”

You feel your eyes narrow. “That is how everyone does it.”

Your ladies in waiting had been very emphatic. All of them had spoken of the same mechanics. The initial discomfort, the pain, the way a husband moved upon his wife until he was satisfied.

“You don’t know shit, Princess,” Bakugou says.

You reach up to pull his hand from your face, but he tenses, arm growing solid and immovable.

“Explains why all you nobles are such fucking tight-buttoned pricks if that’s how you’re doing it.”

Your reply is startled out of you when his hand finds your waist. You take a step back, and then another, startling again when your back finds the wall. Bakugou follows you, eyes hot.

“You are insufferable,” you inform him hotly. “I am sure of the matter.”

“You’re always sure of a lot of things, Princess,” he says. His hand is back at your waist, and suddenly all your skin feels too hot and tight, stifling like a velvet dress in summer.

“I am sure you are the most obnoxious man on earth,” you say. “Now be quiet and commence with it. Let’s have done with it.”

Bakugou’s face is suddenly closer than you’d remembered it being.

“I’ll have done with you alright,” he says. “But I’m not gonna do it like you little uppity prudes.”

You find you can’t think of what he means, all of your thoughts clouded with his proximity, the feeling of his hand moving to your skirts.

“I—but there is only the one way,” you manage. None of your ladies had mentioned anything else.

Bakugou’s mouth cuts into a smirk again, and you hate him for how pretty it is.

“We’ll fuckin’ see about that,” he says.

And then his mouth is pressed to yours.

It’s nothing like the stilted peck you’d been obliged to give him at the ceremony—one that still left your face burning, for some unknowable reason. This feels entirely different in its intensity. Bakugou’s mouth is hot and soft and tempting and eager, and your body thrills with it.

Every inch of your skin feels like it zings with lightning when he licks into your mouth, and he presses you harder into the wall. You feel his groan all the way down to your toes.

“B–akugou,” you pant when his mouth leaves yours, only to stifle a yip when he moves down to your throat. He sucks a mark there, laving over it with his tongue, and you feel like you're melting in his hands. “That’s—not my—ah!—mouth,” you manage.

The tiniest scrape of teeth has you yelping again, and you find yourself clutching his bicep for purchase.

“No shit,” he says, leaving another mark lower, mapping his way towards your chest. Calloused fingers come up to cup one of your breasts, thumb swiping over your nipple through your stays. You catch hold of his hair, yanking a fistful of that flaxen blonde, clenching your thighs together.

“What are you doing?” you hiss.

Bakugou looks up at you, expression annoyed. “Consummating.”

“But you’re not undressing me,” you say. “And shouldn’t we—on the bed?

Bakugou raises a blonde eyebrow. “They tell you it needs to be on a bed, too?”

You blink, momentarily disarmed. It was quite literally called sharing the marriage bed—where else were you supposed to do it?

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same thing?” you eventually ask him.

Both of Bakugou’s eyebrows shoot for the moon, and he looks very suddenly like he wants to laugh. A grin yanks at his mouth, sharp and beautiful.

“I knew you’d be a fucking handful,” he says, his tone somehow both annoyed and delighted. “Don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about and you’re still trying to give me orders.”

You yank at the fistful of his hair you’re still clutching and he hisses, hand shooting out to grab yours. He works your grip off of him, pinning your wrist to the wall. The air in the room suddenly feels a hundred times thicker, like trying to breathe through honey.

“Listen closely, Princess,” he tells you, leaning in. “We're going to consummate, alright. But I’m not just gonna squeeze my eyes shut and stick it in. I’m going to do what I want first, and you’re going to be good and let me.”

Your face ignites in flame. You want to disagree reflexively. “If it’s going to be painful I’d rather just have it over with, if you don’t mind,” you say.

Bakugou stares back, scarlet gaze roving over you. “It’s not gonna be if you shut up and let me do what I want.”

You blink. You hadn’t heard that there was a way around the pain—why hadn’t anyone told you?

“I—really?” you ask.

Bakugou nods. “Really.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well then… you may proceed, I suppose.”

“You suppose,” he echoes, staring you down. The look on his face makes you want to lean forward and bite it off.

“Well get on with it,” you say, arching your eyebrows.

Bakugou looks for a moment like he wants to shake you. But he ducks his head instead, lowering his mouth to yours again.

“Gonna fuck that bossiness right out of you,” he mutters, low like he’s promising himself and not you. But then he kisses you again, muffling your gasp in his mouth.

You’ve never kissed another man, and do not have a frame of reference for what he’s doing. But Bakugou is a good kisser, you think. Every flick of his tongue feels like someone has uncorked champagne and poured it beneath your skin, and every brush of his mouth against yours sends a liquid heat racing through your veins.

You moan into his mouth when calloused fingers delve beneath the collar of your gown, dipping into your stays and pinching a nipple. He rolls it carefully, and you arch against him without any say-so from your brain.

“Been thinking about this, Princess,” he says. “Ever since I saw you in that little nightdress. Gonna show you what it really means to be with a man.”

You’re excused from answering by his mouth back on yours. Not that you think you could, with the way his fingers feel in the cups of your stays, or the press of a strong thigh between your own.

“Bakugou,” you gasp when he peels off of you, only to sink to his knees before you.

“It’s Katsuki,” he says, busying himself with the hem of your skirts.

“B–Katsuki,” you say. “What are you doing?”

Long fingers roll up the hemline of your dress, then yank at your underthings, exposing you to him. You gasp again, moving to cover yourself, but Bakugou pins you to the wall with an arm across your stomach, catching your thigh and pulling it over his shoulder.

“Husbandly duties,” he replies, another smirk on his mouth.

And then your head thunks against the wall as that mouth moves, pressing to you.

“Katsuki!” you shout, biting off into an embarrassing moan when he laves over you. No one had told you about this part—about how a man’s mouth there would make you feel like fireworks had just been lit off in your veins. About how a man’s mouth could even go there at all.

Bakugou doesn’t reply, kissing you there as he had your lips. A delicate suck from him over the cleft of you has you arching in his hands again, and you can quite literally feel him smirking against you.

He works you thoroughly, licking and sucking for what feels like torturous hours, but must only be minutes, until you’re a writhing, panting mess, only held upright by the arm he has banded across your lower stomach. There’s a pressure rising within you, pooling in all your limbs, making you shake and shiver with it, and what feels like no way to release it.

“Katsuki—I feel strange,” you say, bucking against his mouth. “Oh—oh!”

“Just hold on, sweetheart, and let yourself feel it,” Katsuki tells you, before licking back over you. A finger presses up inside of you, foreign but strangely good in conjunction with his mouth. Then another one presses in and they curl as if seeking something, making you twist in his grip.

And then something makes you jerk—the press of Katsuki’s fingers inside you in just the right spot, while he sucks on you, feeling like he’s touching the same place inside of you from both sides.

Something inside you snaps, uncoiling, pleasure flooding down you like a mudslide. You cry out Bakugou’s name, tears in your vision, riding out your pleasure against his mouth. Bakugou licks you through it, groaning low in his throat with appreciation.

“That’s it, Princess,” he says, tone rough. “Now you’re ready for consummation.”

You hear his words as if through a haze, and it’s only once you’re moving—being picked up and carried over to the bed—that you register what he’s saying.

He frees himself from his breeches, and stretches out over you, kissing your mouth. You’re embarrassed to taste yourself on him, but the press of him to you overrides that concern. In one smooth stroke he presses in, and you are shocked to find that he slides home easily, your core slick and ready.

It feels strange, but not at all unpleasant—absolutely nothing like what they’d told you.

“You alright, Princess?” Bakugou asks.

“I—yes,” you say, voice fluttering off when he flexes his hips, moving inside of you. The slide of him inside of you is unexpectedly good, especially when he lowers a hand to your core, pressing a thumb to that bundle of nerves at the hood of you.

“Feel good?” he asks, his eyes hot on your face. You cling to him, hips lifting into him unthinkingly as his thumb pets over you again, as he presses in and out of you a few more times.

You nod, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud.

He grins anyway, feral and fever-bright. His pace picks up into something faster, and you’re embarrassed to hear the slap of him against you, the eager way your body welcomes him in.

The band of pressure builds up inside you again, slowly, with every sure stroke of Bakugou inside you. He’s hot and hard and heavy over you, pressing you into the mattress, and the tops of his cheeks are flush with effort—the way he looks sometimes when he’s just come in from the training pitch.

He’s beautiful—handsome and strong and hot-headed and determined. And it dawns on you that he’s yours now—not just your subject but your husband, your prince consort, and now your lover.

It makes all your skin turn molten hot again, especially when you look down and see your knees have rucked his shirt up. You can see the flex of his abs as he thrusts between your thighs, all that golden skin and dense muscle.

The slide of him inside you and the sight of him over you is suddenly too much, and you feel yourself tip right over the edge again. Bakugou catches your hand as you lift it to muffle your cry, kissing over your knuckles.

“That’s it, Princess, that’s it,” he says again, ducking his head to kiss you.

You moan into his mouth as he fucks you through it, and he groans with the clench of you.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” he says against your lips, pace picking up faster. “Knew you would, sweetheart, yeah.”

Embarrassingly you feel almost like you could come apart again with the praise. Bakugou groans once more, and you can hear his grip tighten in the blanket next to your head. His hips buck and flex, wildly uncontrolled now, until he gives one final hard thrust.

His weight pins you down when he relaxes over you, his breath tickling over your shoulder. You find you like the weight of him on you, covering you, like a shield against the rest of the world.

Apt, for a general.

“Better than how you wanted to do it, wasn’t it, Princess?” he asks, smug.

You scoff, but you catch the flash of a white grin in the corner of your vision. There is really no question that he’d had the better of it, this time.

“Knew you’d see it my way,” he says.

Over him, you can hear the flutter of feet outside the door, some muffled discussion. Heat rises to your face when you realize the castle aids most definitely heard you cry out under Bakugou’s ministrations. There will be no doubt of your consummation now, regardless of whether you were observed.

“Nosy fuckin’ perverts,” Bakugou says, rolling off of you. You catch another flicker of his chest with the way his shirt gapes, and he looks doubly smug when he notices.

“Not done yet, angel?” he says.

“I am, thank you.” You flush, embarrassed at having been caught. But Bakugou stretches an arm out to yank you over him, pressing you down over his hips.

Your stomach flutters.

“Give me a couple more minutes, Princess,” Bakugou says, scarlet eyes flashing with heat once more. His hand raises to trail through your hair, catching in the wedding hairstyle they’d pinned you into.

“Five more minutes,” your new husband promises you, with a grin like the devil. “And then we'll give them something to really listen to.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo x you #character: bakugou katsuki #andie's writing

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lalunanymph · 5 months ago

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ΉΣЯ ΛПD ƬΉΣ ЯIVΣЯ

༊ on the most fertile moon of the year, rafayel finally claims you as his true bride and the mother of his future heirs

✯ warnings; sorta sequel to her and the sea but can be read as a standalone, rafayel x fem!reader, established relationship, MONSTERFUCKING, switch!rafayel, switch!reader, rafayel's lemurian form, sex in a bathtub, reader is coded to be feminine (wears a nightgown), mentions of mermaid genitalia, petnames (my little conch shell, my bride, baby, my love, miss bodyguard), size kink, handjobs, mentions of food, breathplay, breeding, mentions of previous oviposition, dirty talk, praise and degradation, language, let me know if i missed anything

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐊𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

Like how mashed kelp with prawn hearts were the perfect antidote to third degree burns, or a particularly nasty cold could be healed with sea turtle soup made from the bales found at the heart of Point Nemo’s trenches.

Another secret?

Male Lemurians—specifically those of the Sea God kinds like Rafayel—had a special mating ritual.

You had no idea what you were expecting when your boyfriend called you over to his studio on a random Tuesday morning. As you had a day off from Hunter duties, you decided to drop by and visit, seeing no harm in meeting Rafayel after the innocent text he sent you.

Miss your face, Miss Bodyguard. Care to indulge me with your presence? I wanna show you something coolio lol

You highly doubted the ‘lol’ at the end of his sentence meant anything innocent, but you had learned a long time ago to figuratively and literally go with the flow when it came to your mermaid boyfriend.

You kicked your bike to a stop by his gravel driveway, staring at the pearly domes of his studio slash home. His front door was left open and you let yourself in, trailing your eyes across the soaring, pristine white walls illuminated by the natural light coming in from Whitesand Bay.

“Raffie?” Your voice echoes along the empty hallways.

His huge French doors were left open, the salty sea breeze tugging right at your clothes and hair, bringing a chill into the otherwise sun-warmed room.

“In here.”

His voice floated from the bedroom and your suspicions flared, wondering what he was up to.

Ever since that night in the middle of the ocean when he claimed you in his Lemurian form, Rafayel was growing bolder with initiating you into the practices of his endangered people; from the unique seafood feasts he prepared for you down to the different books in a foreign language he loaned you, it seemed as if your boyfriend was eager to show you the full extent of his world and culture.

With an open heart and an even more curious mind, you padded to his bedroom where you found the entire space open and bright, the brilliant sunlight nearly burning your retinas. You had to squint and shade yourself from the sudden glare, spotting Rafayel waving at you from his huge bathtub in the middle of the room.

“My little conch shell. There you are.”

You padded over to him, smiling mischievously at the sight of his slick, and bare chest. The cool, crisp bath water lapped at throat, droplets of water clinging onto the tips of his lilac bangs.

“Did you call me over just to watch you splash around?” you tease, sitting on the bench beside the tub, dipping your fingers into the cool water.

Rafayel snorted and grasped your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, the skin of his digits slightly pruned from his time spent inside the water.

“Hardly. I wanted to ask you something… eh, more like, show you something.”

You heard a tremble of uncertainty in his tone which he tried to mask with his usual boyish bravado. Months of dating the elusive Lemurian artist gave you a deeper understanding of his personality, and you could tell behind the breezy invitation to his home, there was a deeper meaning and reason behind his need to have you here.

As if answering your silent, roaring questions, Rafayel turned his indigo gaze to the bright sky opening before the bedroom’s sunroof, the panels pushed to the sides to let in the afternoon heat.

“Do you know what day it is today?” Rafayel hummed, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. You had to scoot closer to avoid your arm from submerging in the tub, shaking your head with a teasing smile etched on your lips.

“Taco Tuesday?” you joked and he rolled his eyes. “I’m kidding!” you laughed and added breezily, “I’m pretty sure I didn’t forget your birthday or any anniversaries. So, why is today so special?”

Your boyfriend pointed at the bright sky, and you had to squint to follow the direction of his finger.

“Do you see the moon there? Looks like a thin piece of cheese?”

Following his guidance, you noticed the pale circle in the sky; almost see-through like a wisp, close enough to touch the burning sun in the horizon.

“Uh-huh.”

Rafayel snorted. “Well… today is a very special day for Lemurians because it’s the one time in the entire year when the moon and the sun will collide.” He gauged your reaction, the confusion on your face making him sigh deeply.

“Ugh, humans. Okay, think of it this way—do you know what controls the tides of the sea?”

A fairly easy question. “The moon,” you retorted, furrowing your brow.

Rafayel nodded sagely, like a professor trying to prove a point. “Okay. And do you know what helps things like plants grow?”

“The… sun?” You weren’t exactly sure where your lover was going with this, but you played along for his sake.

“Good,” he gets out of the tub and sits on the edge, and you were relieved to find him dressed in a pair of navy blue swimming shorts. Unable to tear your eyes off the water dripping down his muscular thighs, you coughed, feeling your face flush warmly as you mapped the shadows lengthening around the room; a sign of evening arriving.

“What does any of this have to do with the fact that you moved the tub from the living room to your bedroom?”

Rafayel gently grasped your chin, lifting your face up to meet his sparkling, bright eyes.

“Remember that night when we made love on the cove in Whitesand Bay… when I asked if you were comfortable with me putting my babies in you?”

You nodded, recalling the night like it was just yesterday. Though a week had passed since your last encounter together with him, you could still smell the sea breeze on your skin, feel the stretch of his mermaid cock almost tearing you apart inside out.

“Well, tonight is what we Lemurians dub the Fertile Moon—the one time of the year where the sun and moon orbit the closest to one another, and their energies are in sync to increase the life force of the ocean and its inhabitants. Do you get what I’m putting down, Miss Bodyguard?”

Your head was spinning, and you’re not sure if you can make out the innuendo behind his fragmented explanations.

“No… I don’t think so. Can’t you just tell me point blank what it is you want from me?”

You tried to scowl and sound demanding, but it came off as pouty and petulant instead.

He grinned, barely able to hide his chuckle when he turned those mirthful, indigo eyes towards you. “What I am saying, my little muse is that tonight is the one night where every Lemurian is encouraged to breed so that… conception and a pregnancy is a guaranteed success.”

The silence after his words rang like the aftermath of a blurted crass remark.

You blanched, eyes widening when he finally helped you put two and two together.

“Whoa, hold up—tonight is the night?”

Rafayel’s eyes twinkled, and he flickered them momentarily to your relatively flat belly.

“Remember those eggs I put inside of you? Well, tonight’s their night to shine. I mean, not literally. You’re not going to glow inside out like a pregnant sea monkey. But, if we made love tonight, it’s a 95% success rate of my babies taking...”

He trailed off, letting you absorb this fact. You take in a deep breath, wondering if this day could get any weirder. Though it had been your idea for Rafayel to show you how mermaids bred in the first place, you couldn't help the feeling that you were biting off more than you could chew.

Absent-mindedly, you touched your stomach, almost as if you were trying to feel the smooth, oval deposits your boyfriend had gifted to you 7 nights ago. But, you could barely detect their outline or their presence, wondering how the biological aspect of everything would work.

“Hey,” Rafayel touched your cheek, trying to get you to look at him. “Are you alright? Tell me what’s on that pretty mind, lovely.”

“It’s just,” you struggled to speak, and had to take a few, deep breaths to keep calm. “Is this really happening? You really want me to get pregnant with your babies?”

In response, his violet eyes softened, and Rafayel steps down from the tub, moving towards you and getting to one knee. He grasped your hands, bringing them in his damp ones and squeezed them reassuringly. “You can always say ‘no’, my little muse. I’m not forcing you to carry my eggs if you don’t want to, though I do wish with every fiber of my being that you would. Nothing would make me happier than to know the only woman I’ve ever loved will be the one to carry my heirs and the future of Lemuria inside of her.”

When he said it that way…

The idea of saving an entire civilization appealed to your naturally altruistic nature, and you couldn’t deny the allure of being the one person whom Rafayel trusted to go on this journey with. Besides, your lover would never let anything happen to you—he would be there with you every step of the way to take care of you and the babies, just like he promised before. And you know he will keep his promises till the end of time.

You nodded. “Alright. The Fertile Moon. Half-Lemurian babies. Let’s do it.”

Rafayel gently tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, his voice low and gentle.

“Are you sure? I mean, the choice to decline or accept is yours. I will be gentle, but tonight is one of the nights where I’m afraid nature vs. politeness will not be in play, my little muse.” There was a flash of warning in his eyes. You swallowed hard.

“What do you mean by that?”

Rafayel’s grip on your hands tighten, and he exhaled a sigh. “It means I might get… rougher… and if you can bear it, I will make it the most pleasurable night of your life, sweetheart.”

You paused, considering his words. “Will you hurt me?”

He shook his head instantly. “Never.”

“Will you bite me? Maim me?”

Rafayel shot you a look of exasperation, shaking his head. “No and no. Absolutely nothing will pierce you… well, not too much.”

The addendum stopped you short, and you gave him a cursory look. Rafayel ups the innocent act, gazing at you with his big, indigo eyes which tug on your heartstrings.

Eventually, you’re swayed by the look of pure hope in those wondrous orbs and you sigh.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll do it.”

Sealing the deal and taking him off guard, you lean forward, kissing him fully on his shapely lips. “Let’s make some half-mermaid babies tonight.”

The chill of the night seeped into your bare skin, the skimpy nightgown you wore barely covering your shins and arms. You had to drive back home and change, returning to Rafayel’s home with your heart in your mouth.

A part of you considered the repercussions of such a deal—the idea of carrying to term a human baby was already daunting, but now you had to factor in the baby being half-Lemurian into the mix.

The doors swung open, as if sensing you and admitting you within the heart of his space. Once drenched in sunshine and heat, Rafayel’s home was now saturated in shades of night, the windows kept open to let in the illumination of the moon’s rays seeping into the white walls and hardstone floors. You followed a trail of roses he left for you, right to the lip of his bedroom door. Heart thudding a mile a minute, you pressed your palms flat on the intricate wood and pushed it open.

Flickering candlelight danced across the walls, shadows growing with your approach towards the bathtub situated in the middle of the room like a crown jewel. Rafayel is nowhere to be seen, but you felt his presence in this space, watching over you—waiting.

As per his instructions, you sat at the edge of the large tub, big enough to accommodate one human and one undecidedly non-human person. The warmth of the candles gave you enough courage to lift your head and take a steadying breath.

But, that breath stuttered out into a whispery gasp at the feeling of strong arms wrapping around you. Rafayel’s lips found refuge in the crook of your neck, kissing up and down the delicate column of your throat. His palms spanned around your waist, dragging up and down your sides, committing your outline to his memory.

“My bride,” he muttered huskily. “You’re here.”

“Mhm hmm,” your voice trembled, and he could feel the fear rocking you apart. “I’m here… Are you ready?”

Rafayel doesn’t comment on the terror he hears in your tone, or how you’re shaking as if an earthquake is tearing you into two. Gently, he pressed a kiss to your temple, running his hands up and down your stomach in gentle, soothing swoops.

“Relax. It’ll be fine. I’m here and I won’t ever let you go, my bride.”

He turned you around, and you were confronted by the sight of his bare chest peeking from past a pale, purple robe, gossamer thin and clinging onto his muscular torso and arms. A smirk plays on his lips when he realized you were gawking at him, your attention a boost to his ego.

“Like what you see, Miss Bodyguard?”

Before you could reply, he slipped his fingers in between yours, tugging you closer to the bathtub. Rafayel unties his robe, letting it fall to the ground and you take it as your cue to remove your nightgown, as well.

Though getting naked in front of Rafayel was something you had done many, many times before, this is the first time you felt a spike of fear run up your spine. Your breathing came out in stuttering exhales, and you managed to slip the diaphanous material off your body, revealing your bare skin to his wandering eyes. The heat of his gaze was like a hot brand, and you could feel it tangibly caressing the expanse of your skin, imprinting your curves onto his artistic eye.

“You look beautiful, my bride.”

Rafayel gently guided you into the tub, and you shivered when your toes sank in the water, finding it pleasantly warmed. He got in after you, pulling you close to his chest, hooking his chin over your shoulder. The both of you stayed like this for a little while, holding each other close. The briny scent of the ocean floating in from the wide open sunroof above gave this moment a fairylandish feel, making you think you were in the middle of some fantastical dream.

You felt his lips right on your jugular, kissing over your pulse point and shivered.

“Don’t be afraid,” his voice had taken on a deeper quality, rumbling against your chest. “I won’t hurt you. It will feel good, my bride.”

Your eyes wandered to the sky, watching the moon burn at her brightest. Rafayel, too, took a moment to absorb the spectacular celestial sight shining from his window, his arms tightening around you.

Something about the romantic and sensual atmosphere finally got to you, and you turned around, straddling yourself on his lap. Your naked cunt bumped against his thigh, and you felt him shiver from the close proximity.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you hummed, leaning forward, close enough for your lips to touch, but not fully. “Raffie… I’m not afraid. As long as you’re here, I’m not scared.”

That was his cue to give into his primal, oceanic urges. Hungrily, he claimed your lips, those large hands moving to your waist to drag you flush against his body.

His quicksilver tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring it slowly; his hands roaming across your body, caressing you with a touch full of desire and need.

“Rafayel…”

He broke the kiss, leaving a string of spit connecting your lower lip to his, hanging tenuously like a heart about to break.

Your lover darted his tongue out, lapping at your bottom lip, his teeth following suit to dig into the plush flesh. He repositioned you upon his lap, tangling his fingers in your hair to tilt your face to the side so he could slot his mouth closer to yours.

This kiss under the moonlight, sensual and sweet, stole a part of your soul and refused to give it back.

Perching you on his strong, muscular thigh, Rafayel dipped his head lower, dragging lazy kisses down your jaw, your collarbone, his warm mouth wrapping around your nipples. His tongue teased them, getting them hard. You squirmed in his lap, getting wetter at his every touch.

“Feels good, my bride?” He hummed, mouth still latched around your hard flesh and you whimpered, nodding.

Rafayel grinned at your responsiveness, hearing your whispery plea of his name passing your lips.

His mouth was better than good—it was downright sinful and delicious. It felt like every sensation was amplified tonight, your body keyed up to receive his ministrations.

Please, you whispered into the dim night illuminated only by candles that bounced off the whiteness of his grin. Touch me more.

“As you wish, my bride.”

Rafayel paid special attention to your nipples, tweaking them, sucking on them, brushing his thumbs over the hard nubs. Your hips began to drag across the muscular plane of his thigh, rutting and twitching as you struggled to relieve the ache in between your legs.

“More,” you’re desperate to get closer, to feel him deeper in your body; needing to satiate the lust his touches ignited deep inside of you.

Rafayel hummed, a grin tugging on the corners of his mouth as he tasted your desperation, your need to get off.

“Mhm, I know,” he mumbled in between sloppy kisses raining down your neck, taking his time to taste your skin. “I know, baby. But, we’re going to take it slow tonight, yeah?”

Rafayel would be the death of you. His duality would never cease to render you speechless; bratty, pouty boyfriend in one breath and then suddenly, a teasing force of nature determined to get under your skin and leave you begging.

Your whine graced his heated ears, and he chuckled.

Rafayel… no… stop teasing me…

Already begging? Your lover raised his lips to the juncture of your neck, biting down softly to bring the blood up, leaving his mark there. That was quick—thought you’d hold up longer than that.

Your indignant sounds were masked by his mouth moving back to yours, kissing your protests away.

What was it you wanted to say, my little conch shell? He teased, trailing his fingers down your thighs, igniting goosebumps on your arms. I’m a tease? I’m not giving you what you want?

He adjusted himself in the tub, the water starting to run cool, sloshing over the edges to dampen the surrounding floor. He lifted you higher into his lap, running his warmed, slightly chapped lips down to your sternum, mapping his way down to the part of you which needed him the most.

You know, I’ve never done this with anyone… Rafayel whispered against your flushed skin, nudging you up further until your pelvis bumped his jaw. You’re always the first one I try new things with… his fingertips glide across your thighs, gently nudging them apart.

You make me feel human—make me feel alive. His words are lost in your skin as he muffled them with his kisses, leaving a trail of heat in between your thighs, leading right to your pulsing core. Rafayel can’t help but chuckle at the sight of your little, twitchy clit, waiting for his tongue or mouth to give her some attention.

His touches are languid, caressing your knees, your shins and thighs. He moved his fingers to where you needed him the most, focusing his touch on your throbbing clit, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the slick bundle of nerves which seemed to pulse his name with every touch.

“Rafayel,” your moans saturated the air, a blessing to his ears.

“Mhm… yes, my little conch shell? Feels good, doesn’t it?” His indigo eyes looked at you with pure hunger like a deadly current threatening to pull you under.

Yes, your breathy whimpers boosted his ego, drawing a smirk on his handsome face. The heat that he sets off in your body when he placed his mouth right on your inner thigh was nothing compared to the smoldering flame about to engulf you when he sucked a hickey onto your soft flesh.

“I can smell you—you’re practically drenched,” Rafayel slurred in between nipping kisses to your thighs, determined to leave his mark wherever he went. I just want to… fuck… he trailed off.

“What?”

Your breathless question made him laugh.

In answer to your winded curiosity, he brought his mouth closer, right to the apex of your thighs and exhaled, warm breath fanning across your folds.

“I just want to eat you whole.”

Warmth engulfed your cunt the second he murmured those seductive words, and your head was thrown back, your moan rebounding across the room.

You were so worked up, it was insane how you haven’t exploded yet. The taste of you saturated his tongue, dripping right onto his chin and Rafayel lapped you up like you were the water of life, drinking you down in desperate gulps.

Those pretty indigo eyes hazed over, his long lashes obscuring his gaze into half-mast as he worked your pussy over with his mouth. Using a slender finger, Rafayel teased past the tight muscles of your entrance, sinking down to his knuckle, curling it forward in a come hither motion as your hips stuttered and bucked.

Rafayel… oh, fuck…

He grinned at the sound of your trembling moans, and stretched your perfect cunt around a second finger, applying pressure to your golden spots, determined to make you see stars.

Without warning, you felt the girth of his thigh transforming underneath you, growing slicker, harder. Scale-like. The texture of his wrists you were grasping tightly became harder, the skin toughening and lengthening.

Water sloshed noisily down the rim of the tub, and from the corner of your eye, you caught the flick of an iridescent tail in mid-air.

Rafayel continued to eat you out, oblivious to your wide eyes and hitched breathing, needing to feel you shatter around his fingers. Latching his lips right to your nub, he traced his name right into your sensitive clit, enjoying how your thighs were tensing and trembling, struggling to hold yourself upright.

One large palm guided you to ride his tongue, grasping your hip and helping you glide yourself back and forth over the flat of his pink muscle.

Your fingers curled over the edge of the wide tub, one hand tangling in his hair to hold him closer.

Fuck, so good, your moans goad him on. So good, Rafayel. More, please… more…

He gave it to you, lapping at your swollen folds, feeling your juices stain his mouth, drip down his jaw.

The needy twitch of your hips and the tremble in your moans spurred him on to double his speed and precision, racing to get you right to the edge. From the depths of the deep tub, you felt something hard stirring against your thigh, the thick, scaly ridge a familiar rasp as it grazed against your soft skin.

“I’m close,” your quivering moan made his blood thump harder in his veins. “So close…”

Your orgasm washed over you like a hot tide, nearly making you buckle and lose your footing. Luckily, Rafayel hurried to clasp his larger, merman hands around your waist, holding you upright and slowly easing you down onto his lap. Your quivering moans go straight to his cock, and he was already hard and ready when you sank into his embrace, the tip of his monster girth poking your lower belly.

Without a second thought, you reached for his length, stroking his Lemurian cock with a loose grip, feeling his entire body constrict under your touch.

Rafayel expelled a soft groan, the back of his head thumping against the smooth marble of the bathtub’s edge. Scaly and with bumps that felt heavenly between your gummy walls, his cock was a wonder of nature that always left you speechless. Hooded indigo eyes appraised you, and his tongue briefly darted out to touch the corner of his mouth.

“You’re becoming more bold and audacious day by day.”

Drunk from your orgasm, you managed to give him a grin. “What did you say again—the most pleasurable evening I’ve ever had?”

Arching a brow, Rafayel snorted. “So, jacking me off is your idea of a pleasurable evening?”

Your lips touched his ear, warm breath fanning across his skin. “What if I said yes?”

Putty in your hands and susceptible to your every will, Rafayel had no choice but to let you have your way with him. His hips ticked, pushing his cock further up your weak grip, aching to earn more friction.

“I would say you got me there,” his voice lowered into a husky whisper. “You’re a handful, you know that?”

“But, I’m all yours to handle.”

His smooth and low chuckle sparked a shiver up your spine, that hazy grin and heavy lidded eyes making your stomach flip.

“Mhm, that you are, sweetheart.”

The water rippled from the motions of his hips undulating to match your strokes, a pinch appearing on his brow. Despite having a fear of the water, you felt safe in Rafayel’s arms, letting him hold you close as you continue to pleasure him.

“Do you want to—”

“I think we should—”

He paused, and you giggled at both your eagerness; the simultaneous need. Rafayel’s eyes twinkled with mischief, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

Without another word, your lover guided you onto his lap, gently pushing your hand away from his cock and gingerly lifting your hips.

It started out slow first, with the head of his Lemurian cock slowly breaching you, pushing past the trembling muscle of your spasming cunt. Rafayel was conscious of not slamming into you, knowing you needed time to get used to the sensation of his longer length stretching you out.

The sensation of his bulbous head sinking through your walls, and the feel of every ridge and bump hitting your swollen spots was enough to draw full body shivers from you.

“Fuck,” Rafayel shivered, his eyes darkening.

Your breath tumbled out in a shaky exhale.

Palms flat on his chest, you struggled to sink down on him, the water adding more lubrication to help ease you over his impossibly huge cock. The stretch made sweat bead across your brow and you gasped, rocking your hips forward, trying to take all of him in one go.

You okay? His mouth on your pulse point soothed you somewhat.

Nodding, you felt the bite of pain, your muscles protesting.

Rafayel took this chance to play with your nipples, tweaking and tugging on them; when that wasn’t enough, he decided to use his tongue and teeth to get them wet and hard, leaving your body aching for more. His thumb trailed to your clit, rubbing on it as he continued to suckle on your tits, giving them both his undivided attention.

Your pussy twitched around him and he murmured, let go for me, sweetheart.

The effort it took for you to calm yourself down enough to take him is tremendous, and Rafayel felt a burst of love and adoration for how much you were trying to please him. The hunger you showed to be perfectly good for him incited his need to spoil you even more, and he quickens the circles on your clit, trying to loosen you up so he could bottom out.

Once you were slick enough, Rafayel didn't waste anymore time, guiding you down on the last few inches, kissing you full on the mouth to quell your trembling moans.

“Fuck.” Your cries were intoxicating, driving him mad with desire when he finally sank down to the hilt, a bit of drool dripping from your parted lips.

Rafayel didn’t hesitate to lap at it, dragging his tongue from your jaw to your chin, tasting the salt of your skin. The moon bathed your skin with pale, silky light, and the artist swore if he wasn’t trying to put his babies in you, he would’ve taken this moment to paint you from scratch.

A tick of your hips. Your walls trembled around him.

Guttural groans softened by his lips pressed to your neck reverberated against your skin.

Holy shit, his curses sink past your flesh. Shit, shit—you feel like heaven.

Please, move. Your begging elicited a hoarse chuckle from the Lemurian.

As you wish, my bride.

Slow, tantric strokes. Rafayel’s grip on your hips was firm and solid. He kept a steady pace, fucking up into you, the tips of his tail flicking past the tub's rim, catching your eye with its iridescent brilliance.

Every stroke of his ridged cock rubbing against your gummy walls felt like a pulsing nirvana. Throbbing, hot, needy. You were completely Rafayel’s—you belonged fully to the Sea God of your dreams.

Mhm, yeah, he continued to fuck into that same spot, coaxing you with You like that? fuck you like that. Mhm yeah. Uh-huh—good girl.

The tips of his lilac bangs tickled your neck as he sucked more love bites into your neck, hellbent on marking you up as his own.

Effortlessly, he turned you in his embrace, encouraging you to press your hands on the bathtub’s edge. This newfound position placed more pressure on your G spot, the tip of his cock nudging that same spot over and over again.

Behind you, Rafayel made it a sport to leave as many hickeys as he could on your nape, your shoulders. The rough scales of his fingertips gripped the plush flesh of your ass, squeezing heartily.

You look so good taking me like this. His rough praise drew goosebumps across your entire body.

You tipped your head back, dizzy with lust, mouth parting wide open.

In the dimness of the candlelight, Rafayel’s lilac eyes glimmered like amethysts, his hair shining with an ethereal gleam.

“My love, do you trust me?” His heated question pressed into the back of your neck pricked your awareness. The stretch and the bite of pain which mingled with pleasure fucked with your mind, drawing you right to the edge where nothing in the world existed beyond you being impaled on his cock.

“Mhm,” your replying moan drew a trembling laugh from him.

I have something which will make it all feel better… but only if you trust me.

Rafayel tangled your hair in his fingers, and in this instance, you would’ve done anything for him.

You nodded.

The pleasure he bestowed on your wrecked body, the gentle way he was asking if he could make you feel even more good, did not prepare you for what he did next.

One second, your head was tilted back against his chest, and the next, you were plunged face first into the tub water. Your eyes opened wide, your entire body tensing with fear. Eyes burning, you opened your mouth to scream when he yanked you back to the surface, sputtering and crying out his name.

“Shit.” Rafayel’s movements doubled in speed, fucking up into you like he didn’t respect you one bit. You were panting, gripping the edge of the tub with white knuckles.

“Fuck,” was the only word you could manage to blurt out, the tension in your lower belly tightening.

If it was possible, the sensation of his cock splitting you apart felt even more delirious. Dizzyingly so.

Your eyes crossed, mouth hanging open, the slick pistoning of his cock in and out of your willing pussy making every nerve ending in your body burst into unending flames.

Raffie… fuck… do it again.

You were pleading for him to hurt you, the taboo nature of such devious desires making your blood pump harder.

There was no need to tell him twice.

Rafayel grasped the base of your head, and your world disappeared into the bottom of the tub, your body bucking wildly, fighting for oxygen as his cock continued to bulldoze into you.

He brought you up, and you gasped, coughing loudly.

Fuck, your voice was gravelly from swallowing some water. Fuck, that was so hot.

You weren’t the only one who thought so.

Shit, your lover groaned. I’m close, baby.

Lavishing you with praise for being so good, Rafayel held you close to his chest, your back bowing to take all of him in.

You’re amazing, love. My bride, my Queen. You’re going to be the best mother. The best mate. I love you. I love you so much.

The moonlight scattered across the rippling water, reminding you of that time when he had you right on the seabed and you watched the light breaking above the surface.

Come for me, my love. His grunts touched the sensitive shell of your ear. Come for me and make me feel good—are you going to be good for me?

Yes, yes. You chant. Yes, I will, Raffie.

Yes, my bride. Fuck—doing so good. Yeah, yeah. Come, come. Fucking make a mess on me.

You could never deny Rafayel what he wanted. At his command, you spilled all over him, your muscles tightening, threatening to spit him out of your trembling heat.

So good, so good for me. Coaxing you through your orgasm, he talked you through it, there for every tremble, every quiver and moan.

Your pleasure washed over him in waves, and he couldn’t hold back the tide, not when going over and spilling inside of you, claiming you as his, is what he has always wanted since the dawn of time.

Strings of heat splattered inside of you, filling you to the brim till you thought you could taste him in the back of your throat.

Rafayel continued to pump his hips, desperately trying to make sure not a single drop goes to waste.

When the comedown hits, it slammed into you hard. The exhaustion mingled with the fatigue of the adrenaline ebbing out of your veins.

You slumped back into his arms, and Rafayel was careful to slowly ease you off his half-hard cock, holding you close in his embrace. The possessiveness that dripped from his fingertips as they stroked through your hair, the heat of his body, warmed you up in the already cool water.

The chill permeated through you, though you barely felt it, not when Rafayel was by your side.

A soft kiss was placed on your jaw.

“Was it good?”

You nodded, hazy and dopey from the rush of hormones. “Beyond perfection.”

Rafayel chuckled at the dopey happiness alighting in your eyes, tightening his grip around your waist, nuzzling his face into your damp neck. Now that his primal instincts were cooling off, he could give your wrecked body the attention it deserved.

The warmth of his skin seeped into yours. Hard scales turned back to soft flesh, his huge tail transforming into a pair of legs tightening around your midsection, determined to hold you fast to his chest. Languishing in the cool water, you glanced up at the moon, noting a pair of wispy clouds drifting past her luminous facade, reminding you of a couple dancing past a huge celestial spotlight.

Rafayel rubbed your belly with one hand, and you didn’t have to ask him what was on his mind to know his raging thoughts.

Placing your hand upon his, you smile at him over your shoulder. The fall of his lilac hair, the softness in his eyes. It made your heart melt.

“Are you nervous?”

Your question, seemingly innocent, held a multitude of layers which he could unravel easily enough after having known you for close to a millenia.

“Of the babies? No,” he answered truthfully. “But, of how will things change between us? Yeah, I’m terrified.”

You readjusted yourself on his lap, facing him, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck. “Are you afraid I’m gonna leave you once I find out your babies are bulging inside of me?” you tease.

Rafayel’s pout was endearing, and you laughed, pinching his cheek. “Raffie… you’re so silly.”

He huffed, his palms drifting to clasp around your hips, pulling you flush to his chest. “Am I so silly or just worried you might still think I’m a freak?”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. “Ouch. You really underestimate me, my love. You’d think I’d let you do this if I didn’t want it?”

Knowing full well how independent and firm you could be, his worries abated slightly, a smirk worming onto his shapely and perfect lips.

“Of course not, Miss Bodyguard. You would never do anything if you didn’t love it.”

Your eyes softened. “Well, there’s your answer.” Under the luminous moonlight, your embrace tightened around him, bridging the distance between 800 years and this moment where you and Rafayel would finally be a family.

“I only do it because I love you.”

— rbs and feedback are appreciated !!

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or translate my work across other platforms.

#🦢 writes #rafayel smut #love and deepspace smut #rafayel x you #rafayel x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x y/n #lads rafayel #lnds #love and deepspace rafayel #qi yu x reader #qi yu love and deepspace #rafayel #mdni banner by me #l&ds rafayel #rafayel l&ds #l&ds #love and deepspace #seashell divider by @/ roseraris

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ha-rinrin · 3 months ago

Text

Torn Between Fire and Ice

summary: In a world divided between Piltover’s rules and Zaun’s chaos, a forbidden connection grows.

wordcount: 9.7k

pairing: Jinx x fem!reader (Caitlyn’s little sister)

warning: smut

sequel

masterlist

Zaun always felt different at night. The sharp edges of the day softened, and the endless noise dulled to a hum. Neon lights flickered in the distance, casting a soft glow over the worn buildings. You couldn’t help but smile as you made your way through the familiar alley, anticipation buzzing in your chest.

Jinx had been waiting for you, perched atop a stack of crates, her legs swinging idly. When she spotted you, that wild grin spread across her face, but it wasn’t the mischievous one she wore when she was causing chaos—it was the softer one, reserved just for you.

“Hey, troublemaker,” you teased as you approached, your heart lifting at the sight of her.

She hopped down from the crates with ease, her electric-blue hair catching the light as she landed in front of you. “Says the girl sneaking down here in the dead of night,” she shot back, her grin widening. “Pretty sure you’re the troublemaker.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto your face. “Maybe. But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Jinx’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the reckless, wild girl you knew faded away, replaced by someone softer, someone who let you see the side of her that no one else did.

She took your hand, tugging you gently toward her little hideaway—a tucked-away rooftop with a perfect view of the city below. It was your secret spot, away from the dangers of the Undercity and the watchful eyes of Piltover. Up here, it felt like it was just the two of you, like the rest of the world didn’t matter.

You sat together on the ledge, your legs dangling over the edge as the city stretched out beneath you. The hum of Zaun echoed in the distance, but here, in this moment, it was quiet. Peaceful. For a while, neither of you said anything, content to be wrapped up in the stillness of the night, just the two of you.

But the peace you felt was fragile. The thoughts you had been pushing away slowly bubbled back to the surface.

“I’ve been thinking about Caitlyn.” you said softly, breaking the silence.

At the mention of her name, Jinx’s playful demeanor faltered. Her eyes flickered with something sharper, a flicker of unease. She knew exactly who Caitlyn was—Piltover’s top Enforcer, the one person who could ruin everything for both of you.

Jinx’s legs stopped swinging, her carefree smile fading slightly at the name. She looked over at you, eyes cautious. “What about her?”

You sighed. It was hard to even say it out loud, but the more time you spent with Jinx, the more the worry grew. “I’m afraid she’ll find out… about us.”

Jinx shifted, standing up from the ledge and running a hand through her electric-blue hair. She crossed her arms, her expression tightening. “So what if she does? You think she’s gonna march down here and drag you back?”

“No, it’s not just that,” you replied, standing as well. “She’s been keeping an eye on me, asking questions. If she catches on… I’m worried she’ll see you as a threat.”

Jinx snorted, a sharp, bitter sound. “She already does.” She turned away from you, pacing a little. “To her, I’m just some dangerous criminal. A problem that needs solving.”

The words hung in the air between you. You couldn’t deny the truth in them, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. “It’s not that simple, Jinx. She’s doing her job, but I’m scared of what she’ll do if she knows we’re together.”

Jinx stopped pacing, her fists clenching at her sides. “What, you think she’s gonna throw me in jail? Put a bullet in my head?”

“Jinx…” The thought of something happening to her made your chest tighten. “I don’t know what she’d do. She’s determined, and once she’s on a mission…”

Jinx’s jaw tensed, her eyes flashing with that wild energy she tried so hard to contain. “Let her come. I’m not afraid of her.”

You stepped forward, grabbing her hand, holding tight. “I don’t want you two fighting. I don’t want this to end in some kind of showdown.”

Her eyes softened at your touch, though the tension still crackled under her skin. “Then what do we do? You gonna stop seeing me?”

The question hung heavy between you, but you shook your head firmly. “No. I’m not giving you up.”

Jinx’s grip on your hand tightened, her voice lowering. “Good. Because I’m not letting anyone take you away. Not her. Not Piltover. No one.”

You rested your forehead against hers, the warmth of her hand grounding you. “We’ll figure it out,” you whispered. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” she murmured, her voice softer now. “We’ll make it work. No one else matters, not when it’s just us.”

The world outside, with all its dangers and complications, felt far away as you stood there together, holding onto each other in the quiet of the night.

Jinx lingered in your embrace, the tension in her body gradually easing as your fingers brushed against hers. For a moment, it was as if everything beyond this rooftop didn’t exist. The weight of the world fell away, leaving just the two of you, hidden from prying eyes and the chaos that always seemed to follow Jinx.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, her fingers gently tracing a path up your arm. “You’re too good for me, you know that?” she whispered, a hint of vulnerability seeping into her voice.

You shook your head, smiling softly. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Sure it is,” Jinx teased, but there was a flicker of something else beneath the surface—doubt, maybe. Fear. “You’re the shiny one, always doing the right thing, while I…” She trailed off, glancing out at the city below, her lips pulling into a crooked smirk. “I blow stuff up.”

“Hey.” You gently turned her face back toward you, your thumb brushing her cheek. “You’re not just that, Jinx. Not to me.”

She blinked, her eyes searching yours as if she was trying to figure out how you could possibly believe that. “You’re crazy, you know that?” she muttered, but the small smile she gave you was filled with affection.

“Maybe I am,” you teased back, your voice soft. “But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care.”

Her grip on your hand tightened, and she leaned in, resting her head on your shoulder. “It’s just… what if we can’t keep this a secret forever?” she asked, her voice quieter now. “I know you want to, but… I don’t know what’s gonna happen if Piltover finds out.”

You could feel the uncertainty weighing on her, and it mirrored your own fears. There was a delicate balance between the life you had in Piltover and the dangerous world Jinx lived in. The fear of losing her, of something going wrong, gnawed at you constantly.

“We’ll take it one day at a time,” you said softly, wrapping your arms around her. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Jinx was silent for a moment, and then she let out a small sigh, melting further into your embrace. “You’re always so calm about everything,” she muttered. “I don’t get it.”

You laughed lightly, your fingers gently running through her blue strands. “I’m not as calm as you think.”

“Yeah, sure,” she grumbled, though you could hear the hint of amusement in her voice. She leaned back, looking at you with that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes. “I don’t deserve you, but I’m not letting you go.”

“You better not,” you replied, grinning.

Jinx pressed her forehead against yours again, her breath warm against your lips as she whispered, “You’re mine, and I don’t care what anyone says.”

The intensity in her voice made your heart skip a beat, and before you could respond, her lips were on yours, soft yet filled with a fierce determination. You kissed her back, savoring the way her arms tightened around you as if she was holding onto you for dear life.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes were softer, the wild edge gone for the moment. “Let’s stay here a little longer,” she murmured, leaning back into you.

You nodded, content to stay wrapped up in her warmth for as long as you could. The night stretched out before you, and while the world below was filled with danger and uncertainty, here, in this little bubble of peace, it felt like nothing could touch you.

For now, that was enough

You made your way back to the Kiramman mansion, the weight of the conversation with Jinx still lingering in your chest. As you entered the grand entrance hall, the silence felt almost suffocating. You had hoped to get back to your room undetected, to process everything in peace, but fate had other plans.

Before you could make it halfway up the staircase, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. You froze, already knowing who it was. Caitlyn.

“Where have you been?” Her voice was calm, but there was a certain edge to it, like a blade hidden in soft velvet.

You turned around to face her, trying to mask the nervousness rising in your chest. “Just out for a walk,” you said, your voice casual but your heart pounding in your ears.

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “A walk, huh? In the middle of the night?”

You shrugged, attempting to brush it off, but she wasn’t letting it go. Her piercing eyes studied you closely, searching for any hint of something she couldn’t quite place. “You’ve been acting... different lately,” she said slowly. “And I’m not blind. You’re slipping away.”

Your stomach dropped. You hadn’t expected Caitlyn to catch on so quickly. “What do you mean by that?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Caitlyn took a step closer, eyes narrowing as she studied you. “You’ve been... distracted. You’re leaving the house at odd hours, and I know you’re not just wandering the city aimlessly.” Her voice dropped into something softer but no less serious. “What’s going on? You’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, heart racing in your chest. The last thing you wanted was for her to find out about Jinx. “It’s nothing. Just... personal stuff.”

Caitlyn didn’t buy it. “Personal stuff? You can’t even tell me what’s going on? We’re sisters, you know. You don’t have to keep everything from me.”

You felt the pressure mounting, your mind scrambling for the right words. “It’s... it’s complicated, Caitlyn. You wouldn’t understand.”

Her eyes flickered with frustration, but she held herself back. “I don’t want to understand, I just want you to be honest with me. I’m worried about you.” Her voice softened, though the concern was still evident. “If you’re getting involved in something dangerous, I want to know.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. She was so close to the truth, and it terrified you. “I’m not getting involved in anything dangerous, okay?” you lied, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “I’m just... trying to figure things out.”

Caitlyn’s gaze lingered on you, searching for the cracks in your facade. You could see the doubt in her eyes, but she didn’t push further. “Alright. But if something happens, you’ll tell me, right?”

You nodded, trying to force a reassuring smile. “I promise.”

The tension in the air didn’t entirely dissipate, but Caitlyn seemed to accept your answer, for now. “Fine. Just... be careful, okay?”

“I will,” you said softly, but in the back of your mind, a fear gnawed at you. The more you kept lying, the closer you were to everything unraveling.

As Caitlyn turned and walked away, you exhaled a shaky breath. You knew you couldn’t keep this secret for much longer, but for now, you’d do anything to protect Jinx from Caitlyn’s prying eyes.

You had just left your room, wanting a moment of space from the constant buzzing in your mind. The house was quieter than usual, the echoes of footsteps from other rooms distant in the silence of the night. You made your way down the hallway toward the staircase when you heard voices coming from Caitlyn’s room, low and urgent.

You stopped, instinctively pressing yourself against the wall, straining to listen. It was clear that Caitlyn and Vi, her girlfriend, were in the middle of something serious.

“You can’t keep doing this, Cait,” Vi’s voice carried through the door, rough around the edges. “Pushing her, I mean. You’re just gonna drive her away.”

You shifted slightly, heart starting to thud in your chest as you pressed your ear closer to the door, trying to hear more clearly.

“I can’t just sit back and watch her self-destruct, Vi!” Caitlyn's voice cracked with frustration, more vulnerable than you'd heard in a while. “Every time I think we’re getting somewhere, she pulls away, and I don’t know why. I can’t stand seeing her spiral like this.”

Vi’s response was softer, more measured. “I know, but you're doing more harm than good. You’re her sister, Cait. She needs you, but she also needs space. And right now? She’s not gonna give you that if she feels cornered.”

There was a pause, and you heard the shuffle of movement from inside. You couldn’t help but picture Caitlyn pacing, her worry turning into a tangled mess.

“I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.” Caitlyn’s voice softened, the raw emotion in it a stark contrast to her usual composed demeanor. “She’s been hiding something. I can feel it. She’s been sneaking around, and I don’t think it’s just the usual trouble. What if she’s involved in something… dangerous? What if she’s already in over her head?”

Vi sighed. “Maybe she’s involved in something, but don’t jump to conclusions, Cait. You don’t know the whole story. It’s not always as simple as we think it is. We can’t protect her by controlling everything she does.”

You swallowed, hearing the panic creeping into Caitlyn's voice. “I know. But if I can just get through to her, if I can get her to open up—”

“Then you need to back off, Cait. She’s not gonna open up if you keep trying to pry everything out of her.” Vi’s voice was steady, offering the kind of grounding Caitlyn probably needed right now. “She’ll come to you when she’s ready, but only if she feels safe. You have to let her make the choice.”

There was another pause. You could almost hear Caitlyn's thoughts racing. Her silence spoke volumes, and you knew she was struggling, torn between her protective instincts and her desire to respect your space.

“You know how stubborn she is,” Caitlyn finally murmured, her voice quieter now, almost defeated. “She won’t let me help her. I just… I can’t lose her, Vi.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. Caitlyn's fear wasn’t just for your safety—it was for her own place in your life. You felt that pang in your chest, a mixture of guilt and affection. She loved you. But could she ever accept everything about you? Could she accept Jinx?

“I get it,” Vi said, her voice softening as well. “But you can’t fix her by forcing her to change. If she feels like you’re pushing her into something she’s not ready for, she’s just gonna shut you out.”

The silence that followed felt heavy. You swallowed hard, barely breathing, afraid that any noise you made might give you away. You wanted to open the door, to step into the room and end this conversation before it spiraled further. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t let Caitlyn know everything just yet. Not until you figured it out yourself.

Finally, Caitlyn spoke again, her voice barely a whisper. “I just don’t want to lose her.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of her words making it harder to breathe. You knew she cared. But how could she ever understand? How could she accept what you’d gotten yourself tangled up in? How could she accept Jinx?

You turned away from the door, your heart pounding, and slowly made your way back down the hallway. Caitlyn’s words and Vi’s advice buzzed in your ears, a quiet reminder that no matter how much you wanted to protect your sister from the truth, the truth was already starting to slip through the cracks.

You sat on your bed, staring at the ceiling, the stillness of the mansion pressing in on you.

That’s when you heard it—the softest sound, almost imperceptible. The window creaked open.

Before you could even turn, she was there.

Jinx, perched on the windowsill, her wild blue hair framing her face in the soft moonlight. She looked like a storm waiting to happen, electric energy crackling around her even in the stillness. She didn’t announce herself, didn’t need to—just slid in as if she owned the night.

Without a second thought, you shot to your feet and rushed over to her.

"Toots," she greeted you with a wicked grin, her eyes twinkling. "Miss me?"

You didn’t answer right away. You didn’t need to. You just grabbed her, pulling her into a tight hug, burying your face in her shoulder as if she was the only thing that could make the world feel okay again.

She didn’t mind, of course."Whoa there" she murmured, her voice low. She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in even closer, her hands rubbing your back in slow, comforting circles.

Your eyes widened for a moment, but you quickly glanced toward the door. Caitlyn’s room was only a few doors down. If she heard any noise, if she woke up… panic flooded your chest.

Jinx noticed the shift in your expression, her lips curling into a smirk. “What’s up, toots?” she whispered, voice playful yet low. She didn’t need to say more—her eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous energy. “Scared she’ll hear us?”

You quickly nodded toward Caitlyn’s room. “She’s close… what if—what if she wakes up?”

Jinx tilted her head, the playful smirk still tugging at her lips. “She’s got her own thing, don’t worry. She won’t come barging in.”

You tried to calm yourself, but the dread still gnawed at you. Caitlyn was so close, and you couldn’t help but imagine her walking in, seeing you and Jinx, and everything unraveling. Your stomach churned at the thought.

Sensing the tension in your body, Jinx didn’t wait for an invitation. She crawled into bed dragging you beside her, her lithe body pressing up against yours as she wrapped her arms around you. She nestled into you, her cheek against yours as she whispered in your ear, her voice low and soothing, “Relax, toots. It’s just you and me. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into her embrace. Her scent was comforting, her touch grounding. The fear of Caitlyn hearing you slowly began to fade as Jinx’s presence filled the space. She could make the whole world seem small, as if it was just the two of you in that moment.

Jinx’s arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer. She pressed a soft kiss to your temple and whispered, “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re not gonna lose me, promise.”

You felt your muscles relax under her touch, the weight of the world, and Caitlyn’s potential judgment, slipping away for just a moment. “Promise?” you murmured, still clinging to her.

Jinx hummed in contentment, her fingers softly stroking your back. “Promise.” Her voice was almost playful, but there was something deeper in it—a quiet certainty. “Now stop worrying, toots. You’re stuck with me.”

You buried your face against her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her in return. For now, nothing mattered except the warmth of her body next to yours, the steady rise and fall of her breath.

Caitlyn’s room, the mansion’s walls, the fear—they all seemed a distant thing.

With Jinx here, you were safe. And in this moment, it was just the two of you

You woke up to the warmth of the bed, but the space beside you was cold. You blinked, groggy from sleep, and glanced around. No sign of Jinx.

For a moment, panic gripped your chest. Had she left without waking you? But then your eyes landed on the small piece of paper folded neatly on your pillow, the edges crinkled with the telltale signs of Jinx’s handwriting.

You picked it up, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. It was so her—scrawled across the paper in jagged, playful lettering:

"Hey, toots. Had to bail. Big plans. But I’ll be back. Promise. You can’t get rid of me that easily. Don’t miss me too much, alright?”

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You read it over a few more times, your heart warming. But there was no time to linger. You had to get going. Jinx was already off doing her thing, and you had a million reasons to meet her at her hideout.

Just as you were about to step into the hallway, Caitlyn appeared. Her eyes caught yours, sharp and calculating.

"Going somewhere?" Her tone was casual, but you could hear the underlying suspicion in her voice.

You froze, unable to hide the tension in your body. "Just going for a walk," you muttered, but you could hear the lie hanging in the air.

Her gaze narrowed, clearly not buying it. "At this hour? Why are you disappearing. Avoiding me. What's really going on with you?"

A rush of frustration surged through you. You weren’t in the mood for this. Not now. "I’m fine," you shot back, your voice sharp. "I just need some space, Cait."

But Caitlyn wasn’t letting you off the hook. She stepped closer, her arms crossing over her chest. "Space? You’re acting like you’ve got something to hide. What is it? You’ve been distant, constantly avoiding me. Are you in some kind of gang or what?"

You could feel your chest tightening with every word she spoke. She didn’t know. She couldn’t know.

"I told you. I’m fine," you snapped, the words coming out with more bite than you intended.

Caitlyn’s eyes flashed with something hurt and frustrated. "No, you’re not fine! I know you, okay? You’ve been acting strange. Something’s wrong, and I’m not just gonna sit here and pretend it isn’t!"

You could feel the heat rising in your chest, the anger starting to boil over. "You don’t get it, Caitlyn!" you shot back, your voice rising with each word. "You don’t understand! I don’t need you to control me, okay? I can take care of myself."

Caitlyn's eyes widened, her jaw tightening. "I’m not trying to control you!" she shouted, her voice cracking with frustration. "I’m trying to help you! But if you keep pushing me away, how am I supposed to help?"

The argument was spiraling out of control, each word cutting deeper than the last. You could feel your heart pounding in your throat, a hot surge of anger making everything feel suffocating. You were done with this.

"Stop!" you yelled, voice shaking with emotion. "I don’t need you to fix everything! I just... I just need to do this on my own!"

You turned, fists clenched at your sides, not even sparing Caitlyn another glance. You were done. The tension, the secrets, the constant pressure—it was all too much.

Before she could say anything else, you marched toward the front door. Caitlyn’s voice rang out behind you, frantic. "Wait! Where are you going? We’re not done talking about this!"

But you couldn’t stay. You couldn’t listen to any more of her concerns. You couldn’t deal with her seeing you fall apart when you were so sure of one thing—Jinx was the only one who made sense to you. Jinx was the only one who understood.

You threw open the front door, not even bothering to look back as you stormed out. You didn’t care about the mansion, or the mansion’s rules, or Caitlyn's feelings right now. You needed space. You needed to find Jinx

The familiar creak of the door echoed through the hideout as you entered, your eyes adjusting to the dim, flickering lights. The place was as chaotic as ever—broken tech scattered around, wires crisscrossing like webs—but it felt like home, wild and untamed, just like her.

And there she was.

Jinx. She was perched on the edge of an overturned crate, blue hair glowing faintly in the dim light, eyes immediately locking onto you. Her grin was a mix of mischief and something deeper, something that made your chest tighten. She was trouble, always had been, but damn if it didn’t feel like you needed that trouble right now.

"Miss me, toots?" she asked, her voice dripping with playful confidence, as if she already knew the answer.

You barely heard the question. Without thinking, you crossed the room in quick, purposeful steps, the weight of everything outside—the argument with Caitlyn, the constant stress of trying to keep everything in balance—bearing down on you like a hundred-pound weight. All of it was exhausting. All of it was too much.

But Jinx?

Jinx was different.

She was already in front of you before you even realized it, her hands grabbing you by the waist and pulling you toward her with such force it made your breath hitch.

“You’re looking all wound up, toots. What’s got you so strung out?” she teased, her lips brushing against your ear. “Is it Caitlyn?” Her voice dropped lower, a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “She doesn’t get it, does she? Doesn’t get you. Doesn’t get us.”

You froze for a second, but Jinx didn’t give you time to think. She was relentless, pulling you in closer, her body pressing against yours like she was trying to erase every ounce of tension. “Don’t worry about her,” she whispered, her fingers trailing along the hem of your shirt, lifting it up just enough to send a ripple of warmth through your skin. “That’s all behind us now.”

You inhaled sharply, the proximity to her sending your mind spinning. You needed this. Needed her. The thought of Caitlyn, of everything you’d left behind, seemed so far away in this moment. It wasn’t about Caitlyn anymore. It was about Jinx.

Without a word, you pulled her closer, your arms winding around her, your face pressing into the wild, untamed mass of blue hair. “I’m so tired of all the drama,” you murmured against her, your fingers finding their way to the back of her neck. “I just want to forget about it all.”

Her hands slid down your sides, her touch featherlight at first, teasing. “Then forget,” she whispered, lips brushing against your ear. “I’m done with all that outside bullshit. No more stress, no more worries. It’s just you and me, toots. Let me take care of you.”

Your breath caught at the intensity of her words, and before you knew it, her lips were on yours. The kiss was soft at first, almost sweet, like she was savoring the moment. But the longer it lasted, the more it deepened, turning into something more desperate, more urgent. Her hands roamed, pushing you back against the nearest crate as she pinned you with her body, her touch sending sparks of heat straight to your core.

“You need to relax, toots,” she murmured against your lips, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye. “And I’m really good at making you forget everything.”

You didn’t hesitate this time, your hands slipping into her hair, pulling her back into you. She made the stress of Caitlyn and everything else vanish, just like that. All that mattered was her.

Jinx pulled you toward the couch getting on top of you, her fingers grazing under your clothes with a slow, teasing touch. She was in control now. She always had been, but tonight, it was like she was finally pushing all of your worries aside. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your neck as her hands slid lower, finding the sensitive spots she knew would make you melt.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. “You deserve this. No more bullshit. Just me. Just us.”

It felt like the world outside didn’t exist anymore. No more Caitlyn. No more stress. Just Jinx, her hands, her lips, her body against yours, making everything else fade away.

The room was thick with the heat of your shared space, the world outside slipping away like a distant memory. The only thing that mattered, the only thing you could focus on, was Jinx—her lips, her hands, the way she made you feel as if nothing else existed.

Her hands slid under your shirt, fingers grazing against your skin with a deliberate slowness that made your breath catch. Her fingers circled your nipples, pinching them under your bra. She was being playful, teasing, as if she knew exactly what it would take to undo you. And god, it was working. Every touch sent waves of warmth radiating through your body.

You moaned softly, your head tipping back as her lips kissed a trail down your neck. The sound of her voice, low and mischievous, echoed in your mind, but all you could do was hold onto her, feeling her pull you closer, needing her in a way that was raw and unfiltered.

“Relax, toots,” she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear. “You don’t need to think. Just feel.”

She tugged at your shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion before her hands were back on you, tracing the curve of your back and waist, sending shivers down your spine.

You ran your hands down her arms, pulling her even closer, feeling the press of her body against yours. You needed this, needed her, more than you could put into words. The tension you’d been holding onto—everything from Caitlyn’s confrontation to the constant weight of your own responsibilities—melted away with every kiss, every caress.

“You’re mine tonight,” she muttered, her voice a mixture of mischief and desire. She pulled away just enough to look at you, her eyes dark with promise. “No more drama. No more distractions. Just us.”

The intensity of her gaze made your heart race. Her lips found yours again, harder now, more urgent, as if she couldn’t wait another second. And you didn’t want her to. You wanted this. You wanted her.

Her hands moved faster now, working quickly to undress you. The fabric was quickly discarded, and her fingertips grazed over every inch of exposed skin as she kissed you deeply. You could feel her pulse racing under her fingertips, the way her body reacted to you just as much as yours did to her.

When she pulled back for a moment, panting lightly, she let her fingers trail down your body, stopping just above your waistband. “Tell me you want this,” she whispered, her voice thick with need. “Tell me you want me.”

You gasped at the intensity in her voice, your hands moving to her waist to pull her closer again. “I want you,” you breathed, the words feeling almost too simple for what was building between you two. “I need you, Jinx. Don’t stop.”

Her grin grew wider at that, the playful spark in her eyes never fading. She leaned in to kiss you again, and this time, there was no holding back. The kiss was all heat and hunger, the kind of kiss that made you forget everything except the electric connection between you.

Jinx’s hands were on you again, moving with purpose. She kissed you harder, more desperate. “That’s right,” she murmured, her lips never leaving your skin. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

And you did. You let go of everything—the stress, the drama, the fight. All you cared about was her, the way she made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered. The way she made you forget everything that wasn’t this moment.

She kissed her way down your body, her lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin as she made her way to the waistband of your pants. You could feel the anticipation building inside you, the need for her becoming unbearable.

Her fingers dipped lower, pushing the waistband of your pants down along with your underwear, and you gasped as the cool air hit your skin. The contrast between the warmth of her hands and the sudden chill made every nerve in your body stand at attention.

Her smirk deepened as she leaned down, eyes dark with mischief and something much more primal. With a quick motion, she slid her hand down your body, her fingertips grazing over your sensitive skin. You barely had time to react before she thrust her fingers in you, quick and confident, making you gasp in surprise.

"Just relax, toots," she murmured, her lips brushing against your clit as her smirk never wavered. "I’m gonna make you feel good."

The sudden intrusion was sharp, but there was something about the way she moved that had you melting into her touch, your body arching up to meet her. Every nerve seemed to be on fire as she worked you, teasing you just enough to leave you begging for more. Her smirk told you everything you needed to know—this was her moment, and you were hers.

She set a rhythm, slow at first, watching you closely as you squirmed beneath her, unable to hide the way her touch unraveled you. She leaned down to kiss you right were you needed her, tongue sliding against your clit, you moaned, the feeling making you see stars.

“You like that, don’t you?” she breathed against your clit, her pace picking up, more urgent now. “I could do this all night.”

You moaned, breathless from the sensation, your hands gripping her hair, needing her closer. "Don’t stop," you whispered, voice trembling.

And she didn’t. Jinx’s fingers worked with a relentless intensity, thrusting deeper, faster, at the same time her tongue was restless, sucking, flicking, you name her smirk only grew more wicked the louder you moaned. She knew what she was doing. She knew the effect she had on you. And God, you were desperate for it. For her.

The intensity of Jinx’s movements made your heart race, each shift of her body pushing you closer to the edge. She knew exactly what she was doing—her touch was confident, assured, like she was claiming something that was already hers.

You could feel her smirk against your skin, the way her lips curved into that playful, dangerous smile that made everything about her feel like a rush of adrenaline. Every flick of her tongue and every thrust of her fingers pushed you closer to the edge, but it wasn’t just the pleasure that had you unraveling.

And then, it happened. Jinx’s fingers found just the right spot inside you, pressing in deep with a precision that stole the breath from your lungs. The way she touched you—exactly where you needed it—made your entire body jerk in response, a sharp gasp escaping your lips.

It was as if the world narrowed down to that one spot, to the feeling of her fingers curling inside, hitting a place that made your legs tremble and your pulse spike. The pleasure was overwhelming, pulling you under in a way that left you breathless and dizzy, your body reacting to her touch with instinctive urgency. She felt you shudder, the way your walls tightened around her fingers, and her smirk only grew, that mischievous gleam in her eyes darkening with each desperate movement.

“Found your sweet spot, huh?” she purred, her voice low, thick with satisfaction. She didn’t stop, her fingers continuing to work you with an expert rhythm, knowing exactly how to draw out every inch of pleasure.

Her eyes never left yours, studying the way your body responded, the way you melted against her. “Don’t try to hide it,” she whispered, her fingers pressing harder, deeper, hitting that same spot again and again, pushing you closer to the edge.

Your head tipped back, a soft moan escaping you as she coaxed the pleasure from you with relentless skill. You could feel yourself coming undone, everything inside you tightening as she took you to the brink. The pressure was unbearable, but it was the good kind—the kind you couldn’t pull away from even if you wanted to.

Jinx’s fingers never slowed, working you with a steady, practiced rhythm that had you gasping for air. Every time she pressed deeper, hitting that perfect spot, your body reacted like it was on fire. It was almost too much, but you couldn’t pull away. Not when she was giving you this—showing you just how much control she had over every part of you.

Her smirk didn’t fade. In fact, it seemed to grow with every reaction she got from you. The way you shuddered, the way you clenched around her, it only made her want to push further, to make you unravel completely.

"Look at you," she murmured, her voice a velvet whisper against your skin as her lips pressed against your neck. "Can’t even breathe, huh? You’re mine. Don’t forget that."

You couldn’t even muster the strength to argue. The words tangled in your throat, choked out by the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. Every movement of her fingers, every flick of her tongue,every suck on your clit, was a blow to your restraint. You were quickly losing yourself in her touch, the pleasure swirling inside you, coiling tighter with every second.

Her lips found your clit again, deep and urgent making out with it, as if she couldn’t get enough of you. She was everywhere—her scent, her touch, the feel of her pressing against you, pushing you further into the abyss of heat and desire.

"Do you feel that?" she breathed against your pussy, her fingers circling inside you with a teasing slowness, making you whimper in frustration. "You like the way I touch you, don’t you?"

Her voice was a low, seductive whisper, just close enough to drive you wild but not close enough to keep you from chasing after her. She had you completely under her spell, and you could feel it in the way your body reacted to her every move, every subtle shift.

The tension inside you was unbearable now. You were so close. You couldn’t stop the desperate need that was rising inside you, the way your body craved release, craving her touch more than anything else.

"Jinx..." you gasped, your hands gripping her hair as you tried to ground yourself, to hold on. But it was slipping away—slipping fast, and you didn’t want to stop it.

She responded with a deep, almost growling laugh, her fingers never stopping their relentless pace.

You needed her, wanted her in a way that went beyond what you thought you were capable of. Her words, her touch, everything about her was pulling you under, breaking down every barrier, every thought that stood between you and the release you so desperately needed.

With a final thrust of her fingers, a quick flick of her tongue, she pushed you over the edge. It hit you like a tidal wave, crashing through every part of you. Your whole body trembled, your back arched off the bed as the pleasure flooded you in waves, leaving you breathless and dizzy.

Jinx’s smirk softened, her fingers slowing as she kissed you in the lips, this time tender, soothing. “Told you I’d take care of you,” she whispered, her voice low and filled with satisfaction.

You couldn’t respond immediately, still reeling from the intensity of it all, but the weight of her presence, her hands gently caressing your body, made everything feel right. She wasn’t just a force of chaos in your life—she was the storm and the calm, all in one.

"You’re perfect," she murmured, pulling you close and letting you rest against her chest, both of you still tangled in the aftermath.

The room was quiet now, except for the sound of your breaths coming back to normal. You didn’t need to say anything else—Jinx had always known exactly what you needed, when you needed it.

And you both lay there in the aftermath, bodies entwined, feeling the warmth of each other’s presence, the only thing that mattered in that moment.

The room was still as Jinx pulled you close, her arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that contrasted the wildness of the moment. She kissed the top of your head gently, her lips lingering there as she breathed you in, as if memorizing the feel of you in her arms.

"Hey," she whispered, her voice softer now, the playful edge gone. "You okay?"

You nodded against her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart under your cheek. Her skin was warm, her touch soothing as she ran her fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp gently. It was grounding, calming, the contrast to everything that had come before.

"You were incredible," she added, her voice full of admiration, her thumb brushing along your jawline. "I mean it. You’re... amazing."

You looked up at her, meeting her gaze, and smiled softly, still trying to catch your breath. "You too," you murmured, your voice hoarse but sincere. "You never fail to impress me "

Her lips curved into a small smile, her eyes softened as she kissed your forehead, her touch tender as it lingered on your skin. “Good,” she whispered, her voice low but full of warmth. “Just... don’t forget that you’re mine. You hear me?”

You could hear the need in her voice, the way she craved that reassurance, and you knew it wasn’t just about the physical. She wanted to know you were here, with her, for her.

"I’m yours," you whispered back, your hand resting on her chest, feeling the rhythm of her heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

Jinx’s expression softened, and she pulled you closer, curling her body around yours as if she never wanted to let go. The room grew quieter, filled only with the sound of your shared breaths, the soft hum of connection. She was still holding you tightly, but there was a gentleness now, a peace in the way she held you as if she were making sure you were okay, that you felt safe.

"You did so good," she murmured again, pressing a light kiss to your lips. "Just... rest, yeah? I’m here."

You closed your eyes, the weight of everything melting away in her embrace. There was no need for words now. Just the warmth of her body next to yours, the calm after the storm, and the quiet knowing that you were both in this together.

And for a while, nothing else mattered

The mansion felt empty, the stillness wrapping around you as you stepped through the door. The fire crackled in the corner, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Caitlyn and Vi sat in the living room, both tense, eyes fixed on you as you walked in. Vi didn’t speak, but her presence was enough—silent support, waiting for Caitlyn to take charge.

As soon as Caitlyn saw you, her eyes narrowed, and she stood up. “Where the hell have you been?” Her voice was sharp, more demanding than concerned.

You let out a short breath, avoiding eye contact. “Out,” you muttered, shrugging off your jacket, your pulse already picking up. You didn’t need this right now.

“Out?” Caitlyn's voice rose, frustration building. “You’ve been vanishing for days. Coming back late at night, like everything’s normal. What’s going on?”

You stared at her for a long moment, your chest tightening. You weren’t ready to explain, not like this. “What’s going on?” You laughed, though it was harsh, bitter. “You don’t know anything. You don’t have any idea what’s really happening.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flashed with disbelief, taking a step forward. “Then why don’t you enlighten me? Because right now, it looks like you’ve lost your damn mind. Running around, hiding away—what is this?”

You could feel your temper rising, the words coming out sharper than you intended. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Cait. You don’t get to tell me how to live my life.”

Her expression darkened, her fists clenching at her sides. “I don’t need to tell you, but I’m damn well going to ask,” she snapped. “Because this—this is not you. You’re acting like you don’t care, like it doesn’t matter. I’m not gonna sit back and watch you destroy yourself without asking why.”

“I’m not destroying anything,” you shot back, your voice low but intense. “I’m protecting what matters. You don’t understand any of it.”

Caitlyn took a deep breath, trying to rein herself in, but her frustration was palpable. “Protecting what, exactly? Yourself? You think running away from everyone, shutting people out, is gonna fix anything? That’s not how it works.”

You felt the heat rising in your veins, every word coming out faster, more defensive. “You think I don’t know that? You think I want to be like this?” You paced, the anger seeping through every step. “I’m doing what I need to do. You have no idea what’s at stake.”

“Then make me understand,” Caitlyn demanded, her voice quieter now, though it carried an edge of urgency. “Because right now, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m worried about you. You’re shutting everyone out, and I don’t know if I can just stand by and let you destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying anything,” you repeated, the words feeling heavy, almost too much to say aloud. “You don’t get to dictate what I do, Cait. Not now, not ever.”

The room seemed to grow colder, tension hanging in the air like a thick fog. Vi shifted on the couch, but she didn’t say anything—just waiting, silent but present.

You could feel Caitlyn’s gaze on you, her concern still there, but you didn’t want it. Not now. “I don’t need your help,” you muttered, your voice cold. “I don’t need anyone’s help. So just... back off.”

There was a long silence between you, Caitlyn’s eyes searching yours for any sign of the person she used to know. But you were too far gone, too protective of your own choices, your own reasons. You didn’t owe her an explanation. You didn’t owe anyone one.

Without saying another word, you turned toward the stairs, brushing past Caitlyn and Vi without a second glance. You didn’t care if they understood. You didn’t care if they were pissed.

You were done trying to explain yourself to them. of making up lies and poor excuses.

It was the day after the fight, and everything still felt like it was on the edge of breaking. You could still hear Caitlyn’s words echoing in your head, the hurt in her voice cutting through you like a knife. The argument had been brutal—words thrown like weapons, accusations you couldn't escape. You didn’t want to confront Caitlyn. Hell, you didn’t even want to deal with any of it, but the more you thought about it, the more you realized you were being pulled in two directions. One part of you was holding onto what was familiar—what was safe. The other part was ready to burn it all down just to feel something real.

That something real was Jinx.

You'd spent the night restless, your thoughts a whirlwind of guilt, frustration, and the constant pull toward the chaos she brought. So here you were now, slipping through the winding alleys of Zaun, where the grime and industrial decay hid you from the world.

You'd barely registered how you ended up here—at the alleyway where Jinx always seemed to show up at the right moment. The dim glow of a flickering neon sign illuminated the darkness ahead, and you knew she was there. Jinx’s world didn’t follow rules. Everything she did was messy, raw, and chaotic, but that was where you wanted to be right now.

You turned the corner, your pulse racing. And there she was, hanging upside down from a rusty fire escape, laughing to herself as she spun around, her wild blue hair catching the light like a comet streaking across the night. She looked alive—reckless, untamed—and the sight made something inside you settle, as if you’d found your anchor in the madness.

When she saw you, her eyes lit up like fireworks. “You came!” she squealed, flipping down from the fire escape and immediately running toward you. She didn’t stop when she reached you—she wrapped her arms around you in a tight, playful hug, her body pressing against yours as if she couldn’t wait to be close.

“Of course I did,” you replied, smiling softly as you hugged her back. It was a relief to feel her warmth, her energy. “You okay?”

Jinx pulled back just enough to look at you, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Me? I’m okay, just like most of the time. But you…” She tilted her head, her fingers brushing against your arm. “You look like you’ve been thinking too much again.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing in your chest. “Maybe a little.”

“Then stop thinking,” she said, voice soft yet playful, her eyes searching yours. “Let me fix that.”

Before you could say anything else, Jinx leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was gentle at first, almost hesitant—like she was testing the waters, giving you a moment of comfort. Her lips moved slowly, sweetly, as her hand cupped the side of your face, her thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

Your heart fluttered at the softness, the way she was taking her time, and for a moment, it was just you and her, wrapped in something sweet and simple. But then, as if a switch had flipped, the sweetness gave way to something deeper.

Jinx’s fingers tightened slightly on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss grew hungrier, more intense. You responded without thinking, parting your lips as her tongue slid against yours, coaxing you into a messier, wilder dance. The fire in her kiss ignited something inside you, something raw and reckless that matched the chaos she brought into your life.

You let out a breathless laugh against her mouth, and Jinx took it as an invitation, deepening the kiss with a mischievous grin. Her hands tangled in your hair as she pulled you even closer, her kiss growing more insistent, more passionate. It was as if the world around you had fallen away, leaving just the two of you in this whirlwind of heat and desire.

Jinx’s hands found your waist again, her fingers digging in as she pressed her body tighter against yours. Her lips parted, coaxing yours open as her tongue teased you in a way that was both playful and intense. Every inch of you seemed to burn where she touched, where she kissed, and all the tension from before melted away into this one moment of pure chaos and need.

You responded in kind, your hands tracing the curve of her back, pulling her against you until there was no space left between your bodies. She let out a soft sigh, pressing you into the wall beside her as she kissed you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

It felt like everything outside of this moment didn’t matter. The guilt, the confusion, Caitlyn’s hurt—nothing compared to the way Jinx made you feel. Alive. Wanted. Like you could forget everything else and just exist in this space with her.

But then the harsh sound of footsteps interrupted the perfect storm of chaos you’d created.

"What the hell is this?"

Caitlyn.

Jinx stood still for a moment, taking in Caitlyn’s reaction before a slow smirk spread across her face. “Well, well, if it isn’t big sis,” she purred, clearly enjoying the tension in the air. “Guess the cat’s outta the bag now, huh?”

“Cait…” you started, stepping away from Jinx, but the damage was already done.

Caitlyn’s gaze flickered between you and Jinx, her face a mix of disbelief and anger. “Is this what you’ve been sneaking off to Zaun for? To be with her?” she spat, her voice full of accusation. “You know what she is, what she does, and you still—"

“Whoa, hold up,” Jinx interrupted, taking a casual step forward, placing herself between you and Caitlyn. “Let’s get one thing straight. It’s not like she’s committed some huge crime—unless kissing me and having sex with me is suddenly illegal.” Her grin widened, her eyes sparkling with mischievous glee.

Caitlyn’s face contorted with fury as she shot a cold look at Jinx. “You think this is a joke, don’t you?” she snapped. “You’re a ticking time bomb, Jinx. A dangerous, reckless maniac with nothing but destruction in your wake. She’s nothing but another one of your toys to break.”

The words hit like a knife. Jinx froze, the grin dropping from her face as Caitlyn’s harsh accusations settled between you all.

Your heart clenched at the sight of the hurt that flickered across Jinx’s features, even though she tried to hide it. You couldn’t let it go on. “Cait, stop!” you interrupted, stepping forward, your voice stronger now as you positioned yourself beside Jinx. “She’s not your enemy.”

Caitlyn’s eyes darted toward you, disbelief mixing with the anger. “She’s using you! Can’t you see it? She’ll destroy you like she destroys everything she touches.”

“I love her,” you said firmly, your voice cutting through Caitlyn’s accusations.

Caitlyn blinked, her eyes searching yours for something—anything that could explain why you were making this choice. But there was nothing. Her gaze hardened, turning cold. “You love her?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt, rage, and heartbreak.

“I do,” you said firmly, not backing down.

For a moment, Caitlyn stood frozen, processing the words, the weight of them sinking in. Then, her lips curled into a bitter, angry sneer. “You’re choosing her over me? After everything I’ve done for you?” She shook her head, disbelieving. “You’ve gone too far this time.”

Jinx scoffed, crossing her arms, unfazed by the venom in Caitlyn’s tone. “ Jinx stepped forward again, a little of her old spark returning. “Oh, come on. You don’t own her, Caitlyn. She’s here because she wants to be.”

Caitlyn's jaw clenched. "You're dangerous. You're going to get her killed. She deserves better than you."

Jinx’s grin twisted into something darker, her gaze not leaving Caitlyn’s. “She’s with me because she wants to be, I didn’t drag her here kicking and screaming,” she said, each word punctuated with a dangerous edge. “And if you think you can just waltz in and control her, you’ve got another thing coming.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Caitlyn’s anger burned in her eyes, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of something else—fear, maybe, or desperation. But then, Caitlyn took a step back, her face contorting with a mixture of hurt and frustration. “If you think I’m going to just stand by and watch you drag her down with you,” she spat, “you’re wrong.”

Her voice dropped, the edge of it becoming cold and hard. “I’ll make sure the Enforcers know what you’ve done. I’ll see you locked away in Stillwater before I let you drag my sister down with you”. The threat landed with a chilling weight. Jinx didn’t flinch, but her expression shifted. There was no hesitation in her eyes. “You think the Enforcers are gonna stop me? You think they’re gonna “save” her from me?” Her voice was low and dangerous now, the spark of mischief fading for a moment, replaced by something darker. “You really don’t know who you’re messing with.”

Caitlyn’s lips curled into a tight smile, her voice trembling with fury. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you from tearing my sister apart.”

Jinx’s laugh was sharp, unbothered. “You’re already too late for that.” She took a step forward, closing the gap between her and Caitlyn. “She’s mine now.”

The words were final, like a declaration that sealed the fate of everything in the room. Caitlyn’s eyes hardened, her shoulders tensing as if preparing for something more. But then, she turned on her heel, her back stiff and her fists clenched at her sides.

“Don’t think this is over,” Caitlyn hissed, her voice dripping with menace. “You’ll regret this.”

She turned on her heel, disappearing into the darkness of the alley, leaving only the sound of her footsteps to echo in the tense silence that followed.

Jinx let out a long breath, her shoulders sagging slightly as the confrontation with Caitlyn came to an end.

The silence that followed was heavy, but Jinx’s hand found yours, her touch gentle despite the tension. She turned to you, her voice low and vulnerable. “Hey… you okay?”

You nodded, your chest tight from the confrontation. “I’m okay,” you whispered, squeezing her hand. “And I’m with you.”

Jinx’s eyes softened, her usual bravado replaced by something more tender as she leaned in, cupping your cheek gently. “I’ve got you,” she murmured, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead. “You’re not alone in this.”

You leaned into her touch, finding comfort in her presence, the intensity of the moment fading into something warmer. "I know," you whispered back. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Jinx’s smile widened, her hand still cradling your face as she kissed your forehead again. “Good,” she whispered. “Because neither am I.”

Jinx’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, her purple eyes searching yours as a small, teasing smile crept back onto her lips. “You love me, huh?” she asked quietly, her voice a mix of playful disbelief and genuine curiosity.

You felt your cheeks flush at the question, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you smiled softly, nodding. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I do.”

Jinx’s smirk softened into something warmer, more real. She leaned in closer, her forehead gently resting against yours as she let out a quiet chuckle. “Damn,” she murmured. “I never thought I’d hear someone say that to me.”

You couldn’t help but smile wider at her vulnerability, reaching up to cup her face in your hands. “Get used to it,” you said, your voice soft but sure. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Jinx closed her eyes for a moment, taking in your words like they were something precious. When she opened them again, they were filled with a kind of warmth that made your heart ache in the best way. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she whispered, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

For a moment, everything else faded away—Caitlyn’s harsh words, the tension, the world around you. It was just the two of you, wrapped in a quiet moment of sweetness, a rare peace in the chaos of it all.

And as Jinx pulled back slightly, her fingers still intertwined with yours, she grinned. “Guess I’m stuck with you now, huh?”

You laughed softly, nodding. “Guess so.”

“Good,” Jinx murmured, her voice full of affection. “Because I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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